#today... headache won

[hellcifrogs]

Students' Students AU - Team 7 now Shippuden!

Other teams

I wanted to add more with these designs, but I've had these for a while now and I can't wait any longer to share!

Can you tell the little inspirations and references they each took into their looks?

[xxplastic-cubexx]

fortnite bringing their x-men skins back like girl youre too late for that ........ rivals is out ......

[adore-gregor]

.

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

what if instead of “overexposure” we used language like “overconsumption”?

[wosospacegirl]

Sweet girl - Alessia Russo (+18)

Summary: Request-> Alessia and Y/n have a quicky in the morning after an argument and Alessia is late for training. Good thing Y/n has a motorcycle.

Warnings: +18!!!; smut; little bit of angst (happy ending); fingering alessia receiving.

Word count: 2.8k

MASTERLIST

..

Alessia was the sweetest girl you could ever meet in your life. She was caring, kind and gentle; sometimes she was too kind to people who didn't deserve it. Everyone who met Alessia fell in love with her right away, that’s how joyful she was.

Y/n often used the words ‘soft’ and ‘tender’ to describe Alessia’s personality as well. Sadly for Y/n, none of these qualities were shining through in her girlfriend at the moment.

Alessia’s week had been a mess– two days of splitting headaches, her period had ended days ago but she still felt bloated and sensitive. All of this affected her training, and therefore her performance in Arsenal's last game. As a result, the team lost 2-1 to Liverpool.

Y/n tried very hard to explain to Alessia that the defeat was caused by the whole team, not just her, but she was upset and wouldn’t listen. Whether Arsenal won or lost, it was never the fault of one player. Alessia knew this, of course, but she was upset nonetheless.

It was one of those days when frustration would linger around her and no one could take Alessia away from it. The match had been three days ago, but she was still upset about it, and an upset Alessia was rude Alessia.

“I just don't understand why you didn't buy the eggs when I asked you to!” Alessia said, slamming the fridge door. “You always forget to buy the groceries, and then I'm late for training because there's nothing to eat!”

Alessia was standing in the middle of the kitchen, wearing Arsenal’s training kit, her blonde hair was down her back, and she had a hair tie on her wrist. She had to be at practice soon, and it looked like that was Y/n’s problem, too.

Y/n listened to Alessia’s complaints as she sipped her morning coffee, sketchbook in hand, drawing tattoo designs for a client.

Y/n prided herself on being a decent girlfriend– she tried to look after Alessia as best as she could. The couple had been together for two years, so Y/n had been by Alessia’s side through a series of injuries, wins and losses.

It was hard to be an athlete's partner; their life was always full of adrenaline, and they were always busy with national and international chronograms.

Alessia was very mindful, considering she wasn’t dating someone from the football world, but unfortunately, when Alessia was frustrated, she seemed to forget that Y/n had a real life outside of being her girlfriend.

Y/n was a tattoo artist. She had opened her own tattoo studio in a corner of North London years ago. Alessia and Y/n had met after the player came into the shop wanting a tattoo on her feet; after their meet-cute, they’d become inseparable.

Y/n took a sip of the black coffee, the rich and bitter aroma filling her nose. Coffee always helped to calm her down, and she certainly needed to be calm, as it was early in the morning and Alessia was looking for a reason to argue.

Y/n sighed and put down the cup in her hand. “Baby, you were the one who had the car this week.” 8 am, it was 8 am and they were talking about fucking eggs. “And Lamar got sick, so I had to take in his clients.”

“I know, but I had a lot going on so I asked you to pick the eggs up,” Alessia said, clenching fists resting on either side of her body.

“And I said I couldn't because I was overbooked with customers, love.” Y/n leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “How about I make you a fruit salad? We have strawberries and blueberries; I can make you something to eat.”

“I don't want fruit, I want an omelette! I always have an omelette in the morning. Alessia groaned and rolled her eyes. Am I supposed to keep up during training today?”

“Alessia, come on, baby–”

“No! This whole week had been shitty and you’re not even helping me!” Alessia continued to carpet.

And that made it for Y/n.

Y/n stood up. “Room, now.” Was all she said before disappearing into the hallway next to the kitchen.

The girl opened the bedroom door and sat down at the end of the bed with her legs spread open. She heard footsteps in the hallway and soon after Alessia entered the room.

“Come here,” Y/n beckoned to Alessia.

“You haven’t been very nice to me the last few days, have you?”

“No” Alessia shook her head.

“And why is that?” Y/n asked. “Look at me, sweet, I'm talking to you.”

“Sorry. I told you I haven’t had a good week,” she mumbled, playing with her hand. Embarrassment radiating from her.

“I understand you’ve had a bad week, what I don't understand is why you’re going out of your way to make sureneither of us can have a good day today.”

Y/n had always been a very straightforward person. She didn't like drama or didn't like unnecessary arguments. If she could fix something, she would. Since Y/n had earned the autonomy to do whatever she wanted in life she focused on opening her tattoo shop.

At the moment, Skin Deep Studio was her pride and joy. Y/n treated the studio with respect and expected Alessia to do the same, just as she did with Alessia’s career.

“I told you I had clients from 9 am to 9 pm, didn't I?” Y/n continued, her eyes fixed on Alessia. “Did you expect me to cancel on them? Especially knowing that they were booked months ago?”

Alessia listened to Y/n, tears slowly forming in her eyes. “You told me you had clients. I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t being very considerate with me,” Y/n explained reassuringly. “You know it’s not fair to ask me to drop everything to go out and do something you want me to do, I’m busy too.”

Y/n wiped a tear from Alessia’s cheek, “I'm just very stressed with everything,” Alessia cried.

The footballer put her legs on Y/n’s lap and rested her head on Y/n’s shoulder.

“There's this big game this week and I can't seem to play it right.” She continued. “But I shouldn't be mean to you just because I'm stressed. I'm very sorry.”

“It's okay, sweetheart,” Y/n said, hugging Alessia's body. “Just talk to me next time, yeah? You always talk to me. I don't know why you didn't this time.”

“I don't know either,” Alessia admitted, breathing in and out slowly, she was calming down bit by bit.

Y/n kissed her cheek, feeling the saltiness of Alessia’s tears on her lips. “It’s alright, just breathe…f do you feel better now?”

Alessia smiled shyly and nodded her head. “Thank you, I love you,” Alessia said before kissing Y/n's mouth.

The kiss was gentle at first, but it quickly became intense.

Alessia slid her tongue into Y/n's mouth. Her hands were on Y/n's shoulder, trying to balance herself while the other girl put her hands on Alessia's lower back, trying to pull Alessia closer.

“I missed kissing you like this,” Alessia said, placing soft kisses on Y/n's neck. “I missed it a lot.

Y/n squeezed Alessia’s hips. “If you hadn’t been so moody this week, we could have kissed a lot sooner.” Y/n said teasingly, holding Alessia’s hips so that she was straddling her.

“Sorry,” Alessia whispered, slowly beginning to grind herself against Y/n's black trousers.

“Is that why you were so grumpy too? You wanted some kisses and didn't know how to ask for them?” Y/n asked, scratching Alessia’s back.

“I think so,” Alessia agreed, rubbing harder, trying to create some friction.

Y/n cupped Alessia's cheek and kissed hard, tugging at the girl's shorts.

“Take them off,” Y/n said against Alessia’s mouth.

“We can't love, I have training” Alessia whispered, still moving her body against Y/n. “And I'm already late.”

“I’ll be quick, just wanna make you cum,”

Alessia blushed deeply. She was always very shy with dirty talk, So Y/n always lowered it down as much as she could.

“Come on, get up,” Y/n tapped her body, urging the girl to stand up, and she did.

Alessia stood in front of Y/n, who quickly pulled her shorts down. The blonde girl was now standing in only her underwear and Arsenal t-shirt.

What a sight.

“So pretty,” Y/n murmured, kissing Alessia's chin, then her cheeks and finally pressing her lip to her mouth. “I want you to ride my fingers, do you think you can do that? Be quick?

“Yes,” Alessia moaned.

Y/n slipped one finger inside Alessia’s soaked underwear “You're gonna cum real nice because you are already so wet, baby,” Y/n said as she sat further away from the bed, to give Alessia more room to get into position.

Alessia already knew what she had to do. She placed her knees on the mattress, each one next to Y/n’s body. The blonde met Y/n's lips and moaned into her mouth as Y/n pulled her underwear aside and gently played with her clit.

“I’m gonna put them in, yeah?” Y/n said, gently playing with Alessia’s hole before penetrating her with two fingers. “Feels nice?��

Alessia purred in her ear, telling her all she needed to know.

“Ride my fingers, baby,” Y/n told Alessia, easing the girl down until her fingers were properly buried inside her pussy.

“Like that, just like that,” Alessia moaned, sinking deeper and deeper into Y/n’s fingers.

Y/n loved watching Alessia being fucked. She was always so sweet when she wanted to cum, so good. Knowing she was the one doing it made her chest rise with pride. She was the only one to touch this pretty girl, the one responsible for her sweet sounds. They shared another kiss, this one was messier, and Alessia was getting eager.

“I need you to cum, love” Y/n whispered to Alessia, pushing her hips down and dictating the pace. “Or else we’ll be late.”

“Al-almost,” Alessia whispered with her eyes closed.

“Yeah? My love is going to make a mess on my fingers just before she has to go to play?” Y/n said teasingly, sucking on Alessia’s neck, but not enough to leave a mark behind. “Come on, let go for me.”

Alessia leaned forward as she came, losing control of her torso; her lips brushing Y/n’s ear. Alessia wasn’t vocal when she came, instead, she was silent, her mouth remaining open for a few seconds as her body trembled with bliss.

Y/n tenderly ran her fingers through Alessia’s blonde hair with her free hand, letting her come down on her own without rushing.

“I’m gonna take them out, okay baby?”

Alessia nodded, resting her head on Y/n’s shoulder as the girl lifted her hips. Y/n pulled her fingers out of Alessia’s warmth and cleaned them against the blanket on the bed.

“Wow, I’m very dizzy,” Alessia breathed, shifting her body and cradling Y/n.

Y/n chuckled, and kissed her cheeks “Is that because of the orgasm or because you haven’t had your omelette yet, huh?”

Alessia nudged Y/n, a shy smile in her eyes. “Stop it, I’m not the same person I was ten minutes ago.”

“Of course, you aren’t,” Y/n hugged Alessia. “My sweet girlfriend is back, now.”

Y/n playfully peppered Alessias’s face with kisses while the girl giggled, squirming against Y/n’s body whenever Y/n kissed a particularly ticklish part of her.

“Okay, okay,” Y/n said, planting another kiss on Alessia’s chin. “I’ll get you cleaned up and I’ll drop you off at training on my way to the tattoo studio, how does that sound?”

Alessia’s eyes widened. She had completely forgotten about training, too absorbed in the bubble of love they had created.

“Bloody hell, I'm going to be so late,” Alessia gasped, as she broke free of Y/n’s grip and ran to her bathroom, Y/n was close behind.

When Y/n got to the bathroom, Alessia was in front of the mirror trying to fix her hair so she didn’t look like she’d had sex with her girlfriend when she should have been at work.

“Renée’s gonna make me do suicide drills just for the fun of it.” The blonde complained, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. “She hates it when one of us is late– do you think that’s a Dutch thing?”

“Probably, they do enjoy punctuality in the Netherlands,” Y/n said, handing Alessia’s short back. The girl put it on quickly and started brushing her teeth. Y/n gently pushed Alessia to the side so that she could use the sink too.

“Okay, I think I'm good,” Alessia said more to herself, looking at her reflection in the mirror and fixing an unruly strand of hair. “What do you think? Do I look like a mess?”

She and Y/n made eye contact through the mirror. “You look pretty,” Y/n said with a grin, making Alessia blush. “Now let’s go, I'm gonna get our helmets.”

Alessia stopped in her tracks. “Helmets? What do you mean? We’re using my car today.”

“Nope, we’re using the motorcycle.” Y/n pushed Alessia gently out of the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

“No, we aren't,” Alessia stated, turning around to look at Y/n.

Alessia wasn’t terrified of Y/n’s motorcycle, she genuinely thought it was cool. She just didn't like being the one to ride it.

“Baby, you have to be at Arsenal in…” Y/n looked at her watch, “...six minutes, do you think London’s traffic will allow that?”

Alessia thought for a moment, arms crossed. “ Hmph. Alright,. Well, I don’t have much choice,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Whatever, let’s go,” she added, grabbing her training bag while Y/n picked up the helmets.

“I won’t go too fast,” Y/n said, putting an arm around Alessia’s waist as they walked out the door. “Just enough to get you there in time without Renée biting your head off.”

“You know I need to breathe to ride, right?” Y/n said as they rode through the streets on London, rain pouring down on their riding jackets. Yes, her riding jackets because Y/n had bought one for Alessias as well.

Alessia clung to Y/n, her head pressed against Y/n’s back.

“I’m scared,” Alessia murmured, barely audible over the wind.

“Why baby? I’m a good biker.”

“Too fast,” was all Alessia could manage.

Y/n had already slowed down to a safer speed, but she let the motorcycle ease down even more. “There, how’s that? Better?”

“Uhun, thank you,” Alessa finally breathed, loosening her grip but still holding onto Y/n’s hips gently.

Alessia had a love-hate relationship with Y/n’s motorcycle. She liked it because Y/n liked it, and she knew it was almost like a lifestyle to her girlfriend. But sometimes, in her deepest thoughts, she wished Y/n would sell it. Alessia was just too anxious whenever Y/n rode it, afraid of a possible accident.

The motorcycle was undeniably cool and honestly, Y/n looked hot when she wore the black leather jacket that came with it. Alessia just wasn’t cut out for this lifestyle. That’s why she preferred her car–more safety, less wind.

When they finally arrived at Arsenal’s training grounds, Alessia got off the motorcycle, and handed her helmet to Y/n, feeling dizzy.

“You okay?” Y/n asked, catching Alessia’s arm. “You’re green.”

“I honestly think I’m gonna throw up,”

“No you’re not, it was an eight-minute ride,” Y/n smiled softly as she opened the motorcycle trunk and grabbed Alessia’s bag.

