#imma get there at around 1 am…..

[local-soda-can]

what if time moved faster so i can get home quicker hm what if

[iceclew]

Chewing on my desk, eating up my mouse and keyboard, SCREAMING in AGONY, CAUSE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I CAN'T GET MY PRINCESS OUT OF THE FUCKING CASTLE!!! (╯°□°）╯ __|____|__

[newts-dusty-attic]

Things you can do to actively participate in the revolution

Here's the list !

I know some of those will look really silly, i promise they are not. And obviously, this is not a checklist, you don't have to do everything. But they're steps that you can absolutely take if you wish to, and they WILL help.

(Thanks everyone for your help, and for adding things yourself with your reblogs <3)

(under the cut !)

1) Let's start off with a very easy one you can do right now: stop using Chrome. It's a google owned browser, and it sents all of your data towards it. Mozilla is a very good replacement, but almost anything will do, really. Also, resign your amazon prime subscription. We revolting against capitalism as a whole, and this is a good first step to not freely give em your data and money

2) Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls. I am not kidding. Little things, that aren't really monitored: a can of food, a lighter, a pair of socks. Condiments are particularly easy to hide in bags or pockets. Steal hygiene products, steal food.

Remember that you should have access to those for free, and you don't because a few rich guys don't want you to.

Additional tip: train station stores are very easy to steal from, because they're so busy. But don't put yourself in danger. Check beforehand if they check bags at checkout, look out for employees that might notice what you're doing. Don't be reckless.

(edit: imma say this, you should read up on what the risks of stealing are, for you and others. Stealing from big stores is IMO always morally right, but it is risky for many reasons. Be careful)

3) In the same line, if you see someone stealing anything from a big store, no you didn't.

4) I know a lot of people are scared of disrespecting rules. By fear of being caught, or by guilt. My advice is: start disrespecting stupid, meaningless rules. I don't have specific exemples, but you'll encounter them and wonder why you're doing that. Stop doing it. This will train you to be able to disobey autority way easier.

5) Put stickers everywhere. If you already have them, go ham. Especially on public property (lamposts are amazing). If you don't, buy them from artists or independant stores, not big brands. If you cannot afford them, remember that you can simply write stuff on an A4 paper and plaster it to walls. Or even post its !

6) Carry a sharpie with you at all time, the big black ones. If you see propaganda, scribble it out. Keep a look out for terfs stickers, maga posters, etc. Also good for getting rid of transphobic and sexist stuff written on public restroom stalls !

7) Buy locally. This means going to the market or small stores, and thrifting your clothes. If you can't for money or accessibility reasons, try trading with your friends, family and neighbours. Get communication going in your circles, and you'll realise there are a lot of things that you can simply trade with or buy from people around you. Like a jar of jam against some eggs, or a pair of socks for a t-shirt you don't wear anymore !

8) Learn how to sew. I know, that sounds dumb ! But i promise you, not only will it be amazing to trade with other people ("i'll sew back ur shirt and in exchange, you give me a can of peaches !"), corporations also haaaate when you know how to fix your clothes. Because they want you to buy more. You'll spend a lot less money if you know how to fix em

9) If you have the space and the money, grow your own food, and share it or sell it around you. Be careful, some assholes will call the FDA on you. Do that with people you trust.

Additional tip: growing vegetables and fruits can be a real nightmare. You can absolutely start by just growing some basil or mint :)

10) Organise. Join leftist groups online, even if it's just to see what's being said, you don't even need to interact. Follow creators, repost and share their content. By doing that, you'll stay informed on group movements like strikes, protests and boycotts, which you can then participate in. It's very important you're connected to other ppl and the movements that are started !

11) Unionize. I'm very sorry I don't know the exact way unions work in the US, but if you can, join one. They will help you in times of needs, especially if you're a student or a worker. If you're not sure how to do that, absolutely ask around to people you know are very active politically, around you or online. People will help.

12) Stay. Informed. Follow independant papers and news outlet. If you can afford it, give them a dollar or two. They are fighting everyday for access to unbiased information for all, and sadly, their independance means that they rely almost entirely on donations and people simply engaging with what they put out.

If you can't access those: do not get your news from TV. Ever. Or anywhere else that has been bought by the far right. Sadly, the majority of TV channels are just the worst.

And, most importantly: fact check. All of the time.

13) Share that information. Talk to those you trust and who are ready to listen to you, and tell them about what's happening. Get angry with them. Revolution stems from people coming together and realising that they're being used and profited off of. Share videos and posts relating to politics, especially informative videos.

14) Go to protests ! If you've never been, i know it can be scary. But you can stay in the middle (don't go all the way to the front, that's where stuff can get heated) and scream and walk with everyone else. You'll meet people who, like you, want things to change. Capitalism wants you to stay as unconnected to others as possible, and that's a great way to fight that.

Sometimes, there are sites that have a planning for all protests happening in a city. Look up if one exists for yours

15) Create and strenghten community. I know i really struggled with this one, because it's so vague. But here's a few places you can start:

-Go and introduce yourself to your neighbours, if you deem it safe. Give them a little gift if you can afford it, like a pack of pasta.

-Make new friends, even if they aren't deep friendships. You need connections. Online or irl, both are fine- don't stay isolated.

-If you already have community, go check on them right now. Ask your friends how they're doing, and if they need anything- ask how they're being impacted by what's happening right now politically.

16) Look for ways to fuck over the institutions in easy ways. One example that went around tumblr a lot is letting dandelions grow in your backyard, because landlords fucking hate it. If you work in retail or fast food, cheat. Accidentally forget to scan the diapers. Put in 7 nuggets instead of 6.

(edit: been told that it's very risky for walmart workers to not scan things, so beware.)

17) Engage in art. MAKE art. Music, shitty paint drawings, craft, anything as long as you're being creative. Share it. If you feel like you can't do that, then support artists. Make a point to look up cool illustrations, and new music. Go to the cinema.

If you're an artist currently in an underpaid office job, please, by the love of god, be creative during office hours. You're underpaid, they do not deserve your full time and attention. Take 30 minutes to write that snippet you've been thinking about.

(and actually, if you're underpaid at all: do the minimum required. So that you can't be fired, but that's it. Any more effort is not worth it. Companies will never be thankful for what you do.)

18) Look up books that your state banned, and go read them. You can get them secondhand, or as pdfs online. (if anyone needs ressources, i will glady look for and share them.)

And, actually, read books in general if you can. Yes, fanfics count !

19) Seek education. There's a lot of youtube channels out there talking about educational subjects in a fun way. Some things the rich assholes who run the country specifically don't want you to learn more about are: biology, history and archeology, social and economic sciences. GO LEARN ABOUT THOSE.

The people in power don't want you to be educated. It's why they eviscerated the education system.

20) PIRATE. I cannot stress this enough, anything you can pirate (that isn't from small, indie creators, except if you absolutely can't afford it) do it. Download music illegally, torrent movies and games. If you want access to academical studies and papers, some writers will give them to you for free if you email them about it. There are also ways to go around paywalls.

21) Don't fall for the traps of "progressive brands". Lately, i've seen a lot of praise for Ben and Jerry's for openly supporting lgbtq rights and being globally anti-trump. They are still a brand. Avoid buying from any big names when you can. That being said, if you have to, check beforehand which ones and what their history is. Some are more evil than others.

Additional tip: a lot of brands you see in stores are actually owned by bigger brands. One prime example of this is Nestle, who are fucking evil, but they own a shitload of other big names. Be careful what you buy.

22) I hate to say this, but be prepared to defend yourself. Revolutions are never peaceful. You will get in danger. If you can, get in ok physical shape. Learn how to run fast and fight well.

If none of those are available options to you, please, make sure you have someone around you that will be able to protect you, or a place where you can be safe. Whether you are disabled, a minor, or anything else. Don't put yourself in more danger than is necessary.

(this used to also include getting a gun. I deleted it because i don't feel comfortable recommending this. But it's still an option.)

23) Last but not least, be kind. When someone cuts off a woman speaking, interrupt and give her the floor back. Shame those who think it's right to say bigoted shit in public. Listen to those around you. If you can't act, then remember to always have empathy for the homeless, for drug users, for immigrants. Understand they are people just like you. You are not immune to propaganda and prejudice, no matter who you are. Always question yourself and your biases.

(if you've read this far, please repost. We need this to reach as many people as possible)

I want to remind you that you're not alone. I know things seem hopeless, but the simple fact that you're reading this is proof it's not. I don't live in the US, but i'm supporting you as best i can from where i am, and sending you strenght.

If you have any questions, do ask away. I'll end on this image that's very dear to me:

[theonottsbxtch]

EL COQUETO | FC43

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

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

wc: 7.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Francolpainto has sent you a message.

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

Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?

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

Her: Yes, I am.

The response came almost immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her: Pity, this one isn’t intrested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her: Room 914.

Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her: Cute.

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

Franco: Oh? You find me cute?

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

Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.

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

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

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

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

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

Franco: Okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he was worth the wait.

the end.

[insomniadreamzz]

Imma go combine two requests in that one.

Request 1: i was thinking if you could write something like jinx using her shimmer speed for fucking?

Request 2: If you still take requests, and when you get a chance, could you do a G!P Jinx x fem reader? The scenario I was picturing was that they are cuddling with the reader in Jinx's lap, and the reader is sort of grinding against her as they try and reposition themselves. And they're unaware of what it's doing to Jinx and eventually Jinx has enough and and fucks the reader right then and there.

———

My good girl

Mentions of G!P, smut, rough sex, overstimulation, blowjob, bratty Reader, dom!Jinx

You finally got Jinx away from her work bench, cuddling for a while now, you straddling her lap while your head rested in the crook of her neck. You loved cuddling with her, inhaling her beautiful scent. In moments like this even Jinx was calm, not being her usual bubbly self. The only thing that you could hear was her calm breathing and feeling her hand caress up and down your back. Jinx showing affection like this is a rare thing so you enjoyed every second.

„I love you.“ You whispered, your breath tickling her a little, she pressed a kiss on your forehead. „I love you too.“ You loved hearing her say that, slightly shifting on her lap to reposition yourself a little, feeling how Jinx‘s body tensed up but she didn’t say anything yet. You did move again, your crotch grinding against hers and you leaned up to have a better view of her now, you could see her cheeks being flushed red and her expression showing a little bit of weakness. You didn’t think about anything not innocent so you didn’t really understand why she looked at you like this.

„What? You okay?“ You giggle innocently, placing a soft kiss on her lips, as you do so you shifted again. „Ngh…fine that’s enough.“ Jinx groaned as she flipped you over, now being on top of you as she pushed you into the mattress. „Don’t you think I noticed this?“ She grumbled as her hands pinned yours down, she was being serious but you still didn’t get it. „Noticed what? We were cuddling.“ You mentioned and she let out a little sigh before pressing her clothed crotch against yours, making you feel her bulge.

Your cheeks instantly heat up, surprised by her getting excited so fast. „I-…I didn’t think you would get that hard because of a little shifting.“ Your words made her grunt, rolling her eyes annoyed. „Yea sure. You grind against me and think I won’t get hard? Nice try love, I am gonna give you what you deserve for lying to me. You know I hate being lied on.“

Even though you didn’t lie at all to her and just wanted a innocent moment with her without thinking about your own movements and what they would cause, you felt excited to see what she will do to you so you just played along with her. Telling her you didn’t do it on purpose won’t work on Jinx anyways if she is stuck in her own mindset. That’s what you learned about her very fast.

