#Front Range Hosting

[himbo-kuto]

plot: when you're about to argue but you're so pretty that his brain short circuits (all lads men)

rafayel:

when your phone rang early this morning while you were on your morning jog with a panicked rafayel on the line, you knew what he was calling about. yesterday while you were visiting rafyel’s studio, you found it in disarray. paint, brushes and a variety of different papers littered any and all surfaces. you usually asked rafayel when you throw away scraps in his studio, but this time the clutter was driving you mad that you just threw away anything in sight that looked like garbage.

“hey– sorry to call you so early in the morning. did you or thomas clean my studio yesterday? there was this sketch somewhere around here with a bunch of colors and scribbles for my exhibits that’s coming up and now I can’t find it–” busted. you heard the ruffling of papers through the phone as he frantically searched for it. the guilt washed over you as you tried to formulate what to say. 

“i– i’m actually pretty close by. let me come over and help you find it.” he sighed in relief as felt like his drawing was saved. 

“thanks, i’ll see you soon.” it was your turn to sigh as you continued your jog (now sprint) over to rafayel’s studio. you might as well use this time to try and figure out ways for him to forgive you. 

you stood in front of the gate for a moment, chewing your thumb out of nervous habit before pushing through. you knew rafayel wouldn’t be mad at you, but just the fact you set back his work upset you. 

upon entering, rafayel’s back was to you. one hand was in his hair, the other on his hip as if he was trying to retrace all his steps. but before your brain could even register, you just blurted out the truth. 

“raf, i threw away the sketch– i’m so sorry! i was in here yesterday and the clutter was driving me insane! i couldn’t even get through here so i just grabbed things that looked like garbage and threw it away–” you had your eyes squeezed tight, not even wanting to see the potentially frustrated expression he was wearing. but when no response came, you peaked through your right eye to see that he was only blushing behind his own hand. 

it didn’t register that you were wearing your workout clothes– a matching set that hugged your body, well everywhere. the top you had on was a fitted cropped quarter zip jacket and unbeknownst to you on your sprint over, it had unzipped all the way– your cleavage on full display. though your hair was tucked under a cap, the way it clung to your face and chest from  your sweat didn’t go unnoticed by rafayel. 

you couldn’t help but bite back a smile as you saw the tips of his ears go red. you decided you were going to use this to your advantage. inching closer to him, you clasped your hands behind your back which only pushed your chest out further. he weakly held up his forearm as he looked away trying to get ahold of any working brain cells, but he showed no resistance once your chest made contact. you rested your chin on top of his arm, looking up innocently at him. 

“i’m sorry raf.. could you forgive me? i’ll clear my schedule and help you come up with another draft…” you spoke just above a whisper, afraid he’ll explode if you spoke any louder. a long (shakey) sigh escaped his lips along with what you interpreted as “you’ll be the death of me i swear…”

he fully turned toward you, one hand on your shoulder as the other one zipped your jacket all the way up to your neck. he cleared his throat as he cupped your cheeks together, swiftly kissing your pursed lips. 

“you better keep your promise, cutie! we have a lot of work to do.”

zayne:

you did one last swipe of lipstick as you checked yourself in the mirror. you and zayne were going to an event hosted by akso, but zayne made it clear that there was a stritch one hour limit to say your pleasantries and then go home. sometimes these gatherings were entertaining but oftentimes they were grueling to sit through, even for zayne. 

you stood up from your vanity, turning your body from side to side making sure that your dress was sitting in all the right places. gold embellishments hung from your ears and neck bringing the look all together. but in the midst of your review, you heard a series of ruffling and mumbling coming from the kitchen followed by your name. you reached over to open the door and called out to him.

“what was that, love?” 

“did you eat the fruit tart in the fridge?” you froze in your spot. you totally forgot that tart was his and you had it with your lunch this afternoon. you zoomed out to the kitchen to see zayne looking into an empty pastry box and a dejected expression like you took candy from a baby. 

“zayne– i’m so sorry i forgot that you said you wanted it and– .. i ate it” he slowly shifted his gaze from the empty box to you across the counter. your eyebrows were downturned and there was a big frown on your face. zayne always looked forward to having a sweet treat before these events, it was his reward for mustering up the courage to go. you should’ve known to save it for him, but your hunger got the best of you.

you rounded the corner of the counter, taking his hands in yours. your eyes on the verge of tears, as you continued on apologizing but all zayne could hear was blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff– your perfume, citrusy and sweet, enveloped him like a trap. with your eyelids sparkly, your lips all plumped and your hair pulled back to expose your shoulders, he couldn’t even comprehend your apology.

“okay, zayne?” he blinked once, only now registering that you’ve been talking to him the whole time. the blush immediately grazed his cheeks and ears as he looked away from you. 

“it’s okay.. i forgive you.” he pulled you in by the waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck and taking a deep breath, letting the notes of your perfume be his treat until he was able to get one later. your fingers reached up to scratch the nape of his neck as you turned to kiss his cheek, not even noticing. 

“i’ll buy you whatever you want from the bakery tomorrow, i promise”

caleb:

“you did what?!” you screeched to gideon over the phone. 

“look, i didn’t have a choice okay? caleb can be very persuasive with that evol of his. i’m sorry but i didn’t want to lose my fingers” a big sigh left your lips as you ran your fingers through your hair. you had been taking some secretive pilot lessons with gideon to try and impress caleb on your next flight lesson, but you bit off a little more than you could chew and ended up with a big bruise on your abdomen. 

“no, i get it. it was only a matter of time before he found out anyway. thanks though for holding out as long as you did.” you lifted up caleb’s shirt to take a look at your little accident. it was about the size of a grapefruit with hues of yellow, purple and blue painting your skin. 

“no, me and my fingers thank you for being understanding. but you know the drill kid, ice and heat every 15 minutes.” 

“yeah, yeah, yeah. you sound like–” before you could even say his name, you heard the clattering of the locks. 

“gotta go, the colonel is in.” you quickly hung up the phone, looking around the bathroom for places to hide and decided the closet was your best option. you pulled the door shut, trying to close it as silently as possible upon hearing his footsteps approaching. 

“pipsqueak.” not a question of where you were, but a known fact. you didn’t answer, choosing to ride this out for as long as you can. 

“you can’t hide from me. you left your phone on the counter and the hallway smells like your shampoo.” damn his obsessive nature (and your stupidity thinking you could ever hide from him in his own place). 

you held your breath as your eyes snapped to the handle. he was right in front of the door. there was a pause and.. nothing. his footsteps slowly faded to where the shower was, swiftly pulling the curtain back to expose an empty tub.

“come out, come out pips. i won’t be mad, i just want to see.” liar. you got the smallest scratch on your face from a mission and he wouldn’t let you hear the end of it for weeks. 

there was no use in hiding anymore. you turned the handle, but didn’t open it all the way. he reached his fingers through the gap and opened the door to find you looking like a dog with its tail between its legs– looking down at the ground, arms guarding your mid section. caleb cautiously took you by your hands and pulled you out of the closet. 

“let me see it.” he gently requested. you huffed as you carefully lifted up the shirt to reveal the bruise. he let out a distressed noise, quickly ridding himself of his gloves before his bare fingers grazed your skin. 

“i’m fine caleb, it’s not even that bad–”

“not that bad?!” he exploded like a volcano that was waiting to erupt. 

“pips, you have a bruise the size of a meteor on your stomach and it’s darkening by the second! what did you even do?” he took the shirt between his fingers, pulling it up even higher to inspect for any more damage. it was then that he realized that you were only in your bra and underwear with just his long sleeve to cover up. he took his moment to take you all in as he effortlessly towered over you. 

hair wet, smelling like apples, in a matching set, in his clothes.. brain go brrrrr….

he didn’t know if it was his chip kicking in or his brain malfunctioning, but thank god you were looking away from him. he felt the blush spread throughout his face, every inkling of scolding you fading by the second

he cleared his throat, gently letting his shirt fall back into place as he gingerly wrapped his hands behind your back, pulling you close. burying his face in the hair, he let the scent of you calm him down. he just hated seeing you hurt, especially if there was a mark or bruise to show for it.

“i’m sorry. i was only trying to impress you for our next flying lesson and then the weather suddenly changed and then the throttle did a thing–and i got launched into the control panel and..” you admitted embarrassingly. he laughed as he pulled away, taking your cheeks into his hands.  

“okay, okay. just next time please be careful. we don’t want you getting a bionic arm or anything–”

“CALEB!”

xavier:

exhaustion was oozing off xavier the moment he stepped into your apartment. his footsteps were dragging, shoulders hunched over, with a severe lack of motivation to keep his eyes open.  it was a series of: lack of sleep, fighting off more wanders than he could even count and then doing that over and over again for the past week. his back and body hurt and all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep for a week undisturbed. 

he ridded himself of his uniform, begrudgingly forced himself to shower, dried off his hair and plopped so hard on the bed it skirted and hit the wall. as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was already in his rem cycle, letting sleep take him for however long sleep would have him. 

though he was a valiant hunter, he knew that your place was safe. so if he felt a bump or a shift in the bed, he knew it was only you. though he wasn’t expecting you so soon. even with his eyes closed counting sheep, he was able to feel you crawl over his body. your hair tickled his collar bones as you leaned down to shower him in kisses. from his neck, cheeks, forehead, with a final blow to the lips, he didn’t budge. he wanted sleep and so he was going to have it (even if it meant hearing from you later) but you didn’t relent. 

you continued to lay kisses all over him, knowing that he’s done this to you before when you wanted to sleep but he wanted you to get up. you wanted his attention and much like xavier, you were going to have it. you held his face in your hands, laying loud kiss after loud kiss, trying to pull him out of dreamland but to no avail. you huffed as you sat your tush on his stomach. you moved his face from side to side before resorting to squishing his cheeks together. 

there was a slight twitch in his eyebrows signifying to you that he was slowly waking up, which resulted in you poking and prodding his face. after several minutes of working like a cat clocked in at the biscuit making factory, he let out one final groan before his eyes barely opened. 

“there he is.” you said sweetly. he huffed, turning to the side while covering his face to try and avoid your advances. 

“no he is not…” you took that as a challenge, now wrestling with him to lay on his back. when xavier was asleep, he was like a log. with much resistance, he flopped on his back while you pinned his wrists above his head. he peeled his eyes open, ready to let you have it only to find you with your hair all disheveled, the top buttons of your pajama shirt all undone and askew with the faintest wash of pink over your cheeks. 

“i just wanted some kisses and snuggles…” you admitted as you let go of his wrists. a sigh of defeat left his lips.

“well if you say it like that, of course i can’t be mad at you.” a giggle left your lips as he wrapped his arms and legs around you. it was his turn to shower you in kisses which you happily received. when the shower was over, you laid ontop of him with your face buried in his neck. 

“i’m sorry i disturbed your sleep.. you can go back now. i promise i won’t wake you until tomorrow.” he nuzzled his cheek into your head, already mumbling a bunch of nothings into your ear.

“i love you too, honey.” 

sylus:

“i said no.” sylus was being unreasonable. all you wanted to do was join him on an ‘auction’ to help him out. he had been stressed about it all week– skipped meals, jaw clenched in his (lack of) sleep, dark bags under his eyes– you haven’t seen him this stressed in a while. 

“why not? you know that it would be easier with me there and i want to go, so why no–” he held up his hand to you, too focused on the papers in front of him to even look you in the eye. 

“my decision is final. it’s too dangerous, i wouldn’t even go if it wasn’t a necessity.” you knew that he was only looking out for your safety, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. if he wasn’t going to willingly take you, guess it was time to take matters into your own hands. you didn’t utter another word, choosing to leave his office in silent rage. 

once he knew you were out of sight, he heaved a deep sigh. he could feel the pounding headache coming on. removing his glasses, he leaned back onto his chair while squeezing the bridge of his nose. he was already trying to think of ways to make it up to you, though this one would be tough. 

—

it was a few quiet days in the N109 zone. you decided to keep your interactions with sylus to a minimum, only greeting him the times he came to bed or when he came to dinner. he chose to respect that distance, trying to make the most out of the times you did give him the time of day. he couldn’t wait to get this mission over and done with. 

then came the day of his departure. you weren’t petty enough to not send him off, especially on dangerous missions such as this one. the last thing that you always handed off was his leather jacket. you had done it the first few missions he went on, and from there it kinda stuck. send offs never felt right without it. as he loaded the last suitcase, you stood behind him with his coat. 

he leaned in and gave your forehead a kiss. 

“i’ll be back soon, kitten.” he mumbled the words into your temple. you offered him a soft smile before holding up his jacket. he swiftly dropped his arms into the sleeves, pulling it over his shoulders, now counting down the minutes until he could be back. 

“i love you, get back safe.” you waved off him and the twins as you watched the car went off into the distance.

“you won’t have to wait long, dear.” 

—

shit. 

this was bad. 

sylus knew it was going to be, but he hoped just a little that it wouldn’t be. removed the hand from his abdomen to check if the bleeding had stopped, but surely enough his hand was covered in his crimson red blood. he leaned against a wall, knowing that the twins wouldn’t be here another 30 minutes. he knew his regenerative powers could kick in soon, but he was sorely outnumbered. he heard footsteps behind him and what sounded like a “he’s in here!” and just as he was about to set his guns ablaze, he heard a few shots coming from that same hallway. he squinted his eyes as he concentrated on the commotion.

‘one… two…..three.. four down. who?? they’re not supposed to be there for ano–’ the door swung open and upon instinct, sylus swiftly held up his gun to the intruder ready to shoot. he never hesitated in his life, but something was telling him to do otherwise. his fierce eyes met your intense ones in the same position. you both retracted your weapons before sylus pulled you through the doorway, crashing your back against his chest.

“how many are left?” he leaned down and whispered. 

“ten. five in the front and five in the back. the twins should be able to handle them. i took out all the ones in here for now.” for a second he breathed out a sigh of relief, leaning against you. sylus would’ve made it out, but certainly not in the best of conditions. 

“why are you here?” 

“i think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’” he rolled his eyes, turning you around to take you in. stunning, as always. your hair was a bit disheveled, straps fallen down to your shoulders and your dress was torn around the edges, but in this moonlight he was utterly captivated by you. all his anger and many of the words that he had for you suddenly flew out the window. he tugged your straps gently back up to your shoulders before giving you a kiss. 

“i’ll deal with you when we get back.” you basked in his presence for mere seconds before smelling the copper in the air. you stepped back to examine him before your eyes landed on his hand. he showed no resistance showing you his wound, knowing that you were right and he was caught. a heavy sigh left your lips. you knew he would be back to himself in no time, but it reminded you that he wasn’t all that invisible. 

“still think you don’t need me?” sylus chuckled as his face made its way into the crook of your neck, arms snaking around your waist. he took in one long inhale. 

“... you changed your perfume.. that’s why i couldn’t tell you were here.” you laughed breathlessly into ear, but not before you heard more footsteps coming in from the hallway. you both tensed, trying to remain as silent as possible. he tapped two of his fingers on your left side signalling that’s where he was headed. but before you could move, he noticed a shadow coming from the window. he pulled you down, letting off a few rounds towards the window. it was seconds before all hell broke loose once again. 

luckily you both were able to fend off the second wave until the twins got there. when it was all said and done, you two were able to make it out with a few bumps and bruises, you’ve definitely done worse. the car ride back was silent as you were taping up sylus’ arm. you knew he was angry at you, now having to be in pain because you didn’t listen to him.

“i don’t regret coming.” he wiped off some dried blood from your cheek, now his turn to tape up your wounds. 

“i know you don’t.” the conversation settled back into a comfortable silence. he started by dabbing some ointment on your scratches.

“... and thank you.. for saving my ass back there.” 

[ms-demeanor]

I would like to address something that has come up several times since I relaunched my computer recommendation blog two weeks ago. Part of the reason that I started @okay-computer and that I continue to host my computer-buying-guide is that it is part of my job to buy computers every day.

I am extremely conversant with pricing trends and specification norms for computers, because literally I quoted seven different laptops with different specs at different price-points *today* and I will do more of the same on Monday.

Now, I am holding your face in my hands. I am breathing in sync with you. We are communicating. We are on the same page. Listen.

Computer manufacturers don't expect users to store things locally so it is no longer standard to get a terabyte of storage in a regular desktop or laptop. You're lucky if you can find one with a 512gb ssd that doesn't have an obnoxious markup because of it.

If you think that the norm is for computers to come with 1tb of storage as a matter of course, you are seeing things from a narrow perspective that is out of step with most of the hardware out there.

I went from a standard expectation of a 1tb hdd five years ago to expecting to get a computer with a 1tb hdd that we would pull and replace with a 1tb ssd to expecting to get a computer that came with a 256gb ssd that we would pull and replace with a 1tb ssd, to just having the 256gb ssd come standard and and only seeking out more storage if the customer specifically requested it because otherwise they don't want to pay for more storage.

Computer manufacturers consider any storage above 256gb to be a premium feature these days.

Look, here's a search for Lenovo Laptops with 16GB RAM (what I would consider the minimum in today's market) and a Win11 home license (not because I prefer that, but to exclude chromebooks and business machines). Here are the storage options that come up for those specs:

You will see that the majority of the options come with less than a terabyte of storage. You CAN get plenty of options with 1tb, but the point of Okay-Computer is to get computers with reasonable specs in an affordable price range. These days, that mostly means half a terabyte of storage (because I can't bring myself to *recommend* less than that but since most people carry stuff in their personal cloud these days, it's overkill for a lot of people)

All things being equal, 500gb more increases the price of this laptop by $150:

It brings this one up by $130:

This one costs $80 more to go from 256 to 512 and there isn't an option for 1TB.

For the last three decades storage has been getting cheaper and cheaper and cheaper, to the point that storage was basically a negligible cost when HDDs were still the standard. With the change to SSDs that cost increased significantly and, while it has come down, we have not reached the cheap, large storage as-a-standard on laptops stage; this is partially because storage is now SO cheap that people want to entice you into paying a few dollars a month to use huge amounts of THEIR storage instead of carrying everything you own in your laptop.

You will note that 1tb ssds cost you a lot less than the markup to pay for a 1tb ssd instead of a 500gb ssd

In fact it can be LESS EXPENSIVE to get a 1tb ssd than a 500gb ssd.

This is because computer manufacturers are, generally speaking, kind of shitty and do not care about you.

I stridently recommend getting as much storage as you can on your computer. If you can't get the storage you want up front, I recommend upgrading your storage.

But also: in the current market (December 2024), you should not expect to find desktops or laptops in the low-mid range pricing tier with more than 512gb of storage. Sometimes you'll get lucky, but you shouldn't be expecting it - if you need more storage and you need an inexpensive computer, you need to expect to upgrade that component yourself.

So, if you're looking at a computer I linked and saying "32GB of RAM and an i7 processor but only 500GB of storage? What kind of nonsense is that?" Then I would like to present you with one of the computers I had to quote today:

A three thousand dollar macbook with the most recent apple silicon (the m4 released like three weeks ago) and 48 FUCKING GIGABYTES OF RAM with a 512gb ssd.

You can't even upgrade that SSD! That's an apple that drive isn't going fucking anywhere! (don't buy apple, apple is shit)

The norms have shifted! It sucks, but you have to be aware of these kinds of things if you want to pay a decent price for a computer and know what you're getting into.

[norrisainz33]

foodie pt2. || platonic grid

summary: a grid dinner sponsored by y/n, everyone's favorite f1 driver and food influencer

pairing: driver!reader x platonic grid

fc & warnings: none!

pt 1 | masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has posted to their story

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user1: it’s so wild to me to see drivers out here doing normal things like going to the shops

estebanocon: can’t wait for dinner tonight ❤️

ynuser: and i can’t wait to see you and flavy 🫶🏻

user2: GRID DINNER 🗣️

charlesleclerc: alex won’t stop talking about how excited she is for tonight

ynuser: ugh my girl 😩🫶🏻

lando: you getting more than macarons or?

ynuser: yeah tons of fish… didnt you read the menu i sent around?

lando: uh no….. but seems i should…..

user3: if someone doesn’t live tweet this dinner i’ll scream

yourbff: you are so brave for hosting all those men in your cutesy barbie dream house 😩

ynuser: i know… i’m worried one of them is going to get something on my new white couch

yourbff: odds it’s lando or franco

ynuser: honestly my bet is on george

user4: need that bag now

formulafoodie has made a post

liked by f1, astonmartinf1, lance_stroll, yukitsunoda0511, lewishamilton, iamrebeccad, pierregasly, and 654,234 others

formulafoodie: my love language is acts of service and fresh veggies 🤍

p.s follow along as i cook dinner for my coworkers

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lando: omg does this mean you love me

formulafoodie: no

maxfewtrell: CLEARED

user5: i just laughed out loud

user4: eeeeeek

lewishamilton: same

formulafoodie: you get me

user5: notifs are turned ON i am ready for these updates

yukitsunoda0511: 😋🍝

formulafoodie: 👩🏾‍🍳

user6: i wanna be a fly on the wall in her house so bad

astonmartinf1: 🤍💚

user7: protect y/n at all costs! this is so wholesome

✿

the first chime of the doorbell rang out pulling you from your final round of appetizer arranging. you glanced over the marble countertop one last time, straightening a garnish here and a slice there, the savory aroma of your cooking already filling the air. after a quick hair adjustment and a slip into your favorite heels, you skipped over to the door heart fluttering slightly with excitement and some nerves.

opening the door, you were greeted by a burst of chatter and laughter. esteban and flavy stood front and center, followed by charles, alex, yuki, pierre, and kika all of which were wearing grins that mirrored your own. just down the hallway, you caught lando’s unmistakable laugh echoing as he chatted animatedly with max, lance, lewis and the rest of the grid, their footsteps quickening as they caught up with the group.

“come on in!” you beamed as you stepped aside to usher everyone in.

“y/n/n/! it smells incredible in here!” kika gushed, already slipping out of her coat and making a beeline for the kitchen.

“aw thank you kiks,” you smiled, cheeks warming from the compliment. the sight of your friends, all cozy and comfortable in your space, made your heart feel full.

everyone began to migrate toward the kitchen island, admiring the carefully plated bites you’d prepared. glasses clinked as people helped themselves to the various drinks you meticulously crafted, laughter rising as familiar banter kicked off between charles and pierre.

“i brought you something!” lando called out over the chatter, his trademark grin in place with his hands suspiciously tucked behind his back.

“oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow with amusement as he made his way toward you.

with a little dramatic flair lando revealed a big pastel colored box from behind him and placed it gently on the counter. you opened it to find a beautifully decorated cake inside, delicate piping spelling out a simple but sweet message: "thank you."

“i can’t cook like you obviously,” he said with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “so it is store bought BUT i wanted to do something for you.”

you giggled, “lando this is so sweet. i love it so much.”

he shrugged with that proud little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “just trying to impress the hostess. you’ve set the bar terrifyingly high i won't lie.”

the others gathered around, admiring the cake and teasing lando about his “brownie points,” while you laughed and began ushering everyone to the dining area where the real feast was about to begin.

✿

ynuser has posted to their story

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user2: this is literally so cute

astonmartinf1: can we have a piece?

ynuser: ofc you can admin! i wish you were able to be here with us!!

astonmartinf1: i know me too bestie. next time 🤍

lando: doing the most for the hostess with the mostest

ynuser: 🥹🥹 you sweetie pie! almost makes me forget how badly i want to run you into the wall most races

lando: its alllllll part of my charm ms girl

user4: i need me a man like lando pulling up with a cake thats my favorite color with my favorite flowers on it

pierregasly: he just insists on showing us all up huh

ynuser: i mean.... george and carmen brought flowers and KIKA brought me a necklace so...... whats your excuse?

pierregasly: ..... the necklace was funded by me does that count?

ynuser: no xxoo

user18: am i catching a little bit of a romance here? perhaps a little crush?

roscoelovescoco: i wishes i was theres withs you my favorite aunties!

ynuser: roscoe my sweet babbyyyyyyyyy. i can't wait to see you in silverstone soon

user1: ok so first grid dinner update is that lando out shown everyone and brought a cake

lhughes_06: 📝get her a cake

ynuser: 😏 i do like cakes

iamrebeccad has posted to her story

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user4: first of all y/n is a goddess and second of all ,, i cant believe thats her house?! and she went through all that trouble for the drivers?

ynuser: my sweet baby girl i love you endlessly 🤍

iamrebeccad: i love you more pretty princess

user12: ok so this grid dinner is way nicer than i expected. y/n has outdone herself

lando: good lord shes gorgeous

iamrebeccad: yes she is but why are you noticing that sir

lando: um i don't know what you're talking about rebe!

iamrebeccad: carlos will be getting to the bottom of this!

lando: NOOOOO DONT INVOLVE CARLITOS

lando: damn you told him quick its been not even 1 minute and hes giving me a look across the table

alexandrasaintmleux: thats our pretty best friend!

iamrebeccad: yes ❤️

user21: i wish netflix was there filming all of this. i'd give my left leg to know what was said

astonmartinf1: GORGEOUS!

dior: effortlessly beautiful

iamrebeccad: ❤️

user14: y/n is the entire package. she can cook, she can drive, she is funny, she is beautiful, shes so incredibly smart... i dont get how its possible for someone to be this perfect

✿

the clinking of cutlery and murmurs of anticipation filled the room as everyone found their seats around your large wooden dining table. you had set it with care - soft linen napkins, mismatched but charming ceramic plates, loads of fresh flowers and flickering candles that cast a warm glow across everyone’s faces. the scent of roasted garlic, fresh herbs and something buttery hung heavy in the air.

as you brought over a tray of baked burrata-stuffed squash blossoms, yuki gasped dramatically.

