#who needs setup let's just go

[aromanticasterisms]

my god lingsha's design is so ass. my god

[hauntingblue]

I

<3

In between arc (kinda) episodes

Pt. 3

[designernishiki]

oh baby I knew it from the fuckin moment the addc was introduced that there’s just no damn way they DIDNT have some legally sketchy shit going on with the alzheimers/dementia patients and unethical clinical trials. I feel so vindicated right now

[louisdotmp3]

personally i love that everything except for the main roads are just covered in a sheet of ice for days after it snows like 2 inches

[tofupixel]

⭐ So you want to learn pixel art? ⭐

🔹 Part 1 of ??? - The Basics!

Hello, my name is Tofu and I'm a professional pixel artist. I have been supporting myself with freelance pixel art since 2020, when I was let go from my job during the pandemic.

My progress, from 2017 to 2024. IMO the only thing that really matters is time and effort, not some kind of natural talent for art.

This guide will not be comprehensive, as nobody should be expected to read allat. Instead I will lean heavily on my own experience, and share what worked for me, so take everything with a grain of salt. This is a guide, not a tutorial. Cheers!

🔹 Do I need money?

NO!!! Pixel art is one of the most accessible mediums out there.

I still use a mouse because I prefer it to a tablet! You won't be at any disadvantage here if you can't afford the best hardware or software.

Because our canvases are typically very small, you don't need a good PC to run a good brush engine or anything like that.

✨Did you know? One of the most skilled and beloved pixel artists uses MS PAINT! Wow!!

🔹 What software should I use?

Here are some of the most popular programs I see my friends and peers using. Stars show how much I recommend the software for beginners! ⭐

💰 Paid options:

⭐⭐⭐ Aseprite (for PC) - $19.99

This is what I and many other pixel artists use. You may find when applying to jobs that they require some knowledge of Aseprite. Since it has become so popular, companies like that you can swap raw files between artists.

Aseprite is amazingly customizable, with custom skins, scripts and extensions on Itch.io, both free and paid.

If you have ever used any art software before, it has most of the same features and should feel fairly familiar to use. It features a robust animation suite and a tilemap feature, which have saved me thousands of hours of labour in my work. The software is also being updated all the time, and the developers listen to the users. I really recommend Aseprite!

⭐ Photoshop (for PC) - Monthly $$

A decent option for those who already are used to the PS interface. Requires some setup to get it ready for pixel-perfect art, but there are plenty of tutorials for doing so.

Animation is also much more tedious on PS which you may want to consider before investing time!

⭐⭐ ProMotion NG (for PC) - $19.00

An advanced and powerful software which has many features Aseprite does not, including Colour Cycling and animated tiles.

⭐⭐⭐ Pixquare (for iOS) - $7.99 - $19.99 (30% off with code 'tofu'!!)

Probably the best app available for iPad users, in active development, with new features added all the time.

Look! My buddy Jon recommends it highly, and uses it often.

One cool thing about Pixquare is that it takes Aseprite raw files! Many of my friends use it to work on the same project, both in their office and on the go.

⭐ Procreate (for iOS) - $12.99

If you have access to Procreate already, it's a decent option to get used to doing pixel art. It does however require some setup. Artist Pixebo is famously using Procreate, and they have tutorials of their own if you want to learn.

⭐⭐ ReSprite iOS and Android. (free trial, but:) $19.99 premium or $$ monthly

ReSprite is VERY similar in terms of UI to Aseprite, so I can recommend it. They just launched their Android release!

🆓 Free options:

⭐⭐⭐ Libresprite (for PC)

Libresprite is an alternative to Aseprite. It is very, very similar, to the point where documentation for Aseprite will be helpful to Libresprite users.

⭐⭐ Pixilart (for PC and mobile)

A free in-browser app, and also a mobile app! It is tied to the website Pixilart, where artists upload and share their work. A good option for those also looking to get involved in a community.

⭐⭐ Dotpict (for mobile)

Dotpict is similar to Pixilart, with a mobile app tied to a website, but it's a Japanese service. Did you know that in Japanese, pixel art is called 'Dot Art'? Dotpict can be a great way to connect with a different community of pixel artists! They also have prompts and challenges often.

🔹 So I got my software, now what?

◽Nice! Now it's time for the basics of pixel art.

❗ WAIT ❗ Before this section, I want to add a little disclaimer. All of these rules/guidelines can be broken at will, and some 'no-nos' can look amazing when done intentionally.

The pixel-art fundamentals can be exceedingly helpful to new artists, who may feel lost or overwhelmed by choice. But if you feel they restrict you too harshly, don't force yourself! At the end of the day it's your art, and you shouldn't try to contort yourself into what people think a pixel artist 'should be'. What matters is your own artistic expression. 💕👍

◽Phew! With that out of the way...

🔸"The Rules"

There are few hard 'rules' of pixel art, mostly about scaling and exporting. Some of these things will frequently trip up newbies if they aren't aware, and are easy to overlook.

🔹Scaling method

There are a couple ways of scaling your art. The default in most art programs, and the entire internet, is Bi-linear scaling, which usually works out fine for most purposes. But as pixel artists, we need a different method.

Both are scaled up x10. See the difference?

On the left is scaled using Bilinear, and on the right is using Nearest-Neighbor. We love seeing those pixels stay crisp and clean, so we use nearest-neighbor. 

(Most pixel-art programs have nearest-neighbor enabled by default! So this may not apply to you, but it's important to know.)

🔹Mixels

Mixels are when there are different (mixed) pixel sizes in the same image.

Here I have scaled up my art- the left is 200%, and the right is 150%. Yuck!

As we can see, the "pixel" sizes end up different. We generally try to scale our work by multiples of 100 - 200%, 300% etc. rather than 150%. At larger scales however, the minute differences in pixel sizes are hardly noticeable!

Mixels are also sometimes seen when an artist scales up their work, then continues drawing on it with a 1 pixel brush.

Many would say that this is not great looking! This type of pixels can be indicative of a beginner artist. But there are plenty of creative pixel artists out there who mixels intentionally, making something modern and cool.

🔹Saving Your Files

We usually save our still images as .PNGs as they don’t create any JPEG artifacts or loss of quality. It's a little hard to see here, but there are some artifacts, and it looks a little blurry. It also makes the art very hard to work with if we are importing a JPEG.

For animations .GIF is good, but be careful of the 256 colour limit. Try to avoid using too many blending mode layers or gradients when working with animations. If you aren’t careful, your animation could flash afterwards, as the .GIF tries to reduce colours wherever it can. It doesn’t look great!

Here's an old piece from 2021 where I experienced .GIF lossiness, because I used gradients and transparency, resulting in way too many colours.

🔹Pixel Art Fundamentals - Techniques and Jargon

❗❗Confused about Jaggies? Anti-Aliasing? Banding? Dithering? THIS THREAD is for you❗❗ << it's a link, click it!!

As far as I'm concerned, this is THE tutorial of all time for understanding pixel art. These are techniques created and named by the community of people who actually put the list together, some of the best pixel artists alive currently. Please read it!!

🔸How To Learn

Okay, so you have your software, and you're all ready to start. But maybe you need some more guidance? Try these tutorials and resources! It can be helpful to work along with a tutorial until you build your confidence up.

⭐⭐ Pixel Logic (A Digital Book) - $10 A very comprehensive visual guide book by a very skilled and established artist in the industry. I own a copy myself.

⭐⭐⭐ StudioMiniBoss - free A collection of visual tutorials, by the artist that worked on Celeste! When starting out, if I got stuck, I would go and scour his tutorials and see how he did it.

⭐ Lospec Tutorials - free A very large collection of various tutorials from all over the internet. There is a lot to sift through here if you have the time.

⭐⭐⭐ Cyangmou's Tutorials - free (tipping optional) Cyangmou is one of the most respected and accomplished modern pixel artists, and he has amassed a HUGE collection of free and incredibly well-educated visual tutorials. He also hosts an educational stream every week on Twitch called 'pixelart for beginners'.

⭐⭐⭐ Youtube Tutorials - free There are hundreds, if not thousands of tutorials on YouTube, but it can be tricky to find the good ones. My personal recommendations are MortMort, Brandon, and AdamCYounis- these guys really know what they're talking about!

🔸 How to choose a canvas size

When looking at pixel art turorials, we may see people suggest things like 16x16, 32x32 and 64x64. These are standard sizes for pixel art games with tiles. However, if you're just making a drawing, you don't necessarily need to use a standard canvas size like that.

What I like to think about when choosing a canvas size for my illustrations is 'what features do I think it is important to represent?' And make my canvas as small as possible, while still leaving room for my most important elements.

Imagine I have characters in a scene like this:

I made my canvas as small as possible (232 x 314), but just big enough to represent the features and have them be recognizable (it's Good Omens fanart 😤)!! If I had made it any bigger, I would be working on it for ever, due to how much more foliage I would have to render.

If you want to do an illustration and you're not sure, just start at somewhere around 100x100 - 200x200 and go from there.

It's perfectly okay to crop your canvas, or scale it up, or crunch your art down at any point if you think you need a different size. I do it all the time! It only takes a bit of cleanup to get you back to where you were.

🔸Where To Post

Outside of just regular socials, Twitter, Tumblr, Deviantart, Instagram etc, there are a few places that lean more towards pixel art that you might not have heard of.

⭐ Lospec Lospec is a low-res focused art website. Some pieces get given a 'monthly masterpiece' award. Not incredibly active, but I believe there are more features being added often.

⭐⭐ Pixilart Pixilart is a very popular pixel art community, with an app tied to it. The community tends to lean on the young side, so this is a low-pressure place to post with an relaxed vibe.

⭐⭐ Pixeljoint Pixeljoint is one of the big, old-school pixel art websites. You can only upload your art unscaled (1x) because there is a built-in zoom viewer. It has a bit of a reputation for being elitist (back in the 00s it was), but in my experience it's not like that any more. This is a fine place for a pixel artist to post if they are really interested in learning, and the history. The Hall of Fame has some of the most famous / impressive pixel art pieces that paved the way for the work we are doing today.

⭐⭐⭐ Cafe Dot Cafe Dot is my art server so I'm a little biased here. 🍵 It was created during the recent social media turbulence. We wanted a place to post art with no algorithms, and no NFT or AI chuds. We have a heavy no-self-promotion rule, and are more interested in community than skill or exclusivity. The other thing is that we have some kind of verification system- you must apply to be a Creator before you can post in the Art feed, or use voice. This helps combat the people who just want to self-promo and dip, or cause trouble, as well as weed out AI/NFT people. Until then, you are still welcome to post in any of the threads or channels. There is a lot to do in Cafe Dot. I host events weekly, so check the threads!

⭐⭐/r/pixelart The pixel art subreddit is pretty active! I've also heard some of my friends found work through posting here, so it's worth a try if you're looking. However, it is still Reddit- so if you're sensitive to rude people, or criticism you didn't ask for, you may want to avoid this one. Lol

🔸 Where To Find Work

You need money? I got you! As someone who mostly gets scouted on social media, I can share a few tips with you:

Put your email / portfolio in your bio Recruiters don't have all that much time to find artists, make it as easy as possible for someone to find your important information!

Clean up your profile If your profile feed is all full of memes, most people will just tab out rather than sift through. Doesn't apply as much to Tumblr if you have an art tag people can look at.

Post regularly, and repost Activity beats everything in the social media game. It's like rolling the dice, and the more you post the more chances you have. You have to have no shame, it's all business baby

Outside of just posting regularly and hoping people reach out to you, it can be hard to know where to look. Here are a few places you can sign up to and post around on.

/r/INAT INAT (I Need A Team) is a subreddit for finding a team to work with. You can post your portfolio here, or browse for people who need artists.

/r/GameDevClassifieds Same as above, but specifically for game-related projects.

Remote Game Jobs / Work With Indies Like Indeed but for game jobs. Browse them often, or get email notifications.

VGen VGen is a website specifically for commissions. You need a code from another verified artist before you can upgrade your account and sell, so ask around on social media or ask your friends. Once your account is upgraded, you can make a 'menu' of services people can purchase, and they send you an offer which you are able to accept, decline, or counter.

The evil websites of doom: Fiverr and Upwork I don't recommend them!! They take a big cut of your profit, and the sites are teeming with NFT and AI people hoping to make a quick buck. The site is also extremely oversaturated and competitive, resulting in a race to the bottom (the cheapest, the fastest, doing the most for the least). Imagine the kind of clients who go to these websites, looking for the cheapest option. But if you're really desperate...

🔸 Community

I do really recommend getting involved in a community. Finding like-minded friends can help you stay motivated to keep drawing. One day, those friends you met when you were just starting out may become your peers in the industry. Making friends is a game changer!

Discord servers Nowadays, the forums of old are mostly abandoned, and people split off into many different servers. Cafe Dot, Pixel Art Discord (PAD), and if you can stomach scrolling past all the AI slop, you can browse Discord servers here.

Twitch Streams Twitch has kind of a bad reputation for being home to some of the more edgy gamers online, but the pixel art community is extremely welcoming and inclusive. Some of the people I met on Twitch are my friends to this day, and we've even worked together on different projects! Browse pixel art streams here, or follow some I recommend: NickWoz, JDZombi, CupOhJoe, GrayLure, LumpyTouch, FrankiePixelShow, MortMort, Sodor, NateyCakes, NyuraKim, ShinySeabass, I could go on for ever really... There are a lot of good eggs on Pixel Art Twitch.

🔸 Other Helpful Websites

Palettes Lospec has a huge collection of user-made palettes, for any artist who has trouble choosing their colours, or just wants to try something fun. Rejected Palettes is full of palettes that didn't quite make it onto Lospec, ran by people who believe there are no bad colours.

The Spriters Resource TSR is an incredible website where users can upload spritesheets and tilesets from games. You can browse for your favourite childhood game, and see how they made it! This website has helped me so much in understanding how game assets come together in a scene.

VGMaps Similar to the above, except there are entire maps laid out how they would be played. This is incredible if you have to do level design, or for mocking up a scene for fun.

Game UI Database Not pixel-art specific, but UI is a very challenging part of graphics, so this site can be a game-changer for finding good references!

Retronator A digital newspaper for pixel-art lovers! New game releases, tutorials, and artworks!

Itch.io A website where people can upload, games, assets, tools... An amazing hub for game devs and game fans alike. A few of my favourite tools: Tiled, PICO-8, Pixel Composer, Juice FX, Magic Pencil for Aseprite

🔸 The End?

This is just part 1 for now, so please drop me a follow to see any more guides I release in the future. I plan on doing some writeups on how I choose colours, how to practise, and more!

I'm not an expert by any means, but everything I did to get to where I am is outlined in this guide. Pixel art is my passion, my job and my hobby! I want pixel art to be recognized everywhere as an art-form, a medium of its own outside of game-art or computer graphics!

This guide took me a long time, and took a lot of research and experience. Consider following me or supporting me if you are feeling generous.

And good luck to all the fledgling pixel artists, I hope you'll continue and have fun. I hope my guide helped you, and don't hesitate to send me an ask if you have any questions! 💕

My other tutorials (so far): How to draw Simple Grass for a game Hue Shifting

[minakoaiinos]

Animating this season like you can't have the slightest bit of jest and god forbid jesting about yaoi

[pucksandpower]

Free Fucking Country

Max Verstappen x First Daughter of the US!Reader

Summary: the FIA needs a reality check — you’ve known this since they decided to punish your grown ass boyfriend for daring to say “fucked” in a press conference — and what better way to do this than by taking full advantage of your First Amendment rights … live on camera?