„Mhh…so you wanna put your little brat in her place?“ You just went along with the little game, not knowing what it would cause. „So? You’re so confident aren’t you? Let me fuck that confidence out of you then.“ She said with a husky voice, sitting up to remove her pants to let her hard cock free. Before you could react she grabbed you by your hair, making you sit up and shoved her cock inside of your mouth. „That’s it…use that bratty mouth on me.“ Jinx groaned as she moved her hips, letting her cock slide down your throat, making you gag a little bit on it. You tried your best to please her, letting her go all in and as fast as she wanted, your tongue swirling around her cock, hands placed on her hips to keep you up.

When she had the feeling she shut you up enough, only hearing your muffled moans and looking into your teary eyes, she decided to pull on your hair as she made you lean back a little, her cock and your mouth being connected by a string of your saliva as you looked at her beautiful pink eyes glowing of excitement. „That’s my good girl…I am not planning on giving you the pleasure to swallow it this time. I‘d rather want to make a mess out if you. Brats do deserve that.“ Her smirk was very evil, you knew that look on her face. She really meant what she said.

Jinx removed your pants and panties as well along with your shirt, wanting to have you fully exposed to her, smirking playfully as she gazed down at you, spreading your legs to see you being dripping wet for her. Your own hands move to your breasts, wanting to touch yourself but Jinx didn’t like that idea, giving you a little slap on your wet pussy which made you whine out loudly, whimpering after. „No touching. I am gonna touch you, your hands better stay away if you don’t want me to slap you again.“ She commanded you before adjusting herself properly between your legs, moving her cock inside of you deeply without a warning, making you moan out. „Ah! Fuck Jinx!“

Jinx only smirked playfully at your reaction. „Didn’t I tell you I will fuck the brat out of you?“ She didn’t wait for you to get used to her size as she started thrusting her hips inside of you, both of you ending up being a moaning mess, your tummy making a little bulge each time she thrusted into you made her know she was just hitting the right spot. Her eyes started glowing a lot again, a sign that showed whenever she used her shimmer which made her thrust into you in a inhuman speed, making you moan uncontrollably as your legs clenched around her, reaching your orgasm as your juices spilled all over her cock.

Jinx didn’t think of stopping yet, throwing her head back as she moaned out loudly, little strings of pink light following her eyds as she moved her head back. „J-Jinx! Stop!…I-I can’t-…ahh!“ You try to beg her to stop feeling overstimulated, not even able to form proper words, your whimpering moans cutting of your words. Jinx loved everything about this, looking down at you with such a needy gaze, you were wondering how she could keep herself from cumming.

„Naw…I am sure you can baby. You are my good girl. You can take it.“ She encouraged you, still pounding into you hard and fast, filling up the room with lewd wet sounds. Your juices helping her to slide in even more easier. „Hnng! You are so good for me, taking my punishment so good huh? Yes that’s it, good girl, my good girl.“ She groaned in between her moaning, biting her lower lip, a sign she was close and so were you, cumming again with a whine, your legs trembling underneath her, arching your back, tears of pleasure running down your eyes and finally Jinx reached her high as well, pulling out to cum on your lower tummy, making a mess out of you. „God…so sexy for me…“ She mumbled under her breath, jerking herself off on you before she leaned down, running her tongue along your wet folds, tasting your juices mixed together, feeling you twitch when her tongue reached your clit.

Jinx was satisfied for now, seeing you all done as you are still not ready to form words, being out of breath. „Next time don’t be so bratty and I will cum inside you instead~“ She said with her usual playful voice like she didn’t just dominate you and fucked you breathless.

She positioned herself back beside you, pulling you close to her chest as she began to be her soft, loving self again towards you, whispering so softly to you. „You’re mine, remember that.“ You just nod, feeling your body already feeling sore and she knew that, keeping you close to her until you both eventually fall asleep in each others arms.

[bueckers555]

girl where is pt.2 of pazzi 😐 it’s been 2 years atp 😔

SUMMER NIGHTS 2 — paige bueckers x reader x azzi fudd

summary: in which, paige and azzi act like you don’t exist. until their teammate doesn’t.

warnings: smut, oral sex (r and a receiving), strap on sex, spitting?, fingering

authors note: HERE DAMNNN no jk, LMAOAO honestly this has BEEN finished i just needed to edit it and i got lazy 😔 sorry frens hopefully this filth makes up for it

Summer flew by after that night.

The night you were starting to think you imagined.

Not just because it had been days and nothing of the sort had happened again, but because they acted as if it never had. No glances when you were in the same room. No acknowledgment at the dinner table. Not a single word spoken to you, which made the short drive to the ice cream parlor feel unbearably tense, though your parents remained oblivious.

It pissed you off more than you wanted to admit. Because admitting it stung would make it real. And you weren’t about to give them that much power. So all you had left to feel was anger.

But summer was winding down, and you’d be damned if you let them ruin the cabin you’d loved since before you could talk. You were going to soak up every last bit of sun, every jump into the river, every warm breeze before classes started again.

Paige and Azzi clearly felt the same way. The UConn girls had practically moved in, knowing their days of sleeping in until 1 PM, late-night Fortnite marathons, and raiding your fridge were numbered. Soon, it’d be 6 AM workouts, midterms, and press conferences every other day.

You didn’t mind, though. You loved the team—well, most of them. And they loved you.

They weren’t just Paige and Azzi’s teammates. They were your friends too.

That’s what you reminded yourself as you sat on the hood of your mom’s sleek black car, watching them play a heated game of 3v3 in the driveway. Your hibiscus-print tube top rode up slightly, and you tugged it back into place as you snorted at Ice, who was rolling her hands to call a turnover. Paige, naturally, argued—but to no avail.

“Aight, aight, I’m gassed. Imma get waters. Y’all want one?” Paige lifted the hem of her shirt to wipe a bead of sweat from her forehead.

Any other day, you would’ve let yourself gawk at the sight of her abs peeking through her sports bra, the way it hugged her body just right. You would’ve let yourself think about tracing your tongue down the defined lines of her stomach.

Not today.

Azzi followed Paige inside to help, and Caroline, Jana, KK, Sarah, and Aubrey stood off to the side, deep in conversation.

Ice, on the other hand, strolled right over to you, placing her hands on either side of your thighs where they rested on the car hood. She smirked, easy and confident. “Tryna play a lil’ one-on-one?”

You snorted, clamping a hand over your mouth as you shook your head. “I live with basketball players. That don’t make me one. I don’t even know how to shoot the damn ball.”

Ice tilted her head, unimpressed by your protest. “C’mon, then.” She nodded toward the court.

You hesitated but reluctantly slid off the car, brushing past her as you followed her onto the pavement. She gently passed you the ball, then stepped closer—too close, if the way your breath hitched was any indication.

“Alright, first lesson—hand placement. It’s important when you shoot.”

You glanced down at your awkward grip. Ice didn’t hesitate, wrapping her fingers around your wrist, adjusting one hand so it rested more to the side of the ball instead of on top. Her touch lingered as she shifted your other hand.

“One hand here,” she murmured, voice lower now. “And the other here.”

Her breath ghosted over your cheek, her fingers light but firm as they brushed over your knuckles. It was unnecessary—she could’ve just told you what to do. But she wasn’t in any rush to step back.

And maybe you weren’t in a rush to move either.

“Now, bend your knees a little,” she continued, her hands settling lightly on your waist—again, unnecessary. “Loosen up.”

You sucked in a sharp breath but followed her instruction.

Ice hummed in approval, her grip squeezing slightly. “There you go. Now, when you shoot, flick your wrist—” she guided your arm through the motion, her body pressing into your side as she did, “—like that.”

The ball left your fingertips, arching toward the hoop. It hit the rim, bouncing around before finally dropping through the net.

“Oh, shit.” You blinked in surprise. “I made it.”

“Damn right you did.” Ice grinned, her hands still on you. “Might have to start calling you a natural.”

As you smiled back, something made you glance toward the house.

Paige and Azzi were standing just outside, holding water bottles, watching.

Neither of them said a word.

Paige’s jaw was tight, her grip on the bottle firm, knuckles pressing against the plastic. Azzi’s eyes flicked between you and Ice, her expression full of amusement, but something sharp lingered in it. Neither spoke up. Neither intervened.

They just stood there. Seething.

Not that you cared.

Not after the way they’d spent all summer pretending you didn’t exist.

So you let yourself soak in the moment. Let yourself smile as Ice’s hands stayed firmly on your waist, let yourself feel the warmth of her body pressed close, let yourself enjoy the attention—the touch, the easy flirting, the way she looked at you like she wanted to keep teaching you all night.

If Paige and Azzi had a problem with it, well…

They should’ve thought about that before they spent the last couple of weeks ignoring you.

It was late, the cabin dimly lit by the glow of the TV. Coach Carter played in the background, but no one was really watching. The UConn girls were sprawled across the couches, already having fallen in deep sleep, surrounded by bowls of popcorn, Capri Sun packets, and scattered bags of chips and candy.

You sighed, shaking your head as you started picking up the mess. The parents were gone for the night, but if they came back to this disaster, there was no way they’d allow another sleepover.

You heard the soft patter of footsteps behind you but didn’t bother turning around. After spending twenty-two summers in this cabin with them, you could tell exactly who it was without looking.

“You don’t have to do that. Leave ‘em,” Azzi’s voice came from behind, low and casual.

You rolled your eyes. Now she wanted to talk to you?

“Well, someone has to. Don’t think Katie, Amy, or my mom would appreciate seeing the cabin they pay for trashed,” you muttered, placing the last of the bowls in the sink before turning to face her.

Azzi was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head tilted ever-so-slightly as she looked you over. And not just looked—scanned.

Her tongue swiped across her bottom lip before she spoke. “C’mere.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

Azzi had known you long enough to know you’d never act first, so she closed the space between you herself, her hands planting on either side of the counter—like Ice had done earlier.

“That was cute,” she murmured, voice low. “The shit you pulled earlier. Me and Paige, now Ice?”

You barely heard her over the way your pulse pounded in your ears. Your eyes flickered to her lips as she gave a breathless laugh—like this was funny.

But the way she held your gaze told you it was anything but funny.

You mustered up a slow smile, one that felt more like a smirk. “She was teaching me how to shoot. Probably better than you two ever could.”

Azzi gave a humorless laugh, nodding slowly before she grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the stairs. You barely had time to react before she was pulling you into her room, the door clicking shut behind you.

Paige was already there, lounging in a chair like she’d been waiting.

“Took y’all long enough,” she muttered, standing up, stretching, towering over you.

Your instinct was to turn toward the door, but Azzi was already there, leaning against it, her dimples deepening with amusement.

“Wanna hear sum funny, Paige?”

Paige hummed, blue eyes locked onto you as she raked her fingers up your side—slow, deliberate, sending a shiver through you.

“She said Ice was teaching her how to shoot,” Azzi continued, her voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite place. “Better than we ever could.”

Paige snorted. Her hand dropped from your side, and you almost whined at the loss of contact but held firm, refusing to give her that satisfaction.

You crossed your arms. “You can’t just ignore me all summer and then—”

Paige cut you off with a scoff. “Fuck, you wear these tight-ass clothes, your ass damn near hanging out—for what?” Her eyes dragged over your tube top, the curve of your hips, your way too short shorts. “You like the attention? That what you’re looking for?”

Your blood boiled. “Fuck you, Paige.” Your voice was sharp, but your stomach tightened at the way she was looking at you. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can and can’t wear? Who I can and can’t talk to?”

Paige exhaled slowly, rubbing her jaw as she looked to the side, like she was trying to keep herself in check. You watched every movement—the way her brows furrowed, how her tongue poked at her cheek, how her lips parted slightly like she was on the verge of saying something reckless.

Like you were pushing it.

And she liked it.