“is this even legal? you’re a driver and you cook like this?” he teased leaning forward as if to inspect the dish.

“i feel like I should be intimidated,” pierre added raising an eyebrow and nudging charles who was sat next to him. “she’s too powerful.”

“i’m honestly reconsidering my entire life,” charles muttered with mock seriousness. “like, what am I doing?”

“you’re getting out-qualified by her next weekend, that’s what,” max quipped dryly, earning a chorus of “ooooohs” around the table.

you rolled your eyes with a smile, placing another platter full of food down in the center of the table. “don’t even try it,” you warned wagging a finger at charles before he could make some remark about your aston not being able to beat his scarlett ferrari.

“i'm only here to try the food, not you mon ami! I promise,” he replied.

meanwhile, flavy and kika were already deep in a conversation with alex and the lily's about your herb garden setup. esteban was trying to explain a complicated new tiktok trend to lewis who just blinked and slowly nodded clearly not getting it.

lando who was seated beside you, leaned over and whispered, “i think yuki is going to try and steal your recipes.”

you leaned in slightly and whispered back with a smirk. “my recipes stay with me.”

lando pouted dramatically “and maybe with me?”

“i don't know about you.”

lance suddenly raised his glass pulling you out of your conversation wtih lando. “alright everyone it is time for a toast! cheers to y/n for being the best chef, the most supportive teammate and honestly, the only person who could wrangle all of us into one room without starting a full fight.”

everyone raised their glasses and cheers and clinking glasses echoing through the room. you flushed with happiness, cheeks warm from the wine, the compliments and the unmistakable joy of having your people all around you.

“ok real talk,” flavy said, her wine glass swaying slightly as she pointed her fork toward the middle of the table. “if we were all on on bake off.... who’s making it past week one?”

“me,” lewis said instantly with the confidence of a man who'd once perfected vegan banana bread. “precision is key in baking it’s just like engineering.”

“yeah but you’d lose it the moment paul hollywood gave you anything less than a handshake,” albono teased.

“ok but george would definitely cry if his sponge collapsed,” kika chimed in sending half the table into laughter.

george gasped and fake clutched his pearls, “excuse me!! some of us are in touch with our emotions!”

“and some of us can’t cook rice,” esteban added with a smirk nodding toward lance.

the tips of lance's ears instantly turned red “that was one time! ONE TIME!”

“was it though?” pierre questioned swirling his wine like a villain in a soap opera. “because I happen to remember a weekend in spa that featured crunchy rice.”

“I like crunchy rice!” lance defended.

“you lied about liking crunchy rice,” flavy corrected, pointing at him with her breadstick.

max who had been quietly sipping his drink with a smug look finally spoke up. “let’s be honest, if this was a survival cooking show, i’d win. i’m efficient, i follow instructions and i don’t ever panic.”

“you also once used salt instead of sugar in brownies,” charles interjected not even looking up from his plate.

“that was an experiment cha.”

“an experiment in poisoning,” you added which caused another ripple of laughter around the table.

“i think lando would just charm the judges and wing it,” lily z said tilting her head thoughtfully.

lando grinned, puffing his chest out a bit. “exactly! i’d be like, ‘i don’t know what a genoise sponge is, but here’s a chocolate lava cake that may or may not have exploded in the oven.’”

“and then you’d flash that cheeky smile and somehow make it to the final,” oscar rolled his eyes.

“you guys are something else,” you laughed shaking your head as you reached to refill your glass. “not a single stable sous-chef in this room.”

“you know,” lewis said looking around as the room buzzed with overlapping chatter, “if netflix ever wanted to make drive to dine, we’ve already got the cast.”

“and the main character is obviously y/n,” lando added nudging your knee under the table. “our fearless kitchen commander.”

you laughed shaking your head. this dinner was everything you could have hoped for.

✿

formulafoodie has made a post

liked by user1, netflix, astonmartinf1, lando, estebanocon, lilyzneimer, charlesleclerc, lance_stroll, and 986,049 others

formulafoodie: thankful for coworkers as wonderful as these

view all comments

lance_stroll: thankful for you!

formulafoodie: you're the best teammate lanceypoo

user18: lanceypoo im crying

user12: this is so wholesome

lando: and im thankful to have a coworker as cool as you

formulafooide: i do make the grid significantly cooler

charlesleclerc: that is true

lewishamilton: you are the coolest one here y/n

flavy.barla: forever grateful to you for having us!!

formulafoodie: you are always welcome my dear

user1: y/n is the best thing to happen to the grid

netflix: wish we were there!

formulafoodie: you get enough of us LOL

user11: i'm obsessed w this, also clocking how close lando is standing to y/n/n

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks so much for reading! likes and reblogs apprecaited

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[satori-runa]

—Under Terms and Service

Summary: Ena and you embark on a business based dinner date!

Tags: ooc, not proof read, romance, comedy

Words: 0,7k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Ena glanced at you. You glanced back.

"A contract?" you asked, raising a brow.

Ena nodded, her signature smile lighting up her face, charming, surreal, and just a little bit unsettling in the way only Ena could be. “Absolutely! To cover the points under the terms and service document and make sure that both sides are compensated. Someone like you, a fellow smart mind, would understand how business goes, right?” she said smoothly, holding up a piece of paper and pointing at the blank line meant for your signature.

You sighed, but you couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at your lips. “Well, I guess it's needed.” Your eyes flicked to the line of people growing outside your favorite restaurant. It was couples’ discount night—one you’d been looking forward to—but you had to find a date, even if it's fake. That's when Ena, ever the business opportunist , offered to step in as your pretend girlfriend.

All it took was a signature, and just like that, Ena was officially your partner for the night.

As you both reached the front of the line, the person at the entrance gave you a long, skeptical look. Maybe they sensed something was off. Maybe they saw right through your little charade.

But before you could even open your mouth, Ena stepped forward with theatrical flair.

“HOW DARE YOU TO ASSUME THAT I'M NOT ABSOLUTELY MADLY IN LOVE WITH THEM?!” she shouted, voice shaking with raw, chaotic emotion. “A LONELY MAGGOT LIKE YOU COULDN'T GRASP MY AFFECTION FOR MY PARTNER!”

The poor host flinched hard, eyes wide. Ena wasn’t joking, and if she was, she sold it terrifyingly well.

“I love my partner very much,” she added with a proud huff, her voice smooth like honey, “more than any paid vacation days.”

And with that, she grabbed your hand, smiling sweetly as if the outburst hadn’t just shattered the restaurant’s vibe like a thrown plate. You had no choice but to go along, blushing and trying not to laugh too hard.

Dinner was… intense.

The moment you sat down, Ena adjusted her seat like it was a throne. Her smile returned, bright and poised. “This is delightful, isn’t it? The ambiance, the lighting, perfect for a romantic evening between two… committed individuals.” She leaned forward just enough to bat her lashes at you. “And remember, any additional sides are covered under subsection 4-B of our temporary partnership clause.”

You blinked. “There’s a subsection?”

“There is now,” she grinned, sipping from her water like it was vintage wine.

The waiter approached, just barely

masking his discomfort. “And for the couple tonight, have you decided—?”

“ONLY THE MOST EXPENSIVE AND BEST OF COURSE!” Ena snapped. The waiter flinched.

You tried to intervene. “Actually, maybe something in the middle rang—”

“Silence, darling.” Ena turned her head dramatically toward you, voice low and venomously sweet. “Your opinions are valued, but we agreed, I am leading this date. Article 2, remember?” Her smile was the kind that made the hairs on your neck stand up.

But a beat later, she laughed and winked at the server. “Kidding! Just kidding. We’ll go with two of the set menus, please. Perfect for lovers, right? Because we’re so deeply in love and compatible and emotionally entangled.” Her tone dripped with sugar.

The waiter fled. Probably for his life.

You leaned in. “Are you trying to scare everyone into thinking we’re real?”

“I’m trying to win,” Ena whispered back. “There’s no prize, but I like winning anyway.”

Throughout dinner, her personalities flicked like a light switch. One moment she was feeding you a bite of bread and cooing, “Oh, open up, my sweet tax deduction~” and the next, she was glaring daggers at a passing couple. “If they look at us like that again, I smack their heads inside their soup.”

You weren’t sure if you should be afraid or impressed.

Probably both.

Midway through dessert, Ena leaned back in her seat with a satisfied hum, fingers interlocked behind her head. “This was a good idea. You get food, I get emotional dominance, and together, we get a 30% discount.”

You tried not to laugh. “So this is just business to you?”

She turned to you with a completely straight face. “Absolutely. Unless, of course…” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’ve caught feelings, haven’t you?”

You nearly choked on your drink.

Ena burst into a delighted laugh, her eyes glitching slightly in color and shape. “Relax, I’m only teasing. Probably. Maybe. Contractually, I’m not allowed to say.”

You stared at her. “...You are chaos.”

“I am your girlfriend,” she corrected with a wicked grin. “At least until the check comes.

[holyblonded]

other mother | stargirl

pairings: olga rios x teen!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader, jenni hermoso x teen!reader

summary: jenni is in town and your closeness with her has olga feeling insecure as her position as your mother

notes: my inbox was flooded with people asking for this so here yall go 😀

“It’s Jenni Day!” you cheered as you practically skipped down the stairs, nearly tripping over your own feet in excitement. The smell of your favorite omelet filled the air, and when you entered the kitchen, you saw Olga at the stove, expertly flipping an egg while Alexia sat at the breakfast bar, sipping her tea.

“Jenni Day, Jenni Day, Jenni Day!” You chanted, throwing in a dramatic spin before moonwalking across the kitchen floor.

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head at your antics. “I take it you’re excited?”

“Yes! Do you know why?” You grinned, pointing at her like a game show host about to reveal the grand prize. “Because it’s Jenni Day!”

You launched into another celebratory dance, arms flailing, feet shuffling, completely lost in your own little world. Alexia laughed into her tea, and even Olga cracked a smile as she plated your omelet.

“You have way too much energy this early,” Olga mused, setting your plate in front of you.

“Of course I do! Jenni is coming, and it’s been forever since I last saw her!” You threw yourself into the stool next to Alexia, bouncing in place. “We’re still going to the airport to pick her up, right?”

Alexia nodded. “That’s the plan.”

Before you could respond, a knock at the door interrupted the conversation. You frowned, confused, whoever was here was intruding on your special celebration.

Alexia stood to answer it, but the moment the door swung open, a familiar voice rang out.

“¡Mi pequeño diabla!” (My little devil)

Your eyes widened in pure joy. “Jenni!”

Without hesitation, you bolted from your seat, sprinting across the kitchen and launching yourself into her arms. Jenni caught you with ease, laughing as she lifted you off the ground and spun you in a circle.

“My diablita, look at you! Have you grown? Or am I just getting old?” she teased, pressing loud, exaggerated kisses all over your face.

You giggled, squeezing her tight. “You’re ancient, Jenni.”

She gasped, feigning offense. “¡Qué mala!” She set you down only for you to immediately latch onto her side, practically glued to her as you dragged her toward the breakfast bar.

“Okay, okay, come sit! I have so much to tell you!” You pulled her into the seat next to yours, eyes bright with excitement. “You missed so much! Oh my god, wait, did you see my last match? And also, you have to see this new trick I learned— oh! And guess what? I have a girlfriend now! Her name is Soleil, and she’s the best, and I need to show you pictures—”

Jenni listened with an amused smile, nodding along as you spoke a mile a minute, gesturing wildly with your hands.

Meanwhile, Olga, who had turned back to the stove, found herself oddly quiet. She glanced over her shoulder at the way you clung to Jenni, the way you looked at her like she hung the moon, and something inside her twisted.

She knew Jenni had been in your life for years, had played a huge role in your childhood, especially when she and Alexia had been together. She understood the excitement, the affection— but still, as she stood there, spatula in hand, watching you practically vibrate with happiness in Jenni’s arms, she couldn’t help but feel like she was standing on the outside looking in.

Alexia noticed the shift in Olga’s demeanor, the slight slump of her shoulders, the way she suddenly seemed overly focused on the eggs she was cooking.

“You okay?” Alexia murmured, nudging Olga gently.

Olga forced a small smile. “Yeah… just not used to being replaced so quickly.”

Alexia sighed, wrapping an arm around Olga’s waist and pressing a reassuring kiss to her temple. “She loves you, you know that.”

“I know,” Olga admitted. “But right now, I think I’m just the lady who made her breakfast.”

Before Alexia could respond, your voice rang out again.

“Olga, come sit with us!” You turned to her, waving her over with an enthusiastic hand. “You have to hear this story Jenni’s telling!”

Olga hesitated for a split second before schooling her expression, pushing aside the small pang of insecurity.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” she said, finally taking the empty seat next to you.

And when you instinctively reached for her hand, squeezing it without even looking as you continued talking to Jenni, Olga felt some of that uncertainty ease.

The bell above the door chimed as you bounced into your favorite café, your hand wrapped around Soleil’s while Jenni strolled beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders like she never left. Alexia and Olga trailed behind, already making their way to the counter to order drinks while you led Jenni and Soleil to a cozy booth near the window.

“You’re gonna love this place,” you told Jenni, excitement bubbling in your voice. “They have the best pastries, and they always write little messages on the coffee cups.”

Jenni smirked, sliding into the seat across from you and Soleil. “I trust your taste, mi diablita.”

You turned to Soleil, eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe I haven’t introduced you two sooner! Jenni basically helped raise me. Like, she taught me how to ride a bike, took me to all my first pro matches, and—” you leaned in, stage whispering—“everything I know about being a striker? All from her.”

Soleil smiled warmly, looking at Jenni with clear appreciation. “That explains why you’re such a menace on the field.”

Jenni grinned. “Ah, so you’ve witnessed her chaos firsthand.”

Soleil laughed. “Every day.”

You laughed too, leaning into Jenni’s side and hugging her tightly. “She’s the best, Sol. When Ale and Jenni were dating, she was always around, always looking out for me. And even after… you know, they broke up, she never disappeared. She’s family.”

Jenni pressed a fond kiss to your temple. “Always.”

Across the café, Olga stood in line, watching the interaction with a tightness in her chest she couldn’t quite shake. You were radiant, so full of joy, clinging to Jenni like she was your lifeline. The way you looked at her, the way you spoke about her, all of it made Olga’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

She knew Jenni had been a part of your life long before she had. She knew Jenni had played a big role in raising you. But knowing it and watching it were two different things.

Alexia, standing beside her, caught the shift in Olga’s expression immediately. Without hesitation, she bumped Olga’s shoulder gently. “You good, amor?”

Olga plastered on a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, fine.”

Alexia didn’t buy it for a second. “You’re watching them like they just stole your puppy.”

Olga sighed, glancing away. “I just… she clearly loves Jenni. And I get it, Jenni was there when she was little, she taught her all these things, helped raise her—” she exhaled sharply— “but I’m supposed to be her mother now. And sometimes, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fill that space the way Jenni did.”

Alexia frowned, reaching for Olga’s hand and squeezing it. “Olga, you are her mother. She chose you, we chose you. That doesn’t change just because she loves Jenni too.”

Olga’s grip tightened slightly, her jaw clenching. “I know, but it’s different. She looks at Jenni like she’s the person who made her who she is. I just… I don’t want to be second place in something that means everything to me.”

Olga’s fingers curled into fists at her sides as she watched you practically drape yourself over Jenni, your eyes shining with admiration as you told Soleil story after story about how Jenni had shaped you. Every time you hugged Jenni, every time you laughed at something she said, every time you looked at her like she was one of the most important people in your world— it chipped away at something deep inside Olga.

She wasn’t jealous, not exactly. It wasn’t that she wanted to erase Jenni’s role in your life. It was the fear that no matter how much time passed, no matter how much love she gave, no matter how fiercely she protected you, she would always be playing catch up to the people who had come before her.

Jenni had been there for your firsts. Your first bike ride, your first professional match, your first real football lessons. She had guided you, shaped you, made you into the player, and person, you were now. And Olga? She had come in when you were already a teenager, already formed, already carrying years of love for people who had been there long before she was.

Would you ever look at her the way you looked at Jenni? Would you ever talk about her like that, with that same effortless fondness, that same unshakable attachment? Or would she always be the afterthought, the one who came later, the one who did the daily work of being your mother but never quite felt like she had earned the title?

She tried to shake the thoughts away, but they stuck, clinging to her like wet clothes. The café was warm, but suddenly, she felt cold.

The room was dark except for the dim glow of the bathroom light spilling in through the cracked door. The sound of running water filled the silence, Alexia still in the shower. You padded in quietly, rubbing your tired eyes, ready to burrow under the blankets and curl up against Olga like you did every night. But as you climbed onto the bed, something felt… off.

Olga was facing away from you, curled into herself, her shoulders rising and falling in uneven breaths. The second you got closer, you heard it— a soft sniff, barely audible, but enough to make your chest tighten.

“Olga?” you murmured, shifting closer, pressing against her back. “What’s wrong?”

She stiffened, wiping at her face quickly. “Nothing, nena. Just tired.”

Liar. You frowned, resting your chin on her shoulder. “You’re sniffling.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Allergies.”

You huffed. “You don’t have allergies.”

She didn’t say anything, just reached for your hand and squeezed it, like that would be enough to convince you she was fine. But you weren’t convinced. You could feel the sadness radiating off her, pressing into the space between you.

You lay there for a moment, racking your brain. What could’ve happened? She’d been fine earlier at the café. Or at least, she’d seemed fine. Maybe something happened after? You were deep in thought when you caught movement from the bathroom door.

Alexia had stepped out, her hair damp, her towel wrapped around her as she glanced at Olga and then at you. The moment you made eye contact, she raised her brows and nodded toward Olga, then dramatically mimicked wiping away tears.

You squinted at her. She nodded toward the door, signaling that she was leaving you to it, but not before she started her silent charades. She made a small motion, pointing at herself, then at Olga, then at you. Then she held up one finger. First? No. She repeated the movement, then mimed kicking a ball, then pointed at you again. Your brain worked through it. First. Football. You. It was about Jenni. Everything clicked at once, the way Olga had gone quiet while you were talking to Jenni, the way she lingered at the edge of the conversation instead of joining in. She was feeling insecure.

Alexia gave you a knowing look before slipping back into the bathroom, leaving you alone with Olga.

You exhaled softly, tightening your grip on her waist as you pressed your forehead against her shoulder. “Is this about Jenni?”

Olga’s breath hitched for a second before she let out a small laugh, watery and tired. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

You didn’t respond, just curled further into her, letting the silence settle before you spoke again. “Olga,” you started softly, “I need you to hear me, okay?”

She didn’t answer, but you could feel her breathing, steady but fragile, like she was waiting for you to say something that would make this ache in her chest go away.

You took a deep breath. “You are my mom.” You said it plainly, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “Jenni was there for me when I was a kid, yeah, and I’ll always love her for that, but that doesn’t take away from you. It never could.”

Olga stayed quiet, but you felt her relax just a little.

“You have been there for me in ways no one else has,” you continued. “You were there when I signed my first contract. You held my hand through that whole process because I was freaking out. You were there when I made my debut. You were the first person I looked for when I got subbed on. Do you know that?”

Olga swallowed. “Nena…”

“No, listen.” You sat up slightly, resting your weight on your elbow as you looked at her. “You were there the first time I got called up to the USWNT. You were there when I scored my first international goal, screaming like a crazy person in the stands. You were the one who stayed up with me when I had that awful stomach bug last year, even though you had training the next morning. You always carry snacks for me in your bag, you know exactly how I like my tea, you check in on me even when you’re halfway across the world.”

Olga wiped at her eyes, her lip trembling.

“You do all of that because you’re my mom, Mama.” Your voice softened. “You are the one who made me feel safe, who made me feel like I had a home, who made me believe that being loved wasn’t something I had to fight for.”

She let out a quiet sob, turning in your arms to pull you against her. You felt the dampness of her tears against your shirt as she buried her face in your shoulder, and you held her as tightly as she held you.

“I love you,” you whispered. “So much. I don’t care how many people were there before you, you are my mom. No one could ever replace you.”

Olga squeezed you impossibly tighter. “I love you too, mi niña.”

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, until the sound of Alexia clearing her throat from the bathroom doorway made you both look up.

“If you’re done making me cry from the other side of the door,” she said, voice thick with emotion, “can I get in on this cuddle session?”

You laughed, tugging Olga down with you as Alexia climbed into bed, wrapping an arm around both of you. And as you lay there, safe in the warmth of your family, you felt ii, Olga’s steady heartbeat beneath your palm, the rise and fall of her breath, the silent, unspoken promise that she was yours and you were hers, and that would never change.

[romandabirsayfa]

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[waayoutofline]

Avoiding every mistletoe (Until I know It’s true love)

Marvel Masterlist

PROMPTS: Shy Natasha Romanoff and Lab Assitant!Reader

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, awkward and clumsy Nat, Tony's lab asistant reader, christmas fun! ( posting this during actual christmas), meddeling avengers, a sprinkle of hurt/comfort.

Summary —> Ever since Natasha met you, Tony's new brilliant assistant, she has been down bad. But her sudden lack of confidence around you banishes every hope for her to make a move. Christmas is around the corner, and the team knows about your superstitious nature. There seems to be a clear answer: Mistletoes.

WC: 5473

Warnings: Descriptions of making out, but not explicit sexual content.

***

November was in full swing at the Avengers Tower, which meant sophisticated red, green, and gold decorations adorned every surface, Christmas songs played on an endless loop through the speakers, and the unmistakable aroma of gingerbread wafted (somehow) through the air.

As was classic Tony Stark fashion, a lineup of extravagant holiday parties had already been scheduled and meticulously planned for execution. Natasha Romanoff though was already dreading it.

Hoping to avoid any unnecessary interaction, she quietly sneaked into the communal kitchen, intent on grabbing a couple of waffles Wanda had made earlier. But as soon as she stepped in, she felt the weight of several pairs of eyes on her back.

“Ah, Miss Romanoff, there you are!” Tony’s voice rang out, cheerful and full of purpose. He was already decked out in one of his newest suits—sharp, festive, and annoyingly ostentatious.

Sighing, Natasha turned around, realizing it was too late to make a run for it. She was greeted by the sight of her team sprawled across the couches and armchairs in the lounge, each of them absorbed in their own activity, but now casually watching Tony’s sudden commotion with mild interest.

“Morning,” Natasha grunted, reluctantly moving to join them, plate in hand.

“Just the person I was looking for!” Tony said, flashing a shit-eating grin as he patted the empty space beside him on the couch.

Instead of humoring him, Natasha settled herself on the fluffy rug in front of the coffee table, placing her plate down without a word.

“You are officially invited to the pre-Christmas party hosted by moi,” Tony declared dramatically.

“Tony, you literally held us hostage at one last week. I still have a hangover,” she deadpanned, recalling flashes of the chaos where even she had gone overboard with the alcohol, thanks to Sam Wilson’s stupid drinking games.

“Oh, come on! This one’s different. It’s intimate—just for us heroes and co,” Tony countered, undeterred. Then, leaning back smugly, he added, “I even got the space lady to come. How awesome is that?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Oh don’t be boring. Where’s the wild Natasha Romanoff we all love?” Tony teased, grinning as if to provoke her.

“Easy. She doesn’t exist,” Natasha replied flatly, cutting into her first waffle. She let out a satisfied hum at the sweet taste.

“These are amazing, Wanda,” she said, looking over at the young witch.

Wanda, sitting comfortably on a loveseat, smiled warmly at the compliment. “Thanks, Nat.”

“Is it a new recipe?” Natasha asked, curious.

“Yes, actually. I added a bit of cinnamon and—”

“Okay, okay!” Tony interrupted, baffled by the lack of attention he was receiving, looking bewildered between them two. “Let’s get back to the main thing here. Are you coming?”

At Natasha’s reluctant silence, Steve stepped in with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Natasha. I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior.”

“Ugh, boring—” Tony groaned, dragging the word out in sing-song. But under Steve’s hardened stare, he sighed in defeat. “Fine. It’ll be a cozy hangout. No traces of fun or whatever,” he relented, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Taking another bite of her waffles, she carfulkly took a sip of her coffe, trying to hide her smirk as she sees Tony waiting in anticipation fo her response. “Fine.”

Tony threw a punch onto the air, clapping in victory. “Carol is coming you said?”

He nodded proudly. “Yeah I managed to rope her and her little sidekick in. There is also the kid, Clint and his family…”

”Dont forget Strange.” Bruce, who just entered the living room reminded. Tony grumbled a bit at that. 