The Texas sun beats down on the circuit. You’re standing off to the side, watching the race from a monitor, arms crossed. There’s an edge to your stance, a tightness in your jaw that no one’s missed, least of all Nico Rosberg.

“You look like you’re going to murder someone,” Nico says, chuckling under his breath. “Who’s the unlucky victim?”

You shoot him a sideways glance, not quite smiling. “Not someone. More like the entire FIA.”

Jenson Button raises a brow from his spot beside Nico. He’s been fiddling with a microphone, but now his full attention is on you. “Ah. Still upset about Singapore, then?”

You roll your eyes. “Still upset? I’m livid, Jenson. They punished Max for swearing. Swearing. Like, are we adults or are we running a kindergarten here?”

Nico and Jenson exchange a look, trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

“They’ve done worse to other drivers, to be fair,” Nico says, playing the diplomat despite the thirst for drama you know is itching to escape.

“I don’t care!” Your voice rises a little, and you realize you’re pacing now, hands flying around in frustration. “They target Max like he’s public enemy number one, and I swear it’s just because he’s honest. They can’t handle it when someone actually tells the truth!”

Nico nods, clearly amused by your rant but trying to stay neutral. “True. Max does have a ... blunt way of putting things.”

“He shouldn’t have to censor himself. It’s not like he was even that bad. They act like he threatened to burn down the paddock.” You huff, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “It’s just so stupid.”

Nico leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what are you going to do? You’re not exactly on the FIA’s Christmas card list either.”

A slow grin spreads across your face, and Nico’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh no. I don’t like that look. That’s trouble.”

Jenson smirks. “What’s she planning?”

“I need a favor,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. You glance over at the camera setup behind them. “Can I borrow your camera for a minute?”

Both men stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“You want to go live? On Sky Sports?” Jenson asks, blinking in disbelief.

You shrug. “Why not?”

Nico shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re something else.”

But he steps aside, making way for you to take his place. “Alright, have at it. Just … maybe don’t get us all banned from the paddock, yeah?”

You wink. “No promises.”

Without missing a beat, you step in front of the camera, and within seconds, you’re live. Your pulse quickens, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. The weight of the moment hits you, but it only fuels your determination.

You clear your throat. “Hi, everyone! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood First Daughter, coming to you live from the US Grand Prix. Now, before we get back to the race, I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Nico and Jenson are barely holding back their laughter behind you, but you ignore them, fixing your gaze on the lens.

“Max Verstappen got punished for swearing during a press conference last week. Punished. For swearing. And you know what? That’s bullshit.”

The words fly out of your mouth, sharp and unfiltered. There’s a moment of stunned silence around you as people start to realize what’s happening.

You keep going, voice rising with every sentence. “The FIA is out of control. They’re so focused on micromanaging everything that they’ve forgotten what this sport is supposed to be about. Racing. Competition. Passion.”

Nico’s eyes widen as he leans toward Jenson. “Oh my God, she’s really doing it.”

Jenson just grins, watching in awe. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You don’t let up. “You want to punish someone for being honest? For being real? Then punish me too, because I’m about to say a hell of a lot more.”

You can see people gathering around, eyes glued to the monitors. You’ve got their attention now, and you’re not backing down.

“The FIA is so far up their own asses, they can’t see what’s really going on. Drivers are out there risking their lives, pushing the limits, and all they care about is how polite they are in a press conference? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wave your hands around, the frustration boiling over. “I’m sick of this shitty double standard. Max gets penalized for cursing, but the countless times that the FIA has done something much worse? Silence. It’s ridiculous.”

By now, there’s a crowd forming around you. You see a few FIA officials watching from the corner, looking like they’re trying to figure out what to do. You don’t stop.

“If the FIA wants to keep policing language, they should start by looking at themselves. They’re a bunch of fucking hypocrites who don’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a real racer. They’re killing the spirit of the sport.”

Just then, you spot one of the stewards marching toward you, followed by two security guards. You flash a grin at the camera. “Oh look, here they come. The fun police.”

The steward, a stern-looking man with a clipboard, stops right in front of you. “Ma’am, you need to leave immediately.”

You laugh, leaning into the camera, making sure everyone’s still watching. “Really? You’re gonna kick me out for talking? Last time I checked, this is a free fucking country. First Amendment, bitches! Try to shut me up, I dare you.”

The steward’s face reddens. “You need to leave, now.

But before the security guards can even move, your Secret Service detail materializes out of nowhere, surrounding you. They stand tall, arms crossed, ready to intervene.

You laugh again, this time louder. “Oh, you didn’t think about that, did you? You can’t kick me out. What are you gonna do, arrest the President’s daughter on live TV?”

The steward looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s nothing he can do. He steps back, clearly out of his depth, while the camera continues rolling.

You take a deep breath, calming down just enough to finish your rant with a flourish. “So, FIA, if you’re watching — and I know you are — get your act together. Start treating the drivers like adults, and stop with the petty bullshit. Or I swear, I’ll make it my mission to drag you on the broadcast every single fucking race.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you. You turn just in time to see Max walking up, eyes wide, clearly catching on to what’s happening. He looks from you to the cameras, then back to you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Without a word, he steps forward, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s sudden, unexpected, but it’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, the kind that speaks louder than words.

When he pulls away, there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “You always know how to make a scene.”

You shrug, a mischievous grin on your face. “Someone’s gotta stand up for you.”

Max laughs, shaking his head. “Well, you sure did.”

Nico and Jenson are clapping from behind, both of them thoroughly entertained. Jenson leans into the camera, grinning from ear to ear. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N, everybody.”

You step back, still grinning, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The steward looks like he’s given up entirely, and the crowd is buzzing with energy.

Max leans in close, his voice low. “You know you’re going to get a lot of hate for this, right?”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Let them try. I’m not scared of a little backlash.”

He shakes his head, eyes shining with admiration. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m just getting started.”

[hairyjocktf]

A Full Dose of Country

Cody was exhausted. He was a star on the wrestling team at his university, but over winter break he’d been conscripted to be a helping hand on his uncle’s farm out in central Texas. After arguing for weeks with his very angry mother over the phone he’d submitted to spending his month off on the ranch. His mom had said that his uncle really needed the help for the season, and to put that athletic body of his to use. Cody rolled his eyes at that; he needed to be training for the next season. Instead he’d spent the past two weeks in the middle of nowhere helping out his uncle Shane, far from his friends and anything fun. Every day was long and exhausting. Cody thought he was in excellent shape but the long hours and excessive manual labor had started to wear on him quickly.

After putting some equipment away in the shed Cody trudged his way back into the small house, finding Shane slouched on the couch in front of the TV. He craned his neck around and gave Cody a quick up and down. 

“Damn son, you look rough today! You better get in bed early, we’ve got a hell of a task tomorrow,” he said. Cody’s shoulders slumped at the news.

“What could possibly be worse than what you’ve had me doing already?” He snapped. Shane was unfazed at the attitude.

“There’s some new bovine flu or something goin’ round. Heard it on the news the other day. I ordered some shots for the cattle to keep ‘em healthy, and I need you to help me get them all handled. Shouldn’t be a challenge for a hot shot like you right?” He snorted. Cody gave him a solemn look.

“Uh huh, sure.”

“I’m just messing with ya, y’know that,” Shane said with more sincerity. “Go on and get some sleep now boy,” he said as he shooed Cody off to his room.

Cody made his way down the dimly lit hallway to the small room he’d been staying in. He wasn’t the neatest guy on the planet but the state of his room was awful, but he’d been run too ragged to care. He pulled off his jeans and shirt and fell onto the bed, and within minutes he was out cold. 

The morning came abruptly with a banging on his door.

“Cody! Get dressed and out here we gotta start this operation early if we wanna finish today!” 

His uncle’s slightly muffled voice was still too loud for whatever hour it was. He threw on his hoodie and jeans from yesterday before making his way outside. The darkness was just starting to give way to dawn as he followed his uncle’s silhouette out towards the barn. The morning breeze was frigid, blowing through his hoodie like it was nothing. Cody shivered as he caught up to his uncle, who was setting up the chute for restraining the cattle. He stood there staring, in disbelief at what he was doing. His friends were partying in Cancun and he was up at 5 am herding cows?

“Well don’t just stand there, help me secure the pens!” His uncle’s bellowing voice snapped him out of his daze. Cody had unfortunately spent enough time on the ranch already to know what to do, and he got to work moving fences and prepping the area. By the time the sun had finally risen above the horizon they were ready. 

“Alright, now you’re gonna herd the cows in here one at a time, I’ll catch them in the chute, hit them with the needle gun, and let ‘em out into that second pen. Simple enough right?” Shane said, again with too much energy.

“Yea, sounds good.” Cody huffed, already feeling fatigued. He jogged back outside to start herding some of the cattle into the pens. He was surprised at how smoothly the entire operation was, within an hour they’d processed a dozen cattle. The problem now was getting the bigger ones in. Cody wasn’t normally afraid of a longhorn but in this situation he was tense, to put it lightly. Keeping his distance as much as possible, he slowly ushered the bull towards his uncle. As they neared their setup he had to get closer and more forceful, before finally spooking the animal into running into the chute. Shane slammed down the gates, holding the frantic bull inside the shaking apparatus.

“Cody!” Shane yelled over the racket, “Come hold this down so I can get a good shot!”

Cody hopped the fence and darted over to his uncle, holding the lever down against a raging bull. Shane was right next to him fiddling with the needle gun to refill it.

“Damn thing always jams at the worst times I swear…” he muttered before finally loading it properly. He squeezed up next to Cody to get close to the animal’s neck and leaned in to administer the shot. In that instant, the bull thrashed. Cody saw the massive horns swinging his direction and panicked, jerking to the side away from the head, directly into his uncle. They both toppled to the ground, and Cody felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. The bull knocked open the gates with no one to hold them down and dashed out into the pasture.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane said as he climbed to his feet, “You alright Cody?”

“Yea… I think so,” Cody mumbled as he stood up, feeling a pulsing pain in his gut. He lifted his shirt to find a small pinprick on his stomach surrounded by a reddened area.

“Aw shit, I must’ve hit you with the gun when we fell.” He walked over to Cody and kneeled down to look closely. “It’s a big needle for the cattle is all, you should be fine I think,” he said. Cody felt less than convinced. He scratched at the slightly itchy spot before letting his shirt down.

“C’mon, we’ve got plenty more cows to handle today. None of ‘em should be that aggressive again,” Shane said while inspecting the chute. Cody was a little shocked at how nonchalant his uncle was about what just happened. Cody headed back out to the pens to continue his job, but the slight itching on his stomach kept his mind divided. Surely nothing in a cow vaccine would be dangerous to a human right? They ate the cows in the end anyway, he thought with a slight chuckle.

Eventually the cows' persistent mooing brought them back to the present, and Cody’s thoughts slipped away from the earlier events. The work got his blood pumping, sending the vaccine’s contents all around his body. While the itch on his stomach finally subsided, a growing uncomfortable feeling was arising in his groin. The viral load had reached his balls, and while it was dormant for cows, the same couldn’t be said for Cody. It entered his cells and began making some changes down there. His balls began to swell, first to the size of walnuts before stretching his sack even more, plumping up to the size of large eggs. His newly enlarged testicles began to flood his body with more testosterone than ever before, laced with some bovine hormones.

His cock was the first to respond, twitching as it slowly grew hard, pressing against Cody’s compression underwear. His cock pulsed, head flaring as it stretched out, engorging to his full size of seven inches. Cody reached down to try and relieve some of the pressure, unaware of what was happening. He adjusted the band of his underwear, allowing more space for his cock to grow. And grow it did, pushing well past seven inches. The sensation of his throbbing member against his tight underwear was driving his body wild, even if he was distracted. His cock reached 11 inches, fully visible with a rock hard imprint in his underwear. Cody tried to adjust his growing package through his pants, oblivious to the situation below. As it capped out a glob of precum shot out of the tip, before the entire shaft thickened to a girth he could’ve only imagined before. A steady stream of precum began to flow afterward, creating an ever growing wet spot through his jeans. 

As Cody continued wrangling cattle, the steady stream of hormones from his massive balls continued to spread. An itch reappeared, but this time in his groin. He’d always kept himself clean shaven down there, but a slight shadow had appeared around the base of his cock. Clear cut hairs were starting to crop up again, a wave of short but dark stubble expanding outward. The hairs didn’t remain short for long, as his bush began to regrow with a vengeance. They pushed out of his skin, curling together as new hairs began to fill in between the old. The hairs pushed out longer and longer, weaving into a dense mat. The forest continued to spread, with thick hairs coating his low hanging balls and expanding out onto his thighs. The hairs began crawling up his lengthy shaft, covering the lower half in a furry sheath. Cody again scratched at his crotch, not noticing the dense growth from outside his jeans. As he finished up working for the day, hairs were slowly popping up further and further up, building a trail from his forested bush to his navel. The thick rug was pushing out against his compression underwear, slowly growing thicker as more hairs filled in.

Cody wiped the sweat from his forehead as his uncle was finally putting away the equipment from the day. He was more exhausted than he’d ever felt, and he didn’t believe he’d ever say that after enduring countless grueling wrestling training sessions with his coach. Thinking on them, he found it harder to recall those experiences despite his muscles aching, but he chalked it up to the brutal day he’d had. The sun was already below the horizon by the time they got back to the house. Cody figured he’d take a shower while Shane was throwing some kind of dinner together, and headed back to his room. He pulled off his hoodie and sweat-soaked shirt, revealing the crawling vine of dark hair making its way up his abs.

“What the fuck?” Cody blurted out in shock. He ran his fingers through the wiry curls exposed above his waistline. He quickly undid his belt and jeans and stuck his hand down in his underwear, deep into the lush sweaty forest that’d been absent when he pulled on his pants that morning. His jaw dropped. What the hell was happening here? He pushed his hand farther in only to find his now massive cock, and his eyes went wide. He darted into the bathroom and yanked down his underwear. In the mirror fully exposed was his flaccid nine inch cock, drooped in front of his comically large balls, all buried within the thickest bush he’d ever seen. Cody delicately handled his dangling member, and the slightest touch had it growing hard, leaking precum from the tip. He was stunned, standing there with precum spilling over one hand and the other buried in the thicket of hair.

As he stood there staring, the virus reached his brain. His panicked face slowly morphed into a grin. This was kinda hot, he thought. Who doesn’t love a massive dick, right? Cody began to rub his hands through the thick tangle of hair, feeling the curls catch around his fingers. His cock throbbed as it grew hard, reaching its full size. He grabbed it with his other hand, feeling the softer hairs that were poking out of his shaft. Cody, overcome with pleasure, let himself go. He stroked with one hand and explored his furry groin with the other. Within a minute he was ready to climax, grunting as he shot thick ropes onto the mirror. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, senses returning. He collapsed back onto the toilet behind, taking a moment to catch his breath before cleaning up his mess.

“Cody! Dinner’s on the table!” His uncle shouted from the kitchen. Cleaning would have to wait. Cody stuffed his still partially hard cock back into his tight underwear and threw on the rest of his clothes before heading out. He still had a grin plastered on his face, and Shane noticed.

“What’s got you in good spirits now, boy?”