Paige always had a way of making eye contact feel like a game you were destined to lose. It wasn’t just the deep blue of her irises or how sharp her gaze was—it was the way she always made you feel like she was one step ahead. Like she already knew how this would play out before you did.

Like she was just waiting for you to break.

“You wanna fix that mouth before we do?”

Your pulse pounded in your throat.

But you weren’t backing down.

You stared straight into her eyes, unwavering. “You’re a bitch.”

Paige’s lips twitched—like that’s exactly what she wanted to hear.

“Paige!”

You don’t know how much more you can take, have already taken. Her grip on your hips is hard as she snaps her hips forward, fucking you into oblivion.

Paige’s hand cracks against your ass—sharp, sudden—jolting you forward, your tongue sinking deeper into Azzi, a gasp muffled as your sensitive core throbs.

“Fuckkk,” you blubber, voice shaky, her strap sliding in—slow, thick—stretching you open, sinking deep into your gummy walls, a delicious burn rippling through, your moan swallowed by Azzi’s heat—your tongue flicking her bud, circling, tasting her, her thighs trembling, her grip tightening.

“Flirtin’ with Ice—like a little slut,” Paige mutters, voice rough silk, her hips rutting into you—steady, deep—each thrust sending your ass quivering, the bed groaning under her, her fingers digging into your hips—warm, possessive. Your tongue works Azzi—sucking her bud, dipping lower—her juices slick on your chin, her moans rising—soft, needy—her climax coiling tight. “No fuckin’ respect—gonna fuck it outta you.”

“Mmm,” you mumble, voice thick, lost in Azzi—your tongue lapping, eager—her hips grinding down, chasing it, her breath hitching—“Fuck—right there—gonna—” and she breaks, a trembling cry spilling out, her juices flooding your mouth, warm and sweet, her body shuddering as you lick her through it—slow, savoring. Paige keeps moving—deep, relentless—your core fluttering, a quiet wave cresting, your moan soft, your senses drowning in Azzi’s taste, Paige’s rhythm.

Azzi slides off—panting, flushed—kissing you quick, her tongue shoving its way past your lips and into your mouth, tasting herself on your lips, humming low.

Paige pulls out—slow—leaving you empty, aching, flipping you onto your back with a nudge, your legs splaying—quivering, slick—your core tender, begging silently.

She kneels between your thighs—her strap discarded now—her tongue darting out, flattening against your bud—slow, warm—coaxing a jolt, your hips bucking, a whine slipping free as she dives in, licking through your folds, tasting your juices—rich, needy—her hands pinning your thighs wide.

“Paige—oh fuck—” you gasp, voice trembling, your fingers tangling in her hair—tugging—her tongue swirling your clit, sucking soft—her moan vibrating your core, your gummy spot pulsing, overstimulated, tears pricking as she eats you like she’s starving, her eyes flicking up—dark, ravenous. Azzi’s beside you—watching, smirking—her fingers brushing your chest, teasing a nipple—light, electric—your stomach fluttering wild.

“Cryin’ already?” Azzi murmurs, voice a soft taunt, her hand sliding lower—rubbing your bud now—quick, precise—while Paige’s tongue dips deeper, lapping your juices, her lips sealing over your clit—sucking, coaxing—your core vibrating, a fresh wave building, tears spilling—pleasure, surrender—“No dignity—lettin’ us use you like this.” Her words hit hard, your body arching—needy, wrecked—Paige’s tongue relentless, your climax crashing—sharp, trembling—juices soaking her chin, your thighs shaking, a sob breaking free.

“Fuck—too much—” you whimper, voice raw, but Paige doesn’t stop—her tongue flicking faster—overstimulating, ruthless—Azzi’s fingers circling, teasing—your core clenching, tears streaming, your mind hazing, fucked stupid. Paige pulls back—panting, grinning—wiping her mouth, climbing up—missionary now—her strap sliding back in—deep, smooth—your legs hooking her waist, your nails raking her back—soft cries spilling as she ruts into you, hitting your gummy spot—slow, punishing.

“Imma fuck you stupid,” Paige growls, voice husky, her hips rolling—deep, deliberate—each thrust sending sparks, your bud throbbing, raw—Azzi leaning in—her lips brushing your ear—“No self-respect—spreadin’ for us after flirtin’ with her—pathetic.” Her hand slips between—rubbing your clit—light, fast—your core tightening, another wave swelling, your tears hot—pleasure curling tight, your bratty spark gone, melted into their hands.

“Fuck—sorry—” you sob, voice breaking, your core clenching—hot, desperate—Paige filling you, Azzi’s fingers working you—your third climax hitting—sharp, wet—juices gushing, soaking Paige’s strap, your thighs, the sheets—your body quaking, cries loud—submission wrapping you soft and warm. Paige slows—gentle, deep—kissing your jaw—sloppy, warm—easing you down.

“Still not done,” Azzi says, voice firm—sliding off—kneeling now—her head dipping between your thighs—her tongue tracing your folds—slow, savoring—tasting your mess, your bud swollen, sensitive—your hips jerking, a whine spilling as she licks—soft, then firm—coaxing another tremble, tears falling—“Fuck—Azzi—I can’t—”—but she doesn’t care, her lips sealing over your clit—sucking, humming—your core vibrating, wrecked.

“Take it—useless little slut,” Paige murmurs, her hand resting against your cheek. Her thumb trails down and parts your lips, dragging your lower lip down. She lowers herself down, a ball of spit slowly falling into your mouth before lets your lower lip go and chases it, her tongue in your mouth and you sucking on it hastily.

“Cry all you want—gonna fuck you dumb.” Azzi’s tongue dives deeper—lapping, sucking—your juices dripping, your gummy spot pulsing, overstimulated—your fourth wave crashing—soft, shattering—your sob loud—juices soaking her face, the bed—your body limp, trembling, fucked beyond thought.

They settle—Paige curling beside—her hand resting on your thigh—warm, grounding—Azzi climbing up—her arm draping over—soft, possessive—her lips brushing your cheek—tender, lingering. “No more Ice shit—got it?” Paige whispers, voice rough, her breath warm—Azzi humming agreement, her fingers tracing your ribs—light, soothing.

“Got it,” you mumble, voice hoarse—fucked out—your body spent, fluttering—juices everywhere, tears drying, their warmth holding you—your bratty fire snuffed, fucked stupid, theirs completely.

[kissedlver]

Wipe Me Down.

ZILLA FATU X FEM!WRESTLER!BABYMOMMA!READER.

SUMMARY: You and Zilla share y’all’s two year old son, Zaire. Although, the two of you never dated, Zilla is still protective over you. One night after a show, your co-workers / friends dragged you out for a night out. While you were there, some dude was hitting on you. Safe to say, Zilla didn’t fuck with that.

WARNINGS: Choking, spanking, p in v, semi-toxic, degradation, dirty talk, hair pulling, creampie.

Monday, March 31st.

11:57 PM

“Girl, Alexis already said she’ll watch Zaire. Stop making excuses and get your ass up.” Trinity’s voice is heard throughout the hotel room as she pulls you off the bed by your ankles.

“Well bitch, i’m tired.” You grumble before Bianca groans from the bathroom. “Which is what you say all the time.” She walks from the bathroom before continuing to speak.

“Before Zilla came to WWE, you didn’t have any problem going out sometimes. Zaire is safe, and you don’t have to stay long. Just please come out.”

You groan as you sit up. “Fine. I’m only staying out for an hour or two, then i’m coming back.”

Trinity and Bianca squeal before they started picking an outfit out.

12:36 AM

You stood in front of the mirror as you smooth out the black leather mini skirt that barely covers your bottom half. The skirt was paired with a strapless red corset top and black high heel boots. You felt amazing.

The way the outfit hugged your curves made you smile. “You ready?” Trin asks as she places her jewelry on.

You nod before going over to your bag and taking your my Victoria’s Secret, “Bombshell Intense”, before spraying a few spritz on your body.

“Yeah i’m ready.” You grab your bag before walking to the door.

12:54 AM

You and the girls had made it to the club a few minutes ago. You were currently getting a drink at the bar.

“And what’s a beautiful woman like you doing all alone?” You look behind you towards the sound, seeing a middle aged man standing there.

“Excuse me?” You laugh slightly. He chuckled as well, a smirk crossing his lips as he leaned in closer. "You, sweetheart," he replied, his voice low. "Sitting all by yourself, looking like you could use some company."

Back in the VIP sections, Zilla’s eyes had found you as soon as you walked in. His mind going wild with the image of you in that outfit. That quickly left his mind as he saw some dude come up to you. His jaw clenched as the man got closer and closer to you.

“Yo Uce, you good?” Joshua, his cousin, asked from the stop in front of him. Zilla’s attention never left you as he answers his question. “Yeah..yeah, i’m fine. Imma be back.” Zilla pushes off the couch before he makes a beeline towards you and the older man.

He finally gets to you, placing his arm around your neck. “Wassup ma?” You roll your eyes as you look up at him. “Hi, Zilla.” You mumbled.

Zilla's arm remained firmly around you as he looked over at the guy. "She good, she's with me," he confirmed with a smirk while tightening his grip a bit. The man stared at you both awkwardly as he stood there.

The man standing near you couldn't help but eye the large difference in height and size between you two. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the possessive gesture from Zilla, clearly not thrilled with it. "Can I help you, man?" he asked, looking up at Zilla with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Yeah, you can back the hell up from my child’s mother.” Zilla starkly spoke.

“Oh- shit. I’m uh- i’m sorry man.” The man backed away a little.

“Man whatever- come on.” Zilla said as he softly grabbed your wrist, leading you to the clubs exit.

1:29 AM

“Oh- shitt,” the sound of zilla’s thrusts meeting your ass was heard throughout the hotel room. Zilla brings his hand up before slamming it back down on your right ass cheek.

“Yeahh- nobody gets this pussy like I do. This my shit. Say it.” Zilla’s thrusts get faster as the grip of his hand increases around your neck. “Whose pussy is this?” He says, tilting your head back to look at him. Your head spinning as the mixture of pleasure and lack of oxygen start to flow.

“It’s- oh fuck- it’s yours, Z. All yours.” You managed to get out before you see Zilla smile and taps your cheek, signaling for you to open your mouth. When you open it, spit travels from his mouth to yours.

“Swallow that shit. I’m not playing with you.” His hand unwraps from your neck as it grabs your hips, bringing your body closer to him.

“You gon have my kids?” Zilla’s hips pound into yours as he whispers into your ear. “Hmm? you gon let me fuck another kid into you, ma?”

You couldn’t speak as the knot in your stomach becomes tighter. You nod as tears start to slip down your face. “It’s too much- i’m about to-“ before the words could fall from your lips, the orgasm tore through your body, making your body convulse in Zilla’s arms.

“That’s it, ma. I’m almost done.” Zilla mumbled as he mercilessly pounded into you.

“Fuck- I miss this, mama. I missed you. You missed me?”He asked as he kissed your shoulder. All you could do was nod before you felt your insides warm with his nut.

He slowly pulled out before placing a kiss on your head. He walked over to the bathroom, coming out with a warm rag. He came over to you, cleaning up the mix of juices that ran down your leg, and placing a soft kiss on your stomach. He threw the rag somewhere in the room before picking you up and taking you to the bathroom. When your done, he picks you up again and walks over to the bed, placing you both under the covers of the bed.

“You know you mine forever.” He looked at you as you smile at him, nodding.

the end.

i’m sorry it’s so short :(

@4milly

[thy1quitcentral]

K pop demon hunters III

Huntrix vs Saja boys

X Honmoon!NB oc

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

.................💗..................

Honey smiled as they looked at all the fans, they tried their best to keep their glow down, not that the humans would notice . They were so damn excited, they have all the huntrix related clothing on and had their light sticks on too.