“Yeah, Houdini too. Scary lady and Patch eye…god were those hard to convince— Oh and my lab assistant too.” Nathasa choked at that.

”Assistant? She practically takes over your lab.” Bruce chuckled. 

Tony rolled his eyes, but there was no hint of malice. If anything, a spark of pride made his eyes a bit brighter. “Yeah well, I taught her well. Did you knowl that last week she-“

 Nathan’s brain disconnected at a scary speed after those words. Images of you hit her hard, and she could already start to feel her heart race a bit. 

Y/N Y/L/N was Tony Stark’s most recent lab and tech assistant, and to say he was impressed would be an understatement. After reviewing your résumé, Tony had practically declared you a godsend. You were one of the rare people who could keep up with his eccentricities, effortlessly managing the stream of tasks he threw your way. It didn’t take long for you to earn a permanent spot at the Avengers Tower.

Natasha remembered the first time she saw you as if it were yesterday. She had been on her way to ask Tony for a replacement for her gauntlets after a particularly rough mission. When she stepped into the lab, though, she was surprised to find someone else hunched over the workbench.

Frowning, Natasha set her hand on the fingerprint scanner, the door sliding open with a soft whoosh. At the sound, the stranger turned around, and Natasha froze in place.

For her, the world seemed to stop spinning, settling into an almost unnatural silence. You were… ethereal. 

In her life, Natasha had faced aliens, wizards, and even sentient robots. So how far-fetched was it to assume she was now standing face to face with an angel?

Even though you didn’t know her, a gentle smile settled on your lips, your gorgeous eyes peering at her with almost childlike curiosity. Natasha stood there, frozen in place, unable to move. It wasn’t until something shifted in the silence that she remembered to breathe again.

Startled, she realized she hadn’t moved from the doorway. The door had automatically closed where she stood, trapping her. Embarrassed, she quickly stepped forward, pushing herself to snap out of it.

And, of course, she had to stumble. The gauntlets she was holding slipped from her grip and fell to the floor with an unforgivable thud. Cringing, she immediately knelt down to retrieve them. What she didn't expect was for you to do the same, even if your movement were more calm. 

She flustered when she dared to look up, finding your own awaiting gaze. “Well, if they weren't broken before, they sure are now.” You joked with a smile, tone teasing but not judging. 

Blinking, Natasha started sputtering, not really knowing what to say. Or how. “Yes.” 

“Yes” is what her stupid brain decided to go for. Even thinking about it even now, her face scrunch with self embarrassment. What was even happening? Taking a breath, she redirected her eyes to the ground. Right, the gauntlets. They are broken. Need them fixed.

Finally standing up, she forced her body not to fidget. As if sensing this, you offered a hand to her. “Y/N Y/L/N, Mr.Starks new hire here in the lab.” 

Tentatively, she accepted the shake. Her mind hanging on how your hand seemed to fit into hers. “Natasha Romanoff. Um, avenger.” 

God what’s wrong with her? You giggle at that, and the sound is enough to get her out of her head. Of course that the sound is also beautiful. Was there anything about you that wasn’t? Why is she even think that?

 “I know. Pleasure to meet you, Ms.Romanoff. So…may I help you with those?” You ask, your hand still being held by hers. Noticing this, Natasha removed her grip as if you were burning. 

“Please.” She ended up saying, utterly embarrassed by her behaviour. Still, you gave no sense of judgment, only nodding and taking her over the workbench. 

She stayed with you all that evening. And most of the next ones after that. 

***

Her infatuation with you only seemed to grow since that first meeting, and the others quickly picked up on it. They saw it in the way Natasha—the most grounded person they knew—started sputtering and flustering whenever she talked to you. The unshakable confidence she was known for seemed to melt under the warmth of your sunshine smile and the twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

And as much as they insisted for her to make an actual move, Natasha refused. 

“Uh-oh, I know that look.” Wanda sang, like a high school girl teasing her friend in high school when they listened the name of their crush. Rolling her eyes, Natasha scoffed.

”There is no look.”

”Oh, but there is.” Clint, who was watching Sam and a struggling Bucky play Mortal Combat added, not even looking away from the screen. “Your pupils practically shape into hearts— likes a lovesick puppy. It’s almost painful to watch.

”Shut it Barton.” 

You were too good for her, Natasha decided on her own. You were like the sun, kind and warm, gentle in a way that it was entirely selfless. Natasha's life was one of dangers and precautions, she didn’t want to expose you to any of the threats that surrounded her lifestyle. 

Even if she ached to be close to you, call you her own. 

“Now it’s the time to make a move. Who knows? Maybe you will find each other under the mistletoe.” He adds with a wink.

Tony hummed. “Hm, that’s actually a good idea.” 

Her head whipped toward him. “Don’t even think about it, Stark. Besides, that’s a stupid tradition. How do you even know that Y/N would willingly kiss someone just because a stupid parasitic plant is above her?”

They all laughed at that.

“Our Y/N? Please. She practically had a mental breakdown when I broke a mirror in the lab the other day,” Tony quipped, grinning.

Wanda nodded in agreement, casually flipping through the pages of her book. “Yeah, once she made me search the entire tower for something made of wood to touch, just so I wouldn’t jinx the next mission after I mentioned a hypothetical worst-case scenario. Still don’t get that one.”

Natasha’s face went pale at that, remembering a conversation she’d once had with you. You had mentioned that, while you didn’t fully believe in superstitions yourself, your family did, and it had resulted in some strange and unshakable habits for you. “Better safe than sorry,” you had said with a shrug.

A cold sweat made her tremble slightly, worsening by all of a sudden interested and sneaky grins on her friends faces. 

Whatever, she still can not go.

***

She still had to go.

When you confirmed your attendance, you clapped excitedly, rambling about how fun it would be to spend your first Christmas together. You even brought it up when she bought you lunch—a frequent occurrence, since you often got so engrossed in your work that you forgot to eat. Natasha would be lying if she said your words didn’t tug relentlessly at her heart.

And so, there she was, surrounded by the thrumming chaos of an all-together gathering, overwhelming decorations, and overly festive arrangements at every turn. Anxiety prickled at her as she glanced toward the newly decorated attic. They couldn’t possibly have infested the entire place with mistletoe, right?

Wrong.

They were everywhere.

On every doorway, on the stairs, in the high columns and ceilings, even on top of the Christmas tree, scattered around—everywhere she looked, there it was. Mistletoe.

Trying to shake it off, Natasha focused her attention on the ground, her sharp gaze scanning for the culprit behind this festive ambush.

“Tony!” she half-yelled, her steps quick and deliberate as she marched toward the eccentric billionaire, who was in the middle of a conversation with Pepper.

His head whipped toward her, a flicker of fear flashing across his face before his usual smug smirk returned.

“Care to explain?” she demanded.

“Explain what, exactly? My fantastical abilities to host, or…?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement.

She glared furiously. “Aw, c’mon, don’t look so grumpy, Grinch! This is a time of tradition, joy—”

“And manipulation?” she interrupted through gritted teeth. “This is way too much.”

Despite her glare and the unmistakable edge in her voice, Tony remained unfazed. If anything, his amusement only grew. He glanced over her shoulder, his expression brightening as he perked up.

“Well, complaints are non-refundable. Sorry, it’s the new policy. If you’ll excuse me, Pepper needs me to sign some super high-confidence document, right, dear?”

Pepper frowned. “What are you talking ab—”

Before she could finish, Tony gently grabbed her hand and began steering her away, the two trailing off into the crowd.

Natasha was about to follow and press him further, but a voice behind her made her freeze.

“Nat, hey!”

She turned around, and suddenly, everything seemed to slow down for her. There you were, wearing a comfy red sweater, black jeans, and a pair of Mary Janes. Your hair, usually tied back for work, was flowing freely, framing your face. It was a simple, casual look, but Natasha felt her face heat up at the sight of you.

As you got closer, alarm bells blared in her mind. Her eyes darted upward, and her stomach dropped. One of those dreaded mistletoe clusters hung right above where you were heading.

Panicking, she practically sprinted toward you, desperate to avoid both of you standing under it. But she miscalculated her speed, and before she knew it, she was barrelling straight into you.

You let out a startled huff as her momentum almost knocked you over, but her quick reflexes kicked in, and she steadied you before you could stumble.

“Geez, Romanoff,” you joked, brushing yourself off as you smiled up at her. “We just saw each other this morning. Did you miss me that much?”

Your teasing tone and warm voice snapped her out of her panic, but the damage was done. Natasha’s heart was hammering in her chest, her senses overloaded as she became acutely aware of how close you were. The soft warmth of your body pressed lightly against hers, the delicate scent of cocoa beans, coconut, and something distinctly you filling the air around her.

Her cheeks burned as her mind scrambled for something—anything—to say as she looked down at you, mortified. Luckily for her, your attention diverged when someone from the staff (who even brings staff in closed up parties?) bough a chocolate fountain in a rolling chair. “No. Way.— I thought he was kidding!” 

And just like that you went off excitedly, a silhouette of dust being the only trace of you left. Sighing, Natasha brought her hand to her racing heart, trying to figure out a way to survive this evening. 

Her eyes opened again in determination, she was going to take off these damned things, starting with the one right on top of her. 

***

This task, however, grew increasingly difficult as the evening wore on. Between being roped into endless conversations, you constantly looking out for her (and her desperately trying to avoid you), and the absurd number of mistletoes everywhere, Natasha felt like she was fighting a losing battle. It was as if they were multiplying before her very eyes.

Her frustration peaked during a particularly embarrassing moment—one where, of course, you were the witness.

After listening to Peter and Kamala endlessly gossip about high school drama, Natasha had collapsed onto the sofa, her patience hanging by a thread. As her gaze wandered across the room, her eyes landed on the ceiling—and there it was. Another  mistletoe. This one was perched slightly higher than the others, hanging right above the beanbag chair where you often sat. Of course.

Those strategic bastards.

Taking advantage of everyone being distracted in the kitchen, she sprang into action. With no ladder in sight, she grabbed a nearby chair and carefully climbed onto it. Still too short to reach, she braced herself against the shelves, stretching precariously as she balanced. Every slight wobble of the chair made her heart lurch, but she pressed on, determined to remove the offending decoration before anyone noticed.

But of course, that was the moment you walked in, calling for her.

“Nat? Aren’t you hungry? I saved you some of those little pies you like so much—”

Your voice startled her, and she immediately looks down at you. Her grip slipped briefly, the chair wobbling dangerously beneath her.

“Y/N! Shit—” she hissed, her heart leaping into her throat. Scrambling to steady herself, she clung to the edge of the shelf and managed to avoid completely losing her balance. She froze, her cheeks heating as she realized you were staring at her, bewildered.

“What… are you doing?” you asked, the corners of your lips quirking up in confusion and slight amusement.

Blushing furiously, Natasha’s mind scrambled for a reasonable explanation. “Um… I was just… looking for Clint? You know how much he loves to hide up here.” she said with a nervous laugh, trying to sound nonchalant.

Before you could respond, someone brushed past you, momentarily breaking the tension.

It was Clint, holding a bottle of rosé wine, with the kids trailing behind him. “No alcohol until you’re 21,” he announced, his tone firm but playful.

“But I am 22!” Kate argued.

Clint snorted. “Sure you are.”

As they disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your attention back to Natasha. Arching an eyebrow, you crossed your arms, your curiosity clearly not satisfied.

“Oh, great! There he is!” Natasha blurted, clinging to her flimsy excuse. She waved awkwardly in Clint’s general direction, desperate to change the subject. “Let me just—”

But as she began stepping down, her foot slipped on the edge of the chair. She let out a startled gasp as she lost her footing entirely.

”Oh my- Natasha!”

***

She even tried to gain support in enemy territory.

“Steve!” she called out. The man looked over at her and clearly tried to sneak off, but it was too late. “Just how many are there?” she asked, her desperation evident. So far, she’d removed eight mistletoes and had endured three risky situations where she’d practically had to run away from you.

“Of what?” Steve replied, taking a sip of his drink, feigning ignorance.

Natasha huffed, crossing her arms. “Please, let’s skip the act. I know you also took part in this.”

Steve remained silent, his expression unreadable but gullible. Natasha sighed in exasperation. “Come on, Steve, you’re the most reasonable one out of all of them. Just tell me where the rest of the mistletoes are!”

She could see the guilt on his face—he was clearly uncomfortable. Steve Rogers wasn’t a man who lied easily. As he opened his mouth, clearly about to crack, Sam and Wanda swooped in.

“What are we talking about?” Sam asked with a goofy smile, casually draping his arm around Steve’s shoulders as if shielding him from her interrogation.

Natasha’s left eye twitched. “You know exactly what, Wilson.”

“Hmm, do I?” Sam teased, his grin widening.

Natasha ignored him, focusing on her second-best shot, since it was clear Steve wouldn’t be of much use now.

“Wanda,” she said, turning to the witch, “how many mistletoes are there?”

Wanda shrugged, playing innocent.

“If you tell me…,” Natasha added, her voice turning sly, “I’ll lend you those boots of mine you like so much.”

Wanda hesitated at that, her composure faltering slightly. “… The ones with the metal buckles?”

“The ones with the metal buckles.”

Wanda’s eyes glinted with temptation as she weighed her options. But after a brief internal debate, she furrowed her brow and firmly shook her head and crossed her arms. “No. We’re doing this for your own good, Natasha.”

Natasha laughed forcefully, her expression taut with frustration. “For my own good? I’m losing my sanity over here, Wands.” Her tone was sharp, but her forced smile remained plastered on her face.

Just then, a voice cut through the air, making Natasha freeze.

“Have you guys seen Natasha? I swear I just keep losing track of her today,” you said, your voice light-hearted as you spoke to Bruce and Tony.

The group perked up at your words, and Natasha’s head snapped toward the sound of your voice. There you were, standing across the room, looking as radiant as ever as you chatted with the two men.

As Tony and Bruce were about to point in her direction, Natasha didn’t waste another second—she quickly ducked behind the rolling chocolate fountain cart, slipping out of sight just in the nick of time.

***

It all came down to the climax of the party. Most of the children were asleep by now, and only the closest circle remained. Natasha was exhausted but relieved. She had finally managed to get rid of all the mistletoes, even if, in doing so, she had humiliated herself in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

Now, she could finally relax and hang out with you. Or at least, that’s what she thought. A wolf whistle and cheers erupted from her friends, who had formed a circle outside on the terrace. Curious, she approached, only to regret it immediately as she was squashed between Steve and Bucky.

Her face went pale as she saw the final mistletoe, hanging right above you and a smug Carol Danvers. In her frantic pursuit of avoiding standing under a mistletoe with you, someone else had managed to get there before her. This outcome was far worse, and dread filled her as she watched the scene unfold.

She couldn’t stand it. The way Carol got closer with bravado and you, with a smile (it was more polite and friendly than anything, but at that moment she didn’t see it like that), made her heart drop.

The world once again slowed down, but this time it was for her and you. And she just couldn’t stand it. Shattering the slow-motion moment, her mouth and body moved faster than her mind.

“Wait! You’re supposed to kiss under the mistletoe, not near it! I mean—look at that angle, it’s tilted and all wrong. Besides, is it me or are the leaves…wait, let me just scoot over here—” she muttered, pushing her way through the onlookers to get to the mistletoe. Everyone went quiet in surprise as she reached it and caressed the leaves. You just stared at her, but she seemed to pay no mind. “Ah, as I thought! These leaves are all dried. How about we replace it? Here, I know where we can find a suitable one. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

Without thinking, she took your hand and practically dragged you away, turning back toward the group. “We’ll be right back.”

Everyone remained quiet as they watched the two of you disappear.

***

“Here, let me just…” Natasha started, trying to find her card in her pockets. “Where did I—ah, here.”

With quick motions, she attempted to swipe the card to unlock her room. You stood behind her, watching her increasingly desperate attempts to open the door.

“Nat…” you started softly.

Chuckling awkwardly, she waited for the green light, but it still wasn’t processing for some reason. “These are so annoying. I keep insisting to Tony that he should just put in a code, but he doesn’t listen—”

“Nat.”

“Typical of him, I know. Let’s try again.” Waiting for the red light to turn off, she swiped again, and this time the light turned green. “There, finally.”

You tried calling her again, but she interrupted. “Sorry for the wait. There are some left in my room, let’s just pick one and…” She said, turning the handle and opening the door, knowing that all the stolen mistletoes were in the corner.

“Natasha!” You finally yelled, making her turn around with wild eyes. Uh oh, you almost  called her Natasha.

Your face held no negative feelings, only the patience you were known for. “Nat.” Slowly, you grabbed her trembling hand and got a bit closer. Your worry made her squirm.

“What’s going on?” you started softly, as if trying not to scare her. The consideration and gentleness in your voice made her almost burst into tears. “You’ve been behaving… strange this entire party. Running around all over the place… avoiding me.” You whispered the last words, clearly pained, and her heart shattered.

The last thing she wanted was to make you feel bad. “Did I do something wrong?”

Your question was so raw, your expression vulnerable, and Natasha wanted nothing more than to wrap you in her arms, kiss you gently, and reassure you that you didn’t—couldn’t—do anything to upset her. But she couldn’t, and the knowledge of it broke a little bit more.

“No, no, of course not. It’s just—” She started, her words getting stuck in her throat, unsure of how to put them together. “The others decided to put the place swarming with mistletoes.”

You looked at her in confusion. “Okay…why?”

Refusing eye contact, Natasha took a deep breath, her heart pounding so loudly that she thought you could hear it. Without dropping your hand, she stepped a little closer, her legs slightly trembling. She figured the best thing to do was to just say it and get it over with. She had already been making a fool of herself the entire day. But saying it was harder than she thought it would be. The fear of rejection was suffocating her.

“Because…” Finally daring to look at you, her neck reddening all up to the point of her ears, being suddenly conscious of the warmth radiating. “Because they know how serious you are about superstitions. And that if we got caught under one, then I… then I would finally dare to kiss you.”

The admission came as a whisper, shame and embarrassment hitting her like never before. It was as if she was going to combust from the inside. A pause hung between the two of you, each second of it feeling like a stab straight to her chest.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine losing you. You had become so close this year, and to think that just a couple of silly words could ruin everything was killing her. Her eyes closed tightly, waiting for the worst—a rejection, disgust, or just pity. Any of these would shatter her.

But it never came. Instead, she felt warmth—a gentle caress on her cheek, you softly urging her to open her eyes and look at you. Your face was far from the rejecting one that Natasha’s brain had conjured. Instead, it was a reassuring one, with a bright smile like the one you first gave her the day you met, your eyes soft and bright under the lights.

She blinked, as if the soft touch had pulled her back from her darkest places. Her heart seemed to stop, no longer beating out of fear but for hope. Because as she studied you, she saw nothing but kindness and happiness.

“You… you’re not upset?” she asked, as if it were too good to be true.

Your smile widened, laughing softly under your breath at her surprise. “Nat, how could I ever be upset? I—” This time it was you who searched for the right words, your cheeks flushed with a lovely rosy color that Natasha couldn’t help but find fascinating. “How could I, when I’ve been waiting for you to do this for quite some time?”

Your admission hung in the air, like a symphony. Natasha could feel the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. “You have?”

“Of course I have.” You confessed, as if the question were ridiculous to even ask. “You’ve been everything my heart has been yearning for, Natasha.”

Natasha sure wasn’t a poet, but right now she was seeing the world as one. The way in which your words embraced her, your slightly dilated eyes looking at her as if she was the only one on your mind.

Was this what the others saw? The look she has been too oblivious to see?

She wanted to hit her head in frustration, all the time wasted because of her doubts. But she was free of them now, having you as her savior.

Getting closer, she dared to pull you closer by your waist, marveling at how it felt in tandem with her movements, as if you two had done this a thousand times before, in different lives, before this one.

“So… you’re telling me I made that champagne pyramid fall all over Fury for nothing?” she asked, as if it were a secret.

You laughed loudly at that, remembering the moment when Natasha stumbled all over the table later on in the evening. Everything seemed to make sense now.

“You know…” you started, the laughter dying down as you softly tucked a piece of Natasha’s hair behind her ear, your touch lingering on her jaw. “For someone so intelligent and charismatic, you sure are clumsy at times.”

Natasha huffed, rolling her eyes with an affectionate smile. “Only because you…” she started, but caught herself, her eyes slightly widening.

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Only because of that? Do I make you nervous, Romanoff?” You grinned, adoring the way she seemed lost for words.

Sputtering, she tried to defend herself, but someone beat her to it.

“Very much so!” Tony yelled.

Your eyes snapped toward him, only to see the team huddled up behind the corner.

You snickered, Natasha flustered. “What are you…? Go away!” She hesitated.

Tony smirked. “Not so fast, Romanoff! You have to kiss.”

Confused, she followed his hand motion, only to see a mistletoe floating with surrounding red magic.

“Damn it, Wanda…” she muttered, but you just laughed at your friend’s antics, hiding your face in her shoulder.

Natasha’s attention shifted back to you, her smile filled with adoration. Finally, you peered up at her.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to…” she started shyly, not wanting to pressure you into doing anything. But you only got closer to her.

“I don’t know, I think you do owe me a kiss,” you replied with a grin. “You know, to balance the universe.”

“Yeah…” she muttered, eyes lowering. “To balance the universe.” She reaffirmed, leaning down. But before her lips touched yours, she gripped you and dragged you both into her room, slamming the door shut. She ignored the muffled complaints heard from the hallway as she pinned you against it, wanting to have you all to herself.

Connecting her eyes with yours, she searched for any trace of doubt, but found nothing but darkened irises. Hesitation left her once and for all as she leaned in, her lips meeting yours. She sighed, and everything else seemed to fade into the distance.

The kiss was slow at first, gentle and tentative, giving you both time to discover each other. But the passion, held back for so long by insecurities and “what ifs,” broke free like a dam, intensifying everything tenfold. Her hand gripped your waist slightly harder, while one of your hands trailed up to her hair, tugging it just enough to make her shudder. Urgently, she pulled you even closer, as if afraid you might disappear.

Her breath quickened as she felt your body pressed against hers. The kiss deepened, turning frantic with all the pent-up desire. Suddenly, you tugged at her bottom lip, almost provocatively, as you looked up at her through your eyelashes. Natasha groaned, her heart racing. It was like seeing a whole new side of you, and she just couldn’t get enough.

Licking into your mouth, she hummed as your knees seemed to buckle, holding your hips to make sure you didn't fall.  No, you weren’t going anywhere. Not when she finally had you in her arms.

You could feel the tension in her body as you traced her shoulders and back, her muscles tensing with every movement. It was as if she couldn’t get enough of you, kissing you—consuming you with everything she had.

It left you breathless. If anything, air became the only obstacle, the only force capable of separating you. Both gasping for breath, you didn’t dare to say anything for a moment, just taking in the overwhelming sensation of being so close, so lost in each other. 

“You know, technically…” you started slowly, a playful smirk on your lips. “Technically, you interrupted my kiss with Carol before.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, her grip on you tightened, a small growl escaping her at the thought of anyone else getting the chance to do what you had just done. But you quickly calmed her, softly cupping the side of her face. “So, you owe me another kiss.”

She looked at you with darkened eyes, a mix of desire and challenge in her gaze. “I guess you’re right… We wouldn’t want to have bad luck.”

“Of course not,” you repeated, your lips brushing against hers as you gently guided her closer. “You know how superstitious I am.”

“Yes, I do,” she whispered, a teasing smile crossing her face as she closed the distance.

[benevolentbones]

Haiii idk how to word this but basically season 10 spencer reid seeing reader in a backless dress nd hes all flustered but also really attracted to her ? idk if i worded this right sorryy

green dress | spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mention of scar, uncomfortable body image! fem reader

word count: 1.5k

a/n: thank you for your request!! i hope you enjoy this<3 requests still open, im getting through them! reblogs n comments always appreciated <3

you’ve always been insecure about how you looked in dresses, especially backless ones.

a year or so ago when you were out on the field, an unsub had managed to corner you and stabbed you in the back resulting in a scar a few inches long that rested between your shoulder blades.

even before the incident you weren’t keen on showing off much skin, but now the scar made you even more self-conscious.

you often found yourself shying away from outfits that revealed too much, particularly those that might expose the mark left behind from that encounter.

the fear of judgment and the constant reminder of that day made it difficult for you to feel confident in anything but the most modest clothing, so when you went out dress shopping, and penelope pulled out a backless dress she could immediately sense your discomfort.

you were out with penelope and emily, using your very rare day off to go dress shopping for agent rossi’s annual ball he liked to host in his mansion.

a frown graced your features as penelope held up a simple dark green satin dress with a plunged neckline and, of course, it was backless.

emily noticed your frown, turning around in one of the many dresses she had tried on in the last hour. this one was by far the nicest, it hugged her nicely and the shade of red complimented her striking features.

“c’mon y/n, you’ll look so good.” emily hummed, smoothing down the dress on her form as she looked in the mirror.

“i- i don’t know guys- you know that’s not really my style.”