“Aw nothin’ just proud of a good day’s work” Cody replied, suddenly caught off guard with his manner of speaking. That voice was his but didn’t sound like him, it was almost… country. No, he’d always spoken like that, he was from Texas after all. The smell of the sizzling food on the table grabbed his attention and he swiftly forgot about his concern. He scarfed the meal down, his body subconsciously needing the fuel. He suppressed a large belch before standing up, thanking Shane for the food, and heading back to his bed. Cody stripped off his shirt and jeans before flopping down onto the mattress, exhausted and stuffed. 

As he laid there, twirling his new pubes between his fingers, he let his thoughts drift back to his friends from school off on their vacations. He wasn’t as jealous anymore. In fact, maybe he was on the better end of that deal. All this manual labor was keeping him in shape for the season; getting drunk daily on the beach wouldn’t do that! His cock began to chub up at the thought of him finally putting on the mass to be at the top of his weight class. Precum leaked down his shaft and into his musky forest as Cody drifted off.

Cody woke in a sweat to a familiar banging on his door. He peeled himself off the sheets, looking at the vaguely body shaped sweat pool he’d left. He himself was also soaked. Then the  smell hit him, a musky sweaty stench had filled the room throughout the night. Cody was confused, he’d never sweat like this, not even after his gym sessions, it wasn’t even hot inside the house. He looked down at himself to see drops slowly streaming down his chest and stomach, which had grown slightly more covered with hair. He thoughtlessly scratched at his chin, fingers raking through small bristles that hadn’t been there before. With no time to ponder more he threw on some jeans and a tank top and ran out towards the barn.

Cody and Shane quickly got to work on the day’s tasks, eager to get as much done as possible before the sun got too harsh. Cody found it easier to get into what he was doing, it felt more natural somehow. As he worked up even more of a sweat than he’d woken up with, the combination of virus and testosterone got pumped around his body at an accelerated rate. The bristles on his chin began to poke out a little more; a shadow of stubble spread across his jaw and up onto his cheeks. Cody scratched at the growing stubble, not noticing the difference from his baby smooth physique before.

That smooth skin was quickly becoming a memory, as his upper lip was covered by the same shadow, dark spots turning into short hairs that pushed out longer and longer. The wiry hairs sprouting from his face grew thicker by the minute, new wisps shooting out between the maturing hairs. He’d grown into a scruffier version of himself, the shadow of stubble creeping down his neck as the hairs on his chin, upper lip, and cheeks fluffed out more.

As he worked, Cody’s arms pumped up more than usual and his legs following suit. His already well defined pecs began to feel sore as they pushed out, stretching his tank even more than usual. What had been rolling hills turned into mountains as muscle packed on. The soreness was quickly replaced with a subtle itch; the tendril of thick curls reaching up from his groin began to climb higher. Hairs shot up north of his navel, growing in a line up towards his beefier chest. His collarbone was the first to react to the cocktail of hormones surging inside him. A lone dark hair shot up over the collar of his tank. Another curled out, and then another. Wispy hairs began to crop up along the top of his chest, cresting over the neck of his tank. The beads of sweat covering his chest only seemed to fertilize more growth, matting the hairs to his skin in swirls and spirals of masculinity. Before long a rug had begun to form on his chest, hairs pushing out and puffing up his tank as it struggled against his growing body.

By mid afternoon, they’d finished everything for the day. Cody’s sudden burst of work ethic surprised Shane, who didn’t seem to notice his nephew’s burgeoning beard. Cody could feel the pump in his body, it was sore but he felt electric after working all morning.

“Whew, that went smoother than I ever figured,” Shane laughed and slapped Cody on the back. “Why don’t we enjoy a beer and take the rest of the day off.”

“Can’t say no to that I s’pose,” Cody responded with a smile. The two walked back to the house and settled out on the back porch. Shane grabbed some beers from inside and tossed one to Cody.

“Seems like you’re getting the hang of all this work around here, son. I could use a hand like yours more often!” Shane howled and cracked open his can. 

“Well, y’know, I guess I’m startin’ to enjoy it all a bit. Somethin’ about it out here makes me wanna stay,” Cody said with a heavier accent than even his uncle. Shane smiled back at him. The two chatted with a better rapport than ever as Cody downed his beer, and then another, and then two more.

His stomach gurgled as more hair spread across his stomach, fully burying his abs under a dark coat of hair. The line reached up to his chest widened, small fuzzy hairs spreading out before thickening up. Cody’s sweat covered chest followed suit. In the cleft between his pecs, hairs pressed their way out, spreading outwards as they grew in denser and darker and caught more sweat. What had been light fuzz across the wide expanse of his muscular form was corrupted by testosterone, follicles going into overdrive pushing out thicker darker hairs. The rug spread out around his nipples and upwards, merging with the hairs covering his collarbone as more continued to pop up towards his shoulders and up his neck. 

Cody was in the middle of downing another beer when a rank stench filled his nose. It was familiar, almost like the one from when he’d woken up. He lifted his arm and was greeted with a faceful of powerful body odor; his pits had become ripe and full of hours worth of sweat. He watched as the carefully shaven skin tinted dark as hairs sprouted en masse. It seemed like a waterfall in slow motion, watching the dark hairs pour out of his pit, growing longer and longer as they trapped more sweat in his damp pit. The growth spread, hairs pushing beyond the edges of his pits and growing the forest larger until it blended with the rug on his chest. His other pit itched as the same growth began to take place, a thick tuft of hair erupting. He could feel the wiry hairs pushing out between his arm and torso, growing bushier and escaping the bounds of his underarm. 

He should’ve been shocked, alarmed, panicked, anything of the sort, but instead he just stuck his hand into the damp jungle to scratch it. His fingers dug into the thick forest, digging deep to get at the sweaty skin below. Upon pulling his hand out he automatically sniffed it, as if he’d done so for a lifetime. The aroma filled his nose, the ripe stench causing his cock to shoot out a spurt of precum. The virus had gotten its foothold, altered his thinking enough to not only be nearly unaware of the changes, but to be aroused by them, to desire them. He leaned back in the chair, lifting his arms behind his head and exposing his hairy matted pits to the world.

The chair groaned under Cody as his body slowly swelled, muscles growing larger and thicker. His back popped as it grew wider, shoulders broadening as his traps and delts exploded with size. His tank top, already at its limit, began to tear at the sides where his lats were widening. Cody scratched at a slight itch on his shoulder, not thinking much of it, but the dusting of hairs on his shoulders had begun to spread, new curls cropping up all over. The wave of fur stretched from his forested chest up over his collarbone to his traps and shoulders before starting its descent. The itch crept down towards his shoulder blades as thin hairs pushed out, quickly growing from fuzz into fur. It almost looked like Cody was developing wings made of hair, as the patches knit together, creeping towards his spine to join into one hairy coat. The bristles continued working down, sprouting into thick stands that tangled together as they pushed out, growing denser as testosterone drenched each and every follicle. The burgeoning trail of hair reached his waistband, where it exploded into a sweaty tuft just above his ass. The hairs continued to fill in until his entire back was coated, a sweat-matted rug that was even curling around his sides to connect with the field of hair on his stomach. 

Cody shifted in his seat, trying to shake an uncomfortable feeling growing down in his underwear. His ass had been filling out all day, stretching his underwear to its limit, but this was different. Deep between his cheeks, thick hairs were slowly pushing out around his hole. They grew dark and wiry, tickling him as they squeezed between his massive cheeks. More hairs began to press out, surrounding his hole before spreading outwards. The shadow of loaded follicles crept over both his cheeks, and shortly after the hairs burst forth in a wave, pushing against his tight underwear as his ass disappeared beneath the growing fur. The hair continued to spread, connecting to his furry back and to his jungle of pubes which similarly thickened even more.

Cody reached down to scratch at his crotch, and paused for a moment after seeing his hand. It was much thicker than it’d been, with rough, calloused palms and thick sausages for fingers. He flipped it over and watched as a thick dark hair wormed out of his knuckle, followed by another, and in seconds there were dark tufts of hair popping up across his hand. The hairs crawled up towards his forearm, where his once soft dusting of wispy brown hairs was overrun by new dense growth. The hairs pushed out long and wove together into a puffy forest that climbed up his arm, the growth not petering out in the slightest. His beefy triceps vanished beneath the growing fur as it reached towards the thick hairs on his shoulders.

He watched the hairs overtake his once smooth and tanned skin but, rather than alarm. all Cody felt was arousal, with his cock chubbing up in his pants. He was half tempted to use that newly hairy hand to grab it, but he restrained himself. Not in front of Shane, it could wait. The sun had started to set, and as if on cue his uncle spoke up.

“Welp, better get workin’ on some supper,” he said, hoisting himself out of his chair. He left Cody out on the patio, finally giving his nephew a quiet moment to himself. Cody gazed out over the pastures, glowing in shades of orange and gold from the sunset. He could get used to it out here, he thought to himself. The desire to get back to wrestling with his team had slipped even further, he’d barely mentioned them during his and Shane’s multi-hour banter. The virus had been multiplying in his head, suppressing those neural connections in favor of those made recently on the ranch. He wanted to stay here on the ranch with the cattle, giving the virus more chance to spread to others. It would do anything to make that a reality.

Cody watched the sun slip below the horizon and headed back to his room. He tried to pull off his tank but instead it shredded, unable to cope with his massive body. He laid down on the bed, feeling the thick hairs on his back rub against the sheets. It was an electric feeling, and very quickly the bulge down there had doubled in size from the sensation. He brought one hand up to the dense rug of hair on his chest, not questioning how it’d grown since the morning, raking his fingers through the wiry swirls of hair. It felt amazing. A wet spot appeared on his jeans and grew as he stroked the thick chest hairs, before he stripped off his pants and underwear to free his fully erect cock from confinement, dribbling precum down its side.

His other hand he brought up to his face, feeling the fluffy growth. It was lighter than the rest of his new growth, but as he scratched at his cheeks he could feel new hairs poking out. The hairs grew in thicker and denser, his beard filling in as skin vanished underneath. The follicles continued to pump out hair after hair, thicker and darker than before as hormones completed his change. The beard hairs pushed out longer and longer, tangling into a solid block of hair that hid his face and neck as it grew down. The bristles poked out higher up on his cheeks, claiming as much of his face as they could. Cody was in ecstasy, feeling his beard come in around his fingers. His cock pulsed without him even needing to touch it, the testosterone coursing through his body thickening all the hairs into a seamless pelt. 

He loved his new body, his new fur, and he had to make it permanent. The virus guiding him, he reached down to his cock, his grip not even enough to surround the girth, and pumped it once up and down. With just that, Cody moaned in a newly gruff voice as he climaxed, his cock erupting with a geyser of cum. Rope after rope of thick cum landed all over his body, getting stuck in the forest of hair engulfing him. As the last load dribbled out of the tip his body relaxed, so did his old life of college and wrestling. Cody laid there, plastered with his own load as waves of pleasure echoed through his body. This was the life, he thought, still rubbing his hands through his cum soaked fur. 

Cody managed to clean himself up a bit by the time Shane called from the kitchen. He sat across from his uncle at the table while they ate, resuming the banter from earlier. At the end of the meal Cody finally decided it was time.

“Y’know Shane, I think I’d like to stick around for good.”

This story is my submission to @occamstfs 2000 follower writing challenge. Definitely my longest one yet, thanks everyone for reading to the end! I hope y'all enjoyed it, and thanks to Occam himself for the motivation, inspiration, and editing he did!

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

[julietsf1]

The Secret Admirer - Franco Colapinto x Driver!Reader

summary: Y/N thought the biggest challenge this season would be her dynamic with her cold teammate, but mysterious notes and gifts start to complicate things. Who’s behind it, and what happens when she finds out?

content: driver!reader; slight lestappen in-between the lines if you're down for it

AN - HELLO?? when did I reach 100 followers?? that's crazy fr thank you guys so much <3 getting myself a some lilies tomorrow to celebrate heehee :)

inspired after reading an amazing secret admirer SMAU by @hugleclerc!!

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

The Williams garage was alive with the buzz of mechanics and engineers, adjusting last-minute setups on the cars before qualifying. I leaned against the wall, watching the team work their magic. The air was tense, but everyone seemed focused, ready for the battle that awaited on track.

Everyone except Franco Colapinto.

I glanced across the garage, where Franco stood laughing with one of the engineers. His gorgeous green eyes sparkled as he made some clever comment, drawing a laugh from the guy. Of course, everyone adored Franco—charming, effortlessly cool, always with a smile that could melt ice.

Just not when it came to me.

I took a deep breath, feeling the usual pang of frustration bubble up. It wasn’t that I needed to be best friends with my teammate, but we were supposed to be a team. Teammates were supposed to at least talk to each other, right? But no—Franco acted like I was a ghost. A ghost in a fireproof suit.

Whatever, I told myself. It wasn’t like I cared... much.

But maybe today would be different. Maybe today, I’d crack the Colapinto code.

“Hey, Franco,” I called out as I approached him, keeping my voice light, almost hopeful. “Ready for qualifying?”

He turned toward me, his eyes flickering me up and down for the briefest moment. “Hey,” he said, offering me the most forced smile I’d ever seen. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at how bad this was going already. “I, uh... need to check the data,” he quickly added, already turning away before I could even blink.

Right. Data. The lamest excuse. I watched as he made a beeline for the monitors, leaving me standing there like an idiot talking to thin air. Again.

I sighed, folding my arms. “Sure, no problem.” It felt ridiculous—like I was chasing after something that clearly didn’t matter to him. 

I didn’t want to admit how much it actually bugged me. Not having a good bond with Franco wasn’t just a professional issue—it felt personal. I got on with everyone else in the paddock. Oscar? Hilarious. Charles? Always up for a nice talk. Lando? Honestly too crazy for his own good. But Franco? He was a mystery wrapped in a cold, distant puzzle.

I let out another sigh, shaking my head. Turning to head back to my car again.

The truth was, it bothered me more than I liked to admit. I wanted to have that easy camaraderie I had with the others, but Franco wasn’t interested. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe it was just the rivalry for the number 1 seat at Williams, and I was overthinking things.

But still, every time I saw him chat with the team, his eyes lighting up as he joked around, it stung. Why couldn’t he be like that with me?

The countdown to qualifying flashed on the screens around the garage, snapping me back to reality. Focus. I had a job to do. I wasn’t going to let Franco’s attitude get in the way of that. I could beat him on the track. That’s what mattered.

..

Back in my driver’s room, the hum of the paddock faded as I shut the door behind me. The familiar quiet enveloped me, offering a brief moment of peace. I tugged at the zipper of my race suit, peeling it halfway down to let out the heat. Qualifying had gone well enough, p10, but my mind was elsewhere, drifting away from lap times and tire choices.

I moved around the small space, packing my gloves and helmet, going through the motions of tidying up. There was something soothing about the routine—folding, zipping, stashing gear away in its proper place. It gave my hands something to do while my thoughts wandered.

As I reached for my bag, my fingers brushed against something unexpected—a small, folded piece of paper peeking out from the side pocket. I paused, pulling it free and unfolding it slowly. The handwriting was neat, familiar. My heart gave a small flutter, as it always did when I found one of these.

"You looked amazing again today. Seeing you shine is the highlight of my raceweekends."

A smile tugged at my lips, soft but undeniable. These notes had been showing up for weeks now, tucked into my things when I least expected it. Always sweet, always supportive, and just romantic enough to make me wonder who the mysterious admirer could be.