“Eight minutes was long enough,”

“You’ll have to ride with me more than that, get used to it,” Y/n leaned against the motorcycle and checked her watch. “Your training’s starting, you should go, baby.”

Alessia moved closer to Y/n and kissed her. “Thanks, love, I appreciate the ride, even though I think my insides are turned upside down.”

“Thank you, It’s always a pleasure to have a pretty girl bear-hugging me while I ride,” Y/n winked. “Also, let me know when you get your lunch break. We can get something to eat around here.”

“Okay,” Alessia smiled. “Will you pick me up when the training is over?”

“Yep, I can do that.”

“Can you take the car, though?” Alessia asked, giving Y/n her best doe eyes.

“Baby–”

“Please? The feeling of having something around you when you drive is nicer than having wind scratching on your face”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree there, love,” Y/n said, putting her helmet back on, and sitting down on the bike. “I’ll grab the car and pick you up.”

“I love you,”

“I know.”

..

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Notes//2: my smut writing is shitty.

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #9

It was supposed to be a normal Tuesday. Well, as normal as it got when you were the ghost king of a supernatural hell dimension that casually brushed shoulders with every known reality in the multiverse. Danny Fenton, age 19, high school graduate, part-time fast food cashier, full-time eldritch entity, had long since learned that “normal” was a concept best left to sitcoms and people who didn’t accidentally blow up space-time during puberty.

And yet, even with the sheer absurdity of his afterlife-afterlife job description, Danny had not signed up for this.

Somehow—somehow—when he officially accepted the Crown of Fire and Frost and Bones and Whatever, the Infinite Realms had offered him a dowry. Not money. Not knowledge. Not a magical vacuum to clean the endless ghost slime dripping from the ceiling. No. It gave him the Infinity Stones.

Not knockoff ones. Not replicas. Not the “Earth-199999” post-snap pebbles Thanos crushed into ghost glitter. The original Infinity Stones. And now he wore them.

Not in a gauntlet. Because, quote, “That’s been done, and frankly, gauche,” according to the Reality Stone, which had rewritten itself into a choker necklace that constantly tried to re-style his outfit into something out of a Victoria’s Secret Angel runway. Today, it had settled on a see-through green silk robe with ghost fire embroidery, and Danny had to physically fight it to let him wear jeans. He won. Barely.

The Power Stone, a chunky magenta ring on his left thumb, liked to hum. Not dramatically or ominously, no. It hummed “Barbie Girl” during tense conversations. It buzzed like a vibrator when Danny was trying to intimidate enemy ghosts. It yodeled during peace treaties. Vlad Masters once tried to monologue at him and the stone responded with a chorus of flatulent noises at full volume. Danny hadn’t stopped laughing for ten minutes. Vlad has refused to visit the castle since.

The Time Stone dangled from a chain bracelet on his right wrist. Sometimes it glowed. Sometimes it whispered. Sometimes it sounded exactly like Clockwork and said stuff like, “Oh, I wouldn’t eat that sandwich, Daniel. You’ll get food poisoning in three hours and twenty-two minutes. It won’t kill you, but the diarrhea will haunt you.” It also had a deeply annoying habit of flashing forward into the future and spoiling every plot twist in the books he was reading. Danny tried to switch to manga, but the damn thing kept spoiling those too.

The Space Stone was an earring. A single, glowing, cerulean stud in his left lobe. It gave him migraines. Not just regular migraines. Cosmic, black-hole-level migraines that bent reality around him. Once, while sneezing mid-headache, he created a baby star in his bedroom. Another time, it opened a portal in the ceiling of his shower mid-rinse and sucked him naked into a Skrull pirate ship orbiting Saturn. He beat them with a loofah and threatened to scrub their insides out unless they sent him back. They now call him “Emperor Cleans-the-Flesh.”

Then there was the Soul Stone. It had attitude. It was a sulky little thing, disguised as a glowing orange knuckle ring he wore on his middle finger, which felt very appropriate. It didn’t talk much, but when it did, it sounded like a sad Tumblr user from 2013. Constantly making vague threats like, “What if I just… killed everyone you loved… just to feel something.” Danny once told it to go touch grass and it responded by manifesting a field of sentient grass that sang MCR lyrics at full blast. Sam loved it. Tucker was traumatized. Jazz refuses to discuss it.

And the Mind Stone.

God.

The Mind Stone.

A dainty gold earring that hung from his right ear and gave the impression of class. It had developed a voice that was part Morgan Freeman, part drunk Hannibal Lecter, and it spoke in Jazz’s cadence. So, essentially: it psychoanalyzed Danny nonstop with the world-weary patience of an overachieving older sibling with access to the DSM-5 and a deep, personal vendetta.

“Ah, yes. Classic deflection, Daniel. You’re not mad at the Time Stone for spoiling your anime. You’re mad at yourself for never learning to regulate your own expectations. Also, you are projecting unresolved paternal trauma onto that sandwich. Seek therapy.”

“I can’t seek therapy, I’m the Ghost King!”

“That’s exactly what someone with a savior complex and intimacy issues would say.”

Every time he thought it was quiet, it whispered new insults into his subconscious. Once, in the middle of a UN meeting about ghost-human diplomacy, it started narrating his intrusive thoughts. Danny had to teleport out before he screamed about his fear of turning into his dad mid-poop.

Now, normally? He could live with it. Ish. He’d learned to tune them out, like roommates you couldn’t evict because they were the literal embodiment of creation. But then SHIELD, or what was left of it, showed up.

Apparently, the multiverse was cracking. Again. Something-something-Kang, something-something-fracture points. Wong came in first, looked at Danny floating sideways in a gravity-less realm throne room while eating hot Cheetos, and just sighed like a man who knew he was underpaid.

“You’re the new anchor of the multiverse.”

Danny blinked. “I’m the what?”

“The stones chose you. Probably because you’re already tethered to the Infinite Realms. You’re their new keeper. Like… janitor of reality.”

“I didn’t ask to be the multiverse’s janitor.”

“Too bad. Put on pants. You’re meeting the Avengers.”

Spoiler: he did not put on pants. Reality Stone put him in tight leather shorts. Tony Stark showed up mid-briefing, took one look at Danny, and said, “Are we summoning ghosts or attending Coachella?”

“I am literally containing the building blocks of existence inside my earlobes, old man.”

Tony raised a brow. “Sassy.”

Steve Rogers had a panic attack. Bruce Banner tried to talk quantum containment strategy, but the Mind Stone insulted his PhD and called him “Emotionally repressed Dr. Jekyll.” Wanda Maximoff muttered something in Sokovian about chaos recognizing chaos. Peter Parker asked for a selfie. Thor offered to arm wrestle. The Space Stone teleported his arm off mid-match. Thor thought it was hilarious.

Then came Loki.

“Oh,” the trickster said, slinking into the realm uninvited. “You’re the one they gave the toys to.”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Do not call them toys.”

The Soul Stone hissed. The Mind Stone said, “He has severe middle child energy. Classic narcissist. Avoid eye contact.”

Loki smiled wider. “I like you.”

“I hate you already.”

And then Deadpool showed up.

No one invited him. No one wanted him. He just… wandered in through a swirling green portal, wearing bunny slippers, sipping a Ghost Zone smoothie, and immediately licked the Time Stone.

“MMM. Tastes like trauma and Chrono-Cinnamon. Delicious.”

Danny screamed. Deadpool winked.

The next few weeks were a blur of chaos. Danny accidentally rebooted a dead star, causing an entire Kree fleet to bow to him as their sun god. The Reality Stone made his socks sentient. The Mind Stone helped him file ghostly taxes, then charged him emotional interest. Doctor Strange tried to exorcise the stones. Danny coughed up an entire timeline onto the Sanctum’s carpet. Wong still hasn’t forgiven him.

At one point, the Power Stone got bored and vaporized a celestial. Danny was grounded by the Living Tribunal for three days and had to sit in a corner of conceptual space thinking about what he did.

“Why me?” Danny whined to no one in particular.

“Because,” the Mind Stone whispered gently. “You are chronically self-sacrificing, catastrophically powerful, and an absolute sucker for lost causes. Also, you taste like ectoplasm and cinnamon toast. Reality finds that comforting.”

Danny covered his face with his hands. “I’m going to scream.”

“Do it,” the Soul Stone said. “Scream into the void. Feed me.”

“I hate you.”

“We love you, Daniel,” Time Stone whispered ominously.

“No you don’t!”

But they kind of did. In their own horrible, unholy, unhinged way.

And Danny? Danny was starting to get used to it.

He wore godhood like a teenager wears a secondhand hoodie—awkwardly, chaotically, and with a deep sense of “please don’t ask me to take responsibility for this.” But deep down, across realms and dimensions and timelines, Danny Phantom was no longer just a boy with ghost powers. He was the Keeper of Infinity, the King of the In-Between, and possibly the most dangerously unqualified celestial babysitter the multiverse had ever known.

God help them all.

[ashes-in-a-jar]

Oh my god.

Pulling my second all nighter in a row fighting the good fight (trying to finish a project by the end of September which I put off for 4 years)

Wish me luck, this has been plaguing me for a very long time

[district4loading]

Lazy Days

Twice Mina x Male Reader

4K Words

Content Warning: Smut, Fluff

Minors DNI

A/N: This is another request I received almost a month ago. I really hate that it took me so long to get to it especially because it isn't even that long. It's probably cause for the past few weeks I've been stressed and I've had bad headaches which really killed my motivation lol.

Anyways enough of my bitching, I really enjoyed writing this one cause Mina's been wrecking me lately so I hope you guys like it.

-

"You let me win, didn't you?"

-

"There's no way" You blink, your entire body running stiff as you watch the small pixelated character you created maybe four hours ago shrivel up and die in one of the worst ways imaginable. In the same instance you glance over to your girlfriend Mina, who's sitting right next to you on the couch. Although she doesn't look at you, you can see the smirk on her face and you begin to process that she just beat you. Again. "You've gotta be cheating!" You accuse, pressing the respawn button on your controller.

"No" She insists cutely with her whiny tone of voice "I'm just better than you" The simple shrug of her shoulders has you a bit salty. 

It's been like this all day. You both had today off, so really and truly there was no better way to spend it than to sit around all day playing video games. Truth be told, you were never a gamer before you met Mina. When she moved in with you, she brought her console too and you slowly went from watching her play occasionally to playing with her and even more than her sometimes.

"Yeah right, one more game" You run a hand through your messy hair.

Mina loves how stubborn you are, she sees it as one of your cutest traits. She just knows that although you say "one more game" you really mean "we'll play until I beat you" and it's even funnier that you refuse to admit that part.

Sure enough you end up playing four rounds instead of the 'one' you spoke of earlier "Don't you think we should be doing something else?" Mina mutters, reluctantly pressing the button for a rematch when you lose again. She glances at the time, noticing that you two have been at this all morning and it was just bleeding into the afternoon.

"Like what?" You bite your lip subconsciously, something you always did when you were trying to focus. 

"I dunno, you hungry? We could order something, watch tv, maybe go out later.." She suggests, but you barely hear any of it because not even a second after she finishes her sentence, you manage to finally beat her in the combat game. 

"Ha! See? You're not better than me, look I just beat you" You stand up and point to the tv. Mina only puts her controller to the side and she smiles at you calmly, nodding. It doesn't really matter to you in the moment that you've played maybe a total of sixteen matches, four of which you actually won. You silently appreciate her for not bringing up that part either. "Okay, what were you saying?" You turn off the console and plop back down on the couch.

"Maybe" She looks like she's actually thinking for a moment, then in the same instance she kind of stops and she gets this look on her face. An almost devilish smirk replaces her pondering pout and you're almost immediately intrigued about what's to come "I should give you a reward for winning"

She only has to scoot closer to you and lean her head in a few inches to catch your lips on hers. You kiss her back, hands on her waist so you can pull her to sit on your lap. "What kind of reward?" You decide to humor her cause why not and she can't hide her giggles when she presses on your shoulder to get you to lay back.

"Just lay down" Mina's voice is so wonderfully soft, almost healing to your ears when she says the three words. You first prop one of the throw pillows up against the armrest and you rest your head against it. Still in your lap, Mina leans down to put her lips back on yours and you can't get enough of them. So smooth and tender as you make out in your cozy living room.

When Mina pulls away, she shuffles backwards a bit and with the space she has, she lays flat on her belly between your legs. It's a big couch so she's able to fit there nice and comfy, arms resting on your thighs as she tugs on the waistband of your shorts and you lift your hips to help her out.

 "You let me win, didn't you?" You figure

"Well, how else was I supposed to get your cock in my mouth?" She teases, pulling the garments off your legs. Your cock springs free from its confinements, semi-hard from the bit of kissing you did earlier. 

"You could've just a-asked—" Your tone of voice changes mid-way when Mina wraps her lips around your head, her moist inner cheeks wonderfully stimulating each nerve. 

She releases you with a subtle pop then she curls her fingers around your shaft, stroking up and down. "Where's the fun in that" The way she giggles feels a little more sinister and it genuinely sends a chill down your spine as you grow harder and harder in her hands. 

Mina leans over, sticking her tongue out to flick it against your tip "God" You bite your lip, forgetting to breathe while you make eye contact. It's like there's a greater force gluing your eyes to her making it impossible for you to look away. When she's got your cock at it's hardest—which doesn't take very long at all—she opens her mouth and takes you inside.

The descent is slow and easy for her for the first few inches. She starts to struggle the further she gets down and you're unable to focus on anything but the warmth of her mouth, the saliva coating your entire shaft and the tight squeeze her mouth gives your cock whenever she gags or swallows. It has your jaw clenching already. 

You grasp your t-shirt in your hands then you pull it over your head, stretching the cheap fabric a bit because you were rushing. "Mina" You sigh, as she gets her lips to touch your base. Tears welled up in her pretty eyes. They threaten to fall as she holds herself there and the absolute clutch of her throat is nearly perfect. 