“oh but it could be- just try it on please!” penelope practically begged, shoving the soft fabric into your arms. despite your dislike for showing off your body, you knew this would make the girls happy so you obliged, stepping into the changing room and drawing the curtain closed.

penelope and emily waited anxiously for your return, still adorned in the dresses they were also trying on. penelope opted for a bright pink number, with many layers of tulle, very much her style.

you slid the curtain back, taking a step out and shuffling awkwardly towards the mirror where the girls sat. their expressions ranged from shock to excitement, penelope had a huge grin on her red stained lips.

“you look perfect!” she squealed out, adjusting her thick framed glasses to get a better look at you.

emily nodded in agreement, her dark eyes scanning how the dress hugged your form. “wow..you’ll be the prettiest at the party.” she chuckled.

you stood in front of the mirrors, turning slightly so you could get a look at how the dress sat on you. you had to admit, it suited your figure well, accentuating your curves. you turned to see the back of the dress, it cut rather low, stopping just before the small of your back.

your eyes flickered up to the scar on your back, you instinctively rolled your shoulder blades back. “i- i don’t know…” you mumbled out under your breath.

penelope shook her head. “you look amazing- you have to get it.”

still uncertain you sighed, “i feel so exposed- im not used to this.”

emily glanced towards penelope, a smirk turning up on her lips before she spoke. “that’s spencer’s favourite colour you know..” she muttered out half casually.

instantly you could feel a rush of warmth spread to your cheeks, the thought of spencer seeing you at the party in a dress like this made you nervous. you shot emily a fake glare which she returned with a knowing smile.

“so….yes to the dress?” penelope quizzed, eyes wide as she waited for your answer. you paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“fine..”

~

it was the night of the party. guests were arriving, music was blaring, derek and spencer were standing near the punch bowl.

as you walked in, you could feel the buzz of excitement in the air. the soft fabric of the dress clung to your skin, making you more aware of every movement you made. emily and penelope flanked you, their presence giving you a bit of courage.

you scanned the room, heart pounding, until your eyes landed on spencer. he was deep in conversation with derek, but as if sensing your gaze, he turned. his eyes widened slightly when he saw you, and a small, appreciative smile played on his lips.

spencer’s figure adorned a deep green suit, complimented with a black shirt and tie, the colour a few shades darker than the dress you were wearing. your eyes flickered away, as you whispered to penelope.

“did you know-“ she cut you off with a small smirk. a breath escaped your lips as you drew closer to the two men, emily and penelope not leaving your sides incase you decided to make a dash for it.

“wow you ladies look incredible.” morgan whistled lowly, penelope and emily as if on que, abandoned your side, linking arms with derek. “i’ll see you later lover boy.” morgan shot back to spencer as he lead the two women away from you.

spencer’s eyebrows furrowed at morgan’s comment, his gaze quickly fixing back on you.

spencer's eyes widened as they fell on you. his jaw dropped slightly, and a rosy hue crept up his neck to his cheeks. he fumbled for words, clearly flustered.

"y-you look... amazing," he finally managed to stammer out, his voice barely above a whisper.

you felt your own cheeks warm at his reaction, your heart fluttering. you took a step closer, your eyes meeting his, and you could see the genuine awe in his gaze.

"thank you, spencer" you replied softly, a shy smile playing on your lips. despite feeling so out of place and out of your comfort zone in the dress, the way spencer looked at you made you feel…confident.

he cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. "i mean, —you always look nice, but tonight... you look... stunning."

the sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. spencer, usually so composed and articulate, was completely gobsmacked, and it was all because of you.

his gaze shifted to the dress again, now noticing the low cut, how it showed off your back and the scar between your shoulder blades. he felt a surge of warmth rush to his cheeks, his breath practically getting caught in his throat.

"i, uh," he started, his eyes still locked on you, "i didn't expect... i mean, wow." he let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, soft brown locks falling over his face.

"it's just a dress…” you said, though you felt a thrill at his reaction.

"no," he shook his head, his gaze unwavering, "it's not just the dress. it's you. you're... breathtaking— you’ve always been breathtaking.”

his words left you momentarily speechless, the intensity of his gaze making you feel both exhilarated and shy. you took another bold step closer, your hands lightly brushing against his.

"spencer, i.." you began, but the words failed you. instead, you let your eyes speak for you, hoping he could see the effect he had on you.

he took a deep breath, his fingers trembling as they curled around yours. “—you’re- god.. you’ve always been so beautiful- and i should’ve said something earlier— told you sooner..”

your eyes widened as he spoke, the taller man taking a step closer to you, his hand resting at your waist, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin on the backless dress. your breath hitched slightly at his warm grasp.

“i— fuck.” he mumbled out, for once in his life spencer found himself unable to formulate a sentence, to describe how he felt about you. he had longed for you, for months, years even..and now he had the chance to just tell you.

your eyes flickered over his facial expression, the pale pink hue deepened as he brought his gaze back to meet yours. his dark eyes traveled down to your lips once more.

he wanted nothing more than to just kiss you right now, the way the light made your skin glow, how the dress wrapped around your body- the low cut back, it was all too much for him.

spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it was gentle at first, filled with the unspoken feelings you both had kept hidden for so long.

as the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of warmth and happiness, a feeling of rightness settling over you. his hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer, and you responded by wrapping your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the moment.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna

[pyeongstarr]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Nothing's Free — 박성화

˙⋆✮ pairing/s: dilf!seonghwa x fem!intern

˙⋆✮ in which: you are eternally grateful to your best friend's dad for giving you an internship, but just how grateful are you really?

˙⋆✮ genre/s: smut

˙⋆✮ warnings: unprotected sex, drunk sex, cnc, coercion, dubcon. choking, dacryphilia, creampie, spanking, hair pulling, bondage. power imbalance, reader got roofied (sorry). seonghwa is really persuasive and isn't taking 'no' for an answer. reader has always had a crush on hwa but you know...

˙⋆✮ word count: 4.5k

˙⋆✮ author's note: i know stuff like cnc isn't everyone's cup of tea and that's fine. read at your own discretion. xoxo. (this turned out a lot darker than i intended, sorry)

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| | beyoncé // all up in your mind

“Again, thanks a ton for hooking me up with this internship,” Murphy remarked while packing her laptop into her bag.

“No problem. You’re basically family, anything for you,” Sujin reassured her best friend.

As she walked towards the door, she turned to say, “Also, is the car necessary? I’m perfectly fine with taking the train.”

“You’re just gonna have to talk to my dad about it, sorry,” Sujin joked, waving ‘goodbye’ as the door closed and Murphy went on her merry way.

She was already behind on time as it was, after her alarm had failed to go off and wake her. Heels clinking against the marble floors as she speedwalked to the elevator, catching it just before the doors shut. As soon as the doors opened, she walked swiftly through the lobby and exited the building. Parked on the roadside right in front of the entrance, there was a black Mercedes sedan waiting, just for her. The chauffeur stood at attention with their hands behind their back. The main advantage of living in the inner city was the short commute between work and home. Although the chauffeur tried their best to weave through the traffic congestion, she still arrived 30 minutes later than usual.

As grateful as she was for the employment opportunity, what she abhored most was the environment. Or rather, how the environment reacted to her. Everybody knew everybody, but she knew almost nobody. Sentenced to exhile by those who fawned over the head honcho, simply because she was the favourite. While others had worked there for years on end, Murphy just came strutting in one day and given a seat at the boss’ desk. Accompanied him to every meeting, assisted with every project. She was basically his righthand woman, and the other ladies were not pleased, to say the least. It was the same routine all-around; she’d exit the elevator, walk chin-up into the office while the echo of her heels subdued the ambience, the others would gawk and scoff, and she’d beeline straight to her superior’s quarters.

The office was empty, no sign of the boss in sight. None of his belongings were there but the telephone rang incessantly, cutting through the austere silence. She jogged over to the desk, laid her bag and coat down on her side of the desk, and circled around to answer the phone. She sat down in the leather chair and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Park Real Estate, Murphy Isles speaking, how may I help you?” Her voice softly heralded.

“Good morning. This is Ingrid Maxwell of Kim Resorts, I was looking to get a meeting with Mr. Park today on behalf of Kim Hongjoong. Do you have any available openings?”

“Let me check how his schedule is looking,” She turned on the computer and located the planner. Her eyes browsed through the schedule, just one meeting after another.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Park has back-to-back meetings all day. I could pencil you in for after hours if it’s urgent?” She offered apologetically.

“That’s also fine, thank you. Mr. Kim would like to host the meeting on resort premises, if it’s not any trouble.”

“Noted, Mr. Park will be there at 17:30. Send my regards.”

As the phone call neared its end, Seonghwa came strutting in. A rush of heat washed over in waves on Murphy’s face and she suddenly felt her body warm up. She stood up and stepped aside, allowing Seonghwa to take his rightful place. With his hair slicked back, slivers of grey creeping in, and suit hugging his body just right, he was a silver fox in the making. A sight for the ages. The man had a perpetual grave look to him. Despite being old enough to father her, he admittedly had an allure that she couldn’t find in boys her age.

When Murphy and Sujin graduated from university a few months prior, Sujin swayed her father into hiring Murphy. Seonghwa was a successful entrepreneur, who headed a real estate empire, and having known Murphy since she was in high school, he was more than willing to give her the headstart that she was in dire need of. Even going as far as, not only hiring her a private car to take her everywhere she wanted to go, but also purchasing a condo in which she and his daughter could cohabitate. He wanted to make life simple for her.

“Kim Hongjoong’s assistant asked for a meeting today, said it was urgent. The meeting’s at 17:30.”

“Is that so?” He coaxed, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped together, holding Murphy’s gaze. “Must be important if he wants to meet after hours.”

Murphy settled down in the chair opposite Seonghwa. “Also, Mr. Park, is the private car really necessary? The train stations are within walking distance of the office and the condo.”

“Nonsense. If you’re going to work for me, it should reflect. Don’t worry about it,” A lazy grin tugged at his lips.

“I don’t know about that. The whole office already hates me for even sharing a desk with you,” She mindlessly grumbled as she set up her laptop, but her words didn’t miss him.

He leaned forward in his chair, eyebrows furrowed, “Who’s giving you trouble, Murphy?” He pried.

“No one, it’s nothing,” She feigned a smile and kept her eyes focussed on the screen.

[ . . . ]

Towards the end of business hours, while Murphy sat in her place, another intern, Wooyoung, leaned liberally against Seonghwa’s desk, facing her. In the past few minutes they had been talking, he’d managed to make her laugh and blush. The pair hit it off from the day Murphy set foot in the office months ago, but it was only a week back when Wooyoung had conjured up the courage to ask her out, to which Murphy enthusiastically agreed to entertain his suggestion.

“So, we’re still on for tonight, right?” Wooyoung hinted, and Murphy nodded. “Awesome, you’re gonna love this place, Murph. I’m telling you,” He held her chin between his fingers.

The door opened so soundlessly, that neither were aware until they heard Seonghwa’s weighted footsteps headed towards them. He caught sight of what had transpired, slightly annoyed that it was happening in the sanctity of his own space. Wooyoung scrambled to get on his feet, while Murphy remained resolute. Seonghwa loomed over the intern, eyes cold and stygian, and face void of expression.

“No fraternising during work hours, unless you want to serve a 1-hour notice,” He chastised. “You do that out there, not in my office, and certainly not on my desk.”

Wooyoung bowed his head in shame, “I’m sorry, Mr. Park. It won’t happen again,” he conceded before scurrying away, and out of the office.

“Wooyoung dropped off the market reports. Looks like your shares have gone up 2% in valuation,” She handed over the sheet of paper.

Seonghwa leaned against the desk, in the same spot formerly occupied by Wooyoung, as he surveyed the findings. “Slow but steady growth. Looks promising, what do you think?”

“I’d say this is your best investment thus far. Look,” She turned the laptop to him, “month-end projections, 35% in returns. Your shares will be worth millions by the end of the quarter.”

“I’m so glad that I listened to you on this one.”

“You’re welcome,” She chimed.

A cheek-to-cheek smile appeared on Seonghwa’s face. “Let’s go, don’t want to be late for that meeting.”

The two cleared the desk and packed away their belongings. Walking towards the door, she trailed right behind while he led the way. He opened the door and made way for her to step out. After locking, they fell into pace with one another as they walked side by side towards the exit. From wall to wall, eyes in the office followed them all the way to the elevator. With each set, she grew more anxious than usual. How she hoped the earth would just open up and swallow her. The chauffeur opened the doors for both of them, then drove to their intended destination. While Seonghwa spoke on the phone, Murphy sat with one leg crossed over the other, watching the buildings pass by in motion. Luckily, the Friday afternoon traffic had not begun yet. They arrived just in time, with only a few minutes to spare.

When they entered the premises, they were greeted by a concierge who led them through the building. They walked past a grand dining hall with grand chandeliers that hung from above, glass windows from floor to ceiling, and rustic décor, all of which caught Murphy’s eye. The look in her eyes did not pass him. Inside of the office, Seonghwa and Murphy were greeted by Kim Hongjoong, the head of the resort, and his secretary, Ingrid. They exchanged greetings, but right before the meeting began, Hongjoong whispered something into Ingrid’s ear, and she nodded.

Ingrid walked over to Murphy, “Let’s go get something to drink, shall we? Leave the gentlemen be,” she suggested.

She was hesitant to move from her spot but Seonghwa reassured her, giving her the green light. Ingrid and Murphy left the office, and took their places at an unoccupied table on the balcony. A waiter approached them, jotted down their orders in his notebook, and disappeared. He returned with a tray holding two beverages, and placed each one in front of the girls.

“So, what’s it like working for Mr. Park? Never seen him come to these meetings with anyone, other than himself,” Ingrid sipped on her drink.

“I like it. For the most part, the job’s easy and the pay is even better. Can’t say I’ve made friends though.”

“I’ve heard,” Murphy’s eyebrows furrowed with curiosity. “I have a friend who works at Park Real Estate, they talked about you once.”

“Oh God…”

“Nothing bad, don’t worry about it,” Ingrid chuckled lightly. “I get it, happened to me when I first started working for Hongjoong.”

“The stares… did they ever stop? The gossip?” A hint of desperation was laced in her question.

“No,” Ingrid refuted. “I just stopped caring. Realised that Hongjoong’s opinion was the only one that mattered. Can’t help that the boss loves me.”

The sky was soon void of any light by the time the meeting concluded. Ingrid and Murphy talked the time away, bonding over their shared experiences of being the boss’ favourite. One laughed, while the other would relay a story. They didn’t realise how fast the time had past them. On the other end of the passageway, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were just wrapping up their meeting. They stood by the door and talked a bit. Hongjoong reached into his pocket and brought out a key, which he handed over to Seonghwa. He looked at it, confused by the gesture.

“On the house,” Hongjoong urged, hinting at the intern at the other end of the passageway. “Ask Ingrid to throw in some party favours, in case you need them. And check the drawers.”

Seonghwa smirked, “Pleasure doing business with you, Kim.”

Hongjoong disappeared back into his office, as Seonghwa sauntered over to the balcony. Unbeknownst to her, Murphy was so engrossed in the conversation, she didn’t hear when Seonghwa called to her.

“Mr. Park…” Ingrid acknowledged the man who stood right beside Murphy.

“Ingrid, Hongjoong mentioned something about party favours?” Seonghwa briefly glanced at Murphy, Ingrid nodded with a slight grin on her face.

“It was nice meeting you, Murphy. I really hope we can do this again,” Ingrid said as she stood from her place.

Murphy stood up and circled around to hug Ingrid, “I’ll call you,” she affirmed.

The three exchanged goodbyes before Ingrid headed elsewhere, and Seonghwa accompanied Murphy towards the exit. They headed in the same direction they came in earlier, except now, He led them into the dining hall that she was doting over earlier on. She felt uneasy as she had to get home and prepare for her date with Wooyoung.

“Mr. Park, I need to get home. There’s somewhere that I really need to be.”

“Relax, Murphy. We won’t be long, 30 minutes, I promise.”

And 30 minutes it was. Only 30 minutes into their shared dinner, Murphy had already had a lot to drink, but not enough to get her drunk. Just buzzed. Buzzed enough to get her to loosen up. Enough to see Seonghwa as just a man, and not her best friend’s father. While they drank and talked the time away, he would briefly touch her intimately in passing. Their conversations were less rigid and formal, and more open and inviting.

“Earlier you mentioned being mistreated in the office, what’s wrong?”

At first she was hesitant, but eventually allowed herself to be honest. “Everyone basically... h-hates me because they think you’re playing favourites,” Her voice quaked and her breath shuddered, her head hung.

“You don’t really believe that, do you now?”

She sniffled and her back shuddered, the faint sound of her weeping landed on his ears. He held her chin between his fingers and cocked her head up, meeting her glossy, distressed eyes. His thumb brushed away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry,” She croaked. “I- I thought I could get past it and pretend it’s not happening. But I’m just having a hard time adjusting. I feel like a castaway and I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”

“I believe you, but you know, it’s only natural that I favour you. I’ve known you the longest.”

When she noticed how inappropriate the entire interaction had become, she wiped her tears. “Oh God...” She whispered, gulping down the rest of her wine. “I- I need to go, I’m meeting somebody.”

As she stood up from her place, her head suddenly felt light. She held onto the table, and as she was about to stand again, her muscles became languid, causing her to lose balance. Seonghwa was quick to catch her around the waist. She tried speaking, but her words were jumbled. Her breathing was laboured, and the whole room suddenly felt like it was lacking in ventilation. He took her belongings and led her to a room, using the key acquired earlier on and unlocked the door.

He laid her down gently on the bed. His eyes watched with a raging hunger as he undressed his upper body, removing the tie, jacket, and shirt. He crawled onto the bed and hovered over her semi-conscious body. His lips found her neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses, nibbling at her skin. His hand fiddled with the front zipper of her dress, slowly dragging it down to reveal her matching set of underwear.

“Mr. Park... w-what are you doing? I...” She gulped as her words lazily hung in the air. “I don’t feel so good...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of you,” He promised between kisses. “You’ll feel better in no time...”

He continued to kiss her neck and bare chest, whilst his hands caressed her thighs with desperation. Roaming everywhere from her breasts, to her ass. He loved the feeling of her skin in his hands. The contact was everything. The scent of her perfume created a bubble of sophism, fooling him into believing that they were fated to be.

“You asked for this, Murphy. Those skimpy little dresses you wear and always putting your boobs in my face. You were just begging for me to give it to you,” He growled into her ears, sending a wave of fear coursing through her body.

He posited himself between her thighs and pressed kisses on her stomach. Each kiss moved higher than the last. Wetter and sloppier than before. Murphy squirmed beneath him while he had her hands pinned over her head. With the little energy she had, her feet tried kicking him off, but did so to no avail.

“Please, no...” She wept, tears running down the sides of her face as the white pillowcases stained with mascara. “Mr. Park, don’t... Please...”

He halted all actions and immediately stood up from the bed. A sense of relief enveloped her, but the tears just wouldn’t cease. The fear of how far it all would have gone had he ignored her. A part of her also felt guilty because how was she supposed to face her best friend, knowing what her father had just done? She sat up on the edge of the bed, wiping her tears while Seonghwa put on his dress shirt.

“Make sure your side of my desk is cleaned out by Monday, don’t bother coming back to work,” Seonghwa’s words were harsh and heavy with consequence.

“W-what?”

“You’re fired.”

“N-no, Mr. Park, you can’t do that!” She blurted, panic setting in with every passing moment.

“Frankly, I can,” He boasted as he buttoned up his shirt. “Clearly, you don’t appreciate this opportunity that I’ve given you. God, do you know how many graduates would die to work for me?”

She stood up and slowly approached him, but nearly lost her balance, so she held on to the nearby glass table for support. “I do appreciate it, I really do. I just– I– ” She sputtered as the fear of unemployment became more potent.

“You what?”

“I– don’t fire me, please,” She begged. “Just– I’ll do whatever you want,” Her hands began undoing the buttons of his shirt and hesitantly tugged on the hem of his trousers. “It’s... Sujin... She’d never forgive me.”

“It’ll be our little secret, then. Nobody has to know, now do they?”

He wiped away her tears and dipped down to catch her lips. While his pressed firmly against hers, and his tongue moved meticulously inside her mouth, she was still apprehensive. Each time their tongues met, a tear would roll down her cheek. The guilt was just overwhelming, but the need to keep her job was stronger. She removed his dress shirt. Her fingertips were delicate, touching every inch of his carved torso, until she unzipped his trousers. He stopped her from reaching in. Instead, he removed her dress and undergarments.

Nearby was a small table, in which he bent her over, her ass brushing against his throbbing, clothed cock. Tremors meandered up her spine when her nipples met the cold feel of the table’s glass surface. She hissed. When he dropped his trousers to the floor, his cock sprung out, slapping against his stomach then grazing her skin. He was massive with a bright pink tip, very generous in both length and girth. While he stroked himself, he palmed a handful of her cheek, kneading it. A crackling sound bounced off the walls when his hand met her cheek at full force, illiciting a whimper. He spread her cheeks open, his tongue lapping up her juices. He lined himself up at her entrance. The tip alone stretched her out, and without so much as a warning, he slammed into her tight, sopping hole. Filling her right up. She lurched forward as she whined, and tears ran down her temples and onto the table.

His hands gripped her waist with efficacy, nails digging into her skin. Each thrust was slow and hard, affording him the opportunity to slap her ass as much as he wished. His pace slowly started picking up, with Murphy trying to reach back and slow him down. Instead, grabbed both her hands and pinned them to her back.

“Naughty bunny. Your body, my rules, understood?” He dictated.

“Y-yes, Mr. Park,” She moaned breathlessly.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, and began thrusting into her relentlessly. The sound of his hips snapping against her ass echoed louder than the rumbling air conditioner Her legs trembled as a trail of cum glid down her thighs. Her moans and his grunts sung together like a ballad. He moved sporadically as she grew tighter around him, her first orgasm of the night slowly crept in. His pace remained steady while she came undone all over his cock. A white ring formed around him. But he was not looking to cum just yet, no. He wanted to look her dead in the eyes as he laid claim over her entire livelihood.

As Murphy slowly descended from her high, Seonghwa hoisted her up and sat her on the table. She leaned back as he spread her legs open, holding them up with his arms. He slammed back into her drenched hole, grinding up against her. Her face glistened with sweat, as did his. They held each other’s eyes, refusing to look away. The way her breasts danced with every thrust, the smudged mascara, the rosy cheeks and nose, the disheveled hair; he appreciated the sight of this miscellany. He did that. His hand snaked around her neck, squeezing at the sides, and brought her face closer.

“I ever catch you with that punk again, I’ll fire you both. You work for me, so you do as I say, am I clear?” He growled under his breath.

“He’s out of my life,” She nodded profusely, “I promise.”

His own orgasm finally washed over him, yet he continued grinding into her. As the waves of pleasure washed over him, he held her eyes in his, her arms swung over his shoulders. They shared a deep, passionate kiss as ribbons of warm cum painted her walls. He had successfully marked his territory like he had dreamt of doing for months. They both watched as he slowly thrusted cum back into her abused core.

“So... beautiful,” She whispered as she watched him thrust in and out.

He smirked to himself, “See, that’s why you’re my favourite worker bee,” he coaxed. “I’m not done with you just yet.”

Carrying her astride, he walked over to the bed and laid her down on her back. He leaned over to reach into the bedside drawer. He opened it, only to find 2 pairs of handcuffs staring him in the eye. The glimmer of the ceiling lights danced on the silver surface, enticing and provoking him. He took them out and started prepping them for usage. In a state of delirium, Murphy still managed to make out what was in Seonghwa’s hands. She attempted to lift her head off the pillow, but he pushed her back down.

The sound of the metal locking around her wrist put her in a sudden state of panic. “Mr. Park, I don’t like this...”

He ignored her as he locked the other end around her ankle. “Mr. Park, please,” Fear was palpable in her voice, “I– I don’t like being restrained, please, don’t...”

“Shhh,” He uttered, “I’d never hurt you, bunny,” She weakly clawed at his chest, only for her freed wrist to be cuffed down. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over before you know it. Let me show you how my favourite employee really deserves to be treated.”

“Please, I’ve been so good. Not this...” She sobbed, body squirming under his weight as she felt his tip graze her aching core.

He balanced himself on his elbows as he slotted himself between her thighs, silencing her heartfelt pleas with a soft kiss, which she cried into. A desperate attempt to connect in a way he could not with sex. A low moan arose from her diaphragm when he steadily fitted himself back inside of her. He pecked her once more before burying his face into the crook of her neck, finding his rhythm as grinded into her with practiced precision. Her once distressed cries, now replaced by pleasured whimpers, landed on his ears and encouraged him to continue using her however he wished.

“Why’re you always teasing me with the way that you dress? Why’re you testing my limits?”

“Because I can...” Her voice so sultry, she proclaimed into his ear.