I leaned back against the bench, holding the note in my hand. Whoever was behind this... they were good. Thoughtful, even. They knew how to say just enough to lift my spirits without crossing that line into cringe territory.

But who could it be? I’d racked my brain plenty of times. Maybe one of the engineers? They were always around, and some of them had a quiet, observant vibe. Or could it be the chef who made those amazing post-race meals? He was always so friendly, always knew exactly how to make my day a little better.

I folded the note carefully and slid it into my pocket, shaking my head with a soft laugh. Whoever it was, they were doing a great job of keeping it a secret. It was frustrating, sure, but at the same time... there was something kind of magical about the mystery. And it felt good, knowing someone was watching, rooting for me in their own quiet way. 

With a small smile, I headed toward the door, stepping into the outside world again, basically hitting me in the face with its upbeat energy. Whatever challenges lay ahead, at least I had one thing to look forward to—someone out there cared. And that was more than enough to brighten my day.

..

At the hotel I went straight to the restaurant which was filled with the typical post-qualifying buzz—drivers catching up, teams unwinding with food and drinks, and engineers talking shop over their meals. I slipped into the booth beside Oscar, who was already halfway through his plate, while Charles raised his glass in greeting.

“Tough session?” Oscar asked, his mouth half full, which would sure as hell earn him a scolding from Nicole Piastri if she saw him like this.

I shrugged, picking up the menu. “Could’ve been worse. Franco had his usual charm on, though.” I tried to keep it light, but there was no hiding the disappointment creeping into my voice.

Charles raised an eyebrow, setting his glass down with a smirk. “And by charm, you mean...”

“He barely acknowledged me.” I sighed, flipping the menu open. “I tried to wish him luck, you know, like a teammate would? He gave me the most forced smile, muttered something about ‘checking the data,’ and bolted.”

Oscar leaned back in his seat, giving me a knowing look. “Classic Franco move. Avoidance with a dash of politeness.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” I muttered, more amused than frustrated at this point.

Charles chuckled. “Well, it’s not like he hates you. Maybe he’s just... I don’t know, bad at the whole teammate thing.”

“Maybe,” I said, not really convinced. “It’s just... disappointing. Everyone else on the grid is easy to get along with, but with Franco, it’s like I don’t exist. I get that we’re both competitive for that number one seat, but it doesn’t mean we have to be strangers.”

Oscar gave me a small, sympathetic smile, then his face lit up with a mischievous glint. “At least you’ve got someone making up for it with those cute little love notes.”

My cheeks flushed a bit as I fumbled with the menu. I wasn’t expecting that to come up so quickly. “I wouldn’t call them love notes.”

Charles leaned in, clearly intrigued. “Oh, do tell.”

I sighed, setting the menu down. “It’s nothing major. Just... someone’s been leaving notes for me. Encouraging ones. They’re always really sweet and thoughtful.”

Charles and Oscar exchanged a glance, then burst out laughing.

“Our girl’s got a secret admirer!” Oscar stated, grinning ear to ear.

Charles joined in. “And you didn’t think to tell me? Come on, Y/N, we’re supposed to be your investigative team here.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling despite their teasing. “It’s not like that. I mean, I don’t even know who it is. The notes just show up in my stuff—my locker, my bag, even my hotel room once.”

Charles was practically bouncing in his seat. “This is amazing. You’ve got a secret admirer in the paddock, and you’re keeping it from us? That’s just cruel.”

Oscar tilted his head, considering. “Maybe it’s one of the journalists? They’re always hanging around the paddock.”

I frowned, thinking it over. “A journalist? I don’t know... It seems kind of personal. Like, whoever’s leaving them knows what’s going on in my head.”

Charles grinned, clearly loving the mystery. “Maybe it’s that tire guy. You know, the one who’s always lurking around with that awkward smile.”

I laughed. “Sure, because nothing says romance like delivering tires.”

“Hey, you never know,” Charles teased. “The guy might have a thing for drivers who know how to handle a good set of Pirellis.”

Oscar snorted. “Well, whoever it is, they’re clearly invested in you. And the fact that they’re staying anonymous? Bold move.”

I shook my head, grinning despite myself. “It’s not like that. I mean, I don’t think it is. The notes are more... supportive than romantic.”

Charles smirked. “Supportive, romantic... it’s the same thing when you’re the one receiving them.”

I leaned back, letting out a breath. “Maybe. It’s just weird not knowing. Whoever it is must be around a lot to be able to slip the notes into my stuff without me noticing.”

Oscar shrugged. “Could be anyone. Engineer, journalist, tire guy... heck, it could be someone from another team for all we know.”

Charles gave me a nudge. “Come on, let’s not overthink this. Whoever it is, they’re obviously paying attention to you in ways we’re not. Just... enjoy it. You deserve it.”

..

Back in my hotel room, I tossed my bag onto the bed and collapsed into the armchair. Even after the dinner with Oscar and Charles, the post-quali hectivity still lingered in my head, and I was ready to unwind. As I sat up, something caught my eye on the desk—there, sitting perfectly in the middle, was a bouquet of lilies, their soft pink petals delicate and crisp against the dark wood. Nestled among the flowers was a small teddy bear, its plush almost glowing in the dim room light.

I blinked, taking a step closer. Another note.

With a grin creeping onto my face, I picked up the folded paper, carefully sliding it out from between the stems. My heart fluttered a little as I unfolded it, the familiar neat handwriting greeting me once again.

"Flowers for the prettiest girl in the pitlane, you are doing amazing this weekend."

The warmth that spread through me was undeniable. Whoever this was, they had a knack for making me feel special without going overboard. I set the note down on the desk, reaching for the teddy bear. It was soft, comforting in a way that made me smile.

Without thinking, I scooped up the flowers and the teddy and practically ran out of the room, determined to show Oscar and Charles the latest installment of this ongoing mystery. I knew they’d have a field day with it.

When I made it down to the lobby, I spotted them easily—Oscar and Charles were draped over the couches, their laughter carrying across the room.

“Oh no,” Oscar said as soon as he saw me, eyes locking onto the bouquet. “Not more flowers.”

Charles leaned forward, grinning. “What is it this time? Roses? A life-sized teddy bear?”

I sat down next to them, holding up the lilies and teddy with a mock dramatic flourish. “Lilies and a teddy bear,” I announced. “And another note. This person is definitely stepping up their game.”

Before I could say more, Max appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the chair next to Charles. He raised an eyebrow at the sight. “Wait, wait, wait—what did I miss?”

Oscar leaned over, grinning like crazy. “Oh, just Y/N’s latest delivery from her secret admirer.”

Max’s eyes widened in mock shock. “Secret admirer? How come I’m only finding out about this now? Charles, you should’ve told me!”

Charles waved him off. “You’ve been too busy. Someone’s been leaving notes and gifts for Y/N. This is the latest one—lilies and a teddy bear. The whole deal.”

Without missing a beat, Max straightened up dramatically and grabbed Charles’s hand, mimicking a lovestruck expression, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh, darling Charles, I’ve waited so long to tell you how much I adore you. Letme sweep you off your feet with lilies and teddy bears,” he said in a ridiculous voice, earning a round of laughter from the guys.

Charles, unable to keep a straight face, clutched at his chest. “Oh, Max, I had no idea! How could I have been so blind?” He pretended to swoon, leaning into Max as Oscar snorted with laughter.

The whole thing was so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but burst out laughing, holding onto the teddy bear as Charles dramatically fell into Max’s arms. Oscar nearly spilled his drink, laughing so hard he was shaking.

“You guys are so annoying,” I said, shaking my head.

Oscar wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “And yet, you still hang out with us.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, sitting down beside Oscar. “You can all make fun of me later. But seriously, I have no idea who’s behind this.”

Max leaned over, winking at me. “Whoever it is, I’d say they’re pretty serious about this. You should probably start writing your thank-you speech for when they finally reveal themselves.”

Oscar tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s someone who sees you all the time but doesn’t want to be too obvious about it. A paddock regular.”

Charles nodded. “Like that tire guy. Maybe he’s finally making his move.”

Lando, who joined the group mid max’s performance and had been quietly observing so far, crossed his arms, his grin widening. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea who it is.”

I raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh, really?”

Lando shrugged casually, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I mean, if you pay attention, it’s not that hard to figure out. It’s always someone who notices the little things, like when you have a really good session or when you’re extra happy about something.”

Oscar tilted his head. “Wait... are you saying you know who it is?”

Lando’s smirk widened just a fraction. “I guess I’m fairly certain, yeah. But where’s the fun in telling you now? I’ll let you all figure it out.”

Max leaned back, giving Lando a look. “Come on, mate. You can’t just drop that and leave us hanging.”

Lando held up his hands, still grinning. “I’m just saying—sometimes the answer’s right in front of you. You’ve just gotta look a little closer.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, the wheels in my head turning, but before I could press him any further, George strolled up, adjusting his jacket with his usual air of elegance. He took one look at the flowers and teddy bear, and his face lit up with intrigue.

“Good evening, Gentlemen, Gentlewoman,” George said, eyes carefully inspecting the gifts on the table, “what’s this whole ordeal about?”

Oscar leaned forward, clearly enjoying himself. “Y/N’s got a secret admirer. Notes, flowers, gifts... the whole thing.”

George straightened up, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “A secret admirer, you say? Well, this sounds like a job for me.”

Max snickered. “You’re going to solve this mystery, Sherlock?”

George gave him a serious nod. “Absolutely. It’s a matter of pride now. Y/N, you leave this in my capable hands.”

I laughed. “What’s your plan, George?”

He adjusted his collar with a flourish. “I’ll start by investigating everyone in the paddock. No stone shall be left unturned, no individual overlooked.”

Charles chuckled. “I’d pay good money to see you interrogating the tire guy.”

George gave him a lofty wave. “The tire guy? Please, I’ll be far more thorough than that. I’ll speak to marshalls, cleaning staff, team principals—everyone. By the end of this, I’ll have your answer.”

Oscar grinned. “I’m sure they’ll all appreciate your thoroughness.”

“Fear not,” George continued, completely serious, “I will get to the bottom of this. You can count on me.”

We all burst out laughing as George made his dramatic exit, heading off toward the elevators with an air of determination.

Max shook his head, still chuckling. “He’s going to be a nightmare in the paddock tomorrow.”

Oscar leaned back, crossing his arms. “No kidding. He’ll have everyone hiding from him by lunchtime.”

Lando, still lounging comfortably, gave me a quick glance. “Well, while Sherlock’s off gathering clues, we can all sit back and enjoy the show.”

I smiled, hugging the teddy bear close. “Yeah, this whole thing is getting out of hand.”

But even as I said it, I glanced down at the note again, my fingers brushing over the neat handwriting. There was something about this whole thing—something I felt I was overlooking.

..

Race day had finally arrived, and the paddock was alive with excitement. The drivers’ parade was one of those moments where the race hadn’t quite hit yet, and the energy was more about the fans than the looming competition. I stood with the other drivers, the sun bright overhead, as we waited to climb into the two open-top trucks that would take us around the circuit.

The atmosphere was lively, the cheers of the crowd echoing through the streets. For a brief moment, it was just about the spectacle—no stress, no pressure. Just waves and smiles.

“Y/N!” George’s voice cut through the noise, and I turned to see him weaving through the group with a grin. “I’ve got updates.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Updates on what?”

George leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “The investigation. I’ve been doing some digging.”

I stifled a laugh, shaking my head. “George, I thought we agreed to keep this low-key.”

He nodded, but there was a glint in his eyes. “Oh, of course. Very discreet. But just so you know, I’ve already ruled out a few people. I had a chat with the tire guys—they’re off the list.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Good to know.”

Oscar, standing a few feet away, overheard and sauntered over, clearly amused. “George is still on about that, huh?”

George straightened up, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I’m telling you, we’re making progress. Just need to connect a few more dots.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Sherlock. But keep it subtle, okay?”

Oscar chuckled, clapping George on the shoulder as we climbed into one of the trucks for the parade. “Just don’t go questioning the marshals next, alright?”

We settled into the large truck, with half the drivers in ours and the rest in another up ahead. George stood beside me, his detective mindset clearly still working overtime. “I’ll crack this eventually,” he said, his tone only half-joking.

As the truck rolled forward, George leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve narrowed it down to three main suspects.”

I raised an eyebrow, already bracing for the ridiculousness. “Okay, hit me. Who’s on your list?”

George, completely serious, ticked off the names on his fingers. “First, Gunther Steiner.”

Oscar, standing across from us, choked on his water. “Gunther? Seriously?”

George nodded. “Could be him, right? The man’s full of surprises.”

I bit back a laugh, playing along. “Sure, let’s put Gunther in the mix. Who else?”

George held up a second finger. “Then, there’s one of the guys from Dutch TV. He’s always hanging around too, and I saw him chatting with the engineers yesterday. Could be a cover.”

Oscar shook his head, thoroughly amused. “A Dutch broadcaster? Aren’t most of those guys well over 50?”

“And lastly,” George said, leaning in even closer, “Lewis.”

I burst out laughing. “Lewis? Really?”

George shrugged. “He’s known to be romantic. He certainly stole my heart in the last few years of us working together.”

“He’s like a dad to me, George!” I said, rolling my eyes.

George grinned, completely unfazed by the disbelief. “You never know. He surely is a handsome guy.”

As the parade began to roll forward, I glanced over at Lewis, who was standing on the other side of the truck, waving atfans as we passed by. He caught my eye and made his way over, always up for a chat.

“Ready for race day, Y/N?” Lewis asked, his smile easy and familiar.

I smiled, waving to the crowd. “Absolutely! I’ve got a good feeling about the car this weekend.”

Lewis nodded, his gaze shifting briefly to Franco, who was further up in the other truck, chatting with Carlos and Checo. “How’s it going with your teammate?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of understanding.

I sighed. “It’s just weird, you know? I’ve tried to build some kind of rapport with him, but he barely acknowledges me. Feels like I’m talking to a wall sometimes.”

Lewis nodded knowingly. “I’ve been there. Back when Nico and I were teammates, it was the same. Sometimes, no matter what you do, the team dynamic just doesn’t click.”

I glanced over at Franco, who was sitting up ahead in the other truck, chatting easily with some of the engineers. “Yeah, that’s exactly how it feels. I don’t want to be at odds with him, but it’s hard when he’s so distant.”

Lewis offered a sympathetic smile. “Best advice I can give? Focus on your own performance. If it’s meant to change, it will, could still be a lot of love there in the future. Who knows.”

I nodded, grateful for his words. “Thanks, Lewis. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the trucks rolled through the circuit, the noise of the crowd surrounded us, creating a whirlwind of energy. I waved and smiled, but my mind kept drifting back to George’s “investigation.”

Just then, George leaned over again, his voice still hushed. “I have a few more leads, you know. I think the key is in the smaller details.”

Before I could respond, Lando, standing a few meters behind us, called out with a cheeky grin. “Maybe Sherlock should focus on the people who see the little things, those who spend the most time near her during raceweekends.”

I shot him a look, but Lando just winked, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Just a thought,” he added.

Oscar laughed, nudging George. “Sounds like Lando’s onto something. Maybe you should listen to him.”

George, undeterred, gave a firm nod. “I am conducting an official investigation here, I will not be phased by the random gibberish coming out of Mr. Norris’s mouth.”