First she has to remind herself to breathe through her nose before she comes up. Mina stops when she reaches the head then she plunges again, sliding your cock down the slot of her throat easier this time around. She manages to get herself in a rhythm, cheeks hollowed as she sucks you off, tongue dragging up and down the underside of your cock. "You're so good at that" You praise, lips parted as you take in the wonderful view.

Mina's so beautiful, you could spend hours just admiring her face, scanning each beauty mark and every subtle blemish on her porcelain skin. "So pretty" You whisper and she hums softly to let you know that she acknowledges your compliment. There's more you want to say but the words get caught up and stuck in your throat because she's got you speechless right now. As her eyes pierce through yours, you hope that she can understand at least a fragment of the love you feel for her in this moment. "I love you" You groan the confession like it's the first time you're saying it.

She comes back up, licking her lips as she wraps her hand around your base. She strokes you slowly and softly, that same shy giggle escaping her lips and you get high on it. "I love you more" Her tongue darts out to lick up the pre cum that's beginning to dribble down your shaft. Then she rubs the pad of her thumb in circles on your frenulum.

A moan escapes your lips and your body begins to squirm as she attacks the sensitive spot there. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from whimpering. She fists your cock again, then chases it with her mouth up and down with the twist of her wrists. 

You reach your hand out, running your fingers through her newly dyed ash hair and you brush it to the side when you notice that it was getting in the way. Her hand and her mouth moves together fast and you're not sure how much longer you'll be able to take it for. The way she can have your body almost trembling under her magical touch will always amaze you, no matter how many times she does this.

"M-Mina I'm close—fuck" You warn but she won't slow or stop. In fact, she's squeezing and sucking harder like she needs your load in her mouth as soon as possible. You know she'll swallow it all.

You end up biting into your fist, eyes squinting as your brows knit together right up until you cum. "Shit, I'm gonna.." Your cock pulses out the first few shots which hit the roof of Mina's mouth. She isn't at all phased by it though, in fact, she keeps her movements steady as she milks you for everything you've got, moaning eagerly at the taste. You finish it all off with a sigh and then she finally stops, taking you out of her mouth carefully so nothing spills out. 

Mina opens her mouth, proudly showing you the flood of semen thats pooled up inside where it belongs. Then she closes her lips together and she stops for a moment before she gulps it down. "You're amazing" You pant, watching weakly as she climbs up your body so you're face to face. She smiles before connecting your lips and your hands go to the hem of her top almost immediately and you slip them under just to feel her soft, bare skin on your hands.

She breaks the kiss, then she pulls her top off and her petite breasts are finally free "These too" You pull at the clingy fabric of her leggings, hearing the light noise it makes when it snaps back. 

"You ready for me already babe?" 

"You know I am" a smile grows on her face as she stands up from the couch to shimmy herself out of them, her hips swaying side to side with a naughty purpose. Finally, she steps out of them and kicks them to the side "Wait, leave them on" she stops just as she's about to take her panties off. She's wearing this black lacy underwear that clings to her ass so beautifully, it'd be a crime to remove them when they look so good on her.

Mina only shakes her head, a chuckle escaping her lips as she straddles you again "You're such a weirdo" She mutters, not giving you the chance to respond because she's making out with you again. This kiss lasts a little bit longer because you want to take your time with her perfect lips, sucking and licking on them as it gets sloppier. She begins moaning into your mouth because of the pressure your hard cock provides while it's pushed up against her cunt. "Fuck" She curses, lightly biting your lip as she grinds her hips forwards.

She reaches down, kissing you harder this time as she slides her dampened panties to the side because she doesn't want to spend another second empty. Mina has to hover a bit as she grabs your cock to aim the head with her slick entrance but she's so soaked that it ends up slipping past. You try not to, but you end up snickering and she glares at you before trying again. This time she gets it in, you know that much from the first feel of her tight cunt gripping the head. 

You both exhale deeply as Mina sinks herself down slowly, taking this opportunity to enjoy the stretch of your thick cock. When she's got you stuffed as deep as the position would allow, Mina picks up her hips and begins to rock forwards in slow motions. "So deep in me, it feels so good ah~"

The way Mina moves her body so smooth and fluid has you falling in love with her all over again. You let a harsh slap land on her round ass, hearing the sound of the sharp impact echo loudly in your living room. She yelps loudly, leaning over to hold herself up on your shoulders so she can move faster. Her warm walls hug you tightly, occasionally clenching when she closes the gap between you two. Your cock fits so perfectly inside of her, it's like you were made for each other.

"Mina" You moan once she begins to move her hips in a circular motion. It feels so insane that now you're gripping her ass tightly, probably leaving red hand marks on her pale skin. 

"Like that?" Mina smirks, looking deep into your hooded eyes moaning when your cock brushes past her g-spot. She puts her hands over yours, then guides them both up to her perky tits. You feel her stiff nipples poking your palms as you take the initiative to squeeze and knead the soft flesh thoroughly. "God your cock—it's so" She moans again, throwing her head back so her hair flys out of her face.

This is the perfect visual. Mina's god-like body on top of yours, every dangerous and deadly curve of hers highlighted with the sheet of sweat on her skin. Her eyes closed and her mouth wide open as she moans about how good your dick is, how she can ride it all day long and how it's tearing her apart among another mess of words you can't really make out. You listen good and well to everything she's saying because she absolutely means it, you can tell that much from the utter lust in her tone.

Mina lets herself loose on you like she's been thinking about it all day, thinking about how you'll fill and fuck her with your large cock. You're only able to watch as the subtle indicators begin to show themselves. Like when her moans go up an octave or when her movements become less calculated and more messy and feral. You also notice the way she leans down, capturing your lips once more and you can tell it's a silent plea for you to do something.

So that's exactly what you do. You hold her in place by her hips and you begin to piston your cock into her, your thighs meeting hers to make this thick meaty slapping noise. She nearly screams, unable to focus on kissing you when you're fucking her like this. "Yes! Fuck- Harder!" So much raw force, it's almost punishing. However, your purpose wasn't to "punish" her, it was more so to reward her for everything she did beforehand. 

She understands that.

When Mina buries her head into your neck, you're a hundred percent sure that you've got her right there. She breathes heavily into your skin, moaning and choking on her words with each deep thrust you give her. She hums loud and long "I'm cumming!" and then you begin to feel how tightly her cunt clenches and pulses around your cock as her wetness spills down your shaft. "Fuck- Yes baby!" She begins to shake, her body jerking and bucking in your grip.

With a long sigh, she stops calms down a bit, the aftershocks still causing her body to react occasionally. You give her maybe a second to recover before you slip your cock out of her and flip her so she's on her back. She's so out of it, she doesn't even realize that you've switched positions until you slide your cock back inside of her where it belongs. Mina gasps, feeling your cock reach different parts of her at this angle.

"I can't fucking-" What she's trying to say is that she can't believe that you're fucking her so good. Hard and deep. That's exactly how she likes it as you recall, and you've hardly even given her a moment to recover from the orgasm you just fucked her through. "Cum in me" she looks deep into your eyes when she says it and she's so serious about it.

You lean down, your temple to hers as you nearly fuck her through the couch. You're a little rough on her, you know that because you can hear the springs in the furniture starting to give. It's not really built for this kind of treatment but it's durable and it's been through worse than this.

The more your cock slides in and out of her, dragging all the way back to the tip only to bury itself into her again, the more animalistic you feel. It's the tight grip, her velvety walls and her hoarse voice moaning your name that's got you like this. You want nothing more than to empty your balls inside of Mina, fill her up and keep it lodged so deep that none of it spills out.

You barely even notice when you push her into another orgasm because you're too focused on that distinct feeling growing and burning like a hot ball of fire in the pit of your stomach. "Oh... I'm gonna cum" You grit through your teeth, voice rough just before you nearly growl as you cum again, shooting countless ropes of warm white into her stretched cunt. She gasps, legs shaking as you continue to pound deep and slow into her, making sure you get everything out.

"Yeah, give me everything baby" She coos, fingers interlocking at the back of your neck. 

With a sigh your body finally relaxes and you put all of your weight on her body. When you're finally ready to talk after the long moment of silence you spend in your post-orgasm daze you lift your head and look into Mina's eyes. You know she's expecting your usual "I love you" after sex but instead you decide to mess with her a bit "So... pizza?"

She blinks "What?"

"Earlier you mentioned that we could order something and watch TV, right? I was just suggesting that we get pizza" She gives you an expecting look, like she's not going to give you a straight answer until you tell her what she really wants to hear "and I love you" You add on, leaning down to connect your lips with a grin on your face.

She can't help it when she smiles "Okay pizza then" she agrees.

-

You begin to think that maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to order pizza right before getting in the shower because you're both just stepping out when you hear the doorbell ring. Mina wraps her towel around her body "Well you're gonna have to get it cause I'm naked" She nods to herself as if there wasn't a towel wrapped around your waist also.

"So am I?" You try to argue as she walks into your bedroom. Her calm silence says enough and you figure you should just get the food cause you definitely won't win that fight. When you open the door, the delivery guy looks at you a little weird but you still tip him generously and mutter a small "thank you" at the end of the exchange.

When you get back in your shared apartment, you place the pizza on the coffee table and you turn off the lights before you join her in the bedroom to get into something comfy. 

"I can't believe you're making me watch this" Mina snuggles herself against you, squinting a bit to read the description of the show on the tv screen. You're cuddling and eating on the couch, yes the same couch you just fucked on, it's multi-purpose. You snicker at your own joke before realizing what she's just said.

"So you're genuinely telling me, you didn't enjoy the first season?" You ask, taking a bite of your pizza. It's only got pepperoni on it but it's a classic nonetheless.

Mina shakes her head "No I hated it actually" She corrects you, turning her head with her mouth open. You move your hand away, catching that she's trying to eat your food. She only whines, giving you those adorable eyes.

"There's like seven more slices right there, why do you want to eat mine" You point to it, nodding your head in the direction of the small table before you pick up the remote to play the show. 

It's Squid Game 2 that you're watching as you allow Mina to take a rather large bite of your pizza anyways, despite giving her a hard time about it. "I didn't wanna move" She says as she chews.

"Sure" You scoff, acting like you didn't absolutely love feeding her. Just babying Mina in general is one of your favorite things to do with her. She knows that from the way you swipe off a bit of tomato sauce from the corner of her lip but she fails to bring it up because she too enjoys it.

See there's nothing better than a lazy day in your book. It may have been really unproductive, but sometimes a little bit of a recharge with the person you love the most is the little boost you need to make the most of the following week.

Lazy days are good days

[keitorin3]

Short: Leon (The Long Suffering)

Arthur: I'm gonna mess with this goofy eared kid.

Leon: *Internally thinking* Why do I feel like Arthur just met his match??

Arthur: He's absolutely terrible, the worst Manservant I've ever seen!

Leon: I'm sure with time he will improve, Sire. It's only been the first week.

Arthur: I've already sacked him, but then changed my mind and re-hired him back.

Leon: Ah... I see... Why?

Arthur:... *Internally thinking* Because I liked the way he looked at me when I won.

Arthur: It was difficult to find good help nowadays.

Leon: Right...

Arthur: Can you believe it, Merlin went and accused himself of being a sorcerer! In front of my father during the council meeting!

Leon: He what?! 😨

Arthur: I know! All because a girl gave him a flower. That idiot. I don't know where his head is at.

Leon: Hold on a second sire, he really said that in front of the King and didn't get executed?? 😧

Arthur: *Waves it off* Yeah, I had to explain that it was cause he had a crush on Gwen. *Mutters to himself* Maybe I should get him some flowers? 🤔

Leon: !? ⁉️❕❔

Arthur: My idiot Manservant got sick and I got him flowers so he'd feel better. 💐

Leon: Arthur, he drank poison for you and you went off to find the antidote. 😑

Arthur: So you think he liked it?

Leon: ... *Takes a deep breath* I'm sure he did Sire.

Arthur: 😁 See! I take care of my servants~

Arthur: *Breaks into Leon's room*

Leon: *Jumps in fright* ⁉️

Arthur: I can't believe him!

Leon: What is it? Is there an attack Sire? Something happened with the King?

Arthur: No! It's that insolent brat Merlin. He came back with some guy, singing him praises and wants me to make him a knight?!😤

Leon: *Thinking* Is this really worth barging into my chambers? 😮‍💨

Leon: Really, then what did you do? 😑

Arthur: Ha, had the guy cleaning the stables.

Leon: 🤦🏼‍♂️

Leon: *Watches as Arthur sits with goofy smile and practically hearts in his eyes*

Leon: Sire?

Arthur: Isn't it the loveliest day to go out for a picnic? 🥰

Leon: Yes Sire, it is indeed.

Arthur: *Nods* I had Merlin pack a picnic for me and the lady Sofia. Where gonna go later today.

Leon: *Confused and concerned* But don't you have a meeting with the King today?

Arthur: *Waves it off* It's fine, I have Merlin to cover for me!

Leon: *Thinking* Oh boy...

[LATER]

Merlin: *Coming back from the stocks* I'm gonna kill that cabbagehead! 😠💢

Arthur: *Walks in* Merlin~! 🥰💐🌈

Merlin: 🌩️🔪😠

Leon: *Makes a break for it*

Leon: *Walks by Morgana's room*

Morgana: Please Arthur he just a boy and he's sick! 🥺

Arthur: I'm sorry Morgana, but my father is looking for him and if he were to find out you harboured a druid, you'll not only get into trouble but so would Gwen and Merlin.

Morgana: *Angry* 😠

Merlin: *Steps in* Please Arthur, we can't let the King kill him. 🥺

Arthur: ... *Turns away* I saw nothing, heard nothing. I've got to look for the Druid boy because clearly he isn't here. *Leaves room without noticing Leon*

Morgana: Tsk, of course he'd listen to Merlin.

Gwen: *Giggles*

Merlin: Arthur has a good heart. Of course he'd help. *The face of loyalty and innocence*

Morgana: 😏 He followed his heart alright. I'll remember next time to have you around to convince him for some things.

Merlin: 🤨❔❔ What do you mean?

Leon: *Overhears and follows his princes lead and continues like nothing happened*

Leon: *Witnessed Merlin doing Sorcery, trying to burn the Black Knight and fails*

Leon: ... I saw nothing. Just tired eyes. Yup, nothing here. *Mutters* Not like Arthur would believe it, or even care.

Uther: Where is my son and ward?! 😠

Leon: They've decided on a friendly hunting trip, they'll be gone for several days.

Leon: *Internally* They went after Merlin to his home village to fight bandits alone. And I'm not gonna say anything because

1. You'll blame Merlin and send him away

2. Merlin's a sorcerer who you'll kill if you knew

3. If any of the above happens Arthur might likely kill you and that'll be a worse headache then his pinning.

Uther: Those brats!

Leon: *Thinking* I couldn't agree more.

[LATER]

Arthur: If I ever retire from royalty, I think I'd like to live as a farmer.

Leon: Ah, is that so?

Arthur: Yup. Of course, Merlin would be there to do the work.

Leon: 😓

Arthur: But I'll get him Cows and chickens, maybe even a horse. He has a soft spot for animals.

Arthur: Merlin's mad at me. He started talking politely to me Leon! Politely. As in using my titles instead of insults. Even avoids looking at me in the eyes. 😟

Leon: 😬 Oof, what did you do?

Arthur: He's angry at me after killing the Unicorn. 😟

Leon: ... That would do it.

Arthur: What do I do Leon!

Leon: Try giving him some space for now and maybe flowers, you've said Merlin likes those.

Arthur: Alright!

[LATER]

Arthur: Merlin's not avoiding me anymore. 😊

Leon: Great to hear, what happened?

Arthur: We faced off the sorcerer of the Unicorns and I drank fake poison before Merlin could.

Leon: ... What?! 😱

Arthur: It's fine. Merlin's still mad about that but now he insults me about my intellect being the size of a peanut. ☺️🌈✨

Leon: I'm almost inclined to agree with him Sire.

Leon: *Spots Merlin and follows him to the Isles*

Nimueh: For a life to be saved, another life must be forfeited.

Merlin: He's my friend. I'd gladly give my life for him.

Leon: *Thinking* God these two are cut by the same cloth. I'm gonna go fully grey by 30.

[LATER]

Arthur: 🥰 Merlin said the most weirdest thing. He said he'd serve me for the rest of his life. That he was happy to be with me. ❤️🥰

Leon: *Bore witness to Merlins power and dedication to his loved ones*

Leon: He cares for you Sire. Would hardly leave your side if he didn't need to help Gaius make your cure.

Arthur: ☺️ Don't tell Merlin this, but I think Merlin's my best friend.

Leon: *Internally swears on his honor as a knight to support Merlin however he could and potentially get his prince to be less of an idiot. Hopefully*

Merlin: *Sneezes*

Gaius: You alright my boy?

Merlin: *Sniffs and shurgs* I'm alright.

Gaius: Hmm, some say that when you sneezing abruptly, it's because someone is talking about you at the moment.

Merlin: Ugh, probably Arthur talking about all the chores he has in stored for me. 😮‍💨

[leclerclov3]

｡･:*˚:✧｡ P1 BABY!!!!!!

masterlist

✰Pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

✰Warning: /

✰Summary: in which the world gets a glimpse the wild celebrations that follow after lando's first win

mclaren

Liked by yourusername and 848,449 others

mclaren LANDO NORRIS IS A FORMULA 1 RACE WINNER!

LANDO WINS THE #MIAMIGP!!

view all

yourusername THAT'S MY MANNN 🧡🧡🧡

yourusername I'M SO PROUDDD

user82 OH MY GODDDDD HE DID IT!!

user91 one lost an appendix and won, the other hurt his nose and won something's going on here 🤔

user73 lando nowins became lando norris

user56 LANDO YOU'RE THE ONEEE

user66 ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE!

user45 Lando is the king of Miami !!

user82 he done it

user04 Let's gooooo

landonorris

Liked by yourusername and 2,602,846 others

landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆 ps. thank you for all the support babe couldn't've done it without you 🧡

tagged: yourusername

view all

yourusername SO PROUD OF YOU LOVEEE

↳landonorris couldn't of done it without you 🧡

yourusername LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

*liked by landonorris*

georgerussell63 Congrats mate!!

lewishamilton WELL DONE

fernandoalo_oficial Bravooooo

maxfewtrell So proud brother

oscarpiastri Well done man

user41 Don't break the trophy lando

user77 i have never celebrated a victory as much as today

user48 This Lando Norris win is the plot twist we all needed in the 2024 season

user32 DU DU DU DU LANDO NORRIS

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 81,729 others

yourusername so proud of you love words cannot even express all the emotions i feel right now 🧡 go papaya🏆

tagged: landonorris, mclaren

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landonorris awwww that's so sweet thank you love

↳yourusername you deserve it baby 🧡

oscarpiastri where was my post when i won in japan hmmm 😐

↳landonorris she clearly likes me more then you mate

↳oscarpiastri exuse you she so doesn't

↳landonorris she so does

↳yourusername kids no fighting in my comment section i like you both equally

user819 omg they're so cute

user628 literally the it couple of the paddock

charles_leclerc i was third why wasn't i mentioned y/n 🤨

↳yourusername ups...🤷‍♀️

user28 i just love her relationship with everyone on tge grid

user52 she is the moment

user71 he literally ate and left no crumbs let's go landooooo

user91 so proud of him i might of cried..

mclaren so is this the lart where we say that you cried like a baby or....

↳yourusername admin...watch your back i know who you are..

↳mclaren oh..oh that's not...

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 1,829,910 others

yourusername as you can clearly see we had a fucking blast and onece more i am so proud of you lan you deserved this 🧡🏆

tagged: landonorris, georgerussell63 and 10 others

view all

landonorris i have a killer headache but at least i don't have and other physical injuries

↳yourusername you were close had i not been there..

↳lewishamilton you're not fooling anyone y/n you were both drunk of your ass and i had to babysit

↳yourusername FALSE FALSE ACCUSATIONS I SAY

carlossainz55 had a blast glad we got to celebrate together

charles_leclerc alex says to not let me drink so much again

↳yourusername next time bring her too we'll get her drunk aswell problem=solved

↳charles_leclerc smarttt

↳alexandrasaintmleux you're both dumb 🤦‍♀️

user28 i love her relationship with the grid

user48 icons all of them

user72 i am so jealous rn

user29 i've never had such intense fomo in my life

｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:✧｡｡･:*˚:

HE WON HE FREAKING WONNNN WOO!!! as you can see i'm very excited so i just had to write something about it i know it's not the best but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless <3

[halfway-happyyy]

you and me {frank castle}

summary: reader is matt's sister and wants frank to hook her up with one of his friends, but then foggy nelson spills the beans on frank, and things take a complicated turn.

this fluffy piece is inspired by this ask here, and no warnings really - just lots of pining and the (slightly) gratuitous use of nicknames because it just gives me big 'ol frank vibes!

When she startled awake, it was to a dull throbbing in her head, her throat uncannily like sandpaper. As she shuffled through an invisible rolodex of the previous evening’s drinks, she swallowed hard to keep the roiling waves of nausea at bay. An idle glance at the clock on the nightside table told her it was later in the morning, and she waited until she heard the familiar sound of the shower starting before she lifted the blanket from her body. Cool, hardwood flooring met her bare feet as she padded to the closet in search of the extra set of clothing she often kept in Matt's spare room closet. Once dressed, she lifted her arms high above her head in an attempt to drive the stiffness from her body and stepped out into the main room. The intoxicating scent of freshly-ground coffee beans immediately greeted her and helped to scare away the headache booming in her temples. 

“There she is,” Foggy beamed at her, his knowing gaze twinkling merrily in the sunlight pouring in through Matt’s obnoxiously expansive window. 

Matt was already reaching for a coffee mug for her. 

“Morning Foggy,” She smiled sleepily, and accepted the steaming mug graciously. “Good morning Matt.” 

Her brother’s smile was a smug one, that made her cheeks grow warm. 

“Good morning. How are you faring so far?” 

She shifted from foot to foot and tried to piece together her night out at Josie’s. She vaguely remembered the shots taken, and the beers consumed, the pool games played, and grimaced. “I’m uh… definitely feeling a little rough for sure, but it's nothing a couple of cups of expensive coffee and some food won’t cure.” 

Foggy laughed heartily before taking a sip from his own mug, and as he set it down against the counter, his smile bore a teasing lilt. “I have to confess that I’m impressed you’re even upright at the moment.” 

She took another long sip of the coffee, savouring the creamy bitterness of it on her tongue, and the warmth of it as it settled in her belly and turned to Foggy. “Me too, Foggy. How did last night get so out of hand?” 

Matt rolled his hazel eyes. “The same way it always does.” 

The text she’d gotten from Foggy yesterday afternoon swam into her minds eye - your brother and I won a really important case today!!! we’re celebrating in style at josie’s. come by around 7 and maybe we’ll go easy on you at pool. 

“Yeah, I have pretty much no recollection of the last two hours of the evening.” 

Foggy laughed into his mug. “I’m not surprised. You were pretty entertaining. But at some point after we made it back here, Frank took it upon himself to tuck you into bed.”

Frank took it upon himself… And just then - a flash of a memory, blurred at the edges by too much drink, of his impossibly strong arms around her. Of the softness of the spare bed, of the sheer relief of him pulling the duvet over her body, of his tender lips at her temple, of a sliver of orange glow from the hallway on her arm, of the sound of the door sliding shut softly. 

“Where were you?” She gazed at Matt, and tried in vain to ignore the pounding in her heart at the mere mention of Frank’s name. Instead, she focused on the fresh cuts and bruises that decorated his face and knew instantly where her brother had been.

“But hey,” Foggy shrugged, pulling her from her reverie. “You had fun, right?” 

She had been about to answer in the affirmative when the water in the shower stopped. 

“So if you’re both here, who’s in the shower?” 

“Frank.” They both answered in unison.

“He and Foggy split the couches last night.” Matt offered, by way of explanation.

Foggy rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and groaned. “Yeah, and I have regrets. The floor might have been softer.” 

“I'd better make this quick then,” She murmured. “And I should know better than to ask the two of you for dating advice, but here goes nothing…” She ignored Foggy's very evident frown at that, knowing he’d say something about Marci if given half the chance. “What do you think the chances of Frank setting me up with Curtis are?” She picked at a patch of chipped nail polish on her pinky finger while she anxiously waited for either of them to reply. 

Foggy spoke first, his expression deadpan. “Curtis who?” 

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “The other devastatingly handsome guy with Frank last night. They go way back together apparently.” 

“You don't mean the other ex-military one?” Matt frowned. 

Her cheeks warmed. “Yeah, that's him.” 

He'd made an appearance last night, and though she was knee-deep in the cold clutches of the beer she was guzzling, she had thought they'd hit it off well enough at the pool table. 

“But listen, if you guys don't really think it's a good idea, I'll just leave it…” 

Matt set his coffee cup down to say something, but in place of any actual words, a laugh tumbled out, and soon the two of them were laughing so hard they were silent. 

She tried not to take their amusement to heart as she folded her arms across her chest and waited for the guffawing to subside.

“Alright you two,” she snapped, when she'd had enough. "I get the point, and I’ll drop it.” 

Foggy eventually sighed. “Sorry, it’s not a bad idea at all. It’s just… precautious territory.” 

She scoffed. “What’s precautious about it? Apart from the fact that you both clearly don’t think that I can make it happen.” 

Matt cleared his throat and shrugged. “You are a very capable and brilliant young woman - and I’m not just saying that because we’re related - so you will excuse me if I find it difficult to believe that you truly don’t know.” 

She stared at them both expectantly. “Don’t know what?” 

Foggy shrugged and took another sip of his coffee before very casually stating, “Frank carries a massive, blazing torch for you.” His admission hung like a plume of smoke before them.

She knew Frank enough to know that he held his cards impossibly close to his chest. “How is that possibly something you could know?” 

Matt stared at her as if to say, really? before murmuring, “It's in his heartbeat.” 

She barely had time to register that before the sound of Frank in the distance roused her. Foggy cleared his throat, and smiled pleasantly before continuing on with his last train of thought. “-So you can absolutely ask him to set you up with his friend, but I doubt very much that it’ll go in your favour.” 

She had been about to shake her head - to protest - but then Frank was in the kitchen, a blood-hound in search of his first dose of caffeine. His dark hair was still wet from the shower, and water droplets glistened on the space of tan skin that peeked out above the collar of his black t shirt. 

“What’s all the fuss about?” He rasped. “Could hear you two yahoos heehawin’ all the way from the washroom.” His attention turned to her, and she did not miss the way his expression softened immediately. “Mornin’ trouble. Good to see you up and at it.” 

“Good morning, Frank.” She tried in vain to keep her voice even before she apologized for her behaviour the night before. 

He immediately waved it off. “Nonsense, I just hope you’re feeling alright today.” 

The throbbing in her head was still evident, but certainly more tolerable after coffee, and Foggy’s words echoed in the back of her mind. “Hanging in there.” She eventually offered. 

“It’s suspiciously quiet in here now, you two.” Frank grumbled, before turning to Matt expectantly. “Red, are you gonna make me search around for a mug for some damn coffee, or are you just gonna throw me a bone and get me one?” 

Without turning around from his perch at the sink, Matt reached for the espresso cup on the drying mat and handed it to Frank. 

Foggy cleared his throat and set his mug down in the sink. “Just an inside joke between the three of us. Anyway - I’ve got a huge proposal I needed to have done like - yesterday, so I’m off.” He rubbed at his neck again and added, “It was an honour sharing the couches with you last night, Frank. I hope you’re faring far better than I am this morning.” He pushed himself from the counter to sling an arm around her shoulder. “You remember what I told you, hm?” 

She nodded somewhat mechanically, because how could she have possibly forgotten? “Yeah, Foggy.” 

“You joining me at the office, Murdock?” He cocked an eyebrow at Matt, and she watched her brother hesitate a moment before nodding his head in the affirmative. She knew him well enough to know that there was something he wanted to say, but for some reason, he couldn’t think of the right way to say it - a rarity for Matthew Murdock, but it did happen on occasion. 

“It’s always good to see you, sis. We need to make more of a habit out of it.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and added, “You take care of yourself, okay?” 

She pulled away from him to study the cuts and bruises on his face, before she murmured - “Only if you follow your own advice.” They regarded each other with an unfamiliar intensity before she broke first, and smiled. “Til next time, Matty.” 

She listened for the familiar sound of his front door closing before hoisting herself up onto the kitchen counter next to Frank. 

“How are you faring this morning?” She asked. 

He shrugged. “Anything other than the ground, or a cot, may as well be a four-post bed with egyptian cotton sheets.” 

She hadn’t known him long in the grand scheme of things. Matt never told her more than he thought she needed to know, but there was something about Frank that made her feel like she’d known him for years. Foggy’s secret (that was never his to tell in the first place) put him in an entirely other light now. The crystalline water droplets from before had all but evaporated into his sun-kissed skin, but his hair still bore the weight of the moisture, and she fought the sudden - inexplicable - urge to card her fingers through it.

“I have something to tell you.” he murmured, shaking her from her reverie.

Shit, this is it. She thought.

“It’s about last night.” 

The nausea that had been so prevalent an hour earlier returned in full-force, and she swallowed hard to keep the coffee from rising in her throat. “Frank, if it’s something I did or said… I’m sorry.” 

He hesitated a beat before shaking his head, his top-shelf whisky eyes blazed with a fire she didn’t recognize. 

“None of that, kid. It’s Curtis. He’d like to take you out for dinner soon, and I guess he wanted my blessing first.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” He confirmed. “Seems you made quite the impression on him last night.” 

And god, she thinks this news would have been the best to receive an hour ago… but then an hour lapsed, and Foggy spilled the beans on something that was never his to tell in the first place, and there they were. 

“I didn’t mean to.” She mumbled. 

Frank laughed at that, and just then- it was her favourite sound in the whole world. 

“You never do, trouble. There’s just something about being around you that feels as effortless as breathing. You take up just the right amount of space.” He sipped at his coffee, his gaze on her intense and unreadable in equal measure. Made her feel more naked than she’d ever been before. 

“So what do you say?” 

She offered him a half-shrug. “What do you say?” 

That made him blanch. “What? This is entirely your decision.” 

“You know him better than I do. You also know me, Frank. So what do you say?” 

And like sand through his fingertips, his resolve crumbled right before her eyes. 

“I can’t quite articulate what it’s like to watch someone accomplish in a night, what I’ve thought about for nearly five years. That’s entirely on me, though,” He trailed off, and set his empty cup on the counter. “But Curtis is a good guy, kid. Maybe one of the best ones I know, and I’d be lyin’ through my teeth if I said anything to the contrary.”

While she mulled over what to say next, her throat constricted. “Why did you wait, Frank?” 

She found a vast vulnerability in him that she had never seen before. In the span of seconds it took him to answer, he wasn’t The Punisher, or an ex-military man, or even a widower who had come back from the abyss of losing everything he held dear. He was just Frank Castle; someone whose parallels mirrored her brother’s in so many ways, but who was also fundamentally different from him. A man who wouldn’t think twice about executing a rapist, but who caught, and ran the five floors down to free the bumblebee trapped in her apartment a week ago. 

“I uh… don’t operate the way that normal people do, kid. I think you know that about me by now. I think it’s the rot inside of me that throws people off, the darkness that seems to hang around no matter what,” He cleared his throat. “And when the dust settles on everything, no one seems to want to stick around anymore.” He allowed himself a deep, steadying breath. “And I’ve never faulted anyone for that, but then you came into my life, and we were never in a relationship in the traditional sense - I truly think your brother would’ve shucked the catholic guilt for once and struck me down - but you stuck around,” He sighed. “You’ve always just felt like comin’ home. And in all this time, throughout all of the bullshit we’ve all been through, that feeling has never wavered.” 

She was overwhelmed. “Frank, I-

He shook his head as if to say - just let me get this out. 

“So why did I wait, huh? It’s a good question,” He cleared his throat. “I waited because I thought that the minute I laid everything out on the line for you, you wouldn’t want it.” And god, she thought she felt her heart break under the weight of his honesty. “And even saying it now, I know I should have automatically given you the benefit of the doubt. But you’ve been around for a lot of it, kid. You’ve helped pick up the pieces. You know how ugly it can get.”

She swallowed hard, and tried to tame the wild thrumming in her heart.

“Come closer to me,” She murmured. 

Frank hesitated a beat before settling into the space between her legs, and she shivered into the sensation. His face was mere inches away from hers now, and she could smell the refreshing scent of body wash on his skin, the sharp citrus shampoo in his damp hair.

“I want to try Frank,” It came out as a whisper, but he caught it because his lips twitched into a small smile. “If you want to.”

As he closed the distance between them, his gaze found her lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

That he would ask for her permission - when every man she had ever been with before had done it purely because they had to, made her ache for him, and she nodded her head. “I wish you would, Frank.” 

His warm hands found purchase in her hair as he kissed her, and every fiber of her being screamed at her that this was it- this was what they’d both been holding out for. When he eventually pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers to try to regulate his breathing. He gave her thighs a gentle squeeze and placed another tender kiss to her rosy cheek before murmuring lowly - “it's not going to be easy, kid. But I want this. I want you."

And she believed him, because she wanted him just as badly.

[starcharmed]

풋사랑 .ᐟ.ᐟ - meet-cutes and mess-ups

they always say to make a solid impression on someone you like... - ft. tartaglia, lyney & phainon

multi-character/separate, modern au, unrealistic work scenarios & environments, fem terms used in tartaglia’s part, cheesy pieces (these are meet-cutes we're talking about, word rot turned into drabbles so plots are weird(?), not beta'd

⟡ - hate genshin sm but some of the characters just stay with me 5ever

WHOSE RESERVATION?  ♪  a tutorial on how a mixup with names can land you a possible date

“How in the world do you confuse my name with Ajax for god’s sake?”

“How in the world-? Are you seventy?”

Ajax couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past his lips, overloaded with amusement and irritation that thrummed within his gut. He waved off your sputters, focusing upon the hostess again, “Listen, lady. Is there any way you can slide missy over here in another time slot? I have someone to meet for dinner, and I’m late as it is.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine without a headache for a few more minutes.” You scoffed at him, scoffed. Offense took form on his face, although most of it was exaggerated, that comment hurt his poor soul.

“Oh? I have to meet a business to discuss investments, whom is expecting you?” You looked like you didn’t believe him. You probably didn’t believe him. 

“Someone important as well.” No elaboration, you turned to the hostess. “You seriously cannot find another time slot him today? No openings?” 

“For me?” Give him a bring, “I’ll have you know, I got here before you.” You scowled as he jabbed a finger in the direction of your chest. Slapping at his hand, he withdrew it back to your satisfaction.

With a huff you gave him a pointed look, “Well I scheduled my reservation before you.”

“Excuse me”, the hostess’ tense voice reached the both of you, her fingers tapping restlessly, “But I’m afraid that if you two cannot reach a decision soon, you both will have to leave. You’re causing discord and other people are waiting.” 

His eyes flickered to your own, a flush creeping up the base of his neck at the intensity within your own. You motioned to the hostess with your eyes, daring him to say something that would surely lead to another middle-school argument. 

Ajax groaned aloud, throwing up a hand in a sign of forgoing his spot (which he unquestionably reserved and paid for), “Have fun meeting your important…partner, or whatever.”

Your face lit up as if you had won the lottery, smiling at him tightly as if in a taunt, “That you Mister Business Man, you’re so generous.” 

Whatever. At least he could blame you, or better yet the hostess, when asked why he missed a meeting. Not his fault, totally would go over smoothly.

“Hey.”

With a glance back, he scrunched his brows together questionably at your call, “If you meet me back here in a week, I can pay the reservation fee that you, y’know paid for nothing.”

Oh. Well, it was better than hearing anything mocking coming from your mouth. He gave a small smile, his lips barely upturning but you seemed to take it anyway. Waving him off as he mumbled a goodbye, as if you could even hear it within the four feet of distance now between your persons.

He hoped you did. 

HOT, HOT, HOT!  ♪  mess up turned into a meet up?

In Lyney’s absolute defense, he was not completely in fault for bumping into you.

Freminet had been awfully fussy that day. From screaming in a tantrum because he had drunken the last of his favorite juice the night before, begging (but more akin to demanding) both Lyney and his twin go to the store at the prime time of seven thirty in the morning to go get him some. They did, only for him to throw down the juice box on the floor of Lyney’s car because “it was too late for it”.

Lynette had promised him that if he were to breathe and try to calm down, she and Lyney would take him to the local coffeehouse and get a treat. He could then drink his juice for dinner as per the norm. The small blond only nodded with enthusiasm.

So when their order number was called, Lyney grasped all three items – some cinnamon coffee cake that Lynette said she was going to share with Freminet, the chai latte which just had to be iced resided in his left hand also belonged to her; Lyney had only ordered an americano last minute, not wanting to end up thirsty on the drive back home – with care as he tired to return to his table quickly.

Tired, key word: tried.

He wasn’t sure if it was his lack of care of his surroundings because he did not want Freminet to start screeching in a public setting again, or if he was being careless once more. Lyney’s hand had tapped (more as in knocked) completely against your arm as he passed by, 

Your gasp was so sharp that it hurts his own lungs, backing up instinctively as most if not all of his drink tumbled down to the floor. The chatter within the coffeehouse fell into murmurs as he could feel stares pierce into his back. 

“I am, so sorry.” Lyney shoved the rest of his order onto a nearby table, swiping up the napkins which resided on it and practically thrusting them in your face. That coat looked expensive, too, good god he hoped you weren’t pompous. 

With a steaming amount of embarrassment, Lyney was offered a replacement as another worker took care of his mess upon the floor. He had said sorry to your face too many times to keep track of, you simply waved them off. 

You were mad about the coat, though. Very, in fact. He had never seen someone grieve a physical piece of clothing but today was a first for everything apparently. 

“Here”, he held out ‘payment’ for the coat, stating that you could use it to either try to replace it or clean it if you wished. You snorted, stating that your drink – which you also had spilled, however you didn’t dump its contents on his person – was more expensive than your off-brand coat. A simple purchase that you bought for its looks.

“Don’t think that you’re off the hook. You still owe me a drink.” You pushed away his money-filled hand, slinging your now dried coat over your arm, “Next week?”

He couldn’t help me laugh. Lyney assured you that it was a promise.

WRONG PAINTS?  ♪  a silver-haired stranger is good at art talk

“I still think oil paints would look better on it.”

“You are out of your mind.”

Phainon let out a breathy chuckle, adjusting the strap of his bag upon his shoulder. His eyes never left the painting hanging center of the wall within the art museum. A new piece made by someone anonymous, it was titled ‘Feeling of View’. Whomever painted it should’ve considered ‘Feeling of An Eyesore’ instead.

“Think about it”, he looked at you briefly from the corner of his eye, “Watercolor would give it more of an eye feeling. More unfocused yet distinct enough to tell what was painted. Oil just seems like you’re painting a…a photo.”

Phainon pursed his lips, considering your words (that weren’t going to change his own opinion, much to your dismay). “Hey, don’t throw off people with photo-like eyesight.”

“What?”

“What.”

He felt your shoes knock into the side of his converse with abundant force, “I’m serious. When you think of eyesight, you think of focus, do you not? You’re not going to see everything in complete focus all at once unless your field of view is like, beyond human.” You made a good point. “That’s a horrible point.”

With a huff of lighthearted annoyance you shrugged offhandedly, “Is it going to be like this every time we meet each other in this exhibit?”

“Do you want us to keep meeting in this exhibit?”

You blinked, clearly not expecting a questioning quip from him that fast. It’s not like it was the most awkward thing said between the two of you, the painting’s paint choice had been in discussion for at least twenty minutes by now.

And it would not top how he mixed up acrylics with oils while trying to start conversation in an art museum. 

“If you want.” 

Phainon couldn’t help but smile, beaming as he rocked on his heels. You already knew his answer, still, he couldn’t help but nod eagerly in return, “It’s a date.”

[joaosnovia]

okay next, i js wanna laugh. okay so, were at a charity event or something, and im volunteering, helping hand out juice boxes, signing people in, keeping children from using cones as swords, that typa stuff. until FRANCO COLAPINATA shows up, he's js being annoying really, until shes had enough and YEET the juice box at his head, and then he's all nonchalant and shit like "UH HUH I DESERVED THATTT AHAHA" .... and then you can tell the juice box turned him on bc you can like tell he wants her, and thennn WEEKS pass, and he DM's her. "saw apple juice today. thought of you. still flinch when i see boxes. wanna hang out?” MUWUAHAHSNA

❦ - manzanas contigo.

warnings:: none, maybe cussing..?

writers notes:: pls send more franco/f1 reqs bc i loved writing this sm and hes so fun to write for!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @cherryloveshs

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you don’t even want to be here.

the email had said volunteers needed, and your overly kind soul had said sure, why not, and now you’re seven hours deep into wrangling children hopped up on fruit snacks and sun. the charity event is cute in theory, music, booths, a little track set up for games, and a bounce house, but in practice? it’s a battlefield.

you’re stationed at the welcome tent, handing out wristbands and juice boxes and fake smiles.

your feet hurt. your shirt is sticking to your back. a toddler is crying because he dropped his balloon into a bush. and some guy just tried to cut the line because he ‘swears his cousin is already inside.’

you’re not proud of how close you came to smacking him with the clipboard.

but then, because life has a sense of humor, he appears.

franco colapinto.

and you know it’s him, because who else shows up to a local charity event in an alpine cap, looking like he walked out of a sports magazine and directly into your personal hell?

you glance up at the exact moment he’s brushing a curl out of his eyes, all casual and oops i’m hot and didn’t mean to beenergy.

he scans the crowd, sunglasses pushed up on his head, mouth curled like he already knows he’s being stared at. and of course he is. a group of teenage volunteers behind you are whispering, one of them literally smacks the other on the arm and goes that’s him. that’s that guy. the car one.

sigh.

maybe if you stay perfectly still, he won’t notice you.

but of course, you are not blessed with that kind of luck.

his eyes land on you. direct. intentional.

and he starts walking over.

great.

you busy yourself with the juice boxes, shuffling them around pointlessly as if they need organizing, as if you’re not seconds away from face to face contact with a walking headache.