With a lot more speed, he thrusted faster. One hand on the headboard, the other had a firm grip on her neck while he gently pressed her into the mattress. Her cries became louder, needier. The sound of her core squelching, arousal leaked from her sopping hole, down her to ass and onto the sheets. Seonghwa’s face hovered a few inches above hers. He instructed her to open her mouth, and she gladly obliged. A sliver of spit hung from his lips, and she reached for it with her tongue, quenching a longstanding thirst.

“Mr. Park, please, faster! Faster!”

“That’s it, bunny. Daddy’s gonna fill you up real good...”

His hips bucked when he felt her clamp around him. Both his hands on the headboard, her back arched and head buried in the pillows, they were both approaching the finish line. As she was about to crest, she called out his first name, an anomaly to both. The squelching became deafly loud as she came all over him. Her body convulsed, a slow-growing pain in her hips become more evident, longer she was restrained. Meanwhile, Seonghwa welcomed his own orgasm. His cock twitched erratically inside of her, spraying his seed in every crevice of her warmth.

He collapsed on her chest, leaving trails of wet kisses on her collarbone. The taste of sweat lingered on his tongue. He decorated her neck with numerous hickeys before removing her restraints. Without a second to waste, she was out like a light, and her soft snores filled the room. He switched off all the lights in the room before laying beside her and fell into a slumber of his own.

[ . . . ]

At around 23:00, her eyes fluttered open, the room was coated in darkness with not even a sliver of moonlight to illuminate. When she turned to her side, there laid Seonghwa, hair spread all over his face, and chest rising and falling. Her throat was so dry, it felt as though somebody stuffed it with cotton. Body ached at every joint and limb. But she was particularly sore down there. Careful not wake him, she slipped out of bed. Drowsy and head throbbing, she stumbled but held onto the bedside drawer for balance. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she tiptoed around the bed and put on her clothes. She took her heels in one hand and her purse in the other, then her phone vibrated. A thread of text messages and missed phone calls.

Sujin: held up at work? [18:01]

Sujin: HEEELLLOOOOO??? [18:27]

Sujin: GIRL WHERE TF ARE YOU? ARE YOU MAD AT ME? :( [18:45]

Wooyoung: You running late? [19:15]

Wooyoung: If you didn’t wanna go out, you should’ve told me so. [19:49]

Wooyoung: You could at least explain yourself… [20:37]

Sujin: i’m getting worried. where are you? [23:48]

She continued to tiptoe to the door, sneaking glances of a sleeping Seonghwa. The door would not budge when she pulled down the handle. A cold wave blanketed her when she realised it was locked. She searched the glass table for the keys but found nothing. Seonghwa’s trousers splayed across the floor, and so she checked the pockets. Something jingled, and a sense of relief blanketed her. Her hand reached into the pocket and–

“What do you think you’re doing?” Seonghwa’s voice cut through the silence, groggy and still heavy with sleep.

Quietly removing the keys from the pocket, he dropped his trousers to the floor. “I- I, uh, need to get home. S-Sujin’s been texting…”

He got up from the bed, and stood before her, uncovered. “My daughter can take care of herself. Keys on the table, now.” She reluctantly obliged. “Good, now take off your clothes.”

As the tears loomed and ran free on her cheeks, she wished her heart would quiet down, afraid Seonghwa could hear it. She tried sorting through her emotions as she removed all of her clothes, but it was a mélange of fear, anticipation and guilt, and an unconfirmed tinge of excitement. At last, nude, he dipped down to press a kiss on her lips while his hands travelled down to grab the back of her thighs. The kiss held a salty taste from her tears. He hoisted her up and carried her to the bed. No more resistance. Instead, she succumbed to her fate. Her mind retreated in a subspace devoid of guilt, only open to pleasure brought on by obedience. Her soft moans filled the room as she relentlessly begged for him to never stop.

.

.

.

taglist babies:

@nopension

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: Karasu thought you needed to stop spending so much time online, especially after you let your doom-scrolling lead you to ask him to fuck you in a Ghostface mask. But hey, what was he if not an accommodating partner, he did so love it when you screamed. 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗: Tabito Karasu (Blue Lock) 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2k 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Fem!Reader x Karasu. SMUT. 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Hunter/prey dynamics, mask kink, degradation, praise, penetrative sex, spanking, mentions of slut/whore, choking, dacryphilia.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: This is one of my two submissions for the "No, You Hang Up" Ghostface server collab that I'm hosting with our other server owner @rindous-starlight for our server! This was so much fun to do and thanks to everyone who voted on my poll a little while ago to help me select the characters! I hope you enjoy, the full masterlist for my kinktober can be found here.

“You want me to do what?”

The laughter following your boyfriend’s statement makes your cheeks flush, almost embarrassed for asking. However, truth be told there was just something about the idea of Karasu chasing you, his identity “concealed” before fucking you in the woods behind your home. In the moment you had, shrugged it off as a joke, that you hadn’t been serious upon your boyfriend’s reaction. However, he knew better than that, knowing just how serious you had been. And if Karasu was honest with himself he couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed at the idea. He just needed to find the perfect time to execute his plan.

You had been alone that night, Karasu having told you he was too tired to drive back from practice and he’d be crashing at Hiori’s. So why was it that you had gotten a notification that there was movement in your back ring camera? Brushing it off as the stray cats you and Karasu fed, grabbing a bowl of food and taking it outside, only for the door to slam shut behind you. Panicking, in nothing more than your house slippers and one of Karasu’s jerseys, you try the doorknob. Locked. Sighing, at least you both kept a key hidden by the front door, before you could go anywhere you felt a hand curl around your throat. Ice flooded your veins as a muffled voice met your ear.

“Don’t you know never to come to the door when you’re all alone pretty little dove.”

The grip on you was lose, allowing you to easily break free. Adrenaline surging, your feet carrying you before your brain could catch up, fight or flight kicking in. Making your second mistake of the evening, you ran into the woods that bled into the back of your shared home. Running through the wooded area as fast as your feet would carry you, dodging between trees as you tried to put as much distance between you and the mysterious figure as possible. Once you were sure you had done just that, you pressed your back against a tree, concealed from sight as you caught your breath. Hand over your mouth to muffle your shaky breaths as to not draw attention to yourself. However, it seemed there hadn’t been enough distance, watching as the figure walked past the tree you were hiding behind, mask concealing his face as his voice rang out once more.

“Haven't you ever watched a scary movie, dove? Don’t you know you never run into the woods?”

The voice carried through the night, but now that your heart wasn’t racing in your ears from fear, you quickly recognized the voice. Karasu? Your heart now raced for a different reason, realizing he had set you up. Telling you a lie earlier to catch you off guard, to make this feel more real. Karasu was nothing if not thorough, putting his all into all he did, this was no different it seemed. You werent sure if your relief outweighed your fear anymore though. Karasu was a professional athlete, body honed after years of training. And one thing you knew for certain from watching his games was that he was fast. Incredibly so. Which meant the chances of out running him were slim to none. But that wouldn’t stop you from trying.

Your feet slam against the ground as you ran in the opposite direction of his footsteps. Karasu’s ears perked immediately, the sound of branches snapping under your feet alerting him to your location. He was quick to turn on his heel, long strides having him caught up to your form within moments. Large hands reaching out to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, knowing if it weren't for the mask you would feel his breaths on the back of your neck.

“Gotcha, sweetheart.”

He purrs, hands roaming your body, one settling around your throat while the other pushed the hem of his jersey up past your hips. He groans upon realizing you were in nothing but a cute pair of panties underneath, taking advantage of your state of undress as he slides his fingers past the waistband of your panties. His eyes rolling back in his head upon being met with your drenched cunt, sliding two fingers past your entrance with ease from the sheer amount of slick that seeped from your opening.

“God.” He groaned, dragging out the word, fingers delving deeper into your cunt. “You're fucking drenched. You this wet from being fucking chased by a stranger? God you're such a good little slut for me, baby.” He slid his fingers from your walls, the pads of his fingers circling your clit, relishing in the delicious sounds he pulls from you. Eventually he pulls away fully, swiping a foot under your own sending you to the ground below. You squeal form your loss of balance, just managing to catch yourself on your hands and knees. Karasu was quick to drop to his own, a strong hand finding purchase on your back, forcing your back to arch and expose your ass to him. He tosses up the hem of his jersey, hooking two fingers in your panties to tug them to the side. You let out a shiver as the cold autumn air hits your now exposed cunt. Karasu lands a harsh slap to your ass, followed by three more in quick succession, using your distraction from the sting as a means to lower the sweatpants from his hips. His cock springs free from the material, slamming the entirety of his length past your velvety walls with ease due to just how wet you were for him.

“God, princess you’re sucking me in like such a good fucking slut.”

He groans, his setting a steady pace, a thumb parting your folds so he can watch his cock disappear inside you with every pass of his hips. With one hand he grabbed you by your arms crossing them using them as handlebars to pull you back on his cock, only to bounce you back with every harsh thrust. He picks up speed, allowing you to hear all the filthy noises he was making while pounding into you with abandon. He let out a strangled groan, your velvety walls suffocating his cock as he fucked you. He wasn’t sure if it was the remnants of adrenaline from you earlier chase or if he was just so into the way this scenario allowed for him to use you completely in a way he never had, but he could feel himself losing control. Releasing the grip he had on your arms, he lets his hand come down on your ass once more, taking pleasure in knowing your skin would darken from the blood rushing to the impacted area.

“God, dove, so fucking good.” He droned, gripping the flesh of your ass to force you back on him. “This fucken pussy drives me insane, tryin’ to fucken milk me for all I’m worth, isn’t that right my pretty little dove.”

He continues his assault, missing the feel of your skin under his mouth but god if you were this wet from him fucking you with a mask on, who was he to complain? He never knew he would be so into it, but he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t the hottest sex the two of you had ever had. Karasu’s hand wrapped around your neck, bringing you flush against his chest as he fucked up into your cunt. Karasu’s much larger frame always made it so easy for him to manhandle you into whatever position he pleased. He kept with his brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the woods. Groaning, the feeling of your slick against his thighs as your cunt gushed for him was sure to drive him mad.

“God kitten, you feel how fucking wet you are? So wet over getting fucked by someone whose face you can't even see.” He groans, laughing sadistically, the sound being muffled by the mask that still covered his face. “What a good girl you are, doing so well for me. Such a good fucken kitten”

He used his free hand that wasn't wrapped around your neck to reach around to rub harsh slow circles into your clit. The movement of his fingers in time with the thrusting of his hips. Your eyes rolled back in your head, the rough terrain of the ground below digging into your knees adding a delicious mix of pain into the pleasure you were receiving, making your head fuzzy. After a few moments of his ruthless attack on your poor cunt, he slowed his movements to a halt, grinning beneath the mask at the delicious whine it pulled from deep within your throat. He kept his movements slow, dragging his cock in and out of your cunt slowly, allowing you to feel every inch and vein of his dick. His movements were so incredibly frustrating just enough to keep you on the edge of what you needed most. Eventually, his movements stopped altogether, pulling out of your cunt, rewarded with a desperate whimper from you. At this rate he didn’t even need to ask, begs and pleas falling from your lips in a desperate scramble, needing so badly for him to make you cum.

“Please Tabito.. please, wanna come, please.. I don't care baby just need to come all over your cock, need to feel you come inside my cunt want you to breed my pussy Tabito.”

Your pleas were like music to his ears, pulling a groan from him. You felt the world shift, him easily manhandling you to lay on your back beneath him. “I wanna see that beautiful face, when you cream all over my cock, dove. I want to see every face you make while I fuck you baby. I want watch you go dumb on my cock like the slut you are. Wanna watch you come undone on my cock.

He growled, your tear-stained cheeks and completely fucked expression had him wasting no time slipping back into the drenched walls of your pussy. He ripped the mask off with one hand, throwing it god knows where as his hips resumed their abuse on your cunt. Two large hands found the backs of your knees, forcing them to your chest so his cock could reach even deeper inside of you. Your cries muffled as he finally kisses you, tongue invading your mouth instantly. The kiss is desperate, filled with need, his thrusts were getting sloppy, letting you know it wasn’t just you who was reaching the precipice of orgasm. Karasu gripped at the plush of your thighs, being sure to hit every single nerve and spot inside your cunt. He could feel the clenching, the want, the desperate need for you to come all over his cock.

He attacked your neck, leaving kisses and bites along the surface area of your exposed skin. He lets out a breathy chuckle, seeing the way you had thrown your head back, making a sad attempt to meet his thrusts with your own hips. You sob, moaning almost embarrassingly loud as he hits every spot, angling his hips just right in the ways only he knows how to. His ministrations finally being enough to throw you over the edge. He feels your thighs clamp shut over his hips, body violently shaking with cries as you came. Walls clamping down on him in a vice grip, eventually hurtling him towards his own release. So lost in pleasure as he paints your walls white in his cum, he is barely aware of the added moisture from you having squirted all over him. He slows his hips, riding out your highs until the point of overstimulation, a shudder wracking his spine as he stills. His head dropping into your neck as he catches his breaths, a breathy laugh leaving him.

“Who knew all it would take for you to do that was to chase your horny ass through the woods, little bird.”

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @umemiaa @stunies @eevees-hobbies @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

[manicmanuscription]

Watch Your Step

SJM x Reader Week 2025: Day One @sjmxreaderweek

Prompt: Beginnings / Endings

Pairings: Eris / Reader

Summary: Eris knew his father was going to die today. Afterall it took immense planning. What he didn't expect to meet his mate and he certainly didn't expect to be a blundering idiot as the first introduction.

Tags: mentions of gore, blood, murder, coup, Eris is NOT doing well, slightly evil Eris but he's traumatized so....

Word Count: 875

SJM x Reader Week 2025 | Acotar Masterlist

Eris walked the busy city streets of Herbst with his hands in his pockets, barely noticing the people who passed him by. He had just murdered his father, planned a coup and executed it to absolute perfection. 

None of the villagers even knew their tormentor was dead, although some would be able to guess. The very air itself had shifted when the ancient power found a new host. The blood still staining his hands.

He didn’t know why he had come here, he should be making arrangements for his father’s funeral. Preparing for the announcement of his ‘heart attack’ that would spread through the Autumn Court in just a few hours. Perhaps he wanted a distraction, a reminder of what he had to lose. All he knew was he couldn’t be in that godforsaken house anymore.

The newfound power was thrumming under his skin with a raging vengeance. He felt hot all over as if lava itself had been melded to his very soul. It itched to lash out at any person who brushed against his shoulder as he walked. It begged to be free from the confines of the cage he was struggling to keep intact. 

Everything inside of him was burning and it was overwhelming. His ears rang and he could taste his own blood in the back of his throat. 

It wanted freedom, it wanted to taste the air and dance throughout the forests. It wanted to consume just as much as it wanted to leave and Eris wondered if he would survive it. Black dots dancing in his vision at the restraint it took. 

He briefly thought if this is what drove his father insane and shoved the terrifying notion to the darkest parts of his mind. He would not lose everything he worked for because he could not keep it together as if he was a youngling. He mastered the flame long ago and he would again if that’s what it took.

Eris let out an exhale through clenched teeth, smoke leaving his lips and curling with the very air before hiding in the pollution of the nearby houses all stacked together. He-

Someone ran into him, his distracted state of mind had him stumbling into a cobbled wall. Rage burst along his skin and that newfound beast surged forward with a promise of destruction. Blue sparks of flame dancing in clenched fists. 

He snarled and when he turned to face his attacker the first thing he saw were your hands, hovering over his body as if you reached out to help him but stopped yourself, he trailed the rest of your body until finally landing on those unique eyes and the world shifted on it’s axis for the second time that day. The mating bond snapped in his chest and he swore he heard the ground rumble in response. The universe itself changing the atoms around them to pause time just for that brief moment.

“I am- Holy shit I am so sorry. Are you alright?” You rushed out, studying him carefully, hands still splayed out in the space in front of him. A cautious look in your gaze and Eris was sure he looked like a rabid beast, his clothes rumpled and a vicious stare, smoke curling from under his skin as he burned hotter than he thought possible. 

It was then he realized the hellfire scorching his soul had calmed, instead of urging for freedom it peeked over his shoulder in curiosity. A feeling of calm settling all the way to his bones for the first time in days no-centuries. Hell, maybe for the first time at all. 

Someone called your name from the crowd and he savored the feel of it rolling around his mind. His heart. You cursed under your breath and reached into your cloak, pulling out a few shiny rocks each of them varying in colors. “Sorry this is all I have on me.” You gently dropped them into his hand and he shuddered underneath the brief touch. 

You looked at him expectantly and he realized he hadn’t spoken a single word. When he opened his mouth to try all he could taste was ash. Fuck he needed to say something. Someone called your name again, in a clipped tone and you glanced behind you. “Sorry, again for running into you!” 

And just like that you were gone, whisking yourself away in the haze of people and taking the only peace he had with you. 

That fire reared its ugly head again only this time it had a different purpose a new primal instinct only adding fuel to his newfound power. 

He shook it off and did his best to bury it. Heading back into the streets. Confusion settling over him more than anything else. He would find you. 

No not for courtship. Eris was too determined for love. It wasn’t meant for sadistic monster’s like him. His breathing evened as he settled into his goal-oriented mind. A strategy alreading forming. 

No no, he would find you for the sweet relief you had brought him for he had never felt his fire quiet. Never felt that anxious power be lulled to sleep even before this old power.

At least that’s what he told himself anyways, as he locked that small spark of hope far far away.

[xhazzz]

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Bouquets & Barbecues

warnings: none, more of Jake being a sweetheart

summary: just Maverick being a little over protecting with his daughter and Jake being cute as always

a/n: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong :)

masterlist || requests are open

For the end of summer and to take a break from work worries, Dad had organized a barbecue in our backyard, inviting everyone: the Dagger Squad, Penny and Amelia, and even Hondo and Cyclone. Everyone was supposed to bring snacks and drinks, while Dad took charge of the meat. But he seemed to have gotten a little carried away, buying enough to feed every football team on the coast.

“Dad, are you feeding the Daggers or the entire Arctic Circle?” I asked as I arrived in the backyard with the cooler.

“Have you seen how those guys eat?” Dad replied, firing up the grill. “Just Rooster and Hangman alone will eat half of this. Speaking of Hangman…”

“Dad,” I sighed, placing my hands on my hips, “I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m too old for this.”

“No matter how old you are, you’ll always be my little girl,” Dad said, walking over and kissing my forehead. “Seresin better never hurt you, or I’ll have six confirmed kills in the air.”

“I think he got the message after all the extra drills you’ve made him do on base.”

“After seeing him make out with my daughter on my front porch, can you blame me?” he added, shaking his head. “I still need to have a serious talk with him.”

“Stop, Dad,” I replied, covering my face with my hand in embarrassment.

He just laughed as I walked back into the house. Moments later, I heard the doorbell. The gang was starting to arrive.

“I’m here!” Rooster shouted, barging in like he owned the place, with Phoenix and Payback right behind him.

“Come on in, guys. Dad’s out back,” I said, giving Nat a quick hug and putting the drinks in the fridge. “He bought enough meat to last us all fall.”

“Your old man promised to host the best barbecue of the summer,” Payback said, accepting a beer Rooster handed him.

We all headed to the backyard, and it quickly started filling up. Everyone had arrived—except Jake. I was starting to feel nervous, knowing it was only a matter of time before Rooster and Dad started teasing me.

“Punctuality doesn’t seem to be his strong suit,” Dad commented, handing me a plate of sausages.

“Come on, Dad, it’s just a regular Saturday, not a base training session,” I replied, pretending not to care. Hangman better show up soon.

“You’re wrong, sweetheart. It’s not just any Saturday,” Dad said, pulling up a chair and sitting beside me. “It’s the first time I’ve invited everyone to eat at my house. And if I’m not mistaken, Hangman is dating his trainer’s daughter.”

“I told you he’s just another idiot,” Rooster chimed in, sitting on my other side and trapping me between the two pilots.

“You too?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“I’m just making sure no one breaks Baby Mav’s heart,” he replied in a baby voice, pinching my cheeks.

“Get off me,” I laughed, playfully pushing him away. Just then, the doorbell rang. Saved by the bell.

I rushed to the door and found Jake on the other side, flashing his charming smile. He was wearing khaki shorts, a casual navy blue shirt, his signature aviator sunglasses, and his hair was slightly messier than usual—no gel today.

“Hey, you, Seresin,” I greeted him with a quick kiss. “You had me worried. I thought you weren’t coming, and I’d have to endure Dad and Rooster lecturing me all afternoon.”

“I’d never stand you up, darling,” he said, placing one hand on my waist and pulling me closer. I noticed his other hand was behind his back, and next to him was a small cooler, likely filled with beer. “I was just running late picking these up for you.”

From behind his back, he revealed a beautiful bouquet of gardenias and lilies in various shades.

“They’re gorgeous,” I said, taking them in my hands. “Thank you, honey. You didn’t have to.”

This time, he placed both hands on my hips, rubbing them affectionately, and pulled me into a tender yet passionate kiss. We were interrupted by a fake cough behind me.

“Watch those hands, Seresin,” Dad said, standing there with Rooster, both wearing their overprotective hawk stares.

“You’re late, Bagman,” Rooster added, stepping forward to grab the cooler from the ground.

“Damn, Chicken, you’re annoying even off duty,” Jake sighed, shaking his head and guiding me inside the house, his hand never leaving my waist while he used the other to close the door. As we walked through the kitchen, I quickly placed the flowers in a vase with fresh water.

“Thanks for the invite, Mav,” Jake said, smiling politely.

“All pilots are welcome here,” Dad replied with a nod toward the backyard, “but how you treat my daughter will determine how welcome you really are. Don’t forget who’s in charge.”

“You have my word, Mav. I only have the best intentions…” Jake started, but I quickly cut him off.

“Enough, both of you. This is so embarrassing,” I muttered, shaking my head at them. “Let’s just eat before the food gets cold.”

“Lead the way, my lady,” Jake said with a tight-lipped smile, walking behind me while Dad chuckled, crossing his arms.

[sydwritess]

The Italian

Kimi antonelli x fem!reader

Summary: You and Kimi are date addicted, seeing how he is Italian after all, he takes you to Italian restaurants or cooks for you at home. Just to mess with him and have a little fun on your end, you pronounce Italian foods wrong in front of him, making him get annoyed.

First Person POV

Me and Kimi had been dating for a year now. It was our anniversary today. This year was compacted with different things. Going to his races, meeting his family, flying everywhere. Even though I offered to stay behind, he wanted me there. He said he needed me there for him. But he also made time for me, even if he was busy.

"I promise you, when I'm done with work, I'll will come back, and we can go out." He said, grabbing my hand before leaving the hotel.

"It's okay. Work is more important. Besides, I will be here when you come back." I smiled.

"I know but still. It's our one year, I should have just requested it off." He said, sounding stressed.

"Kimi, please don't stress yourself out about it. It's a couple of days before the race, I get it. It's seriously okay." I said softly.

"Okay. Okay, but I will try to be quick." He said.

"Take your time." I said. He hugged me quickly, and then left the hotel room. I started picking up the room, seeing how we were staying for long. Putting clothes away, fixing the bed up, cleaning the bathroom, I didn't mind see how I had the day.

I was in the middle of putting some of my clothes away in the drawers when my phone rang. I walk over to pick it up and see that Elisabetta was calling me.

"Hi Elisabetta, is everything okay?" I ask.

"Si, si hija. I just wanted to congratulate you on one year together!" She said over the phone.

"Oh thank you! It means a lot." I said.

"Si, do you have any big plans today?" She asks.

"Well right now Kimi is at work, but I think later he is taking me out." I said.

"Oh my, I told that boy just to take the day off but he just never listens." She says. I laugh a bit.

"It's okay, truly. I'm just cleaning up around the hotel room right now." I said.

"Nonsense! You should not be cleaning while he is out!" She said.

"It's okay. Honestly it needs to be done."

"Oh mio dio. Please, I taught him better than that! How about we go out to lunch. Me, you and Maggie, yes?" She asks.

"I couldn't it's okay."

"Please, it will be good, Maggie has been dying to see you." She pleaded.

"Okay. Yeah, that's okay, where?" I ask.

"I know this great Italian ristorante by the beach. I will send you the address." She said.

"Okay, great, thank you again. I will see you there." I said.

"Addio y/n." She said, and hung up. I finished cleaning in the bit of time I had, then got ready for lunch, wearing a light outfit seeing as it was hot. I got my car keys and left the hotel room. It was a quick drive to the restaurant, seeing as everything was close. I pull in to the parking lot, and see Elisabetta and Maggie standing outside.

"Y/n!" Maggie said, jumping up and down in happiness.

"Hi Maggie. Hi Elisabetta." I said, giving them both a hug.

"Y/n, how are you?" Elisabetta asked.

"I'm good, busy day so far." I said smiling.

"Come on! I'm starving!" Maggie cried out, pulling my hand.

"Okay, okay, let's go." Elisabetta said with a smile, opening the door to the restaurant. We all walked in and the host walked us over to a table by a big window, so we could see the beach.

"I'm so excited your here." Maggie said, sitting down next to me.

"I am to, this place looks amazing." I said.