We all laughed, the banter flowing easily as the parade continued. The crowd’s cheers grew louder, and for a moment, I let myself get swept up in the excitement, pushing thoughts of the admirer and Franco to the back of my mind.

..

The parade had been fun, but as the race drew closer, the atmosphere shifted. There was a something in the air, an underlying tension that grew with every passing minute. The team was busy making final preparations, and the garage was a blur of activity—mechanics checking the cars, engineers pouring over data, and the hum of engines revving in the background.

I made my way to the starting position, taking a moment to clear my head. The race was the focus now, and I had to put everything else—George’s ridiculous suspects, Lando’s weird hints, and even the mystery admirer—aside. It was time to focus.

Franco, who qualified p9 and therefore was parked next to me, stood by the car, laughing with a couple of the engineers, his usual charming self. His eyes sparkled, and his energy seemed high. Can’t believe he can look this good after such an intense weekend. As always, he was completely at ease with the team—just not with me. I watched him for a moment, the distance between us feeling wider than ever. It wasn’t that I was angry with him, just... a bit sad. 

I took a deep breath and walked over, determined to at least wish him good luck before the race. Maybe today would be different.

“Hey, Franco,” I said, my voice light but hopeful. “Good luck out there.”

He glanced over at me, looking clearly caught of guard. “Yes, thanks,” he replied, his tone polite but clipped. “You too.”

Before I could say anything else, he turned back to the engineers, diving right into a discussion about strategy. It was like a door closing in my face—again.

I stood there for a moment, watching him interact so easily with everyone else. He had the charm, the confidence, those dreamy eyes, the effortless ability to make people like him. So why couldn’t we connect? I wasn’t asking for much, just a little more than this distant, cold professionalism. But every time I tried, he shut me down.

I sighed, turning away. There was no point in pushing it anymore. Franco wasn’t interested, and I couldn’t waste energy on something that clearly wasn’t going to change.

As I stepped into my car, I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline starting to build. I had a decent starting position, and the car felt good during practice. If I could nail the start and keep things clean, there was a good chance I’d score some solid points today.

My race engineer gave me a rundown of the strategy, and I nodded along, focusing on the task at hand. The tension was there, but it was the good kind—the kind that made you want to get out there and fight.

I cast one last glance over at Franco. He was in his element, all smiles and confidence as he chatted with the crew. For a second, I almost envied how easily things seemed to come to him.

I shook off the thoughts of Franco, my mind snapping into race mode. Whatever was going on between us—or rather, wasn’t going on—could wait. I had points to score.

..

The race had been a whirlwind. I was still buzzing with adrenaline as I pulled into the pit lane. It wasn’t a podium, but finishing P7 was a solid result, especially considering how tight the midfield battle had been. The car had felt good, and I’d managed to keep my head down and fight through the chaos of the race. As I unclipped my harness and climbed out of the car, a wave of relief washed over me. Another race down, and points on the board for Williams.

The garage was already alive with celebration—engineers high-fiving each other, the mechanics cheering for what had been a strong race for the team. Franco had finished P6, just ahead of me, which was a good result for both of us. I caught a glimpse of him surrounded by team members, all smiles as usual, and I felt a twinge of something I couldn’t quite place. Not jealousy, but... something else.

As the energy in the garage began to die down, I noticed people slowly filtering out, heading off to unwind or prep for the evening celebration. I lingered, not in any rush, soaking in the post-race energy. Eventually, it was just a few of us left, the hum of the paddock fading into a quiet calm.

With a deep breath, I gathered my things, deciding it was time to head back to my driver’s room to decompress. My body ached from the intensity of the race, and the adrenaline was finally starting to wear off. A hot shower and a moment of peace were exactly what I needed before joining the team later at the cocktail bar.

When I walked into my room, I spotted something that made me stop in my tracks.

On the bench next to my helmet sat another note—this time accompanied by a little box from Dior. Curious, I opened the lid, only to find the most stunning, sleek, golden bracelet inside. My heart skipped a beat as I moved closer, picking up the delicate piece of jewelry. The bracelet was simple but elegant, with a small star charm that caught the light as I held it in my hand. This wasn’t just another gesture. This felt different—more intimate.

With shaky hands, I unfolded the note, the familiar handwriting almost calming in its neatness.

"You were a star out there. Wish I could see you smile like this every day."

I sat down, holding the bracelet in one hand and the note in the other, a mixture of emotions washing over me. The thoughtfulness behind the gesture, the subtle encouragement—it all felt so personal. Whoever this person was, they saw me in ways that most people didn’t. The bracelet wasn’t just a gift; it was a reminder that someone out there was paying attention to more than just my results.

I smiled softly to myself, but after a moment, I carefully placed the bracelet back into its little Dior box. It felt too precious, too delicate to wear just yet. 

I glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to step out from the shadows with a confession. But of course, I was alone. The puzzle pieces were there, but the final picture still felt elusive. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was getting closer to figuring it out.

With the note tucked safely in my pocket and the box in hand, I left the room, ready to head to the team celebration.

As I left the room and stepped into the paddock, I nearly bumped into Kym Illman, who was walking by with his camera slung over his shoulder.

“Y/N! Just the person I was hoping to catch,” Kym said, grinning as he stopped in front of me. “Mind if I grab a quick post-race shot? Gotta capture that afterglow.”

I blinked, still feeling a bit dazed from everything that had happened, but I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Go for it.”

Kym raised his camera, the familiar sound of the shutter snapping away as I stood there, trying to focus on anything other than the Dior box in my hand. The camera clicks were rhythmic, but I could feel the weight of the small box growing heavier by the second. Just as he lowered the camera, Kym’s eyes flicked down to the box.

“You got a little gift,” he commented casually, gesturing toward it with a nod. His easygoing smile remained in place, like he didn’t realize he was about to drop a bomb. “From Franco, right?”

I froze, the words hitting me like a sudden gust of wind. My pulse quickened, and I stared at him, my mind struggling to process what he’d just said. “Franco...?”

Kym, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside me, shrugged casually. “Yeah, I saw him going into your room after the race, carrying that little box. I assumed it was something from him for you. It’s good to see things are smoothing outbetween you two.”

He smiled again, a little too cheerfully, completely oblivious to the turmoil his words had caused. I forced a shaky smile in return, the reality of his comment sinking in slowly, like ice water trickling down my spine.

Franco had dropped off the bracelet. Franco had been in my room. Franco had been leaving me the notes and the gifts—this entire time?

My thoughts spiraled, trying to match the Franco I knew—the one who could barely hold a conversation with me, who always kept his distance—with the person behind these thoughtful, personal gestures. How could the same person be so cold and yet so considerate? None of it made sense. But then again, he was always around, like Lando hinted at.

“I, uh... will see you next week,” I finally managed to say, my voice coming out shakier than I’d intended.

Kym, still completely unaware of the bombshell he’d just dropped, gave an easygoing smile. “Great race today. You’re looking strong out there. I’ll see you around.”

With that, he waved and walked off, leaving me standing there, rooted to the spot. The guy who had barely acknowledged me for months, who had given me the cold shoulder in every single interaction, was the same person who had been leaving me these incredibly thoughtful, sweet notes?

I looked down at the Dior box in my hand, the logo glinting in the fading light of the evening. The weight of the bracelet inside felt heavier now, the realization settling in like a lead weight in my chest. It was Franco. What the hell?

But if it was him, why had he been so distant? Why couldn’t he just say something instead of hiding behind anonymous notes and secret gifts?

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. There was no point in overthinking it now. I needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to me.

Tonight, I was going to find Franco, and I was going to get to the bottom of this.

..

The cocktail bar slowly filled with the sounds of celebration. Laughter and the sound of clinking glasses travelled through the room as the Williams team reveled in the success of the race. The low lighting cast a warm glow over the bar, making it feel intimate, even amidst the lively chatter. I stepped inside, the gold bracelet glimmering softly on my wrist. The weight of it felt significant, not because of its size, but because of what it represented. Tonight, I needed answers, and I had a plan.

Franco stood near the bar, surrounded by a few engineers, his easy smile making him the center of attention, as always. He laughed at something one of the guys said, and for a moment, I watched him, still trying to reconcile the Franco I thought I knew with the one who had left me those thoughtful notes that made my stomach flutter. My fingers brushed the bracelet, and I felt a twinge of nervous energy rush through me.

I took a deep breath and made my way across the room toward him, my heart pounding as I rehearsed what I might say. The crowd seemed to blur as I neared, and suddenly it was just the two of us in this noisy, lively place.

“Franco,” I called out, keeping my voice light, though every nerve in my body was tingling.

He turned toward me, his green eyes immediately darting to my wrist. The moment they landed on the bracelet, a flicker of recognition passed through his expression—a quick joyful spark that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. But it was enough. That slight hesitation, the twinkle in his eye—it was all I needed to know.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little too calm, a little too composed. “Congrats on the race today. P7 is a solid finish.”

I forced a smile, stepping closer. “Thanks. P6 isn’t bad either. You were brilliant out there.”

He nodded, but I noticed his gaze flicker back to the bracelet again, like he couldn’t help himself. That spark was back in his eyes, and this time, it lingered.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, his voice a little quieter now.

His response was automatic, his words almost an afterthought. His attention wasn’t on the conversation—it was on my wrist, the bracelet. He couldn’t hide it.

I smiled knowingly. “Do you like my new bracelet?”

Franco blinked, his composure slipping for a second. “It’s, uh... nice. Gold, right?” His voice wavered ever so slightly, like he was trying too hard to sound indifferent.

I tilted my head, taking a step closer. “Yes, so pretty isn’t it? Someone gave it to me after the race.”

He nervously tried his best to look away and avoid my gaze, suppressing what seemed to be a proud smile. “Oh, that’s... thoughtful.”

I raised an eyebrow, watching him squirm. “It was, wasn’t it?”

The space between us felt charged, the air thick with tension. I waited, giving him a chance to come clean, but he stayed silent, his eyes glued to the bracelet.

He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever words he’d planned to use were lost. I couldn’t wait any longer. Grabbing his arm, I gently pulled him away from the group, toward the quieter, dimly lit corner in the bar, just out of sight. Franco didn’t resist, though I could feel the stiffness in his movements.

Once we were tucked away from prying eyes, I let go of his arm and turned to face him, crossing my arms as I leaned against the wall. “Franco, it was you, wasn’t it? The notes, the flowers, the bracelet—it’s all been you.”

Franco shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence completely gone. He avoided my gaze, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit I hadn’t noticed before. “What? No—I don’t—” He faltered, the words tumbling out awkwardly. “I mean, I—”

I stepped closer, cutting him off with a raised eyebrow. “Franco.”

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. He glanced around, as if hoping for some sort of escape, but when none came, he finally met my eyes. “I didn’t know how else to... say anything,” he murmured. “It’s stupid, I know. We’re teammates, and I should’ve just—”

“What did you want to say?” I asked, my voice soft but firm.

 “You’re all I can think about,” he blurted out, the words unfiltered. “Every single day.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his confession. Franco’s face softened as he continued, his voice quiet but steady.

“I’ve been trying to act like I don’t care, like I’m just focused on the race and nothing else, but... it’s you. It’s always been you.”

My breath caught as his words sank in, but he didn’t stop there. He took a step closer, his voice lowering.

“You have no idea what you do to me, cariño,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “I love the way every time we’re eating something and you have the first bite and it is really good, actually good—like, not just passable, you crunch your nose up a little bit. It is so cute.”

He smiled slightly, the vulnerability in his voice clear as he kept going. “And after a good session, when you pull your helmet off, and your hair’s all over the place, but you don’t care because you’re too busy hopping from foot to foot, like you can’t hold in how excited you are. You think no one notices, but I do. It’s adorable, and it drives me crazy.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as he took another step closer, his voice barely more than a whisper now.

He stepped closer, his green eyes locking onto mine, more earnest than I’d ever seen them. “Even when you’re just standing there, doing nothing, you have this way of making me completely forget about everything else. Just watching you makes me lose my mind.”

I couldn’t help but beam at that, the sweetness of his words breaking through the tension. Franco glanced down, shaking his head slightly as if embarrassed.

“I thought if I stayed away, maybe it would stop, but it didn’t. So... I left the notes. The flowers. The bracelet. Because I didn’t know how else to say it.”

“You’ve cared all along,” I whispered, more a statement than a question. My heart was racing like there was a V12 engine hidden inside of it.

Franco nodded, his green eyes locking onto mine with such intensity it made my breath hitch. “I have. But we’re supposed to be competing for that number one seat, and I didn’t want to make it more difficult... with how I feel about you.”

His confession hung in the air between us, raw and real. The weirdness, the tension—it had all been leading to this moment.

I stepped even closer, until our bodies were almost touching, my voice soft. “Franco, you didn’t have to hide it. You could’ve just told me.”

For a moment, neither of us moved, the space between us charged with everything we hadn’t said. But now, with nothing left unsaid, I closed the gap, standing on my toes as I pressed my lips to his.

Franco froze for a second, caught off guard, but then he responded, his hands finding my waist as he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. It was slow at first, tentative, like we were both afraid to break the moment. But as the seconds passed, the kiss grew more urgent, more real, like all the months of tension were finally being released.

His hands tightened on my waist as he kissed me back, the heat between us growing with each passing second. My heart raced as I melted into him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened, hungry, like we were making up for lost time..

Franco’s hand slid up my side, as he moved to cradle my face. His thumb grazed my cheek, and I felt my breath hitch, a shiver running down my spine as the kiss intensified. His lips were warm, firm, moving against mine with an urgency that sent a thrill through my entire body. I kissed him back with just as much passion, feeling flutters in my stomach.

My back hit the wall, and the feel of him pressed against me made my pulse race even faster. There was nothing tentative about the way he kissed me now—his lips demanding, his touch sending sparks of heat through me. He broke the kiss for just a second, only to dive back in, like he couldn’t get enough.

But this time, instead of his lips finding mine again, they traveled down, brushing along my jaw and moving to my neck. The feel of his breath against my skin sent a shiver down my spine, my heart pounding in anticipation. His lips found the sensitive spot just below my ear, pressing soft, deliberate kisses that made me gasp quietly.

Franco’s hands found my waist again, softly fidgeting with the hem of my top and touching the bare skin below, as he trailed his soft lips against the curve of my neck. The combination of his touch and his breath was intoxicating, and I tilted my head back, giving him more access, my body responding instinctively to the way he explored my skin. His lips lingered there, slow and teasing, each kiss sending little jolts of electricity through me.

I could feel his breath hitch as he pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against my neck as he murmured, “You’re making it impossible to think straight.”

Before I could even respond, he found my lips again, the kiss deeper this time, more heated than before. His hands moved up, combing through my hair, pulling me closer as his lips moved with a hunger that made my knees weak. I kissed him back just as fiercely, losing myself in the feel of him. 

 It was overwhelming—in the best possible way. Every nerve in my body was on fire, responding to every little movement, every brush of his lips. Who knew Franco could feel so good?

When we finally pulled apart, breathless, I realized I hadn’t even noticed the noise of the bar fading around us, the rest of the world disappearing for that brief moment. Franco’s forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling as we tried to catch them.

He didn’t say anything at first, his eyes still closed, like he was savoring the moment. And I understood that, because I was too. There wasn’t any need for words.

After a few beats, Franco finally opened his eyes, his gaze soft but intense. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges.