Their energy was buzzing

It's the demons that would notice, so far the attacks have been targeting places Honey has been at with the girls. What's it to say they would come after Honey. The source even.

***

'mira you don't have to scare them like that' Zoey huffs softly.

Honey at on the couch, straight with a blank but terrified look on their face.

Rumi sweats at this 'come on guys I'm sure we can accomplish the golden Honmoon before they even get their greasy and probably crusty hands on them' Rumi reasons and puts her hand on Honeys shoulder.

'oh I hope so, I rather like my current existence and would definitely not want to fall in the hands of Gwi-ma, I have met the guy and he is not very fun' Honey points out, finger in the air.

"wait you really met Gwi-ma?" Zoey asked, and that caught Mira and Rumis attention. Honey blinked "well...year, when I was younger and naive I heard his voice, he is rather like you guys will expect, incredibly mean and evil" honey shrugged "he took Star boy away" Honey explains.

"oooo who's star boy?" Mira pipes up and smirks. "A very talented human I had met 400 years ago, he would've made a great hunter with his musical talents" Honey smiled.

"what was he? An old friend?" Zoey grinned. "A best friend?" Mira raised a brow. "A lover?" Rumi spoke up.

Zoey and Mira looked to Rumi and gasped loudly "tragic ROMAAAANCE" They both yelled.

Honey blinked and rolled their eyes "one like me doesn't really need that sorr of connection, I am a divine being and divine beings don't have fun" They pouts.

***

The demons would go Where ever Honey glowed the most and tried tearing at the freshing placed light like paper. Turns out the closer this time was the weaker and slower the Honmoon gets. Honey had thought for a moment,

"imma go take a bathroom break, let me know when they appear" Honey stood up. Bobby looks to Honey "mkay, but be back soon"

Honey smiled and made their way from backstage and teleports to a humans restroom and stares at themselves in the mirror, they looked at themselves "hmm".

They felt it, a sudden rift in their domain, the lines on their body were spreading away from each other and glowing purple to magenta to pink, honey stared at what they could see from their neck.

Honey sees the color change back to blues and whites, they smiled. Their girls are doing their jobs

when they felt the crowd scream louder. They teleported above the humans and watched, bobbing their head to the beat, they swirled all around the stadium.

Rumi watched Honey dance in the air like ribbons caught in a swirling breeze. As she danced and got higher with her notes. Honey danced around Rumi, Rumi danced alongside Honey.

Honeys physical form dissolved Abit, turning gold in some parts of their body as they flowed among the crowd.

High note

The Honmoon glowed bright and spread out, Honey gathered themselves again and appeared in front of Rumi. The crowd was loud and cheering, the girls saw Honeys glow and were all so excited as they waved to the stadium of fans.

Honey smiled and claps their hands happily as they danced along. They looked at their hands and saw gold but also their hand was missing and just nothing but gold light. Honey blinked at it and concentrated, their hand appeared back.

That was amazing....however

Honey just disappeared, felt...scary.

*********

Somewhere in the deepest parts of the demon world

"you are all Weak, PATHETIC"

Gwi-ma roared

"for a being to be everywhere, yet you don't know WHERE THEY ARE"

His flames glowing brighter

"the Golden moon is upon us, for years I have ordered all my best to charm and woo the Honmoon close but none of you have managed such a SIMPLE TASK"

The demon being held captive whimpers in fear "the hunters are strong and disgustingly sincere, the Honmoon won't even humor us with their attention" the demon spoke up slightly.

"Don't you idiots get it, once the hunters turn the Honmoon gold, our chance to destroy its center will be gone and it will be over FOR ALL OF US"

Many demons cried and coward looking up at the shield above them.

Demons all tried everything, during fights to end the hunters and get to the Honmoon. Flowers were given to Honmoon, toys, money even but

The Honmoon wanted none of it.

"there once was a mighty king" a voice spoke up, strumming is old and withered instrument.

Telling the tell of a mighty Demon king

"will be let the fire go out

And let the light one reign?

Is this the end of him now?

A dying king with a crumbling crown?

Will be let the fire go out?"

Gwi-ma frowned, was this demon here to mock him.

"no, I am not here to mock. I am here to help" he floats up along with four other demons. "Time we fight the hunters where they least expect" he smirks.

"strike them and woo their very god the same way they have been wiping them for centuries.

Music" he raised his arms out

"But first Go after the very thing that powers the honmoon"

They all posed

"their fans"

"A demon boy band?"

Gwi-ma only laughed loudly, the demons behind them laughing along. The demon king questioned how they think this could possibly work.

"fine...I'll see your plan through but I am curious, in 400 years, you've never done a single thing that didn't serve yourself" Gwi-ma hummed.

"or is it you wish to see that ...friend of yours again, surely you won't do anything to betray me?" gwi-ma's flames grew.

'a smile, bright and kind, a brand new bipa, given to him by....them'

'his crying sister holding her small hand out to him, his mother holding onto the small girl'

Jinu frowned for a moment and stared down. He shook the memory away, haunting and filled him with great misery.

"what do you want?"

"I want my memories erased"

.................💓...................

[hoolaand]

Max Verstappen

Spoilt gf x Rich bf

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

💌: smau + more

💌: fluff, horny plus baddie reader

a/n: idk abt faceclaim, everything is from pinterest because I am chronically online

𓆩♡𓆪

You were awakened by soft padded footsteps walking somewhere around the house. Even from your sleep, you knew that it was Max because despite him being around 6 feet, he made sure to always walk the house softly especially when you were sleeping. You slowly sat up on your shared bed and looked around the room with Max nowhere to be seen. But, something was up. You could smell the faint floral scents of flowers coming from somewhere. It wasn't Max, he didn't use those colognes. It wasn't you, you wore vanilla flavored scent to bed (Max's favorite).

Was he fucking cheating on you?

Okay no. Maybe exaggeration. He would never.

Before you could get up, as if on cue, Max appeared opening the door before briefly closing it. The floral scent only got stronger.

'Schatje, you're up so soon? It's only 6 30 in the morning.'

You stretched your body already feeling not energized to even start the day. Max sat beside on and wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you effectively close to him.

'Happy Birthday baby' he whispered before kissing you softly.

Oh. Wow.

Honestly, you had forgetten your own birthday. Birthdays weren't something you particularly looked forward to, ever since being a child. It felt like just another normal day but Max, oh no he could never think a day dedicated to you was ever a normal day. No, that man had to somehow make it exceptional. That's just how he has.

You kissed him back, tracing his stubble with your delicate fingers. 'I smell flowers' you let him know, whispering it against his lips when you both broke contact. He said nothing and kissed you harder.

After the full blown make out session, you discovered that the other man had flowers. No, not just flowers at this point. A entire fucking garden, to be frankly honest. The guest bed room had the largest bouquet you had ever seen, the bouquet it being larger than you and the one in the living room. They were the mini versions of the one in the bedroom but instead of being white, they were every other color. Pink, yellow, red, blue and even one of black.

'I am about to give you the best blowjob you ever had.'

_

Instagram:

💭 Max verstappen posted a new story: (25 mins ago)

Liked by Lando Noriss, Daniel Ricciardo and 10k others....

User 1: OKAY Max we see your game

User 2: baddie 101

User 3: she is so beautiful wtf

-

💭 You posted on Instagram:

Liked by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Micheal B Jordan, Alexandra Saint Mleux and 795k others

You: Can you tell he's about to get it good tonight (I will eat him alive) #iluvmybf

Comments:

User1: which god did @max verstappen pray to? lemme know imma pray as well

User2: happy birthday queen 💕💕💕

Max Verstappen: Mine.

-Lando Norris: you're such a weirdo

-You: lando.

-Max Verstappen: bitch.

-You: Max.

-Max Veestappen: Sorry Schatje.

-User 3: this is legit witchcraft.

-User 8: I never thought I'd live long enough to see Max being such a simp omg

Alexandra Saint Mleux: Happy birthday mi love, 💞💞💞

-You: I love you.

User 5: God make me become a wag.

User 6: Gold digger core lol

-You: ho, is u mad

Huda Beauty: WE love her!

-You: and I love you mwah.

User 7: Last slide, A BADDIE OH MY GOD

(liked by @YOU and @Max Verstappen)

User 8: are we just gonna ignore the caption though?

-User 2: girl she's js freaky like that

-

💭 You posted a story: (just now)

Caption: #gonnaeathimalive

#iluvmybfohyes

[getouyuri]

kill shot

pairings — oyabun!gojo x secretary!reader, informant!shoko x stripper!reader, wakagashira-hosa!choso x teacher!reader, oyabun!geto x biker!reader, oyabun!sukuna x otaku!reader, yakuza leader!yuki x barista!reader, yakuza assassin!toji x goth!reader

summary — a collection of stories from the dangerous world of the yakuza.

content & warnings — MDNI 18+, gn!reader, gender neutral reader, in nsfw parts reader will be fem!reader, normal modern au, yakuza au, angst, humor, smut, fluff, dark themes, violence, murder, some parts are sfw and some are not, more warnings in individual parts

author’s note — my most favorite au ever and my passion project 🫶🏽 all background info on this au can be found here. i have a permanent tag list BUT if you want to be tagged for any upcoming fics i post for this au specifically, feel free to reply and i'll create a yakuza jjk au tag list. full fic masterlist here.

writing © getouyuri. divider © getouyuri. fanart © ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously.

oyabun satoru gojo (親分 leader of the gojo-gumi) —

r/marriage: am i (24m) overly obsessed with my wife (24f)? : all work and no play makes the fearsome oyabun of the gojo-gumi a tremendously dull boy. since you're a saint, you come into his office with no panties and a mission; to let your puppy play. (fem!reader, oneshot, humor, smut)

like he got a collar on, imma always know where my dog at! : your husband, the terrifying oyabun of the gojo-gumi, is as loyal as dog— and as bad as a pent-up border collie that's been left home alone for too long and turned to destruction as a means of getting attention. after purchasing satoru a collar (that he's always eager to wear), you put him on a brief sex ban to weed out any and all of his bad behavior. after all, only good puppies deserve treats— right? (fem!reader, oneshot, humor, fluff, smut)

i could see a family : let it be known that you refuse to let satoru get you pregnant for a second time. after you pop out his hellion of a daughter that dances on your bladder and makes you want to get a lobotomy, you’re done. never, ever again. (fem!reader, oneshot, fluff, humor, angst, smut, pt. 1/2)

baby in the backseat : the oyabun of the gojo-gumi has been through many trials and tribulations: nasty gang disputes, tangles with politicians, cops, and rivaling oyabuns, and way too many near death experiences. but nothing compares to raising your daughter. (fem!reader, oneshot, fluff, humor, angst, smut, pt. 2/2)

backshots sound like bongos! : the fearless crime lord gojo satoru is not scared to admit he’s a freak hoe. when you offer to give your husband the pegging of a life time following a date night (during which he comes out the victor of a vicious battle he had with a chair and a butt plug), he’s all in. (fem!reader, oneshot, fluff, humor, smut)

informant shoko ieiri (情報提供者 informant of the gojo-gumi) —

blow some smoke, throw your cash, watch me do my dance : you and shoko have been taking things fairly steady, but you’re more than ready to finally get intimate with her for the first time. (fem!reader, oneshot, smut)

wakagashira-hosa choso kamo (中尉 lieutenant of the gojo-gumi, nanami’s deputy) —

oyabun suguru geto (親分 leader of the sutoraifu-gumi) —

when you’re not around : after a long week of business deals and careful plays, suguru returns home— and can’t resist the siren call of his sleeping wife. (fem!reader, oneshot, smut, consensual somno) [soon]

snapshots : you and your husband suguru find two abandoned orphans, nanako and mimiko, on the street and take them in. (gn!reader, oneshot, angst, fluff)

the hunt : rising from the ashes of his twin’s fall, geto suguru, a calm and composed mastermind, takes over as the new oyabun of the sutoraifu-gumi. at the same time, you, a woman as unpredictable as the wild, rise through the ranks of your sister’s gang and become the third-in-command of the garuda’s angels. amid gang politics, personal ambition, unconventional tests of loyalty, and old and new rivalries that threaten to erupt, your paths cross in the neon-lit underworld of japan. though suguru’s interest is immediate, you’re not easily charmed— and suguru isn't used to chasing. (fem!reader, multi-chapter longfic, pining, angst, fluff, smut) [soon]

oyabun ryomen sukuna (親分 leader of the tora-gumi) —

sexy jujutsu, i feel like naruto : you drag your terrifying yakuza husband to an anime convention. (gn!reader, oneshot, humor, fluff)

boss yuki tsukumo (上司 boss of the garuda's angels) —

driving, just driving : friday nights with your girlfriend yuki are for getting tipsy, ranting about the customers who enter your cafe while you’re closing, nearly launching bowling balls through the roof of the bowling alley you frequent, and motorcycle rides. tonight, though, yuki wants to see you reaaaally ride her motorcycle… just not in the way you’d expect to. (fem!reader, humor, smut)

cafe racer : you cherish the simplicity of your life— taking care of your grandma and your younger sister nobara, running your family’s cafe, and walking your dog when the weather is fair. that fragile peace is shattered when yuki, the fearless leader of the garuda’s angels (an all-women biker gang known around japan) enters the picture. naturally, you’re apprehensive— she may be witty and charming, and okay, unfairly hot, but her dangerous reputation proceeds her. too bad you get swept up in her orbit despite your best attempts to steer clear of her. (fem!reader, multi-chapter longfic, pining, angst, fluff, smut) [soon]

assassin toji fushiguro (刺客 assassin of the garuda's angels) —

back to the kitty, ‘cause she’s kinda pretty : exhausted after a long day, all you wanna do is veg out with your buddy and partner-in-crime toji and watch love island together. when the topic of intimacy comes up mid-conversation, toji’s surprised to find out that none of your exes ever ate you out, and he graciously offers to go down on you— because what’s a little oral between friends? (fem!reader, oneshot, fluff, smut)

multi —

for me? : you surprise the yakuza jjk au characters with lingerie. (fem!reader, smut) [soon]

[sticktothestars]

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 , " 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 . " ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

a/n: *walks in, twiddling my thumbs* so i watched thunderbolts. we're just gonna say that i totally didn't fall in love with bob. AVENGERS FOUND FAMILY FANFICS ARE SO BACK GUYS. FHDSFFJ I'LL MAKE A SEPARATE POST ABOUT WHAT I THOUGHT ABOUT THE MOVIE, BUT YEAAH. I LOWKEY AM SUPER EXCITED & I CAN'T WAIT FOR YALL TO READ THIS 'CUZ I'VE BEEN HAVING THIS IDEA STUCK IN MY HEAD & IT WON'T GO AWAY. ANYWAY, IMMA STOP YAPPING NOW. ENJOOOYY!!1 (ALSO. you have the powers/fighting style of deadpool!)

paring: robert/bob reynolds x male!reader

word count: 1k+

warnings: slight spoilers for thunderbolts* if you haven't seen it. takes place post movie. slight cursing. contains a shit ton of angst & hard topics like anxiety attacks, child abuse, gore, & character death are mentioned throughout this oneshot. yeah i lowkey kind of spiraled while writing this lmfaooo.

══════════��═════════════════════════════════

──★

IF you told the [Y/N] from 3 months ago that you'd be working with the new avengers, you would've laughed HARD in your own face. Seriously. It would've lasted for like 7 minutes before you'd probably go tell you to fuck off or something. But now that you was here - saving people instead of being the one to end people for money - it felt trippy thing to even consider. Especially with the things you've done in your past. Despite your initial hesitation on even teaming up with this unstable group of people, you couldn't help but feel a LOT more happier than how you was before.

Maybe it was just the fact that saving people felt good or that you finally had a purpose in life - but no. It was something completely different. You was finally around people who understood what it felt like to not feel like they didn't deserve anything good or be stuck in an endless loop that just hurted you even more. It felt like a HUGE breathe of fresh air. Or maybe it was because you were around him like 99.99% of the time now after everything.

You met Bob in... troubling circumstances, to say the least. Bucky - a good friend of yours - contacted you while you were in New York in retirement from your mercenary past. You were honestly struggling a little. Working as an unsuspecting barista for some cozy coffee shop was nice & all, but it felt.. meaningless. So with one last second thought, you put your suit on & rode your motorcycle to a new mission. Which ended well overall, but with a lot of memories you wanted to lock away unfortunately.

But since then, the two of you have grown closer - especially since you were living together amongst the others in the Avenger's base. Bob obviously couldn't go on the missions due to not being able to control his powers all that well. You try to help him out the best you can when you're there.

...But sometimes that helping could go sideways.

──★

[Y/N]'s flicked open as he noticed the surroundings around him. Where was he? Just a moment ago he was sparring with Bob in the training room & then..

" Oh fuck.. " you muttered with a sigh as you realized what's happening. Your gaze fixes on a teen version of you - freshly scarred, WAY more defensive - yet afraid. Like there was something out for him. You knew what this was. You knew it all too well.

Back before you became a mercenary, you were a cage fighter in Orlando - trafficked at 7 & escaped at 16. 9 years of horror. Yeah that fucked you up pretty bad. Of course it would. But you had friends. It what kept you sane.

But they took that away too along with your dignity.

One night - when you were 16 - a new match was starting. They didn't tell you who the opponent would be. They never did. To them, it was just another body to throw away for entertainment. Having survived for so long & having so much blood on your hands, you'd think that you'd get used to it by now. But it only just got worse from there.

You stood there, watching yourself as your younger self enter the cage - a look of uneasiness on your younger self's face, tuning out the crowd of people as they cheered for blood. But you? You just wanted to know who else? Who else's blood would you have on your hands? As your opponent stumbles out into the cage with a shove from one of the guards just outside the cage, you saw your heart drop. Just by the horror on your own face.

Your opponent was your best friend, Liam. The Liam who stuck by your side through the last 9 years you've been here. The Liam who managed to make you laugh when things got that dark. The Liam who was your anchor. The Liam who you absolute adored like an older brother. You couldn't do it. You refused to. You couldn't do it if you tried.

" ... No.. No I'm not hurting him. You can't make me kill him. " You refused, backing away & banging on the cage's exit. Liam just watched you. He watched you try to figure out something. Anything to stop this match from happening. Liam knew this would happen soon. He was prepared for this. Hell, maybe he even prepared this moment from the start. You know that now. You wish you knew it sooner.

" [Y/N]. " Liam says gently, his voice calm - causing the younger you's attention to snap towards him, eyes tearing up as you tried to say something. Anything. But only a mournful silence filled between the two of you as the crowd cheered for the two of you to fight. You shook your head, keeping your head down.

" [Y/N], you have to. " Liam says gently, putting a hand on your shoulder as he approached. You just shook your head. " No- No- I-i-i can't- " You stammered out, clenching your fists so tight you felt as though you were bleeding slightly through your bandages.

" They'll kill you if you don't, kid. " Liam states. " I don't fucking care. " You say back, holding yourself close as you look back up at the 20 year old you've grown to be so attached to.

Liam sighs. " Well start caring. You're surviving. Even if it means killing me too. " The brunette says sternly.

" No! I'm not losing you! And I'm not listening to them anymore just to survive! " You call out so everyone can hear. The crowd boos, insults rolling out into the arena like a hurricane. The ringleader scoffs, motioning the guards to ready & aim at you.

Liam clocks this & horror enters his face, shielding you as bullets & sparks fly - the crowd falling silent. The bullets stop. Everything stops as a body slumps onto the ground. But it wasn't yours. It was Liam's. You stare at the hole covered body for what feels like a lifetime. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even think straight.

Only when a guard grabs you is when you react is when you scream, absolute anguish & horror in your voice as it breaks as you're dragged out of the arena - new plans settled for you that changed your dna & life forever. The present you doesn't look away from Liam's corpse. You felt yourself spiraling within your regrets over the What If's.

What if you had let Liam kill you that day? You didn't deserve to live. Especially with the blood on your hands. The things you did without mercy. But Liam? He was kind. He was good. He deserved way better. He was so good & no one else ever got to see that goodness in him.

You scratched at the collar of your shirt, trying to force yourself to breathe but you couldn't. Everything felt so meaningless. You were meaningless. You were the problem because you couldn't keep your mouth shut.

Fuck. Everything felt so heavy. You collapsed to your knees, squeezing your eyes shut but Liam's lifeless body kept coming in again & again like a broken melody.

๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

" 'M sorry- M' so sorry- I-i should've known this would happen- I'm so fucking sorry- " A panicked & oh so familiar voice called out, snapping you out of your vision to feel Bob holding you in his arms tight as you sobbed. You hold onto his warmth, clenching his shirt. The two of you stay there for a while. Which seemed like forever. But neither one of you complained.

You sniffle slightly, letting your head nuzzle into the crook of the other's neck. And Bob just held you tighter. He couldn't let you go through this again. He couldn't bear seeing you hurt because of him.

You were probably one of the coolest people on the team, but seeing you fall apart like this felt gut wrenching. He mutters out more apologies, his chin resting on your head.

He's made everything worse again.

And to you of all people.

The man he absolutely adores.

──★

lowkey locked tf in on this one idk. hope yall enjoyed tho lowkey !! lemme know if yall want a part two or smthin cuz i'm down. SEND ME MORE REQUESTS PUHLEASEE.

anyways, that's it for now !! BUH BYEEE ^^

── DAMIEN ★

[deesseshesca]

PAC: Why does your partner find u irresistible ?  (18+)

October is about to get real spooky....

Good morning pretty soul ! I am so excited ... IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

PILE 1 

9 cups (revere), 10 wands (reverse), Hermit (reverse), Star (reverse)

They find you irresistible because you are boring. Y’all remind me of the beige character in Lazytown. You are probably the mother/father of your group of friends. You rather stay inside than to be the life of the party. You prefer being in a comfy spot with your fav blankie reading a book or even watching anime. Also you don’t mastubate and there is no dark reason nor strong conviction, it doesn't have any effect on you. You don’t really care for it. They find your kinda self control sexy. Plus you are a very logical person and you don’t date around. You also don’t fall for the glitz and glam of the world. The fact that you are not easily entertained and you choose them as yours make them feel wanted. The way you treat them is hella hot.