"Hi ladies, I'm Ilsa, what can I get for you guys." The waitress said.

"Can I have a water and your chicken parmesan?" I asked, she nodded and wrote it down.

"I want apple juice and chicken alfredo." Maggie said.

"Maggie, manners." Elisabetta warned.

"Please." Maggie said.

"I will have a cocktail and the eggplant parmigiana please." Elisabetta said.

"I'll get those in." Ilsa said, smiling and walking away.

"Are you happy dating my brother?" Maggie asked suddenly.

"Yeah. He's really nice." I said, smiling at the girl.

"Good. If he's not, He will be in big trouble." She said, with a smirk.

"Oh, I'm sure." I said. We continued talking when our food came out.

"Y/n, I have a great idea!"Maggie said, smiling at me.

"What's that, Mag's? I ask.

"You should do a prank on Kimi." She said.

"Oh should I?"

"Yes! On your date tonight, you should pretend to pronounce Italian dishes wrong." She said with a grin.

"You know. That isn't a bad idea." I said.

"It could be revenge for making you clean your hotel room." She said. Elisabetta silently laughed in her seat.

"Hm, I just might." I said. The rest of the lunch went well. We talked about many things, talking about tourist places in Italy to see. Talking about the race. Everything.

"Well, it was nice seeing you." Elisabetta said.

"Yeah, nice seeing you to." I said, giving her a small hug.

"I'll miss you y/n." Maggie said, coming over to hug me.

"I'll miss you to." I said, hugging back.

"Remember my plan okay?" She whispered.

"Don't worry. I have it locked in here." I said, pointing to my head. I got in my car and started driving back to the hotel. I was in the elevator when I got a call form Kimi.

"Hey, what's up?" I say, putting the phone up to my ear.

"Hey, sorry I got tied up at work." He siad.

"It's okay."

"What have you been up to?"

"I just went out to lunch with your mom and Maggie."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yeah. Also, your mom is mad at you." I said, grinning to myself.

"What! Why?"

"Um, basically, she was wondering what I was doing alone on our anniversary, and she said 'I told that boy to take the day off, but she just doesn't listen to me.'" I said. Copying her words.

"Oh my. She always talks about me doesn't she." He said, I could here him laugh a little through the phone.

"Yeahh, but it's okay. I told her you'd be back." I said.

"Yes. I am almost there." He said.

"Okay. I'll see you." I said.

"I see you there." He said, hanging up the phone. Around thirty minutes went by, and Kimi finally walked into the hotel room.

"Hey, how was work?" I ask.

"Hectic. They had me run around, doing all these things for the car." He said, laying on the bed next to me.

"I'm sorry. At least it's out of the way now." I said.

"Finally." He said, looking over and smiling at me.

"What do you want to do?" He asked.

"That depends. Your the one who worked all day." I said. He immediately jumped up.

"I am ready for anything you throw my way." he said, putting his hands on his hips.

"Okay... how about we go run a 10k along the beach." I said smirking, standing up and matching his energy.

"Oh no, y/n please you know I hate running." He said, leaning on the bed for support. "Ugh, I already feel myself running out of breath." He exaggerated.

"I was only kidding babe." I said. He immediately looked up at me.

"Oh, thank goodness." He said, putting a hand on his heart.

"What about walking on the beach." I said.

"Now I can do that." He pointed to me. We both walked out of the hotel, and got to the beach, seeing as it was next to the hotel.

"So, what do you think your going to to order tonight?" He asked, grabbing my hand, walking next to me.

'This is my chance.' I thought.

"Hmm, I don't know. Maybe to start off with Risatto." I said.

"Uh-, y/n. It's called Risotto." He said hesitantly.

"Oops, sorry." I said.

"No no. I just don't want you to embarrass yourself." He said, with a slight laugh.

"What about you?" I ask.

"Maybe a pasta dish, not sure which one." He said. We continued walking around the beach and town until the sun started to lower. More and more people started to fill the sidewalks, signaling that it was close to dinner time.

"You ready to go?" Kimi asked. I nodded and we walked into the restaurant. It was big on the inside, many people were in here already.

"Ah, Mr. Antonelli, right this way." The host said, he led us out to a spot on the balcony.

"Damn, you must be popular around here." I said, sitting down.

"I come here quiet often." He said smiling.

"This all sounds good." I said, looking at the menu. Our waiter silently came over with two waters and then left.

"It is good. Trust me." He said.

"The giny foul ravioli sounds good." I said, biting my smirk away.

"Uh, y/n, it's guinea fowl raviolo." Kimi said quietly.

"Oh right, right, sorry." I said, he put it hand up, waving it slightly to dismiss the "accident." A moment of silence occurred between us as we looked at the menu's.

"You know. The eggplant parmesan looks good." I said, hiding my face in the menu.

"It's eggplant parmigiana." He said, looking at me deeply. "I know what you are doing. I know that smile." He said.

"Ugh, okay okay. It was Maggie's idea though." I said, putting my hands up in surrender.

"I should have known." He said, shaking his head while smiling.

"You love me." I said.

"I do."

"Hi guys. Welcome in tonight, what can I get you two?" The waiter said, his notepad out in hand.

"Can we have another minute please?" Kimi asked. The waiter nodded and walked away. He continued looking at the menu in silence, and so did I. I took this time to set up my phone against the my glass, hitting record.

"I think I'm going to get the five cheese ziti el farno." I said, putting my menu down to get in view of the camera.

"Y/n please." He said, putting a hand up. "It is called five cheese ziti al forno." He said, his thick Italian accent pulling through. I laughed hard when he repeated it after me. I took my phone and hit pause on the video.

"I can't believe you." He said, a smile pulling through. Just then the waiter came through again.

"Are you two all set?" He asked.

"Yes, I will-" I tried to say.

"She will get the Five cheese ziti al forno. and I will get the guinea fowl raviolo." Kimi said. Handing the waiter the menus, he took down the order and walked back to the kitchen.

"Okay Mr. Italian. I see how it is." I said smirking.

"Just, when we get back tonight, only if you want, I will teach you how to say foods properly. Just so you know for next time." He said, putting his hands up slightly.

"Hm, are you embarrassed that I'll say it wrong?" I ask, taking a sip of my water.

"No- no, I didn't say that. I just mean, so you know... for next time." He said smiling.

"Oh, okay okay. Well at least I have a personal tutor." I said smiling.

"That you do." He said. And we continued having a nice anniversary dinner. Just the two of us together.

Hey loves! Hope you like this one! Comment to be added to the tag list!

[dollyswishingwell]

I really love your Mama's princess from your masterlist and was wondering if you would be willing to do a part 2? It's so rare to see lads fics where they have kids but are more attached to the mom instead of the dad🥲🥹🥹

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Mama’s princess P.2

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ just pure fluff. i have so many ideas for this series. i love daughters. i hope this is what you wanted!

> ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You can’t stop spoiling your baby girl

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Thomas had spent two hours lecturing him about press deadlines and scheduled interviews he’d ghosted. And yet, as Rafayel pushed open the gate to your seaside estate, none of that mattered anymore.

There were movers.

Dozens of them.

Hauling in what looked like gilded beams, plush pink turrets, velvet curtains, crates labeled Miniature Gold Chandelier (Fragile), and something that suspiciously resembled a miniature moat pump.

He blinked once. Then again.

“…What the hell?”

From the backyard, he heard the unmistakable sound of giggles. High-pitched, squealy, bubbling laughter, his daughter’s. His heart fluttered.

He dropped the seashell palette he’d been idly spinning in his hand and followed the sound out onto the back lawn, feet crunching over fresh grass.

And there it was.

A castle.

Not a playhouse. Not a dollhouse. Not a cardboard box someone scribbled windows on.

An actual castle, scaled perfectly to toddler size. Cream-white stone with lilac trim. Swirled spires. Glittering stained-glass heart windows. A balcony with ivy trellises. Enough space to host ten of her tiny, sassy friends for tea parties, dramatic coronations, and petty toddler betrayals.

Rafayel stood there, stunned, jaw slack, while the ocean glistened in the background.

And then he saw you.

On the soft grass, barefoot and glowing, holding your baby girl in your arms. She clung to you like she always did, arms wrapped around your neck, one little hand tangled in your hair, and her soft mouth peppering kisses across your cheek like it was her full-time job. She was still in her frilly pajamas, her curls bouncing with each squeal, and her voice rang out proudly:

“Look, Papa! Mommy got me a castle!”

You looked up at him with that soft, satisfied smile—the one that always made his stomach clench.

“She wanted to be like her mommy, Raffy.” you said, pressing a kiss to your daughter’s forehead. “So I got her the kingdom.”

Rafayel’s throat tightened.

“I was gone for two hours,” he mumbled. “Two. Hours.”

You shrugged like it was nothing. “They were having a castle clearance sale.”

“She’s not even three!”

“Exactly! The prime age for royalty.”

He staggered a little toward you both, hand reaching out like he needed to touch something real, maybe the silk bows on her dress, maybe the way her chubby fingers patted your cheeks like she owned you.

She twisted in your arms to face him, her tiny hands grabbing at his shirt.

“Papa! You gonna come inside? There’s cupcakes! And we have a mirror!”

He melted instantly. Physically, emotionally, molecularly.

And then you saw it, his ears turning red. His cheeks flushed, his eyes flickering with emotion he refused to name. Because no one else got to see this. No one got to witness this version of him. Here he’s just your husband. Your daughter’s papa.

And you watched as he dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to your daughter’s tiny socked foot, then to your hand, voice low and cracked with something fragile:

“She really does have the best mommy in the world…”

And you leaned down with a soft laugh, kissing his forehead.

“Of course she does. She’s Mama’s girl.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The front door clicked open with a low groan, followed by the soft shhk of leather shoes on marble.

Zayne stepped inside quietly, shoulders set and posture upright despite the obvious fatigue dragging down his frame. His silver glasses were slightly crooked, he hadn’t even noticed. His long coat hung stiffly from his tall frame, and faint lines creased around his hazel-green eyes.

Four surgeries. Four.

Back-to-back. No food. No sleep. An intern had cried. Twice.

He barely had the energy to sigh.

But then he looked up.

The entryway of your shared mansion was no longer minimalist or pristine. It was chaos.

Box towers everywhere. Open lids spilling out pastel tissue paper. Ribbons. Rhinestones. Glittering shoes so small they could sit on the palm of his scarred hand. A satin dress draped over a sculpture like some kind of mini runway. And right in the center of it all, seated on the plush living room rug like a goddess of indulgence, was you, in a soft robe, your hair slightly tousled, and cradling the tiniest copy of him in your lap.

His two-year-old daughter.

Same pitch-black hair. Same serious little brows. Same pout that screamed “I’m judging you.” Only difference was the way she buried her face into your chest like it was the warmest place on Earth.

Zayne exhaled. Quietly. Slowly. He didn’t smile—he didn’t need to. That aching weight in his shoulders lifted just a little.

“She demanded tiaras,” you said lazily, stroking her back with soft fingers.

“and matching shoes,” you added.

“She made me tell her twelve times how pretty she is and how I’d never love anyone more than her.”

Zayne didn’t say anything as he stepped closer, pulling off his coat and letting it hang over the back of a velvet chair. He dropped to one knee beside you and watched your daughter tilt her head up from your chest, eyes gleaming.

“Papa,” she whispered.

And then, in perfect imitation of her mother, the same way you ask him in the depths of the night, she said:

“Do you adore me?”

Zayne blinked. He glanced at you. You looked far too smug.

His hand reached out, brushing one of the stray tiaras in a box beside her. He held it between two fingers, examining the tiny lavender gemstones.

Then, without a word, he carefully placed it on her head.

It slid sideways. She blinked.

He adjusted it.

“Now it’s perfect, snowflake,” he said, voice low and warm.

You smothered a laugh into your daughter’s curls as she beamed like she’d just been knighted by the King of Heart Surgeons himself.

“Your mother is a menace,” he added, side-eyeing the high-heeled toddler shoes in a gift box.

You hummed innocently. “She just wanted to match with me. We’re a set now.”

His hand slipped to your cheek, his thumb stroking gently just under your eye. Tired as he was, his gaze softened when it landed on you. And then, in a teasing murmur low enough only you could hear:

“If she’s your clone in wardrobe and mine in personality… we may have just created a villain.”

You kissed his palm.

“She’s Mama’s girl,” you said, voice proud and dreamy, “and Daddy’s problem.”

From your lap, your daughter let out a little satisfied sigh and burrowed deeper against you.

Zayne leaned forward, brushing a kiss to her soft hair, then one to your forehead. He whispered something into your skin so quietly it didn’t even matter what the words were.

The message was clear.

He adored you both more than anything else in the world.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The penthouse was… louder than usual.

Xavier’s boots clicked softly as he stepped inside, gloved hands loosening the collar of his long white coat. He blinked slowly, blue eyes scanning the chaos unfolding in his otherwise pristine penthouse.

Boxes.

Big boxes. Glittery ones. Boxes with bows. Open crates stuffed with layers of organza and tulle and little satin slippers lined up like battalions. There was a life-sized mannequin in the foyer wearing a ballgown that shimmered like moonlight, and next to it, a miniature version of the same dress hung on a gilded rack.

Xavier tilted his head.

A small tiara sparkled by his feet.

And then he heard it.

Giggling. A high, sparkly sound, like wind chimes and starlight. He followed it around the corner into the living room, where the soft light from the wide windows cast golden streaks across the marble floors.

There, right in the middle of it all, were you and your daughter.

Matching princesses.

The same pastel gown with lilac ruffles and pearled embroidery. The same glittering shoes. The same silver tiaras. Her tiny face was flushed with joy, eyes squeezed shut in glee as she giggled into your shoulder, her small hands clinging to you as you helped her slow dance like the royal couple on the TV screen.

You swayed together gently, barefoot on the marble, your voice soft as you hummed along to the music. She followed your steps with all the grace of a sleepy kitten, and it didn’t matter that she kept stepping on your toes, she was having the time of her life.

Xavier froze.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just… stared.

You glanced up and saw him there, expression unreadable, eyes wide as the ocean.

“Welcome home,” you said with a breathless smile. “We were practicing ballroom dancing. She wanted to be like the princess in the movie.”

Your daughter peeked up from your shoulder with a squeal.

“Papa, look! I match with Mommy!!”

She held out one glittering skirt corner with pride, her crown tilting slightly to the side.

Xavier stepped forward slowly, stopping just in front of the two of you.

“She does,” he murmured. “You’re both… very shiny, it makes sense that i call you both my starlights.”

You laughed, leaning into him as your daughter transferred herself over into his arms with zero hesitation. She wrapped around his neck like a sleepy octopus, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

He held her gently, the heavy gloves carefully supporting her back. His other hand rose to brush your cheek, soft, warm, reverent.

“Did you… plan this?” he asked, glancing again at the sheer number of ballgowns scattered across the furniture.

“She’s Mama’s girl,” you said simply. “She wanted to dance, so I made sure she could dance like royalty.”

Your daughter yawned against his shoulder.

“Do you like it, papa?” she mumbled.

Xavier blinked down at her.

“I love it, my little star,” he said with quiet certainty. “You look like a dream.”

Her sleepy smile stretched wide.

Then she leaned closer, whispering something into his ear.

You watched as his lips parted faintly, and then, finally, he smiled.

Slow. Soft. Almost imperceptible. But real.

He turned to you again.

“She wants me to wear a crown next time.”

You grinned. “Good. We’ll get one that matches.”

“She also says I have to learn the dance.”

“Don’t worry,” you teased, gently taking his hand. “I’ll lead.”

And under the soft glow of golden light, the three of you began to sway, your sleepy little princess between you, humming softly as her parents danced her through her fairytale evening, tiaras glinting, hearts full.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

Sylus stepped into the safe house’s marble foyer, the automatic sensors scanning him before he was even halfway through. The air inside was cool, dim, just the way he liked it. His coat still hung from his broad shoulders, his red crow brooch catching the faintest glint of light.

He paused.

He narrowed his red eyes.

Something was… off.

Too quiet.

Then, splash.

A very faint, very specific kind of splash. Followed by high-pitched giggling and what could only be described as the sound of a miniature slipper skidding across tile.

He stalked toward the back patio with the confidence of a man who owns twelve armories and not a single clue what fresh hell awaited him.

And then he saw it.

The lawn was gone.

In its place? A castle.

No, not a castle. Two. One a pristine toddler-sized palace complete with painted towers, drawbridges, tiny flower boxes. The other, a literal waterpark, glimmering pools and fountains, twisting slides, and a wide deck surrounded by absurdly luxurious lounge chairs. His security drones were all frozen mid-hover, utterly useless against the magic overtaking the perimeter.

In the center of this chaos stood you.

Crowned in sunlit glory, wearing a matching pastel sundress to the tiny gremlin in your arms. Your daughter, his daughter, dressed identically, complete with a tiara, ruffled bloomers, and glittery shoes. She was clinging to you like a koala on caffeine, arms wrapped tight around your neck and absolutely no intention of letting go.

“Is that—” Sylus’s voice came out slowly, stunned. “—a fountain that sprays glitter?”

You turned. Smiling like you ruled the empire of chaos.

“Oh good,” you purred. “You’re home.”

His eye twitched. “What is this.”

“She said she wanted to match me,” you replied innocently, rocking her gently. “And she refused to play castle unless I was the queen. So we had to build one.”

Your daughter giggled, nose buried in your neck, clutching a tiny crow plush she had clearly bitten at some point. She looked up at him.

“Daddy,” she said sweetly. “Do you like Mommy’s castle?”

Sylus took one long step onto the deck, his shadow stretching over the tile like a slow-moving storm. He surveyed the kingdom of madness. His eye glowed faintly red. A curl of his lip nearly betrayed a smile.

“You used my offshore vault, didn’t you.”

“Only one of them,” you said airily. “The rest is going into the princess wardrobe fund. She needs a summer line.”

He crouched low beside you, gaze locked with your daughter’s as she blinked up at him with those same sharp red eyes—his eyes. Her little arms squeezed you tighter.

“Mommy only,” she declared.

Sylus’s brow twitched.

“Still a brat,” he muttered.

But his hand rose slowly, resting on your back, and then shifted to cup the back of his daughter’s tiny head. She leaned into it with a happy squeal.

“You take after me,” he said to her. “But don’t forget who gave your mother the damn crown.”

You leaned in to kiss his jaw. “She just reinforced it with glitter.”

He exhaled through his nose, half a laugh, half a sigh. He stood tall again, rolling back his shoulders as if surrendering to fate. To chaos. To you.

“You two better enjoy this empire while it lasts,” he said smugly. “Because once I build her a war room, the throne’s mine again.”

“You’d rather take her glittery throne than your war throne?” I laugh. what a unbelievable man you married.

Your daughter lifted her head. “Only if Mommy says yes.”

Sylus’s smirk deepened, eyes glowing.

“Good girl.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The Aircraft hummed as it docked silently against the private upper-tier platform. Only three people had clearance to land here, Caleb, you, and the security technician who’d been mysteriously transferred last week after asking “who designed this overly secure landing pad.”

Boots hit the floor with practiced precision. He’d been gone less than twelve hours.

And in that time… you’d apparently staged a military-grade domestic coup.

His steps slowed as he entered the main atrium of the penthouse, taking in the horde of glittery boxes that were stacked almost to the ceiling. A box of silver tulle had exploded across the couch. One lone tiara glittered from the chandelier. And on the polished marble floor…

…a high-heeled doll shoe was embedded into the grout like a warning sign.

His heart dropped.

“Pipsqueak?” he called, voice concerned, low, because when things went this quiet, it usually meant you were planning something so extravagant it’d make even his fleet budget weep.

From down the hall came soft music. Laughter. And then, her.

Your daughter came sprinting around the corner, Caleb’s exact same deep brown hair, pulled into sparkly twin buns that matched her glitter-smeared cheeks. She wore a pink pilot bomber jacket embroidered with “Fleet Princess” on the back, over a white gown that sparkled with silver stars. Her bare feet slapped the floor.

“Mommyyyy—” she squealed. “I got the booties!!”

You followed her into view, arms outstretched as she dove into them, letting out a breathy “oof” as she collided with you full-force. You were in matching star-print silk, flowing, ethereal, and clearly tailored just to match your daughter’s wardrobe. She squished her cheek into your chest with a delighted squeal, absolutely refusing to let go.

Caleb’s steps slowed completely.

You looked up at him with a soft smile. “Colonel’s home.”

Your baby twisted in your arms, grabbing onto your collar with sticky fingers and blinking at him. She smiled so wide, her nose scrunched.

“Hi, Daddy!”

“…what happened to the living room, girls” Caleb laughed.

“She wanted a ‘moonbase princess training camp,’” you said, patting her back as she tried to disappear into your neckline. “So I got her a zero-G bouncer, two sets of rocket boots, and a full-scale tactical playmat with pressure-activated lights. Don’t worry. It’s safety-rated.”

He blinked.

“She also demanded matching flight jackets,” you added, gesturing to the one she had on. “And then told the Holo-dresser to scan my entire closet so her outfits could match every one of mine.”

“She won’t even sit on the couch without me anymore,” you continued lovingly, brushing glitter from your chest. “She makes me wear perfume so she can fall asleep to it. Last nap? She just kept whispering ‘Mommy’s squishy.’”

You smiled, glowing with that warm, content softness he never tired of seeing on you.

“I’m her world, Caleb,” you said, eyes glittering. “And she’s mine.”

There was silence.

Then, Caleb let out a quiet, breathless laugh.

God, you were dangerous.

You. In that ridiculous outfit. Holding the tiny replica of himself in your arms like she’d fused to your very soul. And looking so proud of it all.

He walked over slowly. His glove came off as he leaned down, and your daughter clung tighter, trying to hide her face in your chest. He pressed his fingers gently to the back of her tiny head, cradling her softly as her body relaxed in your arms.

“I could fly through deepspace with less danger than walking into this house,” he murmured, his voice gentle and boyish…like the Caleb you always knew and loved.

You grinned. “You survived.”

Barely.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then leaned in to place one more, slow and lingering, to the crown of his daughter’s head.

“I’ll make her a custom mini colonel uniform,” he whispered against her hair.

“She wants glitter boots,” you whispered back.

He sighed, resigned to fate. “Then she’ll have glitter boots.”

Your daughter peeked up at him with sleepy pride.

“Daddy’s home. but mommy’s still mine.”

“Terrifying,” Caleb murmured.

But he was smiling.

[iznsfw]

Lucid Dream

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 7 - Kim Minju

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

8,525 words

Categories | married man!You, wife!Wonyoung, daddy kink, degradation, rough sex, OC is not a good person

Content warning | cheating, humiliation, Wonyoung slander (it hurt to write but I read "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn recently so I guess that went into the whole wife-hating thing)

Skipping again a bit (still will do Chaeyeon and Chaewon and everyone because IZ*ONE best girls). Expect a commission and an IZ Days of Xmas fics this month again <3 I love you all, you make me happy. And as always, sorry for the inconsistency!

Wonyoung is beautiful.

You stare at her as she undresses in front of the full-length mirror. She’s the kind of woman whose vanity seldom rolls eyes because her adoration for herself—smoothing down her dark hair, strictly adhering herself to that keto diet, doing her skincare with the dedication of one who prays nightly to god (pick any)—is wholly justifiable. Look at her. Anyone would understand.

The dress she wore for her hosting show slips off her body. Her abs reflect in the mirror, the result of hard work in the gym. Wonyoung’s waist is impeccable. Magazines have written over and over tips to attain it but it seems that the signature Bratz doll feature can only belong to Wonyoung. The makeup was cleaned up by her stylist but her eyes still shine, her lashes are still long, and her lips are still plump.

Wonyoung is standing there in nothing but her underwear, an attractive set of lace. 

Wonyoung is the perfect female form, a goddess from above choosing a man from below.

Wonyoung is beautiful, a feat that no matter how amazing besides true, she remains the same old fucking bore.

“Did you like my MCing, babe?” she asks.

“Uh-huh.”

Her legs, long and thin, move in planned strides down the room. To the bed. You know where this is going.

Your feet are killing you. Recline, welcoming yourself into the softness of the expensive mattress and pillows your wife paid for all in all. “Wonyoung, I’m tired.” 

She’s a celebrity. Of course, endless days filled to the edge with schedules chase after her. She ought to understand. The nights are her only rest hours, yet with this energy, it’s like Jang Wonyoung never gets exhausted. Always bubbly, always sweet, always so seductive. 

All these are positive traits that any other man would adore and own had you not married her. 

Wonyoung makes an adorable sigh. “But you say that everytime,” she replies sullenly.

She’s pushing her lips out into this cute pout while her brown puppy eyes beg you to give in like you used to. Once upon a time, you were putty around Wonyoung. Never could give an answer without your voice shaking. Never could come near her without blushing. 

She’s the prettiest woman in the world.

You’re the most awful, undeserving man in the world, for all you could think, as you look at her, is: Fucking bitch. 

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m always tired.”

“How about,” she puts a finger on her chin, “I do the job for you?”