“Was it worth the wait?” I teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips.

His eyes darkened slightly, his lips curving into a grin. “More than you know.”

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against my forehead, lingering there for a moment as I closed my eyes and let the warmth of it settle between us.

I smiled up at him, still catching my breath. “I am so happy you’re not the tire guy.”

Franco blinked, a puzzled look crossing his face. “The... tire guy?”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry about it,” I whispered against his mouth, enjoying his confusion. “You’ll catch on eventually.”

[mariasont]

The Receptionist - S.R

a/n: i need this man on an astronomical level actually

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x receptionist!bimbo!reader

summary: spencer meets the new receptionist for chief cruz

warnings: fluff

wc: 0.8k

The click-clack of your polished nails on the keys mingled with the sharp pops of bubblegum as you focused on lining up Chief Cruz's appointments in the system. Taking a pause, you pulled out your notebook encased in pink frills from your drawer, and delicately turned its pages to reveal the week's agenda.

With the appointment freshly noted, you let your pen waltz around the margins, leaving behind a trail of doodles. With a subtle shift, you crossed your legs, the shiny pink heels tapping together, their color complementing the delicate fabric of your skirt.

You traced another heart around the date, and just then, a soft voice hesitantly broke the silence, "Excuse me?"

You looked up to find a pair of curious hazel eyes framed by brown curls that almost seemed to be begging to be touched, and his lips, which held a shy smile made your heart do a summersault. I mean, come on, what are these FBI guys made lab-grown or something?

He was draped in a form-fitting vets over a neatly pressed shirt, his sleeves were rolled up just so, in a way that paused your movements freeze and coaxed a heat to spread across your cheeks. Well, hello there.

He seemed briefly caught off-guard, his eyes flickering over your pink-themed workspace, a distinct departure from the former receptionist's subdued setup. He was almost overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things that now occupied the space.

With an enthusiastic bounce, you popped up from your seat, beaming brightly.

"Oh, hi there! How can I help you?" Gently straightening your skirt, you offered a hand, your name rolling off your tongue, "Are you here for Chief Cruz?"

The man's touch was soft against your palm, his attention caught by the soft clinking of your delicate bracelets, while your nails, painted a meticulous shade of pink that matched the color of your shirt, settled against the back of his hand.

"Spencer Reid," he introduced. "I have an appointment with Chief Cruz regarding a specialized training session for new recruits."

His gaze held yours a tad too long, cataloging the details of your appearance--the brightness of your eyes, the soft curve of your lips, the radiant glow of your skin.

A look of pleasant surprise crossed your face.

"You're the famous Dr. Reid! I've heard a lot about you," you remarked, a giggle accompanying your words as you eased back into your seat, giving a quick, knowing glance at your calendar. "Ah, here you are. I'll let Chief Cruz know you're here. He's currently in a meeting, but it shouldn't be too much longer."

As you pretended to focus on the screen, your mind raced. Dr. Reid--the genius with multiple PhDs, and now, the man who stood before you, unexpectedly  drop-dead handsome.

It was a challenge to maintain professionalism, especially when every fiber of your being yearned to do nothing but drink in his appearance. I mean, you were only human.

"Just Spencer is fine," he offered with an easy smile. "Where's Mrs. Henderson?"

You were beautiful to say the least, not at all what he was expecting to see when he walked in this morning, quite the difference from the former receptionist, whose age had been marked by the hard candies she offered.

"Oh, she retired last month!" you said with a bright smile. "So now, Chief Cruz is stuck with me!" Leaning in, chin cradled by your hands, you gaze at him incredulously. "Three PhDs, huh? That's, like, beyond Einstein-level smarts, isn't it?"

Spencer's cheeks tinged with a hint of color as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Well, not quite," he admitted with a modest shrug. He then glanced around the office before his eyes settled back on you. "How are you finding the job here so far?"

"Impressive, yet so modest," you commented. Standing up, you clicked print on the computer. "And it's great, I really love it here. I mean, it's not as thrilling as chasing down bad guys, I'm sure, but I think I'll stick to what I'm good at."

As you made your way to the printer, Spencer interjected. "No, I got it."

He returned with the papers, handing them to you with a gentle smile. 

"Thanks," you said, taking the papers. "So, you do that profiling thing right?" You tapped a finger against your lips, pretending to ponder. "Let's see... I'm guessing you're a Libra, aren't you? Probably born in early October, I'd say."

"What gave it away?"

You flashed a wink, the pop of your bubblegum punctuating the air. "I may have taken a sneak peek at your file."

With a light-hearted laugh, Spencer revealed a smile so grand it seemed to light up the entire space and you couldn't help but smile in response. You liked his smile, a lot. 

Spencer's response was cut short by the ring of the phone. You quickly answered as the great receptionist you are.

"Okie dokie, sir, I'll send him right back!" You listened for a second, then replied with a giggle. "No, thank you, sir!" You turned to Spencer, your smile wide, "He's ready for you!"

"Thanks," Spencer said with a nod, "It was great to meet you." He took a few steps towards Chief Cruz's office before pausing and turning back. "You know, maybe I should give you my number. For work purposes, in case you have questions or need help with anything."

You nodded eagerly, your smile reaching from ear to ear. "Absolutely, for work purposes."

[buttdumplin]

kyle who very early on realizes that you can't fall asleep to silence, putting the pieces together that first time you walked him through your setup on a late night call. he doesn't mention anything, lets you play it off as this ritual you've put in place, picking a movie to put on every night for weeks on end. he says nothing, only keeps track of how often you change movies, unsurprised that it was an early marvel film that kept you the longest. he hasn't spent the night yet and he knows the exact volume and brightness settings you pick for bedtime. he just waits and listens, matching your pace.

and after months of bedtime calls and snuck-in goodnight messages, kyle is rewarded with a gift, one he recognizes in its entirety. you ask him what you should put on.

a couple of weeks prior, you mentioned the light coming from the tv starting to keep you up, so the timing is perfect

what about a bedtime story?

your knee jerk reaction is to laugh, less at the suggestion and more at the words. that's such a silly thing isn't it? it's something a kid does, something a kid needs. and you don't.

you like my voice, you fall asleep on calls with me all the time

you can't even try to deny that, you know you've both kept score and it doesn't add up in your favor. okay, fine, you'll bite. but what if he doesn't have something to read from? what would it even be about?

do you trust me?

you do. you do.

you're nervous that first night, going through all of the motions of settling while on the phone with him. part of you worries that he'll realize that this is silly and he'll back out. which would be fine, you tell yourself. if it doesn't work, it doesn't work. the remaining part of you is scared it will.

the only light left in the room is the glow from your phone when he starts. his tone is low and deep, a slow steadiness you hear most often when you're in his arms. you don't focus on the words, just the sound of his voice, closing your eyes because when you do, you can almost feel the warmth of his body next to yours. slowly, you relax, softening into the bedding, pillows cocooning you all around. you remember hearing a smile in his voice as your breathing evens out.

the next morning comes in a flash and you find yourself in the exact same position you fell asleep in. you scramble to turn your phone, afraid he's disappeared. but there's a text already waiting for you.

sleep well?

he'd be entirely too proud of himself if he could see the smile on your face, but you can't bring yourself to lowball him. better than you can last remember, you tell him.

good. i have another picked out for tonight

a single night is all it takes for kyle to become your nightly ritual.

as your nightly calls grow longer, you're no longer sure quite when they end. fuck, you can't even keep track of the narrative. he could be telling you the same story over and over and you wouldn't even know. you fall asleep too fast to catch any of the details. and still he calls, every night he can

he even records himself for the nights he can't call, sending you a different story every time he has to leave. that way you both know he's still with you, and he knows you're sleeping well.

[solxamber]

Kidnapped(?) - Malleus x reader

You were sick of the taxes imposed by the aristocrats in your already poverty stricken village. Your idea of a solution? Kidnap their young master , and make them reduce taxes as the ransom, of course. Only problem is that you went into the wrong manor and kidnapped the wrong young master.

crossposted from my ao3!

It’s far too late for a sane person to be awake, let alone breaking into an aristocratic manor, but here you are, perched atop a wrought iron fence. You inhale deeply, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the wild thudding of your heart. Sure, you’ve trespassed on fancy estates before—who hasn’t?—but this time, you’re aiming high. Really high.

Tonight, you’re going to kidnap the young master.

It sounded less ridiculous in your head, but the village’s plight had pushed you this far. Unfair taxes, people going hungry, all thanks to the greed of the lord’s family holed up in their luxurious estate. Someone needed to stand up for the people. That someone just happened to be you.

You’d never kidnapped anyone before, but how hard could it be? Grab the rich guy, ask for a ransom—specifically, less ridiculous taxes—and stroll away like a hero. Easy.

The manor looms in front of you, all dark windows and dramatic architecture. It's almost too easy to slip past the guards. You start to wonder if they’re just really bad at their jobs or if this is some elaborate setup. Still, you can’t help but smirk. You’re so good at this, it’s almost criminal.

Well, it is criminal. But you know, details.

Inside, the place is eerily quiet. Every shadow seems to be watching you as you slink through the halls, making your way toward the young master’s room. You’ve heard the rumors—aloof, cold, basically allergic to feelings. Intimidating him into compliance? Piece of cake.

After a few minutes of creeping around like a ninja, you find a room with the door slightly ajar. A faint light flickers inside. Jackpot. You steady your breath, grip your very intimidating (okay, slightly makeshift) weapon, and push the door open.

Sitting at a desk, seemingly unfazed by your dramatic entrance, is the young master.

“Ah,” he says, turning slowly to look at you. There’s a glimmer of... curiosity? in his eyes. “A visitor. How... unexpected.”

You blink. This is not going to plan. Where’s the panic? The yelling for help? The appropriate reaction to being ambushed at night?

Determined to salvage the situation, you wave your weapon and try your best "intimidating kidnapper" voice. “You’re coming with me! I’m here to kidnap you, and if you want to see your precious manor again, you’ll lower the village taxes!”

There’s a beat of silence.

The young master raises an eyebrow. “You’re kidnapping me? How... amusing.”

Amusing? You falter. “This isn’t a joke,” you insist, shaking your weapon for emphasis. “I’m serious! Ransom, taxes, starving villagers—ringing any bells?”

Instead of, say, panicking or fleeing, the young master stands up from his chair, all calm and composed, like this is a perfectly normal Tuesday night activity. “Very well. I suppose I should humor you.”

You blink again, utterly at a loss. “Wait... you’re just agreeing to this?”

“Of course.” He tilts his head, giving you a strange, intrigued look. “I’ve never been kidnapped before. It sounds rather... interesting.”

And just like that, he strolls toward the door as if this is his idea. You scramble to follow, wondering what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into.

As you lead him through the estate, you’re still grappling with the bizarre reality of the situation. Here you are, attempting to kidnap someone, and the guy is practically rolling out a red carpet for you.

“You know,” you mutter, glancing over at him, “most people don’t just let themselves be kidnapped. It’s not really how this works.”

He turns to you with a serene smile that’s entirely too pleasant for a hostage. “Why should I resist? You don’t seem the type to harm me.”

You narrow your eyes. Is he flirting? Intentionally or not, this guy’s nerve is off the charts.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he says suddenly, voice smooth as silk.

“I’m not giving my name to my hostage,” you snap back. This is Kidnapping 101.

“Ah, of course.” He nods, clearly amused. “Then I’ll introduce myself instead. I am Malleus Draconia.”

Your stomach drops to the floor. Malleus Draconia. THE Malleus Draconia. The name practically vibrates with power and danger, and you suddenly realize you’ve made a colossal mistake. You haven’t kidnapped the young master of the manor—you’ve kidnapped the prince of the fae.

“Oh no,” you mutter, horror creeping into your voice. “Oh no, oh no, this is bad. This is really bad.”

Malleus watches you with mild amusement, an eyebrow raised. “Why the sudden distress?”

You whirl on him. “You’re Malleus Draconia! I— I wasn’t supposed to kidnap you! This is a mistake—like, a huge mistake. I’ll just let you go and we can pretend this never happened, okay?”

But instead of looking concerned, Malleus just smiles wider, a wicked little gleam in his eyes. “Let me go? But I’m having so much fun.”

You gape at him. “You... want to stay kidnapped?”

“Indeed.” He seems completely unbothered by the sheer absurdity of the situation. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve had such an engaging evening.”

Well. This is officially the weirdest night of your life.

The night only gets stranger when you run into his retainers.

“Young Master!” a voice bellows, and you look up to see a tall, green-haired fae charging toward you, fury in his eyes. “What is going on here?!”

Before you can even explain, Malleus casually steps in. “Ah, Sebek. Allow me to introduce my kidnapper.”

Sebek freezes mid-charge, eyes wide. “Y-Your... kidnapper?!”

Malleus nods with an unnervingly calm smile. “Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Sebek’s brain seems to short-circuit, and he storms off, shouting something about telling Lilia and Silver. You groan, burying your face in your hands. “This is a disaster.”

Malleus, of course, chuckles softly beside you. “On the contrary. I think it’s rather amusing.”

Of course he does.

By the time Lilia and Silver arrive, you’ve already resigned yourself to your fate. At least they’ll make your execution quick, right?

But Lilia just grins mischievously, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Well, well. This is certainly the most interesting kidnapping I’ve seen in centuries.”

Silver, on the other hand, just raises a brow. “He seems to be enjoying himself.”

Malleus smiles at you, as though being abducted by a random stranger is the highlight of his week. “Quite.”

You’re about to protest when Malleus turns to his retainers with a firm nod. “I’d like to speak to my kidnapper alone.”

Sebek looks like he’s going to explode, but Malleus’s sharp glance shuts him up. Lilia throws you a wink as they all leave, and just like that, you’re alone with the fae prince. Again.

Malleus steps closer, his calm mask slipping just a little. “You know, I’ve grown quite fond of this little adventure.”

You blink up at him. “Are you serious?”

He tilts his head, lips quirking into a smile. “I propose a deal. I’ll help your village with the taxes. In return, you’ll... continue kidnapping me.”

Your jaw drops. “Wait... you want me to keep kidnapping you?”

“Yes. It’s been rather fun.” His eyes twinkle with amusement. “What do you say?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “This is the weirdest deal I’ve ever made.”

Malleus grins, entirely too pleased with himself. “Wonderful. Now, shall we shake on it?”

And so, your bizarre, extremely non-traditional kidnapping arrangement begins.

Every few days, it’s the same: you sneak into his manor (more like casually walk in, since he always leaves the window open for you now), and the two of you embark on whatever adventure catches your whimsy. Sometimes it’s sneaking into human markets where Malleus marvels at the mundane—like street food or ridiculous trinkets. Other times, you explore abandoned castles with winding, forgotten hallways that echo with untold stories.

It’s almost normal now, the way he expects you to “abduct” him with little more than a raised eyebrow and a soft chuckle as you half-heartedly demand his presence for another outing. The most feared prince of the fae is now, apparently, your willing partner in crime.

The first time you take him to a local fair, though, you realize just how out of his element he truly is. Malleus spends a good twenty minutes, completely entranced, watching a cotton candy machine.

“Is it... magic?” he asks, his (very pretty) eyes locked onto the swirling pink clouds as the vendor twirls the sugary fluff onto a stick.

You can’t help but laugh, the sound coming out far more amused than you intended. “Nope. Just sugar spun into fluff. You’ve really never seen this before?”