💌:Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

PILE 2 

5 cups, Queen wands, 7 swords, page of cups

They find your clinginess irresistible. I feel like past lovers often hated how physical you are. I just heard someone say: ‘’Get a life already !’’. But the one you have now loves your hug, kisses, hand holding, hair playing and back rubbing that you keep doing because physical touch is your love language. You are literally a sex symbol pile 2, before you get all self conscious on me … just know that Marilyn Monroe is a sex symbol, so is Kylie Jenner and Angelina Jolie let me throw Esther Jones and Precious (Top model) ,all different symbols and all very much SEX ! So now you can stop comparing yourself to the standard and realize you are born  with it. You have it or you don’t. A lot of y’all reading this have hip dip but baby that bubble butt… hun… let me catch my breath real quick. I feel like a lot of your ‘’wannabe’’ lovers try to get with you just for your body. I’m hearing : ‘’ Cauze 99.9% of this fuckboys can’t fuck me !’’ PERIDOT ! I know that’s right. They think you dumb for not catching their hints but I just heard someone say : ‘’ It's not my fault I refuse to speak the bum language …’’. Just so you know pile 2, I’m taking that iconic statement from you for my next insta post. It does not stop here, y’all be so skillful in the bedroom. Most of y’all have a girly girl aesthetic (even if you are a goth it still has a very feminine touch to it) so people think y’all are pillow princesses/princes. If you are a man it is because you have a clean look to you. But y’all be doing tricks on a dick. I heard  the tiktok sound that goes : ‘’ Bus, club and another club no sleep’’ but for you it be ‘’ handjob , cuddlefuck, doggy and missionary ‘’. So I ask : ‘’ All in one round …’’. Your energy : ‘’I am a ride they won't survive …’’ OK ! PILE 2! I SEE YOU! The sexiest thing of it all is the fact that you are very loyal. Y’all be having your partner as a lock screen, as your profile pic or even on your boxer or panties. If you play video games, you might get your equipment costume with their picture. That together makes you a hottie !

💌: Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

PILE 3 

4 pentacles (reverse), knight wands (reverse), page of wands, 7 pentacles. 

You guys are dangerous. Fucking dangerous. You are the reason  why a love witch is always going to catch a check. People are getting cut ties spell  because of the impact you have on them. You are the soul tie final boss. If you are a owner of dick you are out here hitting it raw having those ladies often older than you thinking maybe a baby with my sneak link ain’t that bad (shake my motherfucking head) . Is not their fault. Is yours. You are out here whispering bullshit but that good bullshit. I’m hearing : ‘’ I’m yours baby …’’, 'Are you almost there princess…’’, ‘’ I know baby, I know it is too much but you can give me one more …’’. Hey ! where y’all think you are going ? Yes, you , women ! Out here making men double your age believe they still got it. What’s irresistible about this group is that y’all are loving lovers. For the women, I am channeling a dilf that you met while traveling. You are out there living life like a Lana Del Rey video clip. You let that man slide it in raw, because for you it is just for fun. Pile 3, you cannot trick me. First y’all don’t use condoms, some of y’all are allergic to it. But you still don’t use birth control out here timing yourself with your natural calendar. God do be having  favorites ! That older man was mesmerized by your moaning and the way you speak some life into their sexual skills. Making them think they're the best. Loving lover + big dick/gripping pussy+smooth talk and sexy moan = Irresistible to the point of insanity .

💌: The lover that I channel for this collective whether it be the girls/boys they are done trying to manifest you back in their life. But they still miss the intimacy your share. Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

[ohmy-gojo]

geto suguru falling for an underclassman reader ෆ (no curse au) pt.1

it was a new year— geto was already on his 2nd year at jujutsu high with the same two friends, not that he really cared about making friends. satoru just appeared one day and called him his 'best friend' and shoko tagged along. it was actually a quite comical group he thinks; a rich kid, a chain smoker and a boy who just wanted to die. but he supposes they were also popular around the campus (though he doesnt understand why)

he was casually strolling near the pond in front of the campus during break (actually hiding from gojo bc a new episode of digimon aired and he really doesnt want to hear his rants) when he saw a trail of... chips? leading near the back of the campus

his first thought was 'this is too weird imma dip' but alas curiosity got him and he decided to follow the trail of.. chips. who knows if thats how they lure people and kidnap them nowadays? if so hes sure people like satoru would surely fall for the trap (he thinks as he himself follows the said trap)

after reaching the end of the trail, he was surprised to face a young girl instead of an old beefy hitman. this was his supposed kidnapper? she was pretty cute so he wouldnt really mind he guesses. but the girl actually looked equally surprised to see him. the two stared at each other and owlishly blinked.

"um.. what are you doing.. here? if i may ask." geto broke the silence

"oh uh i am waiting?" she spoke softly and didnt elaborate further

'maybe for a friend?' geto thought and didnt ask for more details. though the reason he was even here— "do you know who placed these chips in the grou–"

before he could even finish his sentence, the girl pulled him and hid behind the concrete plankets. okay, this girl was nuts

"i was the one who placed the chips," she whisper-answered. "for him" she gestured to their front. geto followed her gaze and saw a.. puppy? he raised his brows at that, if she wanted to feed the puppy why not just give it that directly instead of doing whatever the hell that was.

she probably understood what he was thinking and finally told him, "that little guy was actually trapped in one of the slabs. i tried helping him but he was probably afraid so i decided to lure him with these chips and into safety."

oh, he thinks. that makes sense. they both then sat in silence watching the puppy eat the chips. it was a comfortable silence though. this is not a bad day, he muses. the nice weather, watching an adorable puppy eating chips with a cute girl sitting beside him.

after some time, the puppy left and he realized they were still holding hands from earlier when she pulled him. she let go of his hand after realizing herself and blushed lightly (he was a little disappointed).

"what you did was kind." he smiled at her.

"oh its nothing. i felt bad for him and i dont even like chips that much."

geto laughed at her reasoning. he was getting enamored by her weird charm and awkward mannerisms. they were starting to walk back inside their campus. "well.. whats your name?"

"i am (name)," she bowed her head lightly "please take care of me."

"of course, nice to meet you. i am geto." he smiled. "are you a 1st year?"

"yes i am. are you one as well?"

"no," he shaked his head. "i am a 2nd year."

"oh!" she suddenly stopped. "youre a senpai!"

he laughed at her matter of fact tone and nodded his head. this girl was actually weird but in a.. cute way.

before he could ask more about her, his white haired friend appeared and he just sighed heavily

"suguru??? what are you doing?" he looked at (name) and gasped "do you have a secret girlfriend? oh my god! shoko!"

"lord help me," he sighed again. he looked at the girl with him and saw her blushing and looking bewildered. as much as he found her blushing face adorable he decided to help her

"this is not my girlfriend you doofus," he slapped gojos back of head. "shes an underclassman, be nice to her."

"ohhhh?? shes a kouhai?" he gasped once again. "i always wanted one!"

geto deadpanned at that. look at this weirdo talking about the girl like shes some shiny rock. he was starting too feel weirdly possessive over her. after all he was the one who found her first so she should be his kouhai only, it's only natural.

with gojo blabbering about himself to her and her politely nodding at his words, they made their way to their classes. geto wanted to ask her about herself but found himself being cut off by gojo everytime. he was starting to get pissed but then saw (name) smiling reassuringly at her which made him calm down a little (he was almost pouting). then she had to leave for her class and waved at them bye. 'oh well,' he thought while waving back. he could try to meet her after school maybe? but this time without that blue eyed freak he huffed.

[passionxwrites]

Summer Romance 5

Pairings: ModernAU! Elias "Stack" Moore x BlaclOC! (Cymone) x Elijah "Smoke" Moore

Warnings: MDNI, cursing, use of the N word, violence, mentions of guns, fighting, Mary slander, a lil smooching, cliff hanger (don’t kill me!)

Word Count: 5.1K

Masterlist

Cymone

<1 week later>

Why the fuck do you keep getting drunk

And come tearing my shit up

You know that liquor turn you up

You done drove into my truck

I got a hole up in my truck

You a hoe but cold as fuck

And look at me still tryna fuck

Cymone hummed to the lyrics of Don Who Leo as she focused on applying her last lash cluster to her right eye. Tonight was finally the opening night of Club Juke and she was so excited for the twins. They had been working hard to make this dream come true for as long as she could remember and to see everything come to fruition was amazing. Smoke and Stack had already set up a section for her and her girls so she knew tonight was going to be lit. It was also going to be the first night she would spend at their place as well. Her stomach contained butterflies because although she had spent the night with a man before this was different of course. Smoke and Stack weren’t regular and she also wondered how it would work as well.

Whose room am I gone stay in?

Are we gone sleep together?

Are they gone wanna have sex?

Her mind was racing with possibilities and to be on the safe side she made sure to straighten up down below just in case action was to be had.

“What you thinking bout over there,” Reana asked as she emerged from Cymone’s bathroom.

“Just thinking bout tonight. That’s all,” Cymone answered with faux indifference although her stomach was twisting and turning.

“Awwww my baby’s nervous about her first sleepover with Zack and Cody.”

“Do you have a list of people in your head to call them,” Cymone asked with a snort as she turned her body away from her mirror to face her friend.

“Yes but that’s besides the point. Look, I know you a lil nervous cause you in this lil polyamorous situation but you know Smoke and Stack. They some gentlemen when they wanna be so I’m sure they ain’t gone do nothing you don’t wanna do,” Reana reassured Cymone as she gripped her shoulders.

“I know but the butterflies just keep floating around in my stomach just at the thought of something happening. I’m more so excited than nervous.”

“That’s great! Long as you not nervous. Now which one of these outfits are you wearing? I’m more partial to this halter jumpsuit,” Reana asked as she surveyed the three outfits laid onto Cymone’s bed. Cymone turned to the bed as placed a hand under her chin in thought.

“Hmmm I think imma do the leather shorts with the gold chain belt and the yellow crop top.”

“Okay leather shorts!! I think you need to wear them thigh high leather boots with em. Also I know what you doing with that yellow crop cause you always got underboob with that shirt. You giving it to em tonight!”

“Yeah it’s been a minute since I stepped out so I must remind these folks who I am. Good idea with them black boots though,” Cymone said she gave Reana a quick round of applause.

“Mhm! Now let’s hurry cause Tricia just texted saying her and Val gone be here in 20.”

Cymone immediately rushed to get ready. Thankfully she didn’t have to do her hair because she had recently gotten faux locs the day before and she was doing light makeup because she had a habit of sweating really bad and she knew the club was going to be packed. It had been the talk of the town and everybody and they mama planned on being there tonight.

Once she had her clothes on she packed a spend the night bag. She made sure to pack some pajamas, her hygiene stuff, an outfit for the next day and the lingerie Reana forced her to purchase and pack. In her words ‘you don’t need to be caught lacking.’ It was a simple red lace bra with matching panties but just looking at it had her nerves going haywire yet again. She shoved it in her bag and slung it over her shoulder just as she heard Tricia obnoxiously honking the horn from outside.

“Come on Re,” Cymone yelled behind her as she trotted down the stairs to see Ganny sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, her eyes trained on the television in front of her.

“We headed out Ganny. I’ll let you know when I get to Reana’s house.”

Now although Cymone was grown she didn’t have it in her to tell Ganny she was spending the night with a man let alone two so she decided to settle on a little white lie.

“Okay baby. Y’all be safe, have fun, and please keep an eye on Duke. You know how that boy can get,” Ganny spoke with a shake of her head.

Cymone only giggled knowing exactly what she meant. She was about to respond before the sound of Tricia honking that damn horn again cut her off.

“Y’all gone on before I have to cuss that lil girl out,” Ganny said as she put her eyes back on the tv. Cymone and Reana made their way out of the door and to Tricia’s gray Kia.

“Took y’all bitches long enough! What was y’all was doing sewing the clothes?”

“Tricia shut up damn! You was out here for a few measly ass minutes. Acting like you been sitting out here for an hour,” Cymone fussed with a roll of her eyes. She hated when Tricia volunteered to drive the group because she always wanted to rush everybody. Val’s quiet snicker could be heard from the front seat causing Tricia to snap her head her way while scoffing.

“Val I know you ain’t laughing!”

Valencia Yarbrough was the most recent addition to the group. While Cymone, Reana, and Patricia practically grew up together, they hadn’t met Valencia until their freshman year of college. Valencia was from Memphis, Tennessee and had came to attend Jackson State on a full ride scholarship. She was brought into the group due to her being Tricia’s roommate and she was a really sweet girl. She was smart as a whip so her head was always in her books but sometimes the girls were able to pull her away and get her out to a party every blue moon. This summer she opted to get a job in Jackson and rent an apartment with Tricia instead of going back home so that she could hang out with her girls without any academic responsibilities holding her back.