‘so,’ he says, leaning against the table like this is his full time job. ‘what does a guy gotta do to get one of those?’

you glance up. ‘a wristband?’

‘nah. a juice box.’

you stare.

he smiles.

you hold one up. ‘take it and leave.’

‘whoa. feisty. is this how you treat all guests, or am i special?’

you blink. ‘i’ve been here since 6am. i have zero patience and less charm left.’

‘good thing i’ve got enough charm for both of us.’

you raise a brow. ‘that supposed to work on me?’

he shrugs, peeling the wrapper off a straw. ‘worth a shot.’

he doesn’t leave.

he just stands there, sipping slowly, watching you like he’s never seen anyone pass out juice before. his gaze trails across your face, not in a creepy way, just annoyingly observant. like he’s trying to figure out what kind of person signs up for this kind of chaos and doesn’t run away screaming.

you try to ignore him. you really do.

but then he starts helping. like… physically taking wristbands from your hand to hand them to kids, leaning way too close to read names off the sign in list, nodding solemnly at the parents like he belongs here.

and the worst part? people believe it.

‘you two are adorable,’ one lady says as she signs in her daughter.

you nearly choke. ‘we’re not—‘

‘thank you,’ franco cuts in, smiling like he just won an oscar. ‘we try.’

you give him a look. he winks. kill me, you think.

it gets worse when a small child asks for apple juice and franco picks one up, does a dramatic gasp, and goes, ‘apple! the superior juice. i like your taste, kid.’

you break.

you don’t mean to. you truly don’t. but something inside you snaps, and the next thing you know, you’re yeeting a juice box straight at him.

it arcs through the air with surprising grace, smacks him right in the shoulder, and bounces off harmlessly onto the grass.

a moment of silence.

he blinks.

then he laughs. hard.

‘okay,’ he says, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘i deserved that. i fully, absolutely, one hundred percent deserved that.’

you cross your arms. ‘you think?’

he’s still grinning as he bends to pick it up. ‘apple again. symbolic.’

‘you’re ridiculous.’

‘you like me though.’

you scoff. ‘i like peace and quiet.’

‘you’re blushing.’

‘i’m hot. it’s eighty degrees.’

‘you threw a juice box at me.’

‘you were annoying.’

he tilts his head. ‘admit it. it was kinda satisfying.’

you bite back a smile. ‘maybe a little.’

he grins, stepping back finally. ‘i’ll leave you to your cone wrangling duties. but don’t be surprised if you see me again.’

‘god help me,’ you mutter.

he strolls away, sipping the slightly dented juice like it’s champagne.

and yeah. maybe your heart is doing something dumb.

maybe you do glance up once or twice, wondering if he’s still watching you.

maybe he is.

you don’t expect to see him again.

honestly, you’d hoped the juice box incident would be enough to scare him off. but two saturdays later, at a completely different event, you’re there, collecting raffle tickets and babysitting the world’s most chaotic face paint station, and there he is.

franco colapinto.

wearing a hoodie this time. hood up. trying and failing to blend in, as if his stupidly nice smile and the way he walks like the world was made for him don’t give him away instantly.

you see him from across the lot.

he doesn’t even try to be subtle. just lifts his hand in a little wave and starts walking straight toward you like this is a planned reunion and not a complete surprise.

you look around. as if there’s someone else he could be greeting. spoiler: there isn’t.

‘you again,’ you say when he reaches you.

‘me again,’ he grins, pulling down his hood like he’s revealing a secret identity.

you sigh. ‘are you following me?’

‘you wish.’

‘so this is a coincidence?’

he shrugs. ‘or fate.’

you deadpan. ‘you’re insufferable.’

‘you say that every time.’

‘i mean it every time.’

he gestures around, like he’s settling in. ‘need help again? or do i have to earn my juice box rights this time?’

you narrow your eyes. ‘don’t you have a job?’

‘i do. it’s off-season. i’m thriving.’

‘this is how you spend your free time? crashing fundraisers?’

‘not crashing,’ he says, very seriously. ‘contributing. i donated five bucks to the bouncy castle. i’m basically a hero.’

you don’t laugh. you don’t.

okay, maybe a little.

he’s already rolling up his sleeves and jumping into whatever task you’re doing, like last time, and suddenly you’re stuck with him for three hours again.

he helps a little girl glue pom poms onto a paper crown.

he nearly gets paint on his nose and doesn’t notice.

he lets a five year old draw a blue lightning bolt across his cheek and calls it his new racing stripe.

and every now and then, he looks over at you like you’re the funniest thing in the world, even when you’re just frowning at a clipboard or trying to untangle a balloon string from a folding chair.

you pretend not to care.

you pretend really hard.

the third time is the worst.

mostly because… you kind of expect him now.

you’ve made the mistake of mentioning your volunteer schedule to a friend on your story. and it’s fine. really. except now, when you show up to the saturday pet adoption drive with a clipboard and a tight ponytail, you scan the crowd. like an idiot.

he’s not there.

you tell yourself you’re relieved. that you don’t need another afternoon of his smug little comments and stupidly good hair.

but you still keep checking.

twenty minutes pass.

an hour.

two.

he doesn’t come.

you keep busy. hand out flyers. try not to cry when a little dog named charlie gets adopted. organize leashes by size.

and you don’t look at the time more than seven times. promise.

at some point, you’re wiping your hands with a napkin behind the tent when your phone buzzes.

it’s a dm.

from franco.

you blink.

sorry i couldn’t be there today. doing actual job things. tragic.

you stare at it.

then another:

but saw apple juice earlier. still flinched.

and another:

still want to hang out sometime. even if you hit me with stuff. maybe especially because you hit me with stuff.

you can’t help it. your lips twitch.

you don’t reply right away.

you finish your shift. take the long way home. drink half a juice box you saved from the cooler, even though it’s lukewarm now.

and when you’re lying on your bed, staring at the message, you finally type:

you’re impossible.

three dots.

impossible but charming?

you:

debatable.

him:

you didn’t say no though.

you stare at your screen for a second too long.

then:

one coffee. you pay. no weird pickup lines.

his response is immediate.

deal. i’ll try to behave. no promises.

you tell yourself it’s just a coffee.

one coffee. thirty minutes, max. maybe forty five if he says something dumb and you need time to drag him for it.

it’s not a big deal.

except it is. because you spend too long picking an outfit. change your shirt twice. then change it again. then panic change it back to the first one and tell yourself to get a grip.

you meet at some small place he picked, half hipster café, half bookstore. it smells like cinnamon and old paperbacks. you hate how nice it is.

franco’s already there.

and of course he looks… stupidly good. hoodie, again. curls poking out. one hand lazily spinning his coffee cup. and that grin, that stupid boyish grin, when he spots you.

‘you came,’ he says, standing.

‘don’t sound so surprised.’

he does a little half bow. ‘welcome to the least boring hour of your life.’

you roll your eyes and sit across from him. ‘don’t flatter yourself.’

‘not flattering. manifesting.’

you try to look annoyed, but the truth is, you’re already smiling. just a little. traitorous.

you talk.

not about anything huge at first. just… dumb things. favorite drinks. worst airport experiences. why he thinks pineapple on pizza should be illegal (you argue passionately against this).

he tells you about crashing a go kart once when he was twelve because he was ‘trying to wave like a champion’ and forgot to steer.

you tell him about the time you accidentally walked into the wrong class and sat through fifteen minutes of astrophysics before realising.

he laughs with his whole chest.

and it’s easy. too easy. every time your fingers brush reaching for the sugar, it feels like something electric. every time he leans in a little, like he’s really listening, your heart stutters.

you should not be this into him. and yet.

you’re both halfway through your drinks when he goes quiet for a second, then says, ‘i almost didn’t message you.’

you blink. ‘why not?’

he shrugs, looks down, spins the empty cup between his hands. ‘i dunno. didn’t want to be annoying.’

‘you already are.’

he grins, but it’s softer now. ‘yeah, but like… in a cute way.’

you shake your head, but your cheeks are warm. ‘you’re such a menace.’

‘you threw juice at me.’

‘because you were asking for it.’

he leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes on yours. ‘maybe i was.’

your breath catches. just a little. just enough.

you clear your throat. ‘you’re not smooth, you know.’

‘i don’t need to be. i just need to make you smile.’

you hate him.

you really, really don’t.

you leave the café two hours later.

two.

neither of you wants to say goodbye yet, so you walk. just… around. your shoulder brushes his once. then again. then a third time, and this time, it stays there. just for a second longer than it should.

he doesn’t let go first.

eventually, you end up back where you started.

he looks at you like he wants to say something. then looks away. then back.

‘can i see you again?’ he asks, soft.

you nod. and for once, don’t try to be clever.

‘yeah. i’d like that.’

the second date happens faster than either of you expect.

you’d planned to wait. play it cool. but then franco sends you a picture of a strawberry smoothie and says ‘looked gross. thought of u,’ and you end up laughing so hard in the middle of your kitchen that you just… cave.

you text him:
you free tonight?

he replies in literal seconds:
always. pick the time. i’ll teleport.

you meet again at the same café. but this time, he’s not already sitting.

he’s waiting outside. leaning on the wall. hoodie again, he really only owns five of them, he tells you later, and his curls are just barely damp from the light rain that’s started falling.

he sees you and that grin hits his face like clockwork. like he’d been saving it just for you.

‘you came,’ he says.

‘you say that every time.’

‘yeah, but like… every time you do, it messes me up a little.’

you pretend you don’t hear that part.

it’s darker inside. quieter. the same table’s free, but this time, you sit next to each other.

close.

too close.

he smells good. not in an obvious, cologne drenched way. it’s something warmer. shampoo and sugar and the kind of scent that lingers even after he leaves.

your knees touch under the table.

neither of you moves.

you talk again.

about bigger things this time. pressure. travel. burnout. he admits he sometimes feels like everything’s moving too fast, and he’s scared he won’t be able to hold on.

you nod. you tell him about how you fake confidence half the time. how sometimes you feel invisible until someone needs something.

he listens. really listens.

then says, ‘you’re not invisible.’

you blink. ‘okay?’

‘just saying. i notice you. always have.’

you laugh a little. ‘that’s creepy.’

‘yeah,’ he says, smiling into his drink. ‘but like… romantic creepy.’

you don’t mean to stay late. but time’s slippery around him.

by the time you realize it’s almost midnight, you’re both sitting outside the café, sharing a leftover pastry and watching the rain slide down the windows.

you don’t want to go.

he doesn’t want to say goodbye.

so he walks you home.

he stops outside your door.

you both kind of hover there. like two idiots waiting for someone to do something. say something.

‘this was nice,’ you say quietly.

‘yeah,’ he says, and then, softer, ‘i wanna kiss you.’

your breath catches.

he doesn’t move closer. doesn’t touch you. he just stands there, all warm eyes and soft voice.

you whisper, ‘then why don’t you?’

he grins. all teeth and nerves and too much hope.

‘cause the minute i kiss you, i’m not gonna stop thinking about it. and i want you to wanna kiss me back. like really want to.’

you stare at him.

he shrugs. ‘just being honest.’

you nod. heart in your throat.

then say, ‘next time.’

he smirks, already backing away.

‘i’ll hold you to that.’

you tell yourself you’re not waiting.

not waiting for a text. not waiting for a call. not waiting for the memory of him saying i wanna kiss you to stop looping in your head like some kind of cursed romantic ringtone.

but when his name flashes on your screen two days later, your whole face warms.

what if we didn’t do coffee this time?

you stare.

what do you wanna do then?

he replies instantly.

drive. music. idfk. i’ll bring snacks. you bring the vibe.

you:
so i’m the vibe?

him:
always.

he picks you up at 7:03.

he’s in a black hoodie this time, and his car smells like mint gum and the ghost of bad fast food. there’s a half eaten bag of crisps on the passenger seat, which he tosses in the back when you open the door.

‘you’re late,’ you say.

‘you’re early. time’s fake. get in.’

he drives like he thinks he’s in a movie.

one hand on the wheel. other messing with the aux. windows down. hair wind-blown and wild. he sings under his breath to every second song. raps to the third one badly. you don’t stop laughing the entire first hour.

you don’t know where he’s going, but you don’t care.

being next to him feels like its own kind of destination.

eventually, he parks by the water.

some random lookout. the city’s lights glitter below, far enough to feel small. the kind of view that feels too beautiful to deserve.

you sit on the hood of his car. shoulder to shoulder. knee to knee. the air’s cold, but not too cold. and everything’s soft. quiet.

for a second, neither of you says anything.

and then, gently, he says, ‘i think about kissing you a lot.’

you blink.

he keeps staring ahead, like he didn’t just drop a bomb. ‘not in a creepy way.’

you laugh. ‘do you always think you’re being creepy?’

‘only when i like someone too much.’

the words settle in your chest like warmth. like lightning.

‘franco,’ you say.

he turns.

‘kiss me.’

his eyes go wide. like for a second, he’s not sure if he heard you right.

then, slowly, he leans in.

he kisses you like he’s afraid to mess it up. like he’s been waiting exactly this long, and not a second less. soft, steady, sure.

and when he pulls back, he just rests his forehead against yours.

neither of you speaks for a minute.

you break the silence. ‘not bad.’

he huffs a laugh. ‘that’s it? not bad?’

‘seven out of ten. you’ll need practice.’

‘cool. guess i better keep showing up.’

you’re not sure when it shifted.

when the maybe turned into definitely. when the texting turned into facetime turned into mornings with your feet tangled under his on the couch. when the almost turned into always.

but now, here you are, franco at your door with a half-melted milkshake and a stupid grin, like he’s been thinking about this all day.

‘you’re late,’ you tease, taking the drink.

‘you’re still hot,’ he says, walking in like he lives here.

(he kind of does.)

you’ve been soft ever since the drive.

he kisses you now like he needs to. like he missed you, even if it’s only been a few hours. like kissing you is just a normal part of his day, something between brushing his teeth and ruining your kitchen by cooking you breakfast at 2 a.m.

sometimes, you wake up to his hand resting on your waist, his face buried in your shoulder. like his body forgets how to be without you.

you don’t say it. not yet. but you feel it.

you think he does too.

it’s been weeks.

weeks since franco colapinto got beaned in the forehead with apple juice and decided that was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

weeks since he dm’d you with that dumb message:
saw apple juice today. thought of you. still flinch when i see boxes. wanna hang out?

weeks since you said yes.

and now here you are, propped up on his couch, socks mismatched, face lit by the glow of a documentary you’re not watching, because franco’s lying with his head in your lap and he keeps dragging his fingers along your leg like he can’t believe you’re real.

‘what,’ you murmur.

‘nothing,’ he says. then, quietly: ‘just thinking about the juicebox.’

you snort. ‘again?’

he nods, sleepy and fond. ‘you threw that thing with intention. it was beautiful.’

‘you’re so weird.’

‘you’re the one who assaulted me with a children’s drink.’

‘you flirted with me for two hours while i was working.’

‘you looked hot with a clipboard. sue me.’

you roll your eyes. he reaches up, brushes your hair behind your ear.

‘you know i really did think about you every time i saw juice after that?’

‘you said that already.’

‘i mean it. i’d be in a store and be like… damn. i miss her aim.’

you swat him. he laughs. kisses your wrist.

later, when you’re brushing your teeth in his oversized hoodie, he pulls you into his arms and rests his chin on your head.

‘should we save the juicebox?’ he asks, voice muffled in your hair.

‘what, like… frame it?’

‘yeah. put it above the bed. shrine to our origin story.’

‘you’re so dumb.’

‘dumb for you.’

you groan. he grins.

he still gets teased by his friends about the Incident.

he still buys apple juice ‘for the bit’ and lines the fridge with it like a threat.

but when he kisses you goodbye before his next race, all soft and slow like he’s imprinting it in his memory, he says:

‘thanks for hitting me.’

and you say,
‘thanks for being annoying enough to deserve it.’

and maybe, maybe, that’s just your love language now.

[cheriladycl01]

Baby, can you call me back? I miss you... its so lonely in our mansion - Lewis Hamilton x Model! Reader

Plot: You are the 'IT GIRL' of celebrities right now. Dating older F1 driver cooks up a storm.

Warnings: Age Gap, Established relationship, Smut (Consisting off Unprotected Sex, Fingering, P In V etc.) Minors Do Not Interact 18+

You were currently waiting for Lewis to come home, it was the Monaco GP and you'd left early during his debrief as you were sporting a slight headache from all the excitement.

He knew you'd be there and he knew you were waiting for him. You were sort of a current century IT girl.

That happens when you are on the cover of vouge and in big blockbuster movies alongside modelling for Versace and other big brands that wanted your name.

You were all the talk in the media for the past few years, especially where you were dating Lewis Hamilton. He was 10 year older than you, but he treated you well. Even though you were 23 when you and Lewis started dating, people still seemed to treat you like you were made of glass. Yes, that was probably more to your high profile status and the fact that you're in the public eye.

Lewis treated you like an adult and you loved it, he wasn't in the relationship for publicity or just for a quick time. He had met you at exclusive party that you happened to be at as well as some of the 2018 F1 drivers.

Now in the middle of 2024 and Mercedes had a rocketship for a car, Lewis was on track for winning his 8th World Champion, you and Lewis had been together for 7 years now and what an interesting 7 years it had been. You'd been there for him winning 3 of his championships, seeing him get robbed of his 8th and then have a shit car for the next two seasons while Red Bull seem to be in a horrible sort of domination.

He'd won in Monaco today sharing a Podium with Lando Norris, who was actually his biggest competition this year. Mclaren came out on top, right now it was Mercedes Mclaren and Ferrari dancing around each other and then Red Bull who focused on their 2025 car too early and didn't do enough work with the 2024 car.

The door to the home opens and in walks your beautiful husband.

"How's my race winner" you smile at him, walking over to him slowly. He hangs the keys up to his car on the hook before his hands wrap around your waist pulling you into a hug. He nuzzles his face into your neck, his arms travelling up to stroke your soft hair, running down to the side of your face to hold your face steadily in his hand.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you all day!" he offers, pushing your hair back behind your ear before leaning in, kissing you softly.

"You were thinking about me when you were racing?" you ask with a smirk, stepping closer into him so your arms are able to hold his upper arms, helping you lean up to place a soft, yet sensual kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"I'm always thinking about you baby" he mumbles looking you up and down.

"Well, I think my World Champion deserves a reward!" you smile, grinning at him.

"Mmmmm what kind of reward, I can think of 20 things I'd settle for right now" he admits biting his lip.

"Well, I don't know about you but your fav vegan dish is in the oven. I can run you a nice hot bath and give you a massage, or we can take Rossi on a walk, or we can watch a movie and cuddle.." you say leaning closer into him.

"Hmmmmm, that all sounds very good. But first i want you!" he says pulling into you. He pulls you up so your legs are wrapped around his waist and your arms around around the back of his head. He holds you up while pulling you into a kiss.

He walks you into the bedroom and places you down on the bed, making you bounce into the plush duvet and cushions. You lean up and you elbows moving back a little while Lewis crawls on top of you.

"Such a pretty baby!" he says, as he reaches round the back to unzip the black silk dress you were wearing. He tugs it down, throwing it onto the bedroom floor, a groan coming from him as he sees the matching black set that was on underneath.

He couldn't help but think that you'd been looking that delectable all day, and it didn't help and wouldn't help any future thoughts of what you wore on race days.

"God, Y/N!"

"Lew, come on" you groan, as his hands run up and down the curves of your body. Eventually his fingers work their way around your underwear, while his other hand goes behind you arching back to undo your bra. He skillfully undid it with the one hand while his other focused on your clit.

Your thighs squeezed together in anticipation as you feel his finger on your clit speed up. A gasp comes from you and your hand reaches down to hold his wrist.

"Lewis, i need you please!" you groan as his mouth encases around your left nipple and starting to suck and bite at it leaving hickies along the curve of your breast.

You feel movement on the bed, you look down to see him grinding against the mattress.

"Come here..." you moan and he crawls up the bed. His hand doesn't leave, going the step further and pushing one finger in. You reach down palming him through his trousers.

"Fuck baby, just like that" he groans adding another finger while leaning into your neck and kissing up and along it.

"Just take those pants off" you moan, looking up at him. He shakes his head, adding a third finger going faster.

"You gotta cum for first darling" he breathes out, you gasp watching him closely.

Lewis always put your pleasure first, that was one of the highlights of your relationship is that he always wanted you happy and content, as he would say that it made him happy and content.

He lived by the happy wife happy life memo religiously.

You feel that familiar coil built up and with the way you start moving Lewis speeds up knowing that your close.

"Lewis, Lewis fuck" you gasp as that sensation is released. You breathing slows as you come down.

"Okay, my turn" you say sitting up on your knees, squishing your thighs together.

"I can't wait, for that baby. Gotta be in you now!" he whimpers. He pulls you up so that your against the headboard, he lays you down before positioning himself above you.

He sinks all the way in, the both of you moaning and groaning as you feel every inch of him inside of you. Each ridge, every edge you can feel against your walls as you push further against him to get him deeper. He bottoms out with a sigh of happiness partially collapsing against you.

"I love you Lew, and im so thankful I'm yours" you admit with a gasp as he starts moving back and forth, the thrusts making lewd noises as he grips your hips.

"Say it again!" he exclaims looking at you in the eyes, one of his hands moving from your hip up to your cheek.

"I'm yours Lew, all yours!" you moan arching up into him and clenching.

"I love you so much darling. Fuck" he moans, nipping and biting against your collarbone as he starts to thrust quicker into you. Your own grip tightens on him as that same feeling from earlier resurfaces but more violent.

Your eyes screw shut, the moans coming from you mouth is like music into Lewis' ears. He wishes he could have it as his ringtone, or playing to him before a race. Even during a race, that for sure would make him finish a race quicker knowing he could see you quicker and stuff you full.

"Baby I'm gonna cum" he groans right into your ear making you twitch and attempt to thrust up into him. He holds you still putting pressure on your stomach making you gasp loudly and try to sit up.

"Cum baby, cum in me" you cry, tears start to stream down your face.

"Oh fuck baby" you cry and clench hard round him as he hits that spongey spot that just feels so good. You release with a whine and head thrown back, while Lewis follows helping you both ride out your high.

He collapses on top of you staying sunk inside of you. He kisses you, whispering stuff to you about what he loves, making little plaits in your hair as he goes.

Maybe waiting for Lewis in your mansion wasn't so bad after all.

A/N: This is my first smut on this account, so it will get better when i know what i feel comfortable putting out there!

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma

[lovemepartly]

red or blue? ✩ the salesman

read part 2 here!

warnings: 18+, smut.  

a/n: based off this request! i love writing slightly longer fics like this so if you guys have any other requests please send them :) also, i feel like i could maybe make a part 2 out of this, so lmk if that’s something you guys would be interested in!

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

you collapsed down on a bench on the train station, exhausted. your classes had been late at night today and with lack of sleep from the previous night, you felt depleted. university had really been kicking you down lately. the classes were hard and it seemed impossible to make friends. not to mention, you were also in extreme debt. you had a part-time job at a bakery, working as many hours as you possibly could, but it would still take you years to pay off your college debt.

the subway was busier than normal - it was rush hour. sounds of the trains whirring by and people rushing around to catch their train were giving you a headache, so you closed your eyes, leaning your head up against the wall. your train would be here soon enough.

you heard the steps of someone walking towards you and heard as the person shuffled to sit beside you on the bench. your head still leaning up against the wall, you didn't bother to open your eyes until the person next to you spoke, "long day?"

you lifted your head from the wall and when you finally met the gaze of the man who had spoken, your mouth lay slightly agape. he was extremely handsome, and a business man of sorts. he wore a perfectly tailored grey suit and was carrying a black briefcase. 

“you have no idea.” you mumbled, sitting up a little straighter. 

“are you in university?” the man asked. when you nodded, he added, “you must be looking for some money to pay off your debt.”

you furrowed your brow slightly, tilting your head to look at him. “how do you know that i have college debt?”

he gave you a crooked smirk and pulled the briefcase into his lap. “most students do, don’t they?”

“i suppose.” you responded.

“would you like to play a game with me?” he asked. 

you began to feel weird about this, unsure what his intentions were, so you just shook your head. “no, thank you.”

the man didn’t say anything, but he clicked open his briefcase and set it down between the two of you. inside, were perfectly folded paper squares and stacks of money. holy shit. that was a lot of money. 

“ddakji,” the man said suddenly, noticing your confused look. “if you win, i’ll give you 100,000 won. you have played ddakji before, haven’t you?”

you nodded. “yeah. wait - so if i just flip over your square, you’ll really give me 100,000 won?”

“yes.”

you squinted your eyes; you couldn’t tell if he was being truthful. with the way he was dressed, so pristinely, you were sure it had to be a scam. “i don’t believe you.” you finally said. 

the man merely smirked, and picked up two squares: one blue and one red. “you’ll find out if you play.”

what did you have to lose? nothing, really. “sure, i’ll play.” you agreed. you reached out to grab a square from the man, but he quickly pulled the folded paper away. 

“there’s one rule i haven’t told you about yet.”

“what’s that?” 

“if i win, you have to pay me 100,000 won.”

you scoffed. what a joke. “yeah, forget it. find someone else to play with.”

“i’ll let you go first, miss. what do you have to lose?”

damn it, it was like this guy could read your thoughts. if you played, you would go first and win - and if you didn’t, you could surely scrape up 100,000 won from somewhere, right? “fine.” 

“red or blue?” he asked, this time holding the squares out to you. 

“red.”

he nodded and handed you the red square, before dropping the blue one on the ground. he stepped back, and gestured for you to throw. 

your eyes narrowed, and reeling your arm, you threw the square down as hard as you could. it landed right on his, but merely made it jump a little. you watched in disappointment as your red square flopped pathetically next to his. shit. you looked up at him, and he only gave you a smirk, before bending down to pick up the blue square. with an effortless but powerful throw, he smacked the blue square onto the ground and you watched in dismay as your red square flipped over. 

you shifted your gaze up to him, and he only gave you a stupid, smug smirk that made you so angry - you wanted to hit him across the face. 

and suddenly reality set in. “wait, do i really owe you 100,000 won?” 

“those were the rules.” his smirk softened slightly but the smug look from his face didn’t disappear as he stepped closer to you, tilting his head, “do you not have the money?”

“i… um,” you fumbled over your words, trying to think of a response. “not now, but i can give it to you on-”

“you can pay with your body.”

your mouth dropped at his words. “excuse me?” 

“you can pay with your body.” he repeated calmly. 

“my body? what do you m-” he cut you off by grabbing your wrist firmly and pulling you into a secluded nook. you were now somewhat out of the public view, but people continued to rush past the two of you. 

“what are you doing?” you asked. he dropped his briefcase on the ground next to you. he had you pushed against the wall, one hand resting on the wall next to you and the other placed firmly on your hip. 

his face was so close to yours, your lips brushing, as he murmured, “you can pay with your body or you’ll owe me money. you don’t want that, do you?”

“n-no.” you stuttered. his tall figure leaned over yours, shielding you from the views of people who rushed past trying to catch their train.

“good.” he whispered in your ear. his hand moved from your waist down to your hip and then to your thigh. you were wearing a skirt, and his fingers lightly brushed over the skin just under your skirt. 

his face was so close to yours, and he was undeniably one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen that, without thinking, you lifted your face to press your lips to his. you could tell the movement caught him off guard, but he reciprocated, his fingers squeezing your thigh. he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth, and when you moaned, he pulled away. “needy, aren’t you?”

his hand made its way higher up your thigh until he found your panties. his fingers trailed over the thin fabric, making you shiver. when you looked up at him, he gave you a crooked smile, before slipping his hand into your underwear. he ran his fingers though your embarrassingly wet folds. without warning, he slipped a finger into you. 

the sensation made you moan and you rolled your head back, leaning up against the wall behind you. his other hand found it’s way to your neck and he grabbed your chin firmly. “quiet. i don’t want anyone to hear you.”

you nodded your best and tried to muffle your moans as his finger kept pumping in and out of you. when he added a second finger, your breath hitched and you reached to grab him by the arm for support. he smirked, knowing you probably couldn’t take much more of this. his fingers curled at just the right angle that you squeezed his arm harder, “oh god, i…” you panted. “i’m gonna…”

at your words, he slowed the pace at which his fingers were moving and suddenly he pulled his hand out of your pants. you could feel your core pulsing, needing more. he brought his fingers to your lips and you parted your mouth, sucking your own juices off his hand. he smirked and drew his hand from your mouth, stroking your hair. “good girl.”

you thought for a second he was going to give you more, to at least let you finish after getting you so worked up, but you could only watch in confusion as he bent down to grab his briefcase. was he really going to leave you like this? he gave you a smug smile before nodding his head in acknowledgment. “i don’t want us to get caught,” he said, and straightened his suit. his hand extended to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and stroke your cheek. “maybe you can play another game with me some other time, miss.”

and with those final words, he turned and walked away, leaving you breathless and needy in the corner of the subway.

[noorpersona]

Rivalry: Iwaizumi Part 2

The office door clicked shut behind you, tension coiled tight in your shoulders like a spring ready to snap. The argument with Iwaizumi had dragged on longer than either of you expected, every word exchanged like a verbal spar, blades dulled by professionalism but no less sharp.

Coach Fuki Hibarida sat behind his desk like a man who’d already fielded more than his share of chaos before lunch. His fingers steepled under his chin, his gaze sharp as it flicked between you and Iwaizumi. The air in the office was thick enough to choke on.

“I appreciate both of your passion,” he said finally, voice flat and uncompromising. “But if you keep at it like this, the only thing we’re going to accomplish is splitting the damn team in two.”

You leaned forward in your chair, back ramrod straight, the fire in your voice only barely tempered. “With all due respect, Coach, I’m not trying to split anything. I’m trying to protect these athletes from outdated training philosophies that completely disregard their medical history.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw flexed, arms crossed so tight across his chest it looked like he was trying to restrain himself from lunging across the room. “And I’m trying to prevent injuries before they happen. Without a baseline of strength, flexibility means jack shit.”

“Tell that to Sakusa’s ACL.”

He scoffed, sitting forward just enough that your knees almost touched. “You think I don’t know their files? I’ve worked with these guys longer than you’ve even been part of this team.”

“And yet your ‘expertise’ almost put Yaku back in a brace.”

“Enough!” Hibarida barked, and the room dropped into silence.

His eyes moved from Iwaizumi to you and back again. “You’re both right.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and begrudging.

“I’m signing off on your proposed changes,” he continued, nodding toward you. “Flexibility and personalized conditioning will take precedence moving forward. But Iwaizumi—your job is to ensure the training stays rigorous and strategic. Adjust programs for injury history. No exceptions.”

There was a long pause.

Iwaizumi’s voice, when it came, was stiff as granite. “Understood.”

Hibarida’s chair creaked as he stood, clearly eager to be done with the two of you. “I want the updated plan submitted by Friday. Together.”

You stood without looking at Iwaizumi. But as you passed him, shoulder nearly brushing his, you said under your breath, “Try not to screw this one up.”

His grunt of irritation followed you out the door.

--

Iwaizumi stood at the front of the gym, clipboard clutched tightly in his calloused hands, the glossy finish damp where his fingers curled. The fluorescent lights hummed above the Olympic training gym, casting cold, clinical shadows over the rows of elite athletes stretching and rotating through warm-ups. Despite the early hour, the place buzzed with restless energy.

But Iwaizumi wasn’t paying attention to any of that.

His eyes tracked every movement with practiced detachment, but his thoughts were far from the court. A dull headache had taken up residence behind his eyes, and the usual rhythm of morning practice only aggravated it. The pressure building in his temples had nothing to do with lack of sleep—and everything to do with you.

He was still pissed.

“We’re holding off on the strength circuits until the new plan is finalized,” he said, voice clipped, tone leaving no room for discussion.

Heads turned.

Atsumu blinked up from the mat where he’d been balancing his ankle on his opposite knee. “Wait, what? We’re not lifting today?”

Bokuto, halfway through a forward lunge, perked up instantly. “What happened to ‘no excuses’? Did we slip into an alternate universe or something?”

Even Sakusa raised a brow. “Did she win the argument?”

Yaku’s smirk was slow, subtle. “Feels like she won.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenched so tightly it made the muscle near his ear twitch. “I said they’re on hold,” he growled, tone sharpening. “New guidelines. End of discussion.”

“Wow,” Suna muttered, droll as ever. “He’s actually mad.”

“I will make you run drills until your legs fall off,” Iwaizumi snapped, voice a low bark. “Stretch. Now.”

That shut them up.

A beat of tense silence passed before the team shifted into their warm-ups. The sounds of light chatter and sneakers resumed, but the atmosphere was noticeably stiffer. The undercurrent of curiosity and amusement didn’t go unnoticed by Iwaizumi, but he shoved it down beneath years of discipline.

The rest of the session moved efficiently. Too efficiently. Every minute felt like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

By noon, the players filtered out of the gym in loose, staggered groups, sweat-darkened shirts clinging to lean muscle and jerseys half-hanging from relaxed shoulders. The air in the locker hallway was humid with effort, and banter floated lazily through the corridor.

Bokuto swung a towel behind his neck like a cape, laughing at something Suna had deadpanned. Sakusa lingered by the door for a beat, casting Iwaizumi a thoughtful glance before slipping out.

“Wonder if she’ll sign my cast when he snaps,” Aran muttered, nudging Hinata, who bit back a laugh.

Iwaizumi said nothing.

He turned on his heel, movements stiff, and marched toward the small office tucked off the side of the gym.

The door shut with more force than necessary.

He dropped the clipboard onto the desk. Papers slipped free, fluttering to the surface like discontent made manifest. The training revisions glared up at him.

And all he could see was your face.

The way you’d challenged him in Hibarida’s office—calm but cutting, your words sharpened like scalpels. The way the coach had leaned in your favor, as if your voice carried a gravity his didn’t. It wasn’t that he couldn’t accept change—he wasn’t stupid. He knew you were right about the numbers. About the science. About the goddamn knees.

But it burned anyway.

It was personal. He couldn’t separate the two. Not when you looked at him like that, like every disagreement was some gleeful test of willpower. Like you were waiting for him to crack so you could claim the final point.

Iwaizumi dragged a hand through his hair, sighing harshly. His shoulders were still tight from holding his voice steady all morning.

He sat down with a grunt, chair creaking beneath him as he opened his laptop. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised but reluctant.

He didn’t want to change the entire system. Didn’t want to concede. But the damn truth was already there, glaring back at him from between the numbers and patient logs.

So he typed. Adjusted. Modified.

And when he hit send, the sting of it settled low in his stomach.

The phone lit up before he even closed the tab.

You.

Of course.

He stared at the screen, jaw tight, teeth grinding as your name lit up the caller ID.

Twice it rang. He let it.

On the third, he answered—no greeting, no softness. Just barked, “What now?”

“This revision is still garbage,” came your voice, flat and scathing. “Komori’s and Hyakuzawa’s circuits are identical. One has chronic shoulder fatigue, the other doesn’t.”

“The adjustments are proportional,” he snapped back, voice low and sharp. “That’s how progressive loading works.”

“Progressive loading my ass. You copy-pasted three damn circuits and called it a day. You didn’t even touch their mobility metrics.”

“I factored in what matters.”

You laughed. Cold. “What matters is that Hyakuzawa won’t last another month if you keep pretending his joints aren’t glass.”

His hand slammed against the desk before he could stop himself, palm stinging. “You’re not his goddamn physical therapist.”

“No,” you snapped. “I’m the idiot burning her day off trying to keep him out of a hospital.”

He froze for half a beat.

Your words landed hard, scraping under his skin.

And god, you weren’t done.

“I’m not playing translator for whatever bullshit this is. If you want my sign-off, you’re getting it the right way. You clearly don’t understand the changes, so I’m coming in to explain them. In person. Like a teacher walking through homework with a slow student.”

He tilted his head back, jaw ticking, breath exhaling like steam. He glared at the ceiling tiles like they’d give him strength.

“Fine,” he bit out. “Thirty minutes.”

“Good,” you hissed. “Try not to screw anything else up in the meantime.”

The line went dead.

Iwaizumi stared at the phone for another second, his thumb hovering above the darkened screen.

The silence afterward rang louder than your voice.

And under his breastbone, the pulse of it—his rage, his pride, the heat of your words—all of it throbbed, slow and persistent.

Like something ready to burn.

--

You stormed into Iwaizumi’s office like a gust of controlled fury, not bothering to knock.

He barely had time to glance up before your voice cut through the air like a scalpel.

“It’s my day off, Iwaizumi. You know that, right?”

His brows lifted, clearly caught off guard—not just by your tone, but by your clothes. Joggers clung snugly to your hips, your tank top fitted and dipped in a way your usual business-casual never did. A jacket hung loose around your shoulders, unzipped, and your hair was tied up messily, strands falling out in a way that was entirely unfair.

Still, he bristled at your tone. “You didn’t have to come in.”

“Then maybe don’t make me rewrite your entire plan for you,” you snapped. “I told you Hyakuzawa’s shoulder range isn’t compatible with Komori’s. And you still sent it over like I wouldn’t notice.”

“I adjusted for mass and range—”

“You adjusted by copy-pasting,” you cut in. “Do you even read the assessments I send you?”

His jaw flexed. “I read everything. And I know how to train a team.”

“And I know how to prevent torn rotator cuffs.”

A sharp silence settled between you. You stood with your hands on your hips, breathing hard, Iwaizumi staring at you from behind his desk, every muscle in his arms coiled with tension.

He should’ve barked at you to leave. Should’ve snapped something back just as biting.

Instead, he stood.

“I’m not arguing with you in here,” he said, voice tight. “Let’s go.”

“To the gym?” you asked.

He nodded once, already stepping past you. “You said you’d show me. So show me.”

--

The weight room was empty save for the two of you. Echoes of distant foot traffic from the other side of the facility drifted in and out through the thick walls. Overhead, a single bank of lights buzzed faintly.

“Start with the squats,” you said, tossing a pair of 40-pound dumbbells his way.

He caught them with ease. “Loaded squats? Really?”

You folded your arms. “Humor me, Captain.”

He rolled his eyes but turned to face the mirror, feet shoulder-width apart, and dropped into his first rep. His form was solid—predictably—but your eyes tracked the subtle tremors in his posture, the way his shoulders bore tension even during a movement that should be driven by legs and core.

“Pause,” you ordered.

He straightened slowly, setting the weights down.

“You’re bracing too much in your upper back,” you said. “You’re engaging traps when you should be isolating quads and glutes. Komori compensates the same way, which is exactly the problem.”

You moved behind him, slid your hand down between his shoulder blades, pressing lightly.

“Here,” you murmured. “You feel how stiff this is?”

His breath hitched, almost imperceptibly.

“Try it again, but keep this area loose. Let the legs drive.”

He picked up the weights again and dropped down, this time more controlled.

You circled him once, sharp eyes on every joint.

“That’s better,” you said. “Still not perfect.”

He huffed through his nose. “Then what is?”

Your lips twitched, eyes gleaming. “I’ll show you.”

You stepped forward, picked up a lighter set of weights, and took your stance in the mirror. Your movements were deliberate, slow, each line precise. You dipped into a squat, spine long, and spoke as you moved.

“This is full isolation. Core tight. Knees over toes. Glutes firing.”

You looked at him through the mirror.

“Here—” You set the weights down and grabbed his wrist, tugging him forward. “Put your hand here.”

You placed his palm on your thigh, just above your knee.

“That’s the difference between alignment and load. You feel that tension? That’s what Hyakuzawa can’t hold for more than five reps. So when you give him a template that pushes twelve, you’re training him into injury.”

His fingers twitched where they rested against your leg.

You didn’t look up. Neither did he.

But the silence was loud.

You finally moved, stepping back, letting the contact fall away. His hand lingered for half a second before he pulled it back and flexed his fingers into a fist.

“Alright,” you said, exhaling. “Shoulders next.”

He didn’t speak, just nodded tightly and picked up a new set of dumbbells.

“This one’s more relevant for Komori. Upright rows. Don’t use momentum—go slow.”

He stood tall, lifting the weights to chest height with steady control.

You stepped in again, brushing your fingertips along his forearms as he moved.

“Good... Now hold.”

His muscles tensed, veins stark beneath tan skin, the curve of his biceps flexed just enough to make your breath catch.

You swallowed hard, refocusing.

“Lift from the delts, not the biceps,” you murmured. “They’re stabilizers here.”

Your hand moved to his chest, palm flat over his pec. The contact startled him—just enough for his eyes to flicker up and land right on the exposed line of your cleavage through your tank.

He froze.

And you saw it. That split second of his eyes widening before snapping back up to yours like he hadn’t seen a damn thing.

Your brow rose. “Focus, Iwaizumi.”

He gritted his teeth. “I am focused.”

You pressed a little firmer into his chest. “Then stop compensating here.”

His breath came a little heavier now.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t have to.

The tension snapped taut between you. Neither of you moved, the air thick with something sharp, electric.

Then—

“Ah—sorry!”

The door creaked open.

You both jolted, stepping back so fast you almost tripped.

A janitor stood in the doorway, expression blank. “Didn’t realize the room was still in use.”

You cleared your throat. “We were just wrapping up.”

Iwaizumi grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from his forehead, still avoiding your eyes.

The janitor nodded and disappeared.

Silence returned.

You slung your bag over your shoulder, trying not to show how fast your heart was racing. “I’ll expect the revised plan tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi didn’t answer.

He was still staring at the spot where your hand had been.