Her knees are bruised. You notice this when she drops to them so she could pull your pants to the ground. So she’s been doing this for so long? Lowering herself for you? Sucking you off? You thought that she’d get the hint by now: you don’t want to have sex with her.

So instead, she uses her mouth. Better than her pussy anyway. What are you saying? She’s a tight woman. But it’s the same thing everyday: she gets on your cock and you hear her annoying voice straining as she rides you. Her cunt, soaked and useless, makes you want to call her its name. She’s always needy. It isn’t flattering when you don’t reciprocate it.

It’s a goddamned chore. Wonyoung’s throat welcomes you. The other way around, actually: your cock welcomes a claustrophobically closed passageway and has to deal with it until you cum. It’s an unwanted visitor. She rang the bell, said hi, and you let her in. Doesn’t mean you like her there.

“Doing so good, baby,” you say. Oh, yeah, doesn’t mean you mean it either—although you do feel Wonyoung smile happily. She’s happy when she makes you happy. When she makes you give her the illusion that you have any happiness in this worn-out marriage.

Her lips seal around you. You can feel them suckling. Your knees are tense. The moans are forced, though. Hearing them come out from your own mouth makes you want to place a pillow over your face and press it down as hard as you can.

She slides you down her throat. Admittedly, you love the way she chokes. Her eyes get all watery, like she’s crying from pain. That sounds appealing. 

You’re a critically messed up man, you know. But they’re what make the world go ‘round. Why do you think they write romance books about them—the bad boy, the mafia boss, the killer? Plus, one of those “terrible” people inspires the biggest Korean celebrity to continue hosting, dancing, and singing. So who’s so terrible now?

To conclude, if anything, you’re the one responsible for Wonyoung’s success.

To conclude, you groan as desperately as you can then release in her mouth. Wonyoung gags. Another pretty sound. Her eyes look up while she attempts to swallow. Saliva sticks to her chin. Semen floods up to the roof of her mouth. It reminds you of how it ends up there more often than in her womb.

You would’ve made beautiful children with Wonyoung in another world where she wasn’t famous and you actually loved her. You would have been a softer, kinder man. She would have been a person who’s easier to love and make love with.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, that… was incredible.”

If you weren’t a director, you’d be the one on camera. You’re a great actor when it comes to your wife. Your incompetence in the house is masked by husbandly exhaustion; an artificial gaze of attentiveness hides your indifference to conversation. 

She smiles coquettishly. “I try.”

The wide closet parts. She chooses a pair of silk pajamas that hang around her thin frame. She climbs onto the bed and wraps an arm around you. Her skin is always cold to the touch. Like she’s dead or something. How interesting.

You stroke her hair. “I’d return the favor but… I’m actually gonna pass out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She kisses your forehead. Wonyoung’s a sweet girl. “Good night.”

You smile. Say it back. Her eyelids flutter closed. Her palms are flat against each other and are placed under her cheek. Cute, you guess. She sleeps. 

You don’t. 

You should have—nothing good ever happens after midnight.

-

2:05 a.m., more specifically.

-

Amazing how time slips through your grasp like air. You reach and reach, desperate for a return, desperate for a flash to the past. As always, your efforts aren’t fruitful. The seconds pour through the pinched waist of the hourglass and you can’t stand it on its other head. You’re unable to revert back to the moment you took your arm from underneath your wife’s skull. The moment you opened your phone. If you hadn’t, maybe things would have been different.

But it’s past two, and you’re resting your back on the pillowy headboard with your phone in your hands. The circumstances just play right into danger: Wonyoung’s asleep, the night is eerily quiet, and the screen is there, awaiting the secret routine. Which girls would you cum for today? Why aren’t your thumbs clicking over censored sites?

Your feed shows a naked woman, her eyes staring up and her mouth wide. Scroll past that—you prefer the amateur videos, where the expressions balance between exaggerated and naturally provoked. A ton of videos could help in the bathroom where you take your nightly “shower,” and it’s not one of those.

Maybe you need the real thing.

Look at Wonyoung. Perhaps you should have let her ride you just so you could cum in a warm pussy again. After all, it’s the least you could do when you were once a fan of her. That’s how everyone starts: puppy-like adoration. But she doesn’t have the star quality she once did onstage; the coy thoughtful princess you envisioned her as. That’s why you haven’t fucked her in weeks. 

You’re about to wrap your hand around your cock and ready yourself for another night of conflicted pleasure. This video is perfect for that already. You could jerk yourself off then get a good night’s sleep. Simple. This is the safest option for a dangerous want. By just watching, you’re not cheating on your wife. It’s just porn. Jerk off, cum, cum again probably, then sleep. Nobody gets hurt.

“Fuck me… please,” whimpers the woman in the video. Her legs are spread open. Her partner’s swiping his cock at her lips while she looks at him with equal hunger, equal desire. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Then, a text message notifies you, peeking from the top of your screen. It dares you to click it.

And it says the exact same thing.

fuck me please, i cant take it anymore. 

i miss you 

You look around, like you’re afraid someone might see it. There’s only the dimness of your bedroom that greets you. It’s safe, but this message isn’t. 

The number is familiar. Has one of your friends gone crazy? Or did they send a text to the wrong person? Take it for spam, a perfectly coincidental one, or a scam, a typical, preying-on-the-married, pwning message.

But why would a contact spam you at a time so strangely perfect?

Don’t bother. Your fist works on your dick as you watch the video. The woman’s so wet that although she isn’t squirting, her juices start to stick to the man’s thighs. Her mouth is wide open as he finally pounds her. 

What you’d give to have good sex like that again. 

XXX-XXX-XXX sent a video message.

Fine. Click it, you’re curious.

Oh, so apparently, the answer is your marriage.

The video shows a face that’s more intimate than familiar. The ebony-black hair already tells you who she is, as does her body. Her form is encased in a floral tank top and nothing else. Although her chest is covered, she’s still a little daring with how her nipples stamp the fabric. She turns herself around to let you admire the curve of her wide hips and her round butt.

There’s only one woman with a body so perfect. And she’s the one and only Kim Minju.

There are reasons for everything. This is yours for why you didn’t give this number a name: 

No one needs to know just from a text that you cheated on Jang Wonyoung.

That was so long ago, back when you were still boyfriend and girlfriend. You were drunk and missed Wonyoung’s old self. Why did she have to be such a bitch? Why did she dedicate herself to work and leave you dry? It’s not like the industry would go bankrupt without her. Minju came over, listened to your complaints—every little whine about Wonyoung being busy, every little jab at her workaholic character—then said something along the lines of, why don’t you have a little fun while she’s away. 

And you thought… yeah, that was a really great idea. 

That was the beginning of the end. After multiple secret meet-ups and raunchy sex in alleyways, you didn’t contact Minju again. You forgot her. You thought she did, too. She should have understood that your infidelity, albeit alluring, would be a thing of the past. 

But here she is, in your messages, with a pornographic clip of herself in a round-cornered bubble. She’s waiting for a reply. 

Although you’ve long lost your aspirations to be a better husband, you type what a good man should. This man is proper, faithful, and loving. He loves his wife only and the only other people he loves with this deep of a bond is his family. 

Stop texting me or I’ll block you. 

It’s not enough. You’re not a good man. You aren’t proper or faithful or loving or any of that shit. You were about to masturbate to an internet celebrity after turning down sex with your wife. What about that makes you a good person?

:( you miss me sooooo bad it’s pathetic, Minju replies.

You look at her again. You may not be able to turn back time with your metaphorical hourglass, but you can turn this hourglass body into any position you want. You could push her against a window for all to see, perhaps fuck her to the floor, or slam her on a desk like a teacher would to a test paper. Minju would let you do anything to her.

Stop it.

She really has to. As much as you dislike Wonyoung, she’s your wife, and you vowed on your wedding day to only have eyes for her. 

But you’re only one man against a body like Minju’s that curves in every right place.

Three circles float up and down in a contained bubble before she texts you back:

alright…what a pity :( i’m already outside!! i guess ill have to go back…

You’ve never bolted out of bed so fast. 

You look back at Wonyoung as you stand in the doorway. She’s still in deep slumber. Now, are the curtains closed? The entrances locked? Scan the house thoroughly, until you inch your way to the front door. 

Hesitate. You didn’t know you had a conscience but here it is. It tells you to wonder if Minju really is behind it, like she said. She knows how to use the privilege of being Wonyoung’s close friend. That’s how she came to your house like she used to with no worry for paparazzi or suspicion. Best friends don’t fuck their best friends’ husbands, right?

Open the door. This one did.

Minju grew more beautiful in her absence. Her hair is silkier this time and her shy smile is brighter. The long coat is smoothed by her fingers, and you wish you could be the brown piece of fabric her pale hands run down. What makes you guilty for thinking it, even when you’ve done it, is the fact that she looks so innocent. It’s like it would be a crime to even buy her a drink. 

How could she be innocent with that photo she sent? The time you spent together: you folding her over a table and promising to fill her up? Fucking her while Wonyoung is busy and counting on you to welcome her home? Sending nudes like there’s no tomorrow? Nothing about Minju is pure, yet she acts like she could do no wrong.

“Minju,” you say. Your voice sounds fragile. She has a way of breaking you befote you’re breaking her into breaking another bed. 

She blinks theatrically. Everything she does is angelic. “Glad you opened the door.”

The knob is cold in your fist. It chills your animalistic brain and urges you to consider the consequences. Right, it says, here’s what a human—a good one—would think. If Wonyoung wakes and sees you with Minju, she’d have a lot of questions. If paparazzi are somehow hiding in the forest that extends to acres before your house, everyone would know you’re cheating on her. Most of all, you’re married, monogamy and everything. 

So what will it be? This is your last and only chance to send her away.

You know what you have to do. Take a few breaths. “You have to leave. I’m not joking, it isn’t right.”

In response, Minju unravels the ribbon of the layers sealed around her waist. It falls apart. You do, too.

She’s a real danger. As it turns out, the girl isn’t wearing anything underneath that trench coat. She’s an artist’s naked muse—bare long legs, wide hips, and a sizable bust that has sculptors carving something else.

The cold hardens her pink nipples. You notice how her breasts are much bigger than your wife’s. How her hips are more tempting to grab, so you do. How her body is meatier, a lot more enticing that you wouldn’t refuse a day without touching it.

Minju fuels your infidelity, and you won’t stop for it if it kills you.

She simpers, fingers curling into your work shirt. “Still wanna make me leave,” she asks, “when you can breed me all night long?”

You laugh, huffing it out as you pull her inside and close the door behind her. Minju looks gorgeous pressed to it. She looks gorgeous in whatever situation, actually. Her thighs squish against the carved design and look thicker as a result. More reasons to dive into that shaven cunt and abuse it.

“You’re not leaving until we make a fucking mess, Minju.” You take your shirt off. Throw it on the ground. “And we better make it quick.”

“Of course.” She nods. She’s slyer than a fox, but she submits to you without a second thought.

You lean in to kiss her. The heat is unbearable. You can feel it from Minju’s body transferring to yours. It’s the effect of her natural skills as your personal slut: trying to fit her tongue deeper in your mouth while you pull her close like she’d dare to run away. 

You haven’t gotten this hard for anyone else. It’s always been Minju you fall for. You miss the way she kisses, the way she roams her hands all over your torso, the way she’s goddamned insatiable. Feeling it all now in one, heated moment makes you dizzy. You’re taking in too much of her, but without her, you’d go thirsty again. 

Your fingers are in her hair; hers are on your waist. Your teeth are clamped down on Minju’s bottom lip; hers are apart and allow soft moans to pass through—one, two, three. You fit each other in so many wicked ways. They did say misery loves company.

Open your eyes. The dream doesn’t stop. Minju’s still pushing her mouth in your face and you’re letting her. You don’t know if you ought to be relieved or downright horrified. You’re cheating on Wonyoung again with a woman whose body is just a bit nicer. You should be furious at yourself. You aren’t.

You’ve made out with each other on the way to the dining room. You and your wife worked hard for its designed walls and sturdy, well-furnished ornaments. A lot of money was raked out to make this house the best place to call home. So, why do you want to ruin it?

Well, because of her.

Minju leans on the dining table with a funny smile on her face. “She really doesn’t do it for you, huh?” she asks.

It makes you wince how you know who she’s talking about. Who else is she referring to other than poor Wonyoung? Poor, skinny, ugly Wonyoung?

Nibble at her earlobe. Hear little gasps come out of her. “Don’t talk about her,” you say.

You don’t want to have any afterthoughts about fucking Minju. Besides, being reminded that you’re disloyal to a woman who loves you very much is painful, even to a man like you.

Wonyoung is an angel. Minju isn’t—but you run after her to darkness.

“Ohh, come on, I know I’m better than her.” Minju squirms with erotic moans. Your kisses are going south, and she loves their little detour. “You don’t fuck her like you fuck me.”

When was the last time you worshiped Wonyoung? Like what you’re doing to Minju now? Your lips haven’t passed over it in ages that you probably wouldn’t know where the bigs and smalls of her body are. Like there’s anything to know. 

“Actually,” you snort, “I don’t fuck her at all.”

You stop chuckling. That was the wrong thing to say. That was the wrongest thing to say out of the millions of other cocky phrases you could’ve thrown to Minju. The look on her face, the one that’s of pride and submission and dangerous knowledge united, tells you to watch your mouth. 

You’re five seconds minimum too late to listen. 

Minju grins. There’s the answer she wanted. “That’s how it is? Just looking at a girl and thinking you wanna stamp a divorce approval on her forehead? Jesus. This is why I never got married.”

“First off, nobody put a ring on you because you’re a slut, Minju.”

“That’s only the third reason.” Her fingers drape the sides of your face and tugs you in. You’re invited to the sight of her infallible tits. “These are the first two.”

The girl isn’t as busty as that woman Wonyoung likes to call her industry mom, but you bet they’re better. No, it’s a matter of truth. Minju’s boobs aren’t too big or too small; just the perfect, filling size to hold onto when you’re railing her from behind.

You choose to suck on them for now. It’s like a trip down memory lane when you kiss down her neck and collarbone. You remember how good her smooth, soft skin feels beneath you, how her moans are a favorite tune. Minju bites her lip while you do so to her shoulder.

It’s crazy to think that she just so happened to be born with this. She was born to be a pretty face with a sex-defined body that you pull and push and pry apart. Best thing is, she’ll lay back down and beg for more. It’s like she knows her purpose, which would’ve shot down her dignity and humanity.

Her nipple pops in your mouth. Your sucking guarantees its hardness, and Minju starts whining. She arcs her body, wanting something rougher. Thus, you seize the span of her hip to rub her pearl with fierce speed.

“Oh, fuck, god—” What others might take for blasphemy, you take for praise. Minju’s already soaking wet. She would have had embarrassing laundry to do if she wore panties. Maybe it’s a good thing she arrived wearing nothing.

She’s still so sensitive. You caress her clit after a few kisses down her midriff. She fidgets needily like you aren’t already touching her. You’re nearly right—this touch is nothing when she needs something harsher. That something involves you treating her less than a human being, putting her down and tearing at her hair. 

“Please just fuck me,” she whispers. “Breed me, breed me, breed me—”

Yeah, that’s what she wants.

You don’t need further motivation, not when you’re presented with the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen. Her fat lips are soaked. They frame the clitoris you’ve been stimulating that shines with slick. Then there’s the tiniest hole below it that begs to be used.

Your digits shove past all tightness. Her wetness allows a deeper exploration, so you curl your digits like you’re beckoning the orgasm forward. You know how easily you can get it out of her. All it needs to get Minju cumming around you is a slap, roughness, and giving her what she wants anyway. You know your methods, she knows hers. It’s a recognizable cycle that despite this, you can’t break.

Part your fingers widely to spread her. She’s so wet that she soaks your knuckles. There’s an ocean inside her waiting to be waved to shore. A storm, too, brews from the base of her throat as Minju whimpers. Her body lifts off the table but you force her down on it. She isn’t going anywhere, not without a fight.

Oh, and fight she does. She was an idol before an actress, so her muscles still memorize the circling motions that repeat on your fingers rather than move onstage. She sang once. That was a long time ago yet her voice sounds perfect as it strains her moans. Every little thing she does is a reflection of her past. 

That’s why when she leans back, pupils dilating north, and says “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you get deja vu.

Your palm hits her clit, adding impact to your strokes. “There you go, little slut,” you snarl. “Are you happy now? Maybe even a little grateful?”

If Minju’s ass isn’t pressed down on the glass mantling your dining table, it hovers so her pink little hole receives you better. It’s not without the help of her weak hands clinging to the table for dear life, but she seems to be losing her balance. Her hips are shuddering. Her beautiful face is squeezed up into a blissful wince. Her breaths are becoming blunt little gasps that say none of the gratitude you want to hear.

You slap her boob. Red blooms from her pale skin that deepens when another impacts her bosom. The recoil dizzies you. If anyone’s getting the impression that you’ll slap her bouncy tits until you hear a proper word of thanks, they’d be right. First impressions are right just for once.

“T-thank you—” Her voice cracks, breaking like her. “Fuck, shit, thank you, thank you.”

Squeeze her cruelly and pull on the perky nipple. Your thrusts become mindlessly paced. Your hand returns to your cock while the other ruins her pussy. The pleasure is telepathic. It’s connecting you; her screams and squirms make you do the same. The electricity firing up in your veins is a shared network. When you point your fingers to her spot, she arcs her back in the same direction. How beautifully fucked up is that? 

“That’s not enough. You didn’t come here for nothing. What do you want, Minju?”

Minju babbles. You got your gratitude but not a proper answer. To be fair, she can’t speak when you’re fucking her like it’s your dick inside her, and when your lips are all over her collarbone. 

“And you better keep quiet,” you add, curling your thrusts, “or Wonyoung‘s gonna hear. Do you really want her to know her precious friend is a big slut?”

However, despite the rumors she starts, Minju could be a very good girl when needed. 

“Need you to make me cum,” she whispers. Her midriff is fluid as water with the way it rolls, showing off the hourglass shape of her waist and a soft tummy. “Do everything to me you can’t with Wonyoung. P-please, I can’t take it.”

Even if she can’t (wrong by the way), you’ll make her. She asked for it. She walked up to your house with a purpose: to be used, to be treated like less of a human being. So it’s understandable that you slam her down the table and seal a hand around her neck. 

She’s so light that the forceful push doesn’t break the fragile glass. But there’s something of hers instead that’s going to be broken.

“Oh fuck! It’s so–” Minju’s eyes roll back. “Ohh… oh!”

Little sparks of wetness shoot in the air. Your pace turns merciless. With just three fingers, you puppet her body. Strings are pulled—her arms raise and her long legs strain to pull you in. You push and she keens, you pull and she yells. You’re making her desecrate the place with her water.

“C-can’t breathe.” A squeeze of her beautiful features—eyelids wrinkling, mouth parting, cheeks filling with scarlet—occurs before she squirts again. She whimpers pathetically, sounding so pitiful you want to laugh. “Ah, fuck, daddy—”

Something stirs inside you. When men hear that name, it ought to feel purely platonic and familial. They’d hear it from their daughter and feel compelled to protect them from men who’d do to them what you do to Minju. But you much prefer hearing that two-syllable word when it comes from a naked woman squirting all over the floor, from whom once you register it, you’re urged to pin her down, tie her down, hold her down.

Ironically, you release her. That isn’t because it’s over though. “On your knees. Follow me.”

Minju releases a gasp, grateful for the oxygen. The color returns to her face yet she barely has the energy to get off the table. You’re a generous man, and hey, it still counts as helping. So you yank her hair and force her on the ground. She fucking moans, a feat deserving of a healthy spank to her ass.

You walk to the living room. She follows you withher hands and knees bearing the cold tiles. You lead her to the place where you spend your time watching movies, rehearsing, and hanging out with Wonyoung if she’s ever home.

Speaking of, glance at the door of your bedroom. It’s still closed. It’ll stay that way.

Look down after wondering why Minju’s noisier. She’s playing with herself on the floor with no care for the cold chill of the tiles or the little dirt wedged between them. She lightly rubs her abused clit, quivering at the contact. You expect that from her—she’s corrupted, an irredeemable cause. She’ll get herself off anytime anywhere.

But what’s unexpected is what those watery eyes are focused on: you, in a framed picture on the wall. You look younger, happier. You’re in formal garments standing next to Wonyoung in a church.

It was you on your wedding day.

You spit on Minju. “Filthy cumslut.”

The drool slides down her cheek like a tear. She darts her tongue out and licks it. One could’ve thought it was candy considering the lift of a smile. 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she says resolutely. Her fingers still toy with her entrance. They won’t serve her well when there’s a bigger, better thing behind your pants to do it for her.

Your pants are already off. “Get up. Get the fuck up,” you command, but you do it for her. 

You grab her neck and force her up. The look on her face is addicting, the way the shock turns into carnal need, the way she bites her lip. You press her to the wall, right under the framed wedding pictures, and finally plunge yourself inside her.

“Oh, oh, oh!” 

What did Minju do to get this tight? Her walls are squeezed closer around you than you remember. They’re still wet from her squirting, easing your burden of fighting against the tautness of her core.

Her groans are pitched just like how you pitch yourself in her and make her fight for it. She tries everything: gathering the strength she has to push her ass into your crotch, rolling her body, looking back to watch your cock disappear between her lips. 

“So big, daddy!” she cries. With a lick of her lips, she turns to face you. “Mmm, d-do you ever get this massive when you’re fucking Wonyoung?”

That seals it. There’s no restraint in using her body. Her plump ass leading to her toned back is a temptation by itself. You’d burst all over it (maybe in it) if you weren’t already firm in breeding her. But dear god—it rises and descends into your angled pumps so effortlessly that you aren’t afraid to spank it like you’re angry at her. 

“Keep your whore mouth shut.”

Spank after spank you bestow and you realize, oh, you and Minju are really made for each other. The more her ass reddens, the more hot pain sparks on your palm. She throws herself back hard, you piston her harder. 

Your puzzle pieces stick together so perfectly that it’s a shame you didn’t meet under different circumstances. She could’ve been an adorable girl next door and you could have been a guy looking to slip her a love letter. She would’ve been your loving girlfriend, a beautiful wife, someone you’d actually enjoy touching, so different from the woman asleep in the bed upstairs.

But that’s never happening. Minju’s a slut through and through, and she’ll forever be a sin you won’t go to confessions for. She was made to be fucked then discarded of when she’s no longer of use. You see it in the way she’s in a mantra of craziness, the way she yells, the way she looks back at you like she’s daring you to hurt her.

You choose the dare rather than to tell her the truth. You curl her hair into a fist and pull her into you. 

“God, I’m so close.” Minju’s trembling body grows warmer in your touch. “I’m gonna cum all over your big gorgeous cock. I can’t hold out longer, daddy.”

Your teeth dig into her earlobe. You could make her bleed and she’d still find a way to make the pain heavenly. “I thought I told you to be quiet. Is Wonyoung waking up and ending your life worth it for this?”

“What if I say yes?” 

“Fuck.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice, making her see you’d give her away to get a night with me? You’ll give up all this stupid shit t-to be my daddy. Because Wonyoung’s just sooo worthless, isn’t she?”

Savage her cunt and shove your fingers down her mouth just so she could shut up. You love this. Minju’s always so ready for you. 

No, actually—now that you think about it, you hate it. You hate how she’s curvier than your wife, how she’s more alluring than she could ever be, how she moans despite the blockage in her throat. Everything about her is so sexy that the sound of her choking up spit makes you throb. 

This is the wrong time to have a conscience. You’ve already split her apart. You’ve already got your fingers in her hair that pull hard to the point that damage is highly likely. You’ve already—

—got Minju screaming, biting down on your skin as her legs spread. What a strange thing to have as a natural reflex. That’s all she knows to do: spread her legs, hope her innocent face attracts a guy into her home and his dick into her pussy. Her skin, white as snow, has become impure with red blemishes. You see her purple-bruised neck flex when she yells into your hand. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Minju yells. Her fingernails leave fine scratches on the wall. “Fuck, I’m squirting so much I don’t know what to do—oh fuck!”

You bump the manic girl up on your knee before spreading her legs. A godless squirt of her juices hits Wonyoung’s face, the savior being the glass protecting the picture. Others bless their homes with water blessed by esteemed priests; you like to stand out. Choose to have Minju’s unholy juice flood the photo you once held dear. 

Did something possess you? An evil spirit, a god of fertility? All are clichés but you can’t help but think so when you notice how fast you’re pumping Minju. It’s like greed’s finally reigned you. It’s difficult to resist. Minju just wrings your cock perfectly dry with her tight cunt, keeps you speedy with her desperate moans. You’re vandalizing her with your climax and she doesn’t want to be clean ever again.

“You think you’re special, Minju?” You press her to the ruined picture. Her side profile mashes on the glass. “You’re nothing, only a useless hole, just like that bitch. Now clean it up.”

Her eyes light up in shock. Excitement? “What?”

You pull her head back in order to have her full lips pressed against Wonyoung’s face. The clear squirt is still dripping from it. Minju’s face is red, and although your cock left her moments ago, she insists on tensing like it’s there. Is that how she lives? Her way of bonding is riding on the high she got the night before and the night before that. She always has sex in her mind that thoughts of it occur to her as they would to an animal. 

That’s right; she’s an animal. Perhaps even a dog would have more self-control than her, ironically. 

“Lick your mess,” you command. “Now.”

Minju whimpers. You bury your fingernails in her scalp until she loses her fake hesitance. Her tongue glides on Wonyoung’s face and relieves her of the mess. Her lips part and close, taking in her own taste. 

She looks like she’s making out with your wife. Her pretty face smudges the other pretty face in the picture and it’s so much hotter than it’s got the permit to be. Wonder how it’ll look if she’s actually kissing the real Wonyoung—picture them with their legs locked together and tongues coming out to play—and you’re hard enough for another round.

“That’s right. You want to be Wonyoung so bad? You want to be the one I drive into the bed everyday? So fucking make out with her.”

“Y-yes, daddy. Oh.” Minju’s moans fog the glass. “I taste delicious.”

 It’s probably a hygienically reprehensible thing to do. But her mouth is dirtier than the picture anyway. You force her lips deeper into it until you pull her away, satisfied.

Not quite.

Rub her clit a few more times. Hose her squirt all over the floor. You’ll have a mess to clean up. Oh, there’s all the evidence: her squirt on the floor, her lipstick in the shape of a languid kiss on the picture frame, the mess she made in the dining table where you ate her rather than your food. 

But it’s all worth it. An evil idea plants and sprouts in your mind. “Bedroom.”

Minju pants. Her hands are flat on the wall. She turns to you, saliva and lipstick smeared on her chin, and asks, “W-which one?” 

“You know exactly where.”

Her wide eyes tell you wordlessly that she got the point. She’s well aware of what room you want to use her body next. It’s not even supposed to be a question given the ways and moments you fucked her there.

“But daddy—if, if she hears us?”

You grin. “Then you’ll have to be pretty fucking quiet.”

The best thing about Minju besides her body is her passiveness. She may act up sometimes but she still needs your cock, and she’ll do anything to get it. So when she hangs her head to hide her smile, you spank her. It speeds her steps to the staircase. Continue doing so all the way.

It’s funny how she struggles to even lift a foot. Streams of your cum and hers slide down her legs, staining the carpet. You’ll have to wash that out, too. If you have the maid do it, she’s likely to put two and two together. 

Even from the back, Minju’s body is beautiful. Her reddened ass twists from side to side and brings attention to her wide hips. The deep line on her spine is a path you trace your fingertips on. She quivers. 

“Daddy,” she whines.

Hit her butt. Let it fill your palm. “Keep on walking.”

It’s borderline dehumanizing. You’re treating her with a ferociousness a woman like her should never have to go through. The eyes of the painted men and women on your walls lock on her. It’s like their hard stares are real. Minju bears the blows to her cheeks during her walk of humiliation up the stairs. Tiny yelps are caused by each one. It’s in her to be quiet now that Wonyoung is quite near, although not as close as she is to another heavy orgasm.

You slap her pussy, making her shake, then lead the juices mingling in it up to her asshole. She chews on the inside of her cheek to hide her moan. She reaches the last step with a huge sigh of relief. 

The finality of the torture doesn’t last long. Fuck, it doesn’t even exist. You collect the semen and wetness from her legs, then drag it right back to her pussy.

You shove your fingers deep in her cave. There. Now your cum stays inside her. After that, it’ll drip all the way to her womb. She screams through pursed lips. 

Push her hard against your bedroom door. Her stomach’s flatness goes up to the point that it’s the only thing engendered into the wood. Minju’s tiny gasp is already loud for you. Her beautiful side profile is mashed deep into the solid barrier between the two women.

Minju whimpers. Is she scared or heavily turned on? The thing with her is she likes both. So, yeah—she’s wet at the thought of being caught with you, being fucked within a distance of your wife wherein she could finally pin down your infidelity. 

The little angel closes her eyes when your words hover near her prone ear. “Shut up,” you warn, “unless you want to lose your career. Or this dick.”

You slip your shaft between Minju’s shapely thighs. A friction is nurtured and grown into rough, pant-accompanied humping that leaves both of you breathless. Her pussy lips splay warmly on you and you’re allowed to rub yourself on her clit. 

Minju tenses up. Her breaths are kept to a hummed volume yet their huskiness gets you to fuck her legs faster. The core between them is so warm and you haven’t even welcomed yourself in it again. 

You carefully open the door. You don’t know what you’re expecting: Wonyoung crying with her face in her knees? An anger you never knew she could have? But what shows calms you. There’s your wife who remains asleep on the bed. From the soft snores, it’s easy to tell she’s deep in a dream.

“Wonyoung’s so pretty, daddy,” whispers Minju. You push her to the footboard where she holds on tight. “Do you think she’ll want to join if she wakes up? Or she’ll leave you for me?”

“Are you sure you want to act like that?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Depends on what you’re gonna do to me.”

Everything. You’re planning on doing everything to her. 

Push her to the small pole of the wood. You’re forced to shove your fingers in her mouth again to keep her from yelling. The contact it makes to her clit is already overwhelming. But she’s all for overwhelming—she wants the kind of sex that leaves her beaten and bruised, the kind that leaves her sore and not knowing if she should tell you to keep going or halt. 

You know what she’d choose.

Minju grinds on the pole. She’s dancing her hips again. Somehow, things of the past don’t leave her. Her idol days still leave an impact on her. The guy she made cheat on his wife a long time ago returned to her life to cheat again. 

No, you’ve never been one for sentimentality, but things have somehow stayed the same. The slut that is Minju today was a slut all those years ago, too. 

Grab her hips and force her to hump the ball of the pole. She soaks it instantly. Minju is corrupted to no hope of return. There’s your cum, leaking from her pussy and to the bedsheets. Her juices wet the pole and increase the creaking noises that would wake Wonyoung up if not for whatever dream she’s having.

“Oh, daddy! Oh, daaaddy—” she stammers, words bitten and broken in the major need to be quiet.  “Just… fuck me. Please?”

“As long as you—”

“Be a good quiet girl, yes. I’ll do anything, daddy. Anything for this cock.” 

She kneels down. Her tender mouth seals around your left testicle. You nearly shout right there and then. Minju’s running her lips on the underside of your swelling dick. She feels so good, and she is so good. She has all the tips and tricks to keep you hard memorized, if her brain wasn’t too full of other dirty thoughts.

The rasp in your throat materializes and makes her squirm her legs together. She puckers her lips then slips your cock through their joined entrance. Her almond eyes look wider tonight. Your tip pokes the back of her throat. She lets it rub there for now. You find pleasure in the texture that makes you leak. No, you can’t cum. Not yet.

Take a last look at Wonyoung before diving your rod to the depths of Minju’s throat.

It’s funny that the girl still has a gag reflex. Sucking dick is second nature to her. So is getting throatfucked. The walls of her oral hole flex to keep you in. She makes sharp inhalations only to take in the musky scent you thrust on her. In her?

Choking comes after. The orifice grows tighter which makes you fuck it harder. Saliva’s slick liquid state sheens your erection. Minju’s lost her breath a long time ago but she’s lost more than that now. The regular beat of her heart is gone. You can’t search her face for any color other than the palest white. 

“You have to stop gagging, Minju,” you say. Don’t help her though; keep ruining that throat. “Maybe you really do wanna get caught. Makes you really wet, doesn’t it?”

She nods. Your hard tip bobs in her mouth as she does. Her pretty eyes, with their long lashes and big pupils that always seem to gleam with innocence, fill with watery tears. 

“How cute.” You’re surprised that her hair is intact to her scalp after you pull it back. “But I make the rules around here. And I need you to seal that mouth shut and use it for good.”

There’s a possibility that, like Minju, you’re a dancer as well. But the upward grind of your body has no grace in it. It’s a rough, punked up beat that renders the girl humming and screaming.  This roughness is nowhere close to natural.

You dip your cock in her just to see how far you could go, how far is needed to keep her quiet. Feed her more than she could suck. Every sensitive spot of yours is on fire thanks to Minju’s dutiful tongue and hard sucking. Your sack slaps her chin so hard it’s surprising it doesn’t hurt. 

But, like you iterated, Minju isn’t normal. She takes the pain for pleasure and doesn’t give a damn if she gets wounded because of it. 

The tears finally fall from her eyes. 

The lines blur. Who is she—the woman asleep on your bed or the woman you fucked to be disloyal to her? Minju’s beautiful; so is Wonyoung. Jang Wonyoung is beautiful but there’s a category of beauty wherein the girl you’re destroying right now falls in. That’s the section for women who look pretty when they cry, who’ve accepted they’re as fucked up as whoever finds them and takes them in for who they are.

Your wife is pretty. You guess. But Minju is a beauty who lets you do everything to her, and that makes her a little bit more important.

Defile, defile, defile. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you get cum in her hair—(”I have a photoshoot, babe, you can’t!”). Semen sticks to Minju’s locks right now. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you be this rough with her—(“And what if they see? I shouldn’t look dirty to the fans.”) Minju is sitting there taking it like she’s just a cum dump. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you tear off her clothes because “they’re couture so it’s not really mine.” The coat Minju wore coming here lies discarded on the first floor.

Wonyoung doesn’t let anyone defile her. It’s her most fatal flaw. It’s the flaw that makes her husband see all the tiny imperfections she doesn’t allow the camera to see and chase highs in another woman’s throat.

So when Minju cries, gags, chokes—you realize it’s all so simple.

Slip out of her. The delusions clouding your head make you steal a look at the bed. Oh, now it’s unbelievable. Wonyoung is still asleep.

Not that it’s any inconvenience to you.

You prop Minju up to the vanity table. The counter carries the heave of her small chest. She can barely lift her head up. It makes her carry a look of humiliation that’s not at all true. She’s the most shameless woman you’ve ever met.

“Daddy… daddy…” 

Twist her chin so she can look at herself in the mirror. Her body is amazing despite the handprints and bruises peppered on her stomach, butt, and neck. She flusters but your finger presses on her lips before she can look away.

“Not a single sound,” you remind her. 

She nods. Good girl.

Minju’s a capable girl. Well, mostly. She offers those amazing dicksucking lips, shapely curves, and sometimes, her ass for ruining its own tightness. But nothing beats the feeling of her cunt. It’s all the right things: wet, tight, and perfectly quivering as they wrap around your shaft.

Minju closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. She fights to be true to her promise of silence. Being a good girl and bad girl simultaneously is one of her versatile traits. The table creaks louder than expected. You would’ve shot another look at your spouse again, but Minju’s pretty face is in the way. Her cheeks are scarlet and her brows bead with sweat. She really is a beauty.

Your strokes are ceaseless. The thing that shocks you the least is the fact that her legs look as if they spread wider and wider. She splits while you split her apart. Place a hand on her tummy to muffle the sounds of skin colliding and wood creaking, and reach a better end: your cock is hitting her guts, making a bobbing print on her flat stomach.

“Look how deep I am, Minju.” You grin wickedly at her reflection. “You call me daddy anywhere, don’t you? How about I become a real one?”

Minju bounces herself on you. That’s a yes. A definite, enthusiastic yes. 

Your penetration is rougher, gliding on places she can’t even imagine. If you cum right now, and this far in, you’ll live up to your name of “daddy.” Minju isn’t the only one who has to keep promises.

Corner a pulse point on her neck. Her core squeezes and although its resistance is tough, your pumps are more so.

“You’ll be my secret good girl. Daddy’s gonna put a fucking baby in your stomach, and no one has to know it’s mine. No one has to know you’re mine.”

Minju pouts, not out of sadness but of the orgasm that’s creeping from her feet to her center. It’s so close she could reach for it, taste it like a strong wind. You allow the tiny breaths and pants that leave her to be exemptions from your bedroom law.

“Wonyoung would be so happy for you.” You lick the sensitive spot behind her ear. “‘That’s so great, unnie! Come on, tell us who’s the lucky guy.’ And you’ll have to stop yourself from telling her that I did it. Can you do that?”

Minju emphasizes each repetition with a responding throb and push of her cunt. “Yes, yes, yes—”

Allow that, too. Burst inside Minju. Flood her insides with cum that shall infiltrate her fertile womb. Soon, that tummy would be round rather than flat. It’ll be your baby. 

Minju got what she wanted in the end.

-

The next day, Wonyoung will wake up crying. 

It’ll happen early in the morning, when the moon is still up and sheets still wrap your exhausted form. But she’s sobbing so loud that it’ll rouse you. 

“What’s wrong?” you’ll say. 

She’ll tell you about a dream she had. Wonyoung’s going to narrate a complex dream of Minju, her beloved former member and best friend, seducing you. It happened right in the house and in front of her. You dared to do it to her while she was sleeping and thought she didn’t know.

And you?

You’ll take her in your arms, kiss the inside of her trembling wrist, and say, “Oh, honey—it’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m here.”

[roosterforme]

Sundays Are for the Boys | Hangman x Reader

Summary: Football Sundays are a sacred tradition amongst Jake and his friends, and he's quick to make sure you know that. But when the boys discover your favorite drink in the refrigerator, Jake makes an exception to his rule.

Warnings: Fluff, language, a tiny bit of smut, 18+

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Written for Pick Your Poison! Banner by @thedroneranger

Dating Jake came with one firm rule: Sundays were for watching football with the guys. 

"I mean it," he'd told you months ago when you first started dating him. "I host every week. They come over around ten when the games start, and they don't leave until after the last game ends. No wives. No girlfriends. Just a cooler filled with cheap beer. Sundays are for the boys."

At the time, you thought it was cute that he wanted to spend the day with his friends. "That's adorable," you told him, kissing his cheek. But by the time football season arrived, Jake was already in his Dallas Cowboys jersey, shaking you awake on Sunday morning at nine.

"It's almost game time, Baby. The guys will be here soon."

You looked up at him from his bed with a little smirk. "You're really into this, huh?" 

He kissed your forehead and started to pull you to your feet as you laughed. "It's a thing. I told you this months ago." He patted your bare butt as you looked around for your clothes from the night before. "It's week one, and the Cowboys play the Eagles in the early game. I love putting Payback in a bad mood."

You kissed him before you slipped your underwear on. "I know you do."

He was antsy, and you knew he wanted you to leave, but you also knew he didn't want to say it as he kissed you over and over again. "Baby, you gotta go," he finally whispered as you smiled against his lips. 

"I know, I know," you replied, still amused as you finished getting dressed and packed up your stuff. "Go Cowboys."

Each week, your relationship progressed, but this little routine stayed the same. Jake would inevitably wake you up by nine if you weren't already up. He would be wearing one of his many Dallas Cowboys jerseys. He would walk you out to your car and tell you how much he loved you before you left him to entertain his friends. 

But one Sunday, you woke him up with a blowjob on his birthday. And you took your time with it. Did you have a bit of an ulterior motive? Sure. But it didn't detract from the fact that you wanted him to enjoy himself, and you certainly made sure he did. He was coming hard at exactly 9:42 with his hand on the back of your head and his cock tapping your throat. 

"Oh, fuck!" he groaned. "Fuck!" 

You licked him clean and grinned up at him before kissing his hip and whispering, "I love you, birthday boy." Then you climbed out of bed, kissed his lips and started to get dressed. "It's almost ten. I'll head out."

You saw him waver a bit before he nodded. Then his doorbell rang, and you just knew it would be the guys starting to arrive. He kissed you deeply one more time before pulling on his blue and gray jersey and some gym shorts. "Take your time getting dressed. I'll go let them in."

"Sounds good," you replied. And twenty minutes later, after you'd fixed your hair and put on the tiniest bit of makeup, you waltzed out into the living room where there were now six guys spread out on Jake's sectional couch with an open cooler of beer on ice in the middle of the floor and bags of chips seemingly everywhere. 

It was kind of fascinating, getting to catch a glimpse of this carefully curated world that he worked so hard to keep private. Your plan was to quietly sneak out the front door, but you had to stifle your laughter as you heard Bradley tell your boyfriend, "Your Cowboys look like a bunch of fucking pussies this week."

"You're one to talk, dipshit," Jake replied without missing a beat. "The Steelers are 2 and 4." He went back to sipping his beer.

"Both of you are delusional," Coyote told them as he cracked open a can and shoved a fistful of chips into his mouth. 

You skirted around the outside of the room as you eyed them in their various colorful jerseys while you thought they were completely focused on the game. Then you heard Fanboy call your name. "You're leaving?" he asked, looking at you as he ate some beef jerky.

"Yeah," you said with a little laugh as Jake got up to peck you on the cheek. "You know, Sundays are for the boys and all that."

Just then, the Cowboys scored a touchdown, and Jake hoisted you up in the air as you screeched in surprise. Half of the guys groaned, and half of them cheered, but your boyfriend held you tight as he tossed aside his empty beer can and said, "You can't leave until they kick the extra point." So you just stayed there, your feet not even touching the ground as Jake held his breath, and then the Cowboys went up by one more point. Then Jake walked you to your car, nipping at your neck the entire way.

"Don't you have to get back inside?" you whispered as he filthy kissed you, pressing you against the driver's side door. 

"I will," he grunted. "Feel like you're my lucky charm right now."

He kissed away all your lip gloss and messed up your makeup, but when you finally drove away, you had a smile on your face.

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

"What are these things?" Reuben called from the kitchen. Jake turned to see what he was holding up.

"High Noons," he replied before focusing back on the game. "My girl's obsessed with them. It's like a fancy hard seltzer."

"Can I try one?"

"Yeah," Jake told him, knowing he'd just replace them later for you. 

Javy was currently sitting on the floor, practically in tears as the Saints gave up another touchdown to the Dolphins. Mickey's loud cheering had everyone else laughing. "Dude, you'll lose your voice again like last week," Bradley told him as he accidentally spilled potato chips all over the floor before picking them up and eating them anyway. 

"It'll be worth it if the Saints lose!" Mickey cheered. 

"Hey, what's that?" Bradley asked Reuben as he chugged the High Noon can and belched. "Some sort of girly shit?"

"Yeah, it's fucking good."

A minute later, everyone was drinking them, including Jake. "This is delicious," Bob muttered.

"For real," Reuben agreed. "Your girl has good taste."

Bradley snorted as he opened another can. "Not in guys." He and Reuben started cracking up at Jake's expense while he rolled his eyes. 

Then Javy was on his hands and knees crawling toward the TV and shouting, "Get him! Get him! That's a fucking sack! Fuck you, Fanboy! Fuck you, dude!"

The room was in chaos as Javy ground the potato chip crumbs into the carpet. When Jake's phone vibrated, he saw it was a text from you and realized he kind of wished you were here right now.

I miss you. Are you having fun with the boys?

He smiled as he checked the time. The Cowboys game would be starting in less than an hour, and they always seemed to play better whenever you were in the room for those fleeting few minutes before you left him to his Sunday tradition. He tapped his fingers on his thigh and contemplated texting you back. 

"Hey, Jake, are there any more of these things?" Bob asked, holding up his empty High Noon can. It was a testament to how good they tasted that Bob was even drinking one in the first place. He absolutely hated beer.

"I don't think so," Jake muttered, almost to himself as he read your text again. "Let me check." He started his response to you and then finished it after he looked in his nearly empty fridge.

I miss you too, Baby. Where did you get those High Noons? The boys drank them all, and they loved them. I'm going to need to stock up.

When he looked up from his phone, Javy was on his back, kicking his feet in the air, because the Dolphins had scored another touchdown. "No!"

"Hey, Hangman, you're out of chips," Bradley complained, shaking the empty bag into his open mouth before frowning. 

Now Mickey was dancing around Javy on the floor as the final score of the game flashed across the bottom of the screen. His Dolphins had beat Javy's Saints, and Reuben was already changing the channel for the next game that was about to start. But you had texted back again.

Why is that so adorable? I'm just about on my way home from lunch with the girls. Want me to stop and get another case or two? Maybe some snacks? I can drop them off.

Jake grinned; even the idea of you stopping by for a few seconds made him smile. He texted you back letting you know that he loved that idea, and then he stepped over the chaos on his floor and dropped down next to Reuben. Just as the intro to the Cowboys and Steelers was starting up, Jake said, "My girl's stopping by with more of those drinks and some snacks, so please behave while she's here."

"We will," they all replied in unison, though he highly doubted that would actually be the case. 

Then the game started, and they were all distracted, because it was Jake's team against Bradley's team. "Your precious Cowgirls are going down," Bradley muttered, practically licking the inside of the chip bag.

Jake realized he was hungry too as he flipped him off, and he could hear Reuben's stomach growling. The Cowboys were looking terrible in the first quarter, and now Bradley was sitting on the edge of his seat as the Steelers were poised to score a touchdown.

But then, just when you walked in carrying some fresh High Noons and a platter of hot wings, the Steelers threw an interception, and the Cowboys ran it back all the way for a touchdown. "Fuck yes!" Jake shouted, practically ripping the food and drinks out of your hands to get to you. "Come here, Baby. Come sit on my lap."

"Seriously?" you asked, clearly surprised as Jake pulled you along with him while the other guys tore into the seltzers and chicken wings like they were wild animals. Well, everyone except for Bradley who was on his knees on the floor, staring at the TV in shock.

"Thank you for the food and the High Noons," Jake drawled, grinning against your neck as he held you close. "You're the best." 

"You're welcome," you replied, really getting into the game now. "Cowboys are already up?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Bradley groaned. And it just kept getting better from there. Jake got to have you snuggled up on the couch with him while he ate wings and drank seltzers all afternoon. 

When you tried to leave at halftime, the guys whined for you to stay, and Jake pulled you closer to him. "Baby, no. The Cowboys have done nothing but get touchdown after touchdown since you got here. I need you to stay."

You laughed and opened a High Noon for yourself with an amused look on your face. "Alright, Jake. Whatever you need."

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

When you woke up on Sunday with Jake kissing your neck and whispering, "Time to get up," you groaned. You were still exhausted from working all week, but you stretched and slowly got out of bed. "Where are you going?" he asked, reaching for you as you stood and looked at him.

"Home?"

He shook his head like he couldn't be more confused. "Why? Baby, the Cowboys play at ten. The boys will be here soon."

"Yeah...." you replied, reaching for your clothes. "That's why I'm leaving. Sundays are for the boys."

Now he was honest to god pouting. "But, I don't want you to leave. I love watching the games with you, and the guys keep my place cleaner when you're here. They actually belch less too. Really, overall, they are much less insufferable. And besides..." he whispered, grabbing your hand and pulling you back into bed. "I think you're my lucky charm."

"Really?" you asked as he pinned your hands above your head on the pillow. 

"Mmhmm," he hummed as he kissed you. "You make my team do better, and you make me happy. Stay."

You were melting at his touch. "Well, how could I say no?"

The following week, Jake was opening a seltzer for you, and when you looked around, all of the guys were drinking them. Mickey tapped his can to yours. "These are delicious. I feel so sophisticated. You're a genius."

The week after that, Javy ordered pizza only after discreetly asking what your favorite topping was. "The rest of them would eat cardboard with red sauce on top of it, but I want to make sure you get the kind you like."

The week after that, Reuben and Bob both jumped up to get you a new can when yours was empty, and Bradley begrudgingly said, "I still like you even though Jake fucking ruined you by turning you into a Cowboys fan."

You started staying later and later, and you noticed that Jake filled the cooler with fewer beers and more seltzers each week. And on the last Sunday of the regular season, the guys showed up with a sad looking, half crumpled up gift bag and handed it to you as you rearranged the pretty charcuterie board you'd been working on for them. 

"What's this?" you asked, peeking into the bag at some pink fabric.

"It's for you," Javy said. "You're one of the guys now." 

Jake grinned at you from the open refrigerator where he handed out High Noon cans to everyone. "You knew about this?" you asked him as you reached into the bag and pulled out a pink Dallas Cowboys jersey with your own name on the back. 

"Of course I knew about it, Baby. I had to tell them your size."

"Thank you," you whispered as you looked at it, tears filling your eyes and blurring your vision. "I love it." When you looked up at them, they raised their seltzer cans in a toast to you, and you ran to Jake's bedroom to get changed.

You had your own jersey color now amongst the rainbow of teams everyone rooted for, and Jake kept you close as the Cowboys played. The cooler of slowly melting ice offered up High Noons to you and the boys, and by the time it was getting dark outside, you were standing next to the TV with your hands in the air. 

"Ready?" you asked them a little loudly as you giggled, but you weren't the only one who was tipsy and silly. "Here we go!" You led them in a hideous, off-key rendition of I've been waiting all day for Sunday night. After weeks of watching football, everyone had all of the ridiculous lyrics memorized, and it ended in laughter as you curled up next to Jake on the couch.

"I love Sundays," he said, his arm slung around your shoulders. "And I love you, Baby."

You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Sundays are for seltzer drinkers."

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

You slowly infiltrated, and now Sundays are yours. Thanks @thedroneranger for making pretty mood boards like this one and letting us write about them. And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

Don't forget to read the second part! This Sunday Is for My Girl!

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