“Don’t yell at Val. You know you be needing somebody to check you Tricia. That mouth big as the Mississippi and you always running it,” Reana added as she applied her lip gloss while looking into her compact mirror. Tricia continued to sit there with a scowl on her face which brought Cymone amusement. Tricia was honestly a drama queen so the girls—besides Val—typically had to bring her back down to Earth. She would always pout about it for a few minutes and then be back laughing and playing around like she wasn’t mad. It was just how she operated. Val noticed the look on her face and opted to turn the radio back up until they made it to the club. Once they got there they all immediately groaned at how packed the parking lot was.

“Damn, we shoulda spent the night at this bitch,” Tricia cursed as she drove through aisle after aisle trying to find a spot.

“Smoke said we can park in the back next to him and Stack,” Cymone informed the group as she clicked her phone closed. Tricia made eye contact with her through the rear view with a small smirk on her face.

“Big Daddy Smoke making sure his lady don’t gotta park all the way in Egypt. I know that’s right,” she yelled out playfully while sticking out her tongue.

Cymone simply rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. She had finally broke the news about her new situation with the twins to Tricia and Val a couple days ago and Tricia was more excited than she was.

Once the girls parked the car they walked around to the front entrance so they could really make their entrance. Since they were VIP guests they didn’t have to wait in the line and pay the cover charge like everyone else which of course garnered a lot of ugly looks from people who had been waiting for God knows how long. They were escorted inside and to their section by one of Duke’s boys and not long after the bottle girls were making their way over with bottles, sparklers, and a sign that said If he look he took.

Cymone could only smirk knowing this was Stacks idea. He had been stalking her instagram page one day and called her trying to bicker about her using that same saying from the sign as her caption.

“The fuck you mean if he look he took?”

“Ain’t nobody else getting took round this bitch Cymone.”

“Keep playing you gone get a nigga shot.”

Two bottles of 1942 were placed in an ice bucket along with pineapple juice and Cymone immediately snatched up the shot glasses and passed them around. After each girl had a shot Cymone dramatically cleared her throat.

“Cheers to a summer we will never forget ladies!”

The girls cheered and shouted “I know that’s right” and threw the liquor back. Cymone grimaced for a short second before she soon fixed her face. Just as she grabbed some juice to chase it she felt a hand grab her ankle. Cymone quickly snatched her foot away in urgency and turned around to see none other than Rashad smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

“Here this fuck nigga go,” she could hear Tricia declare loudly causing Cymone to nod her head in agreement. Rashad had become insufferable over the last week with the constant calling and texting. After a while she had to block his number cause it had gotten that out of hand. She had also purposefully refrained from reporting his behavior to Smoke and Stack because she knew they would shoot first and ask questions later and she didn’t want Rashad to get hurt but at this point the nigga was asking for it.

“What you want Rashad,” Cymone asked and she folded her arms noting he was flanked on both sides by two of his homeboys.

“I want you but you actin like you don’t understand that. Blocking my number was uncalled for babygirl.”

“I’m not yo babygirl and yo number is blocked because you getting on my damn nerves. Ain’t gone ever be no us. Get that through yo thick ass skull!”

Cymone could see Rashad’s face begin to contort in anger but she truly didn’t care. Wasn’t no nigga gone harass her and make her feel uncomfortable because he didn’t understand the word no. She ain’t even play like that.

“Bitch who you the hell you think you talking to,” Rashad yelled as if he had lost his mind.

Why would he do that?

Before Cymone could even blink Smoke was behind Rashad with his pistol pointed at his head. A quick survey of the area and she noticed Stack at his side with a grin a mile wide and Duke standing behind one of the friends. She knew it wasn’t just them waiting on shit to pop off either. The whole club was full of niggas they ran with just waiting on the nod to really set shit off if Rashad or his boys wanted to get stupid and that’s the last thing Cymone wanted. Tonight was supposed to be drama free and about the twins.

“Who you calling a bitch nigga,” Smoke spoke menacingly as he nudged the gun further into Rashad’s skull.

“Sound like he was calling our woman a bitch to me Smoke but you know I can be a lil hard of hearing sometimes. Is that what you said Ricky,” Stack asked as he thumped Rashad continuously against the head.

“My name ain-“

Before Rashad could get his sentence completely out Stacks fist connected with his jaw. Cymone jumped at how fast he moved and from the corner of her eye she could see Val shaking a little. She quickly grabbed her hand and lightly squeezed. Stack squatted down over Rashad’s body as he lay on the ground clutching his mouth while glaring at the men standing around him.

“The next time I see you around her or see you even thinking of saying some shit to her I’m gone be yo worst nightmare,” he said as he punctuated the end of his sentence by tapping his forehead with his pointer finger. That same smile on his face but Cymone knew there was no amusement behind it. Stack slowly stood and took a spot next to Smoke who was now standing by Duke.

“Now get the fuck out our establishment. Before we put yo ass out,” Smoke gruffly as he tucked his pistol into the back of his pants.

One of Rashad’s friends immediately pulled him from the floor and they made their exit without a fuss. Cymone finally felt like could breathe knowing he was gone. She also didn’t realize she had been squeezing the hell out of Val’s hand until the girl began to tug away.

“Sorry stink,” Cymone said apologetically as she rubbed Val’s hand before dropping it.

“Sugar.”

Cymone turned her attention to Smoke who beckoned her with a nod. She stepped down from the section while telling the girls she would be back before following the twins to what she guessed was their office on the second floor of the building. Once they were all inside Stack closed the door and locked it.

“You okay,” Smoke asked as she grabbed her face and began looking her over as if a bruise would pop up out of nowhere.

“I’m fine Jesus. He ain’t do nothing but say some words. I’m good,” she mumbled as she removed Smoke's hands only to be turned and pulled into the embrace of Stack who was standing behind her.

“You know he worry bout you. You ain’t no fragile lil thang but you ain’t made of teflon either,” Stack spoke into the top of her head before he leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. Cymone took a moment to relax into his arms and take a deep breath before she pulled away and turned to Smoke.

“I know you worry bout me Jah but I’m fine I promise,” she said as she flashed him an honest smile while throwing her arms around his neck.

She had been working on being more affectionate with them since she stepped into her new role as their woman. Some things still took some getting used to like the stares and the whispers from other people. Luckily anytime she felt herself getting worked up they were there to calm her down. Just as she began to lean in to give her man a kiss there was a knock on the door that broke her out of her romantic mood. Stack raised his voice telling em to come in and they were faced with none other than Cornbread.

“We got a lil problem downstairs. The nigga over the door let Mary in and Sammie went to go tell her she shouldn’t be there and she told him to get the fuck out her face. Now his lady and her friends down there bout to beat her ass.”

Cymone immediately dropped her arms and straightened her back the second she heard that name.

Mary

That bitch had been pissing her off lately too. Word got round to her in the suburbs that Cymone was with Smoke and Stack and she had been talking cash shit. Talking about how Cymone was a man stealing hussy and a tramp for being with two men. She was also spreading word that she was gone take Stack back as if she wasn’t married. Cymone had been itching for the day she finally ran into that hoe so she could stomp a Mississippi Mud Hole in her ass and tonight was her lucky night. All thoughts of Rashad has flew out the window.

“Angel-“

“Shut up Stack,” Cymone interrupted with her hand raised as she pushed past Cornbread and made quick work of getting down the stairs two at a time. Once she made it to the bottom she soon spotted her girls who were being held back by Duke and Sammie. This was perfect because they were so wrapped up in keeping Re and them away nobody was paying attention to her.

“No let em go Duke! I can whoop all of them bitches. You know Stack taught me how to fight,” Mary spewed out confidently as she eyed the women with a smirk.

“Well well well. Look what the trailer park drug in,” Cymone threw out as she took in her opponent. Brown hair straightened, black halter top, jeans, and flip flops.

Basic ass white bitch

Mary slowly turned to Cymone and let out a little chuckle.

“Oh I’m supposed to be scared of you too?”

“Heavens no! I would never want you to be afraid of lil ole me. Nah I want you to be so deluded into thinking I can’t whoop yo ass that you never see me coming,” Cymone stated as she slowly circled Mary just to raise the hair on her arms.

“Well I ain’t and I never will be. I mean it was your so called man that taught me how to fight,” Mary spoke with a smug smirk in her face as if that was supposed to rile Cymone up.

Cymone observed Mary quietly and from the corner of her eye she could see Stack making his way through the crowd. A slight turn of her head she could see Smoke watching intently from upstairs.

“See the difference between me and you is, I ain’t never needed a nigga to teach me a bitch ass thang. You run around this town tryna make yourself blend in cause of that lil drop of black you got so you fuck every nigga you can lay a hand on. However, the reason that nigga can’t get enough of me is cause he know I don’t need him. You really built yo whole life around a nigga that wouldn’t piss on yo ass if you was on fire,” Cymone spat as she could see the anger forming onto Mary’s face.

A hit dog bout to start hollering.

Cymone anticipated it before it could happen and just as Mary tried to lunge she was on her first. She grabbed the girl by the back of her head and threw her down. With her on the ground she sent a kick to her side that probably bruised a couple ribs if not broke em.

“Bitch you’ll never have the upper hand on me! I whoop hoes like you for fun,” Cymone yelled as she felt a hand go around her waist and snatch her backwards. She collided into a body but a sniff of their cologne told her it was Stack. She slowly turned to look at him. Her entire body was full of energy and her eyebrows were furrowed and here he was smiling down at her as if she was the next coming of Jesus.

Through the haze of her focus on Stack she could hear Duke yelling at somebody to get Mary out of the club. Sammie had found his way back behind the DJ booth and the sounds of BigXThaPlug crooned throughout the building shifting the mood back to a party. A hand on the back of her neck brought her back completely. She didn’t have to look away from Stack to know who it was.

“Go back with yo friends. Have some fun. I’ll come get ya in a hour,” Smoke spoke low. Cymone only nodded and trotted off back to her girls.

Smoke

Smoke continued to watch over the club from the balcony of the second floor. He had been behind the scenes all night making sure things were running smoothly. He was also making sure the money had been adding up and thankfully they were making a good profit for the first night. He knew every night wouldn’t be like this but as long as they had these days a few times a month then they had nothing to worry bout.

His eyes trailed from the door back to her. After Cymone’s run in with that punk ass nigga Ray and her scuffle with Mary he was worried her mood for the night would be ruined. Thankfully her friends were able to lift her back up in no time. He watched as she hopped up to dance to some Megan Thee Stallion song that had begun playing. She moved her body as if she wanted everybody in the building to watch and she had done her job because he couldn’t tear his eyes away. A couple seconds into his stalking she made eye contact with him and that smirk that covered her face let him know she knew he was watching all along. She bent over and grabbed her ankles before she began to throw her ass back onto Tricia who was screaming excitedly.

Dangerous.

He held her gaze for a few more seconds before Stack appeared taking Tricia’s place. Smoke put his toothpick in his mouth and decided to go in the office to get away from all of the rowdiness for a spell.

He sat behind his desk and let out a slow breath in content. After years of doing any and everything to make some money they were finally able to get here. Smoke couldn’t say he was entirely proud of the journey it took. They had to rob, kill, and steal but it was a necessary evil to cross the bridge to success in his eyes. He didn’t regret nothing and he just prayed when his time came that the good Lord would understand him. He was soon broken out of his thoughts by a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Annie, the chef they had hired, peaked her head around the door.

“Evening Mr. Moore. Just wanted to let you know we closing down the kitchen for the night.”

“Thank ya Annie and remember call me Smoke. Mr. Moore was my daddy.”

“Okay Smoke,” she ended with a chuckle before closing the door.

Smoke glanced down at his watch and realized Cymone’s hour had been ran over. He shut down the computer and picked up his work bag. The club was gone be open for another hour but he was honestly ready to call it a night. Stack was gone be closing down the club tonight since he was the more personable twin and had been waiting on an excuse to party all night. As if she could feel him thinking bout her Cymone was standing right on the other side of the door soon as he opened it.

“Hey there boss man. You ready to go,” her voice ran over him like molasses and he closed his eyes for a second just to savor it. He then looked down at her with a lil smirk before wrapping his arm around her waist.

It didn’t take long for them to exit the club and get round to the twins house. Smoke might have been speeding just a lil more since he was eager to finally lay with her and wrap his arms around her.

Him nor Stack had any plans for how the night was to go because they wanted her to be comfortable at all times. The last thing they wanted was for her to run away because they pushed too fast. What Smoke didn’t know was that Cymone, although cool as a fan, was a bundle of nerves waiting to explode in the passenger seat next to him.

Cymone

Cymone looked completely fine on the outside but deep inside of her there was a woman screaming to get out. Maybe it was the never ending shots of tequila that were raging her hormones but she had soon came to the conclusion that something had to give tonight.

As her and Smoke made their goodbyes, Stack informed them that Duke would be closing tonight instead of him so he could come home a lil earlier. Soon as he got done counting the money he would be on his way home and that was great for Cymone. Her plan was to wash up and put on her lingerie under her black silk pajama set she packed. Her brain still didn’t know if sex was on the menu but her body knew something was getting done tonight. It honestly had been long enough. Cymone hadn’t gotten any in about a year since she broke up with her ex right before Sophomore year started.

Inside their home Smoke gave her a brief tour so she could become familiar with the place. Everything about it screamed their personalities and she knew Stack put a lot of thought into the decorations from the album covers of their favorite rappers hanging on the walls to the dark hues of red and blue accents and the black furniture.

“This here is the guest room. You can put yo stuff in here and the bathroom is right across the hall. I’m about to go shower, if you need something let me know,” Smoke spoke before retreating down the hall to his room.

Him in the shower.

Cymone lightly clenched her thighs together at the thought of him naked, water running down the hard planes of his chest, his eyes closed in relaxation.

Breathe bitch.

Snapping out of it Cymone quickly grabbed her things and walked the short distance to the bathroom across the hall. Once inside she turned on the shower to the hottest temperature and put her locs into a bun before getting inside.

She let the hot water rain down on her skin as she closed her eyes. After a few more minutes she grabbed her washcloth and soap and began to lather up. As she washed her body she couldn’t help but to imagine what her shower would have been like with the twins. Would they be fighting over the water? Would they complain about it being so hot like most men do? How would they look at her?

The girl was wayyy past hot and bothered and somebody needed to put some water on the flames quickly. Cymone was jolted from her thoughts by a rough knock on the bathroom.

“Uh yeah?”

“Just wanted to let you know Stack was back. We gone be in the living room cause this nigga wanna watch a movie,” Smoke bellowed through the thick wood of the bathroom door.

“Okay. I’ll be out in a lil minute,” Cymone spoke shakily, almost feeling like Smoke could see straight through the door at her flustered figure.

Pull it together!

After 10 more minutes Cymone was out of the shower and dressed in her pajamas. She walked back into the guest room to put her clothes in her bag before making her way down the hallway back into the living room. The sight before her would have made a nun go against her celibacy. Smoke sat in the arm chair with one foot lazily draped over the ottoman as he looked down at his phone. He was clad in a black wife beater and some gray sweatpants. On the other hand Stack sat on their sectional with the remote in his hand. He wore a pair of black basketball shorts…..no shirt. If Cymone didn’t have any common decency to herself the girl would probably start drooling.

She slowly padded her feet into the living room before sitting on the right side of Stack. She took notice of him scrolling through movies on Hulu as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“You find anything yet,” she muttered softly, almost too scared that if she talked normally they would hear the desperation in her voice.

“Yeah. Y’all good with the Blackening?”

Smoke could be heard saying yes from across the room and Cymone quickly whispered a yes as well as she looked up at Stack from the corner of her eye. Stack pressed play on the movie and she felt the couch dip as Smoke took a place on the other side of her sandwiching her in. Cymone lightly clenched her thighs as the presence of them began to suffocate her. There was no way she was going to make it through this movie without melting into the couch.

She opted to lean back into the plush cushions just to get her mind off of the two temptations flanking her sides but that honestly didn’t help because they seemed to follow her every move. Stack leaned back with her and draped his arm across her shoulder and Smoke leaned over to his right as his hand mindlessly began drawing circles on her right thigh.

They got 20 minutes into the movie before she felt Smoke's hand slip to the inside of her thigh causing her to suck in a breath. Cymone didn’t know if it was an accident or not because his hand went back to its previous spot but she wanted it to happen again. She decided to focus her attention back on the movie but just as she got back into it Stacks lips were next to her ear.

“Why you so jumpy? The movie scaring you?”

Cymone let out a small gasp at the close proximity.

“No I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Look like you struggling with something,” Smoke said low although the whole time his eyes never left the tv screen.

“Struggling with something like what,” she asked breathlessly.

She felt Stack turn her head as he brought her in for a searing kiss that sent a jolt throughout her whole body. Cymone let out a moan at finally having physical contact with him and her mind went back to the last time they had actually kissed her.

Tonight she wouldn’t be stopping them.

She was so lost in the kiss she didn’t feel Smoke get up from the couch but she was brought back to him once he grabbed her hand to lift her from the couch.

“Come on Sugar,” he said in a tone she had never heard before. He gently led her down the hallway with Stack right on their heels. She felt her heart beating out of her chest almost like it was going into overdrive. The minute they crossed the threshold into Smoke’s room he stopped and turned to her. His face was ever so serious as it usually was.

“Are you sure you ready for this,” he asked as he searched her eyes for any hesitation.

Without a second thought she answered.

“Yes.”

Note: Hey guysssss!! Did you miss me?? I missed y’all too omg. Writer’s block had a bitch down bad!! So glad I’m over that hump. Well here is part 5 and I know I know fuck cliff hangers fr! But it was necessary 🤭. Anyways let me know what y’all and see y’all next time!!

Tag List: @angryflowerwitch @cleo92bitch-i-am-old @reci1996 @hoodpr1ncessdiana @cerya @rose-bliss @thickemadame @katezy2x @roughridah0 @5starsirl @woahthatshitfat @sassymemoryelixir @iiiheartfayee @melinatedlifeline @stankface @flaps200 @thefutureemmywinner @junkie05

[eyeheartboobiez]

-> 𝗃𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖽 𝗑 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

-> 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗎!

-> 𝖺/𝗇: 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 5 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾!! 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝖼. 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒🫶🏿

liked by cass.cain, rred_hood, and 4,105,018 others

@y/nforeal: GUESS WHO JUST WON A GRAMMY!!! fr tho i couldn't be more thankful for how far i've come as not only an artist, but an individual. now that award szn is over, imma take some time off from making music, because these next few months are gonna be busyyy.

again, thank you to all my friends and everyone who's stuck by my side through everything. i love yall🥹🫶 #grammys2023

View all 15,675 comments

user1: WE LOVE U TOO QUEEN

user2: what does she mean by busy tho??

⤷ user3: fr like is there a baby on the way or sumn💀

cass.cain: SO HAPPY FOR U BABES !!

⤷ y/nforeal: THX GIRLIE😘

⤷ user4: idc how delusional i look i still ship it🤷‍♀️

user5: been a fan since day one, couldn't be more proud🥹

user6: not jason liking her post...

⤷ y/nforeal: right like im confused too

⤷ user7: LMAOO she so real😭

Grammy winner Y/N Y/LN going to court?! From ruined careers to ruined relationships, here's the rundown that led to all this. (1/10/2023 11:54 AM PT)

Since August of last year, fans have been talking nonstop about the leaked track that's been trending all over the internet. With its romantic lyrics and suggestive imagery, the song — Fantasize — made its debut surprising not only the listeners, but the artist as well.

Renowned singer Y/N Y/LN was more shocked than anyone to find that one of her unreleased songs had been spread around online. Even moreso, when the culprit behind the act was none other than rival singer, Artemis Grace.

Which begs the question: Why would Artemis care to leak Y/N'S music?

Well last summer, her ex boyfriend Jason Todd was alleged to have been in an intimate relationship with the grammy winner. Ever since paparazzi caught the two kissing outside of Y/N's Malibu home, they’ve been rumored to have been seeing each other in private.

Supporters of the singer were more than ecstatic to see the two together, and were happy to see that both stars were getting their well deserved happy ending.

Especially Jason, who had spoken up in past interviews about his ex’s abusive behavior. Stating that the redhead was “more than controlling” throughout their relationship.

Unfortunately the so-called Fantasy was short lived, when the gothamite was seen outside of a nightclub with the toxic ex. Once the news broke headlines, while fans were more than devastated, they were just as quick to come to Y/N's defence.

Regardless of the heartache, many speculate that Y/N may have used Cassandra, Jason's sister, as a bit of a rebound! In fact, the tension between the two was more than noticeable in the interview they did together with Glamour.

As usual, fans jumped to the conclusion that their collaboration is what drove Jason to like Y/N's most recent post on instagram (an action that even she was skeptical about).

Back to the present, it seems that the redhead was also caught red handed. After TMZ investigators revealed Artemis as the culprit of the crime, Y/N made the smart decision to press charges.

On account of copyright infringement, as well as causing emotional distress, the offender had been served an official notice of the legal proceedings being taken against her.

However, because she failed to appear before the judge last week, Artemis was forcibly taken in by the authorities just this morning. The embarrassing encounter with law enforcement was seen by many in the area, and spectators did not hesitate to record the interaction and post it online.

Despite all the drama, fans are overjoyed to see the ex finally being held accountable for her behavior. And who knows, maybe the tragic story between star crossed lovers will get its happy ending after all!

end notes: so what do we think, yay or nay?

taglist: @din0o0o @cipheress-to-k-pop @bonnie-tz @phatnyash420

[firstservepercentage]

okay following their incredibly gae trophy speeches imma yap about sincaraz's no we are not close friends but i wanna thank you for just simply existing situation

if anyone watched that f1 movie you will remember brad pitt (i will just call him brad pitt) saying theres a feeling of driving in the car so damn well and you are on the limit of your and the car's abilities and it feels like flying, and he spends his whole life trying to feel that again. and if anyone watched this anime called kuroko's basketball theres also this thing called 'zone' that athlete enter and its like a perfect balance of focus and alertness and it makes every execution flow perfectly and effortlessly, which i think is based on the experience of some real nba players. but anyways my point if i am no athlete bur i think for them sports people there are moments you play your sport so well that it just feels better than any other feeling to possibly exist

and well men's singles tennis is a 1 guy on 1 guy sport, and to get pushed to the extent of entering that playing perfect state or zone state you will need the other guy to do decent too. excuse my explicit use of metaphor but it is literally like sex, if you want to feel good just on your own you can still do it but its not gonna be as good as when both people are doing their part properly. so yes they are so not normal abt each other in the sense they wake up everyday thinking about how to improve and beat the other (cr. jannik sinner) and make history together (cr. carlos alcaraz), but in my biased mind the 'against him its different' part of their relationship can also be very in the moment and simple and raw. some times they are good friends some times they are not and there is always some weird tension flying around, but there is this feeling of tennising so well its better than everything and its addictive, and i think they both know its most likely to happen when playing each other