Malleus watches the process with a reverence usually reserved for ancient relics, finally accepting the cotton candy as if it’s some kind of delicate treasure. He takes a cautious bite, his expression lighting up like a child’s.

“Incredible,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. “It dissolves on the tongue.”

You bite back another laugh at the sight of this powerful fae prince, someone who commands fear from almost everyone around him, completely taken by spun sugar. “Glad you like it.”

After that, it’s a night of him eagerly trying every strange, sticky fair food he can find, utterly fascinated by things as simple as corn dogs and funnel cake. You can't decide if it’s endearing or a little embarrassing, but either way, you’re having more fun than you’ve had in a long time.

As the weeks pass, the more you look forward to your little "kidnapping" escapades, and that in itself is a whole other problem. Malleus’s wide-eyed curiosity about the human world is... strangely adorable, and while he’s still every bit the regal fae prince, there’s something endearing about the way he asks you questions about everyday things with such genuine interest. He’s surprisingly easy to talk to, his quiet intelligence making for great conversation—when he’s not completely sidetracked by things like human street food.

The more time you spend with him, the harder it becomes to ignore the truth creeping up on you. You’re starting to fall for him. It’s ridiculous, and yet... here you are.

Of course, not everything goes smoothly.

“Human!” Sebek shouts dramatically one afternoon as you and Malleus return from yet another outing. “How dare you abduct the Young Master again!”

You roll your eyes, half-expecting this by now. “Sebek, I’ve told you before. He wants me to kidnap him.”

Sebek bristles, sputtering indignantly, his green hair practically standing on end. “Lies! The Young Master would never allow—”

“Sebek,” Malleus interrupts, his tone calm, but with that unmistakable edge that immediately silences his retainer. “I went willingly. Again.”

Sebek’s jaw drops, looking like someone just told him the sky isn’t blue. “But... Young Master...”

Malleus gives him a slow, deliberate look, his lips curving into a faint, almost predatory smile. “You should try it sometime. You may find it... enlightening. Although,” he turns to you, his voice soft but with an unmistakable possessiveness, “you’ll have to find another human. This one is already mine.”

Your breath hitches as Malleus’s words hang in the air, and you can't help but feel your heart skip a beat. Sebek, meanwhile, looks utterly scandalized, his eyes wide as saucers. Lilia, who has been watching the whole thing with far too much amusement, claps Sebek on the back.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Lilia chuckles. “Let them have their fun.”

Sebek looks like he's about to explode, but instead storms off, muttering something about propriety, while Silver smirks quietly from the sidelines.

One night, after another "kidnapping," you find yourself sitting beside Malleus on a hill overlooking the village, the faint glow of the fair still visible in the distance. The stars hang bright overhead, and there’s a soft stillness between you as the cool air nips at your skin.

Malleus’s voice breaks the quiet, low and thoughtful. “You’ve given me more than I expected.”

You glance at him, curious. “What do you mean?”

He turns to you, his dark eyes holding a depth you hadn’t seen before. “Companionship. I hadn’t realized how much I longed for it until... until you.”

Your heart does something funny at his words, the raw sincerity of them tugging at something deep inside you. Without thinking, you reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, your fingertips grazing his skin. The air between you seems to still.

“I’ve grown... quite fond of you,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

You swallow, feeling your pulse quicken. “Malleus, I—”

But before you can find the words, Malleus leans in, his eyes never leaving yours, and you feel the warmth of his hand gently cup your cheek. The world seems to fade away as you both hover there, caught between anticipation and something more.

“I do believe,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin as his eyes darken with something you can’t quite name, “that I’m falling for you, my little kidnapper.”

Your heart stutters, and before you know it, you’re closing the space between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss. For a moment, everything else ceases to matter—no fair, no adventures, no strange arrangements. Just the two of you, finally giving in to the pull that’s been drawing you together for weeks.

When you pull back, breathless, Malleus smiles, and it’s the softest, most genuine smile you’ve ever seen from him. “Does this mean,” he says, his voice still low and teasing, “you’ll continue kidnapping me?”

You laugh softly, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep in your chest. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Malleus grins, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “No, I suppose not.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is my first time posting here so i have no idea what i'm doing and the formatting is probably off because i'm on mobile but i'll slowly figure it out.

Masterlist

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Take Care of You

Summary: Tav's selflessness does not go unnoticed by Astarion, but so doesn't the way her selflessness is at the expense of her own well-being. He decides to take it into his own hands to take care of her... in more ways than one.

Pairing: Astarion x fem! Tav (reader)

Warnings: Tav overworks herself and neglects her own needs/selfcare, smut, fingering (Tav is AFAB), feminine pet names used, praise kink, I think that's it!

Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: I have brainworms again and need to get this out sooooo enjoy?

Oftentimes, Astarion found that Tav tended to the needs of others, but very rarely to any needs of her own. He had witnessed Tav spend the last 3 days taking care of everyone, including himself in various ways that had her now looking, and surely feeling, absolutely exhausted. As he stood outside his tent, eyes scanning the camp setup before him, his gaze zeroed in on his Tav who was currently starting the fire, and helping to set up Gale’s various cooking tools and ingredients. A soft smile tugged at his lips just at the mere sight of her, before turning to a frown. As it was, Gale was away from camp, surely bathing off the day’s blood and grime along with their other companions, as Tav readied everything for their return. Her hair was crusted with blood, as was her armor, and her cheeks were streaked with dirt. Her eyes ringed with purple, tell tale signs of her exhaustion.

With a sigh, Astarion makes his way across camp, coming to stand beside Tav,

“Darling, I must say, you do look absolutely ravishing in red, but don’t you think it’s a good idea to get cleaned up?” She looks up at him with doe eyes, hands not stilling in their endeavor to help.

“Oh I don’t mind waiting. The others won’t be long, and besides, I just want to help set up for Gale. He’s always so kind as to make dinner for everyone, so this is me paying him back.”

Astarion manages to internalize his eye roll, and hold his tongue from pointing out that Tav has saved the wizard plenty of times in battle to make up for the meager stew that’s served nearly daily.

He places a hand on her shoulder, before pulling back and dusting the dried blood off his hand, “I just worry that you haven’t been taking care of yourself, is all.” a clear of his throat does well to cover the awkwardness he feels at saying such a vulnerable thing to her. 

“I’m alright Star, no need to worry.” She gives him a glance and a little smile.

“I don’t mean to be blunt darling, but you look positively dreadful and like you could use a nap. Please, let me take care of you.” Astarion huffs, frustrated at her stubbornness. Tav straightens up and turns, her eyes meeting his almost pleading ones, “Okay, I’ll let you take care of me.” Her voice comes out a quiet murmur. There was no denying him when he gave her that look.

The others arrive back to camp not long after Astarion gathers fresh clothes, a comb, and toiletries for Tav. He leads her to a secluded spot along the shore of a small lake they are camped by, before unbuckling and removing her heavy armor and underclothes, leaning forwards to press a kiss to her forehead as he does so. He strips himself of his own clothes, regardless of having bathed earlier that evening, taking Tav’s hand in his own and bringing her to the water. Astarion gets to work, lathering the soap between his hands, and gently scrubbing the filth from Tav’s body and face, a shiver running through her at his touch. He has her fully dip underwater, then begins to work the soap through the blood drenched strands of her hair, massaging at her scalp with his fingertips. Tav lets a moan slip past her lips.

“Does that feel good darling?” Astarion chuckles as he brings the soap down to the ends of her hair.

She mumbles an affirmative, her eyes flutter shut. 

“Alright, there we go. Just rinse this out for me, will you, love?” 

Tav dips back below the surface, thoroughly rinsing out her locks. When she resurfaces, Astarion can’t help but bite his lip at the sight. The water rolling down her neck, over her breasts as she pushes her hair away from her face. She looks like a painting, he thinks. 

The two dry off, and Tav dresses in the clothes that Astarion had brought along for her; a pair of loose trousers, and one of his ruffled night shirts she so loved to steal. Once in Astarion’s tent, the vampire sits, patting the space between his legs and motioning for Tav to take a seat. She obeys, and sits while he starts to comb her hair.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” he hums, fingers beginning to plait her hair.

“I’m okay. I guess I didn’t realize how tired I am.” Tav yawns, her hands mindlessly playing with a loose thread on his trousers.

“Tav, you really must take care of yourself. You put everyone, including myself, before you. It’s really no wonder you’re so exhausted.” he ties off the braid with a piece of leather. His arms come around to wrap over Tav’s chest, holding her against his own and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

“I just want to help everyone, and I guess I lose myself in the process.” a chill runs through her at the feel of his lips on her sensitive skin. 

“Darling, do you think you could try to lose yourself in me, just for a moment, hm?” his tongue flicks against the edge of  her jaw. 

She gasps in a breath, and stutters, “ye-yes, I think I could do that.” 

“Let me take care of you.” One hand whispers across her chest, lightly cupping one breast in it’s hold, before trailing down her stomach, and dancing along the waist of her trousers, “Let’’s take these off.”

Tav shimmies her pants over her hips and down her legs, toeing them off to the side. Astarion runs his hands down her naked thighs, hooking beneath them to lift them and rest them over the tops of his, successfully spreading her open for him. Her breath catches in her chest, the cool air hitting her already sensitive cunt.

“My my, look at you. You’re already positively dripping.” He dips his fingers below and runs his middle finger through her wet, swollen slit, opposite hand running up her ribcage, grasping at her breasts and teasing at her nipples. He toys at her entrance, teasing the tips of his fingers in  her before pushing slowly inside. Tav moans, her chest heaving slightly at the intrusion. 

“That’s it, such a good girl taking my fingers like this.” Astarion coos in her ear, nose pressed to her cheek. He begins to pump his digits in and out, crooking them just enough to rub at that spot that makes her mewl. 

“Just feel how good I’m making you feel, my love.” The pace of his fingers picks up, and his other hand pinches at one of her nipples. 

“St-Star, I’m close.” her head falls back against his shoulder, throat exposed for his mouth’s taking. Thighs shake against his as she nears her end. He sucks and licks at the flesh of her throat, fingers continuing their pace. The hand playing with her breasts, makes its way down to circle her swollen clit. Tav whines at the contact, hands grip at his forearms, grounding her to the moment. 

“That’s it, pet. Come for me. Come around my fingers, I want to feel it.” 

Her cunt spasms around him, thighs quaking and hips lifting to meet his movements. Moans fly past her lips, as she rides out her orgasm. Astarion slows his fingers as she comes down from her high, “Shh shh shh, there we go.” Tav looks back at him, a blissed out, glassy look to her eyes. “There you are, darling. How did that feel?” 

She tries to regulate her breathing, “So good.” she manages to reply.

He grabs a cloth, and cleans her up, then slips back on her underclothes and trousers. 

“Come here, my love.” He scoops her up and lays her down, her head upon his chest, as he pulls the bedroll and blankets around the two of them. 

“Thank you Star, for taking care of me.” Tav mumbles as she drifts off and gets the much needed rest that she deserves.

[021894s]

DEVIL’S TEMPTATION - p.sh

SUMMARY: At your colleges annual halloween party, playful teasing and shared glances lead you and sunghoon away from the crowd, turning a night of costumes and games into one of passion and desire.

PAIRING: fwb!sunghoon x f!reder

WARNINGS: language, vampire sunghoon (need), oral sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk

WC: 3k

You and Ningning are in your dorm room, clothes strewn everywhere, mirrors covered in smudges of makeup and remnants of past party prep. Ningning is busy applying her eyeliner in the small, circular mirror on your dresser, occasionally glancing over at you with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously, you’re going to kill him tonight,” she says, adjusting her angel halo as she takes in your devil costume. “He’s not even going to know what hit him.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “It’s just a costume. And who says I’m dressing up for him?”

She laughs, not buying it for a second. “Oh, come on. I know you two only see each other ‘casually,’ but Sunghoon’s been glued to you ever since this little arrangement started.” She finishes her eyeliner with a flourish, then looks back at you. “Honestly, are you going to ignore him all night or have a little fun with him?”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking at your reflection as you adjust your devil horns. “Maybe both. We’ll see who breaks first.”

“Spoken like a true mastermind,” she says, giving you a proud nod. “Just make sure you save some time for me tonight, alright? I refuse to be ditched halfway through again.”

Laughing, you grab your purse and give her a playful shove. “Deal. Now come on, let’s get to that party and see if these costumes are worth all the trouble.”

The two of you head out, and the energy of the party is electric by the time you step into the packed living room. The music thumps through the walls, people already dancing, laughing, and mingling, each person’s costume somehow wilder than the last. But even through the crowd, your eyes find him — Sunghoon, leaning casually against the wall, his lips curled in that lazy smirk you know so well. He’s dressed as a vampire, black leather jacket hugging his shoulders, his prominent canines serving as fangs, gleaming when he finally spots you.

Ningning gives you a nudge. “Good luck, devil,” she teases before disappearing into the crowd.

You know that look, the way his gaze sweeps over you with the hint of a challenge. Smirking, you take your time sauntering over, putting a little extra sway in your step. His eyes roam from the devil horns down to the lace and leather of your outfit, and his smirk widens, intrigued. “Well, well,” he murmurs when you’re close enough to hear, his tone almost a purr. “Didn’t know the devil would look this good tonight.”

You roll your eyes, pretending not to feel the heat of his attention. “Guess that makes me your worst nightmare, huh?” you say, arching a brow as you match his playful tone. 

He laughs, reaching out to gently tug one of your devil horns. “Oh, trust me. I think I can handle a little hellfire.” His fingers linger on the headband for just a second longer than necessary, and you feel a shiver of anticipation race through you. It’s always like this with him — a constant tease, a familiar game where neither of you ever really wins or loses.

“Big words,” you quip, tilting your head. “But I’m not sure a vampire’s bite would faze me.”

He leans in, his voice dropping low enough to send a thrill down your spine. “Is that a challenge?” 

You raise an eyebrow, biting back a grin. “Only if you think you’re up for it.” 

Sunghoon’s grin widens, and he steps even closer, the space between you almost nonexistent now. “You know I always am.” 

The party rages on around you, but in that moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you, caught in a dangerous, thrilling game you can’t resist.

Sunghoon doesn’t miss a beat. As you exchange that familiar banter, he glances toward the kitchen, tipping his head toward the bar setup. “Want a drink?” 

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Depends. You offering to play bartender tonight?”

He chuckles, low and smooth. “Only for you.” He gently takes your hand, guiding you through the crowded room to the makeshift bar. He lets go, but you’re still keenly aware of his presence as he pours you a drink, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. 

He hands you the cup, fingers brushing yours, lingering just long enough to send a spark of excitement through you. You raise it to him in a mock toast, “To the devil and the vampire,” you say with a grin.

He raises his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. “To the deadliest duo in the room.”

You sip your drink, savoring the cool burn, and watch as he leans against the counter, his gaze lazy but focused, like he’s savoring every inch of your costume. It feels like a dare every time he looks at you — as if he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly how it affects you.

“So…” he drawls, tilting his head as his eyes flicker to your horns, then back to your face. “What kind of trouble does the devil plan on getting into tonight?”

You laugh, shrugging. “Depends on who I’m with, I guess.”

He steps in closer, lowering his voice, his lips just barely brushing your ear. “If you’re with me, I can promise you all the trouble you want.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you’re not sure if it’s from his words or the feeling of his breath on your skin. He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours, dark and intense. “You look incredible,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “I’ve been trying not to stare, but shit… you make it impossible.”

You swallow, barely able to find your voice as he leans in again, this time his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “I want you so bad right now.” 

And just like that, you’re melting, caught in the electric pull that seems to only exist between the two of you. The party fades into the background, the only thoughts in your head being of him and the growing wetness in your panties.

You can’t help the way your pulse quickens at his words, the room feeling suddenly smaller, the music dulling to a hum around you. Sunghoon’s fingers trail down your arm, lingering at your wrist before he takes your hand, his touch gentle but firm, as if daring you to stop him.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his gaze intense, a spark of challenge flickering in his eyes.

You barely manage a nod, and he leads you away from the crowded living room, weaving through a throng of costumed students until you’re both tucked away in a quieter corner down the hall. It’s dark here, the shadows dancing across his face as he leans back against the wall, pulling you close, his hands finding their way to your waist.

“Just wanted some time alone with you,” he says, voice low, his fingers tracing little circles against your hips. He pulls you in even closer, his gaze locked onto yours, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, a promise in his touch.

You let out a soft laugh, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know vampires liked getting alone time with devils.”

“Vampires can’t help themselves,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a smirk. “Especially when the devil looks this tempting.”

His fingers trace along the edge of your costume, barely grazing your skin, and it’s enough to send a thrill through you. Your hands settle on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the leather of his jacket, and he tilts his head down, his face mere inches from yours.

“You do this to me every time,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, his gaze intense. “Showing up like this… teasing me… you know exactly what you’re doing.”

You look up at him, biting your lip, feigning innocence. “Is that so?”

A low chuckle escapes him as he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t play innocent with me,” he says, his tone dark and teasing. “We both know exactly where this is going.” 

You barely manage a reply before his lips finally meet yours, the kiss slow and intense, his hands tightening around your waist. The world around you blurs, his touch grounding you in the moment, the heat between you sparking to life.

Sunghoon locates an empty room, its door slightly ajar, offering a tempting sanctuary from the party. With a swift movement, he pushes the door open, pulling you inside, the dimly lit room providing a stark contrast to the vibrant party atmosphere. Sunghoon kickes the door shut behind him the sound echoing through the quiet space. In the dim light,  your devil costume seemed to turn him on even more, eyes sparkling with mischievous intent.

"Shit baby, you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?" Sunghoon asked, his voice low and husky. You smile, red lips curving devilishly. "Oh, I think I might have some idea,” you turn around, offering him a tantalizing view of your perfect, round ass, barely covered by the skimpy latex bottom.

Sunghoon's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him. He couldn't resist any longer. With a heavy sigh, he grabs your hips, pulling you back against his hardening length. "You’re such a fucking tease," he spoke, lifting the devil's tail attached to your costume, exposing the curve of her bare cheeks. He smacks your ass lightly, the sound echoing in the room, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. "Oh, you like that, huh? I can give you more."

"Yes, please," you moaned, pushing your ass back against him, inviting more contact. "need you so bad hoonie.”

Sunghoon's hands travel up your sides, his fingers tracing the outline of your latex-clad body, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through you. He reached around, unhooking the the top corset piece of your costume, his skilled fingers quickly freeing your perky tits from their confinement. Your nipples were already hard and erect, the cool air causing them to pebble even more.

"You're so beautiful, baby," Sunghoon whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he nuzzled her neck, his canines lightly grazing the sensitive skin. "gonna make you feel so good.” you arch your back, pushing yourself further into his hands, eyes closing in ecstasy as he began to knead and squeeze your sensitive flesh. 

Sunghoon's vampire costume added to the erotic atmosphere, his dark desire contrasting your fiery passion. He pushed you forward, guiding you to the bed in the corner of the room, his hands never leaving you body. As you lay down, Sunghoon stands over you, his erection straining against his pants."need to taste you, Y/N," he says, his voice thick with need. "fuck I needed you the moment you walked in, in this sexy ass costume.”

your eyes flutter open, pupils dilated with desire. "Please, hoon, need your mouth so bad." With a hungry growl, Sunghoon lowers himself between  your spread legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he gazes at your exposed pussy, already glistening with your arousal, the lips swollen and parted, inviting him in. He leaned down, his tongue flicking out to get a taste, his fangs grazing your sensitive inner thighs. 

"Oh, fuck, Sunghoon," you cry out,  hands gripping the sheets as he licked and sucked at your clit, his fangs nipping gently at the tender flesh. "Feels so good, Don't stop, please."

Sunghoon's tongue delved deeper, his lips wrapping around your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending her over the edge. your body trembled as waves of pleasure coursed through you, whiny moans filling the room. He lapped at your juices, his canines now fully exposed, leaving tiny marks on your inner thighs. 

"I want you inside me, Sunghoon," you panted, your body still quivering from your intense orgasm. "need to feel you now." Sunghoon rose, his eyes dark with desire, and quickly shed his vampire costume, revealing his muscular body and throbbing erection. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your parted thighs, his cock hovering at your entrance.

"you want me baby? beg for me" he teased, his voice hoarse with need.

"I want it, Sunghoon," you pleaded, your hands reaching down to guide him into your waiting heat. "want to feel your cock deep inside me."

Without hesitation, Sunghoon thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you as your bodies finally connected. He began to move, his hips snapping forward, driving into you again and again, skin slapping together in a primal rhythm.

"Oh, fuck Sunghoon, yes!" you cried out, nails digging into his back as you arched your body to meet his thrusts. "so big hoonie, feels so good"

“You’re so tight baby fuck. pussy suck me in so good, like you were made for me.” his movements become more urgent, his cock pounding into you, your bodies slick with sweat and desire. Sunghoon felt his own orgasm building, his balls tightening with impending release “so close baby cmon, milk my cock.” Your pussy clenched around him, your inner walls pulsing and milking his cock as you climaxed again, body shaking uncontrollably.

"Cum for me, baby," you begged, your voice hoarse and raw. With a guttural roar, Sunghoon let go, his body shuddering as he emptied his hot seed deep within you, your combined essence mingling in a passionate climax. 

you both lay entwined, hearts racing, as the echoes of pleasure reverberated through the room. Once yours breaths seemed to settle down into a slower rhythm, sunghoon is the first to speak. “You should dress up more often.” 

You turn your head to look at him, a chuckle leaving your lips, “is that what you fantasize about?” his fingers draw invisible shapes on the expanse of your tummy, “I mean, did you see yourself? how could I not fantasize about you all dressed for me.” 

you let out another laugh, changing your position so you’re straddling him, his hands immediately moving to your waist as he stares i’ll at you with hazy eyes, “who said I dressed up for you?” An amused expression appears on his face, “oh please, we both know you came here planning to get fucked.” 

You lean into him, your lips brushing against his ear, “maybe I did… what are you gonna do about it?”

He doesn’t respond, instead he switches the position again, hovering over you, “then I’m gonna make sure to fuck you as many times as I want.” 

taglist: @awqken @hollyoongs @enhastolemyheart @wonnienyang @skzenhalove @slvrnm @lovesangyeon @velvetkisscs @soobieboo @jakeflvrz @woorcve @moonpri @blockbusterhee @yjwsgf @doublebunv @moon4moony @woniebae @moon368 @jakeswifewithtwokids @love4hee @ikeryn @indigoez @ramenoil @iilwji @riribell @ilabjungwon @tunafishyfishylike @leov3rse @onlyhyunjin @nyxtwixx @mnxnii @whateverhoon @jayrelics @laurradoesloveu @heeswif3y @enhalxvr @yunhoswrldddd @nikiswifiee @aiiselle90210 @lixiebokie @lelsforlino @eneiyri @punchbug9-blog @babystrlla @hee-yunie @hoonics @notevenheretbh1

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Smile for the Camera

It’s 10pm sharp when I start my stream. I’ve always been on time, always with my makeup on flawlessly, hair styled perfectly, and bedroom set curated just right to show my pretty pink sheets and collection of toys.

I smile and wave at the camera, tossing my hair back to reveal the pink lingerie set I’ve chosen for tonight.

“Good evening everyone! I’m sooo glad to see so many of you tuning in!”

The chat inbox floods with greetings from my audience and there’s an influx of money that comes from my particularly generous viewers. I giggle and flirt with my viewers, many of whom who have become regulars in my viewership population.

Someone in the audience asks for a strip tease and I feel my pussy pulse in response, looking forward to a night of performing for my devoted viewers.

I start slow, running my fingers up and down my body, brushing gently over my lingerie-clad nipples and whimpering loudly for the microphone to pick up. My eyes stare into the camera, all of my thoughts melting away as I fall into my role of entertainer.

Teasingly, I pull along the shoulder straps of my top, letting the fabric fall away from my chest to show off my perky tits and hardened nipples that are always a fan favorite. My hands dance over my chest, pulling gently at my nipples in a way that makes my moans completely genuine. My eyes glance to the screen and I see the excitement building in my chat box, and my account balance steadily rising.

Suddenly, I hear the lock on my door click and my body goes cold. The door to my room is out of the video shot, behind my camera setup and before I can even react, the door slams open.

I let out a startled yelp as my arms instinctively cover my chest. In the corner of my eye, I see the chat go crazy as my audience tries to figure out what it is they’re hearing but not seeing off screen. My attention is wholly focused on the man whose frame fills my doorway.

I scramble off my bed. “What the fuck? Why are you in my house?” My voice is shaking with fear and shrill with panic. I’m far too preoccupied to even think about the livestream anymore.

My fear deepens when I see him leer at me and stalk through my door and towards me without any hesitation.

“A fucking whore like you should be more gracious to me,” he says, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. He and I are both in the camera’s view now and the viewers on my stream are firing off more messages than before, speculating over who he is and what is going on.

Without saying anything else, he moves to me faster than I can evade and grabs my hair. My mouth opens to scream but before sound can escape, he throws me chest down onto my bed. The air is forced out of my lungs and for a moment, I’m still and stunned. The next moment, he’s on me.

His hand is buried in my hair, keeping my face pressed down against the bed while he forces my ass up into the air. I struggle uselessly against him, unable to push up off the bed or move myself away from his ironclad grip. My cries are muffled against my bed and I want to scream and yell for help but there’s not enough air in my lungs.

His free hand lands a sharp slap against my ass that make me jolt forwards and arch my back further in pain. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to land blow after blow. My arms begin to flail, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as I struggle.

“Stop fucking moving, whore,” he growls at me. I feel the spanks subside for a moment and I can feel my ass burning red and throbbing from the pain. My head spins from the abuse and the lack of oxygen. I feel his large hand find my wrist, his fingers locking around me in a bruising hold as he yanks my arm behind my back, straining my shoulder.

The hand on my head finally comes away and I raise my head just enough to gasp in much-needed oxygen. In that split second, he’d grabbed and secured my other arm behind my back as well, his one hand effortless holding my arms crossed behind my back. My body is still bent over, knees on the bed and ass up in the air. My only saving grace is that I can raise my head enough to breathe and glance at my laptop, showing the livestream still ongoing.

My eyes dart across the screen, reading messages as fast as I can. None of them show any concern for me, in fact, a vast majority are discussing how much they wished they were the ones holding my body down in this moment.

“Fuck yes, show that whore her place.”

“God, what would I do to be there to punish her for always teasing us.”

“I bet her cunt is dripping wet right now.”

I whine softly when I see that message because it’s right. “Please, let me go!” I turn my head to look at the menace of a man behind me. He flashes a dark grin at me, “Not until I fuck you out of your whore mind.”

His words echo in my head and panic rises within me. “Please! No! Stop! Someone help me!” I make eye contact with the camera, begging at its cold, dark lens.

He laughs behind me. “There’s no one here to help you, whore. You and I both know that every single person watching behind their computer screen is more than eager to see your whore body get ruined.”

As he speaks, his free hand pulls his belt and pants undone enough for him to pull his massive cock out. I let out a choked gasp when I see it.

“Wait, no, please, you’re too big, it’s not going to fit! Please!” My voice shakes and I start to struggle harder against him. His body dwarfs mine and I watch through the camera as he rips my panties off, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, whore.” I feel the head of his cock brush against my dripping slit and my eyes widen.

“Wait, please-” My begging ends in a wail as he slams himself into me to the hilt. The painful stretch makes tears spring into my eyes but unimaginable pleasure quickly follows as his cock nudges into every sensitive spot inside of me. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to rut into me mercilessly.

Every thrust makes my body shake with pain-tinged pleasure and pathetic moans are spilling out of my mouth as my eyes roll upwards. My hazy vision catches a glimpse of us on the camera. I look like a rag doll, back arched, ass in the air, and shuddering as he towers over me, his cock sinking into my cunt.

Every thrust is accompanied by the squelch of my wetness and the sound of our bodies slamming into each other. The bed creaks under us as his body moves like a machine, drilling into me. “Fuck, you tight fucking whore, your pussy was made for me huh?”

His voice is guttural. Suddenly, he grips my upper arms and yanks me upwards. His other hand comes around to grip my throat as he traps me against his front. The new angle makes his cock stab even deeper into me, forcing a cry from my lips.

“Look at the fucking camera, whore. Show them what a fucked out little slut you are. Go ahead, smile for the camera.” His thrusts seem to come even faster now.

I have tears falling from my eyes as my face reddens from his constricting grip around my neck.

“Smile or I choke you out on my cock like this,” he snarls, hips never stuttering in their punishing pace. I let out a muffled groan and try my best to focus myself enough to obey.

I stare through half-lidded eyes at the camera, barely coherent. My lips pull up in a small, desperate smile as I feel myself gradually running out of air.

“Good fucking whore. Now tell them how much you like having your whore cunt fucked.” His hand leaves my throat and goes to pinch my clit harshly, making me squeal.

“Ah- I like having, ah-, my whore cunt fucked!” My voice is hoarse, my orgasm fast approaching as he starts to roughly roll my clit between his fingers.

“That’s right, and you’re going to cum like this aren’t you, whore? Come on, cum all over me, show them how much you love this.” His words combined with the brutal assault on my body push me over the edge and with a desperate wail, I fall apart.

I hear him groan lowly behind me as my pussy clenches around him, my orgasm ripping through my senses. He uses my body harder than ever, treating me like a sex toy as he chases his own release. He slams himself into me one final time as he erupts, his grip bruising my arms as he keeps me in place.

I collapse against him, a boneless, overstimulated mess. He lets me down gently onto the bed, pulling out of me. The sound of his cock squelching out of my pussy makes my viewers more than aware of how well-fucked I am. He steps away from the bed and towards my filming setup. He leans into the camera and smirks.

“Let me know how else you want to see this whore fucked. If your idea is good, maybe I’ll let you come and enjoy her too.” With that, he shuts the camera off and closes out of the streaming site.

My body is still limp on the bed. I feel him settle next to me and pull me close before brushing my hair away from my forehead and kissing my nose.

“Do you think they liked me?” His murmurs.

“They loved you,” I say, breathless and drowsy from what we just did.

“I hope so, I wouldn’t want my debut on your stream to make a bad first impression,” he says, frowning down at me a little. It makes me let out a soft laugh.

I tilt my head up to kiss his jawline, “Only you would fuck the life out of me on livestream and then worry that you did a bad job.”

I giggle again and he grumbles back at me, “Shut up and sleep, I’ll clean up.” His kiss on my forehead is the last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep.