#I NEED him to win to complete the circle

[formulanni]

After that tribute post…

[pumpkinrootbeer]

ogfoofodoxx thinking about how the most defining character trait of haymitch is how protective he is. not in the sense it's the most obvious, but how all of his actions are fueled by this desire to protect. how hard he works at keeping katniss alive in the first games, him fighting to keep them from augmenting katniss's body, him yelling at plutarch to keep finnick from having to share his trauma, him being so involved in peeta's recovery and being the one to bring katniss home. him holding mayslee's hand as she died, fighting for plutarch to stay and rescue peeta, being the one to find katniss and finnick when johanna had an episode, begging coin to believe peeta's warning. it being heavily implied or either outright stated that he was one of the people who fought to protect effie.

makes me physically ill because no one does that for him. everyone who would of, died.

[hirokiyuu]

ive been thinking abt a helio/stratos swap recently and mostly just like. the reality of a vace+rex+nomi childhood friends trio in this au is so. man

[cassidyandonlycassidy]

breaking point

tyler owens (twisters) x reader

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, female receiving oral, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of past hookups, love declarations (bc i have to make all my fics at least a little fluffy)

the legendary tornado wrangler won't get on his knees for just anybody. it's a position of vulnerability, especially as his head tips forward, exposing his throat.

but you're not a predator in this moment, not with your thighs spread apart and he's smiling up at you with that shit eating grin you know all to well.

“whatever, you win.” you sigh. “just eat me out.”

“that wasn't what the bet was.” tyler says with a chuckle. “whoever breaks first doesn't get to cum.”

it was a dumb and pointless bet, but one that was needed to remind both of you that you didn't in fact completely lack control and could handle being around each other without finding somewhere to hole up and fuck, leaving rest of the crew waiting for you to finish up.

“come on, ty.” you pout, putting on your best pleading face. “i know you wanna taste me too.”

“you got me there.” you watch as tylers pink tongue darts out to lick his lips. “of course i could always eat you out without letting you cum.”

“we somehow managed three whole days of teasing each other without getting an orgasm. you're really gonna deny me of that?” you pout.

“we'll see.” tyler hums, his eyes dropping to your pussy, spread open and put on display as you're sat perched on the edge of the bed.

you're about to open your mouth to give another snarky response, or beg and plead if you have to, whatever you need to get tylers mouth on you when he suddenly surges forward, hands pressing your thighs even further apart.

his tongue swipes through your folds, over and over in quick succession, tasting every inch of you that he can while dutifully ignoring your clit, not giving you that pleasure just yet. you hope that's his only punishment for giving in.

“god, ty.” you moan, head tipping back as one of your hands comes to the back of his head, pushing his face even further against your pussy.

“so fucking delicious.” tyler moans, his words vibrating against your wet skin.

tyler can only tease for so long, soon his mouth moves to find your clit, circling around the sensitive bud before sucking it between his lips as you shout out.

he gives you no time to adjust to the sudden pressure, knowing you've been without it for longer than he'd like, but he's still not ready to just let you get away with losing your bet.

“god, baby.” you let yourself fall backwards onto the bed, giving up looking tyler in the eye as you continuously moan so loud you wouldn't be surprised if the people in the motel room next to you came knocking on your door to complain.

tyler grabs your thighs, keeping them pulled apart as he eats you out, greedily slurping your juices, the wet sounds filling the room.

“keep going.” you plead, hips raising up and down, grinding yourself against his face.

tyler gives up holding your thighs open with both hands, moving his finger to your entrance, pressing against it as he wets his digit until he's able to push into you as you let out a gasp.

his fingertip is rough against your walls as he keeps his finger pushed inside, continuing to pay attention to your clit while you adjust.

“more, ty, please.” you whine, squeezing your pussy around his digit, knowing how much that usually entices him and gets him moving along, but not today, not when you have a punishment to receive.

tylers mouth softens, making you let out an excruciating high as your previously building high slows back down, breath coming hot and fast as he begins to pump his finger in and out of you, a slow steady motion that has your hips wiggling.

“stay still or you definitely won't come.” tyler commands, squeezing at your thigh, giving you a light warning.

“fine.” you huff, deciding to try and focus on the feeling of his finger pushing out of you. it's not hard or fast enough to really send you over the edge, until suddenly a second finger is pushed inside of you.

“tyler, i can't.” you beg, resorting to using his full name.

he completely ignores you, used to your whines and begs and pleads that he always eventually gives into. you'll just finish up helping out a town hit by a tornado only to try and convince him to ditch the motel room you rented for the night and just hit up the first place he can fuck you in.

neither of you really saw it as a problem until you accidentally traumatized boone when he went to grab something out of the truck only to find you two in the backseat, thankfully still mostly clothed.

your hips rise up, unable to control them but tyler knows exactly what it signifies, able to read your body as good as his own as his mouth rips away from you, knowing that his fingers inside of you isn't enough to make you cum without some sort of attention to your clit.

“stop! please keep going!” you scream out, not caring that your begging doesn't make sense as your pussy pulsates around his fingers, desperate for an orgasm.

“you'll get to cum tonight.” tyler says, watching you let out a breath of relief as you were starting to worry he would stick to the beg wouldn't let you at all. “but itll be with me inside of you. and im not done playing with you yet.”

you can't even argue as his mouth pecks at your clit, licking his lips every time he kisses your skin.

his fingers move in a fury, surely imagining it was his cock buried inside of you considering he's been without it for too long. you can hardly wait to feel him properly inside of you, having been relentlessly teased, knowing he tugged his jeans a bit lower on his hips often just to give you a view of the muscular lines leading underneath his belt.

“ty…” you sigh out, back arching off the bed, wondering briefly how many hotel rooms you've fucked in, if you've reached every county in oklahoma and arkansas. 

“yeah, i know. i need you too baby.” tyler gives your clit one last hearty suck before he stands. already shirtless from when he sensually stripped to successfully get you to break first.

you sit up quickly, hands pushing his out of the way to undo his belt buckle and push his jeans down along with his underwear all in one go.

his cock springs up, having been hard and pushing against his zipper since entering the hotel room with you, knowing he'd either break or get you to break.

“lay back.” tyler says, his eyes lowering and darkening seeing your hands so close to his cock.

you move up the bed but instead of laying on your back, you flip onto your stomach and spread your legs.

“oh, like that?” you can hear the amusement in tylers voice as the bed dips as he crawls on top of it, draping himself over your body.

you think he's going to give you a minute, maybe kiss your shoulder blades and rub his cock through your folds, but his head presses against your entrance, and his length is entering you so suddenly you can't help but scream out.

“shit.” tyler cusses, pushing the rest of the way into you. he wastes no time picking up speed, deciding he's teased you long enough.

“god, ty!” you squeal, hands gripping into the sheets as you keep your thighs spread despite the force being applied, his hips slamming forward without control, needing to wreck you, needing to take you and stake his claim on your body again.

“you're so fucking-” tyler lets out a growl, dropping his head as he puts more weight on you. “you're so fucking warm and wet, baby. can't wait to fill you up.”

you haven't used condoms in forever. you began hooking up with tyler and quickly got on birth control so he could cum inside you like you so desired. the first time having you raw, he didn't even last five minutes. 

“fuck me- fuck me harder.” you squeal. “come on, give it to me, ty.”

you can feel the switch in his body. when his powerful muscles stop holding back, slamming full force into you, knowing you can take it, the one girl he's been able to find that can handle anything he throws at.

“i love you.” tyler whispers so quietly your ears barely pick up his words.

you flip over quickly, his cock only away from you for a moment before hes fucking you again, now looking into your eyes.

“i love you too, ty.” you haven't said it before. maybe it's just in the heat of the moment, but you don't think you'll regret it later.

tyler kisses you deeply, glad you both share the feelings beyond just hooking up, knowing things will change but feeling nothing but excitement for what waking up tomorrow will look like as tyler thrusts into you.

his cock swells inside of you, the tell tale sign that hes going to cum. you quickly move a hand down your torso to rub your clit, and all it takes is tylers lips against yours and his cum releasing inside of you for you to suddenly cum as well.

you moan into each other's mouths, a mix of curses and each other's names as tyler fucks you through your highs, feeling your body shake underneath his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug him into you, feeling your sensitive nipples rub against his chest.

“god, that was good.” you giggle, breathing deeply in time with tyler as he keeps his softening cock inside of you, not ready to separate yet when your bodies are so perfectly aligned.

“we are never going that long without making love again.” tyler says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, but it doesn't distract from the wording he chose as you smile up at him.

“never.” you vow.

[pucksandpower]

Legends Never Die

Carlos Sainz x Senna!Reader

Summary: sometimes the hole in your heart left behind by the passing of your father becomes almost too much to bear, but Carlos and his family never fail to ease the ache

Brazilian Grand Prix, 2023

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you step out onto the podium at Interlagos after winning your home race — the Brazilian Grand Prix — for McLaren.

You wave to the sea of fans, trying to keep your emotions in check. But it’s impossible. Everywhere you look there are reminders of your father.

Fans wave Brazilian flags emblazoned with his iconic yellow and green helmet. Others wear t-shirts bearing his name and race number. Signs reading “Senna Forever” make your chest tighten.

He’s everywhere … except where you need him most. In your memories.

You were just a baby when he died in that fateful accident at Imola in 1994. You only know the sound of his voice through crackling video footage, his infectious smile from yellowing photographs. But you don’t actually remember him. Your own father, the man whose immense legacy you carry on your shoulders each time you slide into the cockpit of a Formula 1 car.

By the time the national anthem plays and the champagne corks pop, you can barely see through the tears welling in your eyes. You blink them back rapidly, hoping the cameras don’t pick up on your emotional state. As soon as the ceremony ends, you practically run off the podium, heading straight for the sanctuary of your driver’s room.

You barely make it through the door before the sobs start wracking your body. You sink down onto the couch, drawing your knees up and burying your face in your hands as the tears flow freely.

How can you feel so alone when surrounded by so many who loved him?

A soft knock at the door cuts through your cries. You know immediately who it is without having to ask.

“Come in,” you manage to choke out, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks.

The door opens and there’s Carlos, looking concerned but unsurprised to find you in this state. Of course he knows. By now, he can likely sense when these waves of emotion are about to crash over you.

Carlos crosses the room and settles onto the couch, gathering you into his arms. You immediately curl against his chest, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. One of his hands comes up to soothingly stroke your hair as the other rubs circles across your back.

“Let it out, mi amor,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here.”

The gentleness in his voice is your undoing. You let out a gasping sob, tears soaking through the material of his firesuit as you finally allow yourself to unravel completely in his embrace.

“I-I don’t remember him,” you hiccup between harsh breaths. “I w-won my home race and all I could see out there were ghosts. He was everywhere b-but in my own mind!”

“Shh, I know,” Carlos soothes, rubbing your back. “I know it hurts, mi vida. But he’s here.” He places his palm over your heart. “Your dad lives in here, just like you live in his.”

You lift your head, seeking out his warm brown eyes through your tear-blurred vision. “How can you be so sure? I don’t have a single first-hand memory of him. I know Ayrton Senna the legend, but not my own father.”

A small, sad smile tugs at the corner of Carlos’s lips. “Because that’s how it is for all of us who didn’t get the chance to really know him.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear trailing down your cheek. “We keep him alive in our hearts through the way he inspired us, the lives he touched without ever realizing it. And for you ...” His expression turns amazed, eyes shining with an emotion you can’t quite place. “For you, he’s here.” He runs his hands over the sides of your body, splaying his fingers wide. “A part of him lives on, in you and through you each time you drive. You embody everything he represented behind the wheel — passion, adrenaline, an unquenchable desire to be the best. That’s your father’s legacy beating within you.”

You stare at him, trying to make sense of the jumbled tempest of feelings swirling inside you. Part of you wants to protest, to insist your longing for a tangible connection to your father can’t be satisfied by philosophical musing.

And yet … Carlos’ words reverberate within you, striking a chord. You think of the split-second decision making, the fearless way you attack corners, your refusal to ever give any less than your full effort.

Those are all traits you’ve been told time and time again you inherited from Ayrton. And maybe Carlos is right — maybe that is how you’ll know him best in this life.

Slowly, you reach up to cradle Carlos’ face in your palms, searching his caring gaze. “How did I get so lucky?” You whisper, a few rogue tears spilling over. “To have someone who understands me, understands this hole in my life, and loves me enough to fill it as best he can?”

The look of utter adoration on Carlos’ face steals your breath. Gently, he leans in to capture your lips in the softest, sweetest of kisses. The tenderness, the depth of emotion in that one simple gesture is enough to make your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “I’m the lucky one, mi amor,” he murmurs, the words ghosting across your lips. “To be loved by you ...” He shakes his head slowly in seeming awe of you. “You make me feel blessed every day just by letting me share in your existence.”

You let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes but unable to fight the giddy smile blooming across your face. Trust Carlos to somehow make you feel like the luckiest, most special person in the world after you’ve just spent who knows how long crying on his shoulder.

“You big sap,” you tease, booping him on the nose. You search his expression, your chest filling with warmth at the laughter lines crinkling around his eyes. “I love you, you know that right?”

The words hang there, heavy and significant. You realize you’ve never actually said them before, not with such simple yet loaded sincerity.

From the look of surprise and unbridled joy that overtakes Carlos’ features, he realizes it too. His hands come up to cradle your face, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you tenderly.

“Mi alma ...” he breathes out reverently. “Te amo, mi vida. I love you with all my heart.”

The depth of emotion in his voice, the Spanish words of love and adoration tumbling from his lips, it’s all too much. You surge forward, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss as the last of your tears, these born of happiness and love rather than sorrow, streak down your cheeks.

Carlos kisses you back with an intensity that leaves you lightheaded. His fingers tighten almost possessively in your hair as the kiss deepens, growing more heated and passionate. You’re vaguely aware of him shifting until you’re nearly in his lap, bodies aligned and thrumming with a very different kind of electricity than you’re used to on the track.

Eventually, the need for air becomes too insistent to ignore. You break apart, both of you panting heavily. Carlos’ lips are red and swollen, his pupils blown wide. He looks like a man thoroughly ravished.

You can’t help the impish grin. “So I take it you feel the same way?”

His laugh is low and gravelly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh mi amor ...” he rumbles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You have no idea.”

You bite your lip, about to suggest taking this celebration elsewhere more private. But a new thought suddenly occurs, giving you pause. Slowly, almost shyly, you meet his heated gaze.

“Carlos … do you really think he would be proud of me?” The uncertainty in your voice is painfully obvious. “My father, I mean. You think he’s ...” You swallow hard. “You think he’s watching over me and approving of the person I’ve become?”

The seriousness of your question douses some of the blazing desire in Carlos’ eyes. But it’s quickly replaced by a look of such fierce conviction, such affection for you, it makes your breath catch.

“Cariño,” he begins, voice thick with emotion as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “Your father was the embodiment of passion and integrity in the pursuit of greatness. On the track, he gave everything. He put his heart and soul into being the best driver, the best competitor he could be. And that’s exactly what I see when I watch you race.”

Carlos leans in, resting his forehead against yours as his fingers tenderly trace the line of your jaw. “You drive with the same fire, the same refusal to let anything less than your full ability shine through. And off the track?” He lets out a soft huff of laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, let’s just say the determination, the sheer force of will I see in you would make any parent proud.”

You bite your lip, struggling against the swell of emotion building in your chest at his words. “Really? You don’t think he’d be … disappointed? That I’m not living up to his legacy or-”

“Hey.” Carlos cuts you off firmly, holding your gaze. “Your father didn’t just leave a legacy of winning championships or setting records, mi amor. He left a legacy of spirit. Of personality. Of being a loving, passionate human being who inspired millions.” His thumb strokes along your cheekbone as his eyes shine with complete sincerity. “And let me tell you — in that way? You are so perfectly your father’s daughter it’s unreal.”

The tears that have been threatening finally spill over, but this time they are born of relief, of love and reassurance. You manage a watery smile, curling your hand around the back of Carlos’ neck to pull him close until your foreheads touch.

“Thank you,” you whisper fervently. “For understanding. For loving me through the shadows and the ghosts. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His arms tighten around you, holding you flush against his body in an embrace filled with devotion. “Well, you’ll never have to find out,” he murmurs lowly, lips brushing tantalizingly against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

A delighted shiver runs through you at his tone, at the deliciously possessive edge to his promise. Shifting in his lap, you capture his lips in a searing kiss filled with all the love, the passion, the longing you’ve been holding at bay.

Carlos responds with equal fervor, one hand burying in your hair while the other maps searing paths across your back, your sides, pulling you ever closer until there’s no space between your bodies. The room seems to simultaneously tilt and burn away until there is only the two of you, tangled together in a heated spiral of want and need.

At some point, you become vaguely aware of Carlos rising to his feet, your legs winding instinctively around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. Your back presses against the nearest wall and you moan softly into his mouth at the delicious friction. His hands are everywhere, stoking the fire burning through your veins with every scorching caress.

Finally, and reluctantly, you pull your lips from his with a gasp. “Carlos … if we don’t get out of here soon, I can’t be held responsible for what might happen.”

He grins wolfishly at you, pupils blown wide with desire. “Is that a promise, mi amor?” His voice is low, gravelly, and sends sparks of pure hunger fluttering through your stomach.

Holding his heated gaze, you slowly drag your nails down the back of his neck in a deliberate tease, relishing the way his eyes darken even further. “Take me home, Carlos,” you purr, leaning in to brush your lips against his once more. “And I’ll show you just how promising I can be.”

His response is to capture your mouth in another bruising kiss, pressing you harder against the wall as a growl rumbles up from deep in his chest. Then, without warning, he’s turning and striding towards the door, carrying you easily as your legs remain locked around his waist.

Breathless with wanting, you finally pull away as he reaches for the doorknob, laughing softly. “I see someone’s eager.”

Carlos’s eyes gleam with pure, undisguised hunger as he looks at you over his shoulder. “For you, mi alma?” He leans in, lips hovering tantalizingly close as his beard brushes your tingling skin. “Always.”

With that, he’s swinging the door open and striding out into the hallway, completely uncaring of who might see. His focus, his entire world, is solely on you in this moment. Just as yours is on him.

As the adrenaline of victory fades and the ache of longing for your absent father eases into a dull, familiar ache, you’re reminded once more of the incredible gift you’ve been given.

Carlos’ love, his understanding and acceptance of every broken, yearning part of you is a blessing. One you vow never to take for granted.

Winding your arms securely around his neck, you let yourself get lost in the heat of his gaze, the depth of emotion shining there. And you realize — with him, you don’t feel so alone.

Even if your father isn’t here in person, some piece of him does live on. Not in memories or old recordings. But in the love you hold in your heart. The love you pour into everything you do, every dream you dare to chase. The love that connects you to Carlos so wholly.

Maybe, just maybe, your father is prouder than either of you can fathom as he watches the remarkable life you’ve created together unfold.

Smiling softly, you lean in to feather a kiss along the sharp line of Carlos’ jaw, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Take me home, meu amor.”

Australian Grand Prix, 2024

The podium ceremony is pure pandemonium. Carlos stands on the top step, beaming and cheering, having just claimed his first win of the new season. You’re on the second step beside him, arm raised in celebration of your own P2 finish. The energy from the crowd is electric, filling your veins with the same adrenaline rush as when you crossed the finish line.

You should be deliriously happy. Scoring such a strong result alongside your boyfriend at the third race is the dream start to your championship chase. And yet … something feels off. A strange melancholy tugs at the corner of your heart even as the champagne sprays and camera flashes bombard you from all angles.

Then you spot him — Carlos’ father, beaming at his son from the front of the crowd gathered below the podium. His chest is puffed out with undisguised pride, eyes crinkled at the corners behind his designer shades.

As you watch, father and son’s gazes meet and lock, and the sheer depth of emotion in that one look breaks something inside you.

Oh.

That’s what’s missing.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, stealing your breath. You barely register the Spanish national anthem playing as your eyes stay glued to the tender scene before you.

Carlos shooting his father a brilliant grin, chin dipping in acknowledgment of the pride shining through. Carlos Sr.’s face split by the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him wear. It’s such a simple gesture, but one utterly steeped in parental pride.

You should look away before it gets to be too much, but some masochistic part of you can’t tear your gaze from the heartwarming display. Seeing that effortless bond between father and son, witnessing their silent communication and affection laden with years of inside jokes and childhood memories … it awakens a hollow ache, one you’re terribly familiar with.

By the time the ceremony finally winds down, hot tears are stinging your eyes. You blink rapidly, ducking your head in hopes that the dark tint of your sunglasses conceals your fragile state. But of course, Carlos notices immediately.

He pauses mid-celebration, halfway through accepting some prize filled with the event sponsor’s product. Frowning, he leans in close under the pretense of thanking you for pushing him all the way. “Mi alma? What’s wrong?”

You nearly choke on your own breath at the naked concern in his voice. Trust Carlos to pick up on your inner turmoil even in the middle of what should be an incredibly joyous occasion. Steeling yourself, you manage a smile that you hope passes as genuine.

“Nothing, I’m just ...” Your excuse dies in your throat as you look past him towards the crowd once more.

Carlos Sr. is shouldering his way through the mass of staff and media, pushing towards his son. He’s waving and grinning from ear to ear as Carlos straightens up, delight overtaking his features. The second the older Sainz’s feet cross the barriers, Carlos drops everything and bounds over, hauling his father into a tight embrace.

They laugh and cheer as Carlos pumps a victorious fist in the air, the other arm wrapped securely around Carlos Sr. You can’t hear what they’re saying over the noise of the crowd, but it doesn’t matter. Their body language says it all.

Pride. Joy. Celebration. A bond forged in the fires of hardship and sacrifice, of a lifetime pursuing the most elite level of a deadly sport.

Father and son, reveling together in the sweetness of hard-earned success.

Your throat constricts painfully as you watch them, your own arms wrapping protectively around your middle. How many times had you dreamed of recreating this exact moment as a young girl? Crossing the chequered line in first place, only to be swept up in a boundless hug by a beaming, triumphant father?

You remember pretending with your childhood race cars, standing on an overturned bucket that served as your make-believe podium. You’d mimic the anthems and champagne sprays, then launch yourself off the “top step“ and into the arms of an imaginary Ayrton, dreaming about what it would feel like to bury your face in his shoulder as he swung you around, both of you dissolving into happy laughter as you celebrated together.

Of course, those were only childish fantasies even then. By the time you were old enough to understand racing, to grasp what your father did and meant to the world, he was already long gone. You never got the chance to make those podium daydreams a reality.

And you never would.

The harsh truth is like a bucket of ice water over your head. You’re vaguely aware of your sunglasses slipping down your nose as your eyes burn with unshed tears. Angrily, you blink them back, steeling your jaw.

Now is not the time.

You plaster on the brightest smile you can muster as Carlos and his father turn back towards you. Throwing propriety to the wind, Carlos Sr. comes up to engulf you in a tight hug, the scratch of barely-there stubble rasping against your cheek.

“Another stellar drive, mariposa,” he praises in his thick, warm accent as Carlos laughs in delight beside you. “Keeping this one on his toes, I see.”

Despite your fragile emotional state, you can’t help but grin at his spirit and affection. “Always,” you reply, squeezing him back firmly before pulling away to make room for Carlos.

Almost automatically, you take a step back to give them space. You have no wish to intrude on what should be their private moment together. And sure enough, no sooner have you retreated than Carlos is wrapping his arm around his father’s shoulders, guiding him towards the edge of the pit lane where Ferrari representatives are waiting.

You hang back, a sad smile playing across your lips as you watch them go. All the teasing and laughing, the play-fights and unbreakable bonds of family you wish you could have experienced for yourself play out in vivid detail before your eyes.

Off to the side, almost like an afterthought despite your place right beside him on the podium. Just … watching.

Slowly, you turn away, the roar of the fans and celebrations fading into the distance as you head up the ramp to the McLaren motorhome.

A thousand wistful memories drift through your mind. Muted footage of you as a newborn cradled in your father’s arms, grinning up at him in pure innocence and adoration. Photos of Ayrton gazing down at his infant daughter with a look of such unconditional love that it breaks you all over again.

No matter how many trophies you win or records you break, that will always be the one achievement he never had the chance to witness. You’ll never experience a father’s unadulterated pride at his child’s success.

Your breath hitches as you finally reach the solitude of your private room, sinking onto the plush sofa as the tears begin rolling in earnest. Who are you kidding? As much as Carlos and his family envelop you in their warmth, as much as you are unquestionably part of their clan now … there is always going to be an empty space in your heart where a father’s love should be.

You bury your face in your hands, ignoring the wet streaks smearing across your knuckles as you try in vain to compose yourself. You can’t be like this, falling apart every time. Carlos deserves to revel in one of the greatest wins of his career. He shouldn’t have to devote energy to consoling you, not after a spectacular drive like that.

A soft knock at the door startles you. Swiping hastily at your cheeks, you suck in a shuddering breath and call out. “Come in.”

The door opens, and of course, it’s Carlos. Because even in the midst of unbridled jubilation, he senses your inner turmoil. He steps inside, the happiness draining from his expression as he takes in your blotchy complexion and reddened eyes.

“Mi amor,” he breathes, crossing to you in two quick strides and gathering you into his arms. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his sweat-damp race suit as he rubs soothing circles across your back. “Talk to me, cariño. What’s got you so upset, hmm?”

You want to explain, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you simply shake your head, a few errant tears slipping free to wet the material covering his shoulder. Carlos doesn’t push, just holds you close and lets you cry it out against him.

Eventually, you find your voice, thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your celebration like this. You should be out there enjoying your win, not consoling your mess of a girlfriend.”

“Hey now,” he chides gently, tipping your chin up to meet his concerned gaze. “None of that, mi alma. Your feelings are never something to apologize for.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear from your cheek. “I know today was … difficult. Seeing me with my dad, it brought up a lot of old hurts, didn’t it?”

You let out a watery chuckle, amazed as always by his intuition when it comes to your innermost struggles. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows and loves every facet of you,” he replies simply, stroking your hair back from your forehead. “Will you tell me? Let me in on what you’re feeling so I can try to understand?”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod and disentangle yourself enough to sit beside him on the couch. You keep one of his hands linked with yours, anchoring you as you gather your thoughts. “It’s just … out there on the podium, when I saw you and your dad together ...” You pause, blinking rapidly against a fresh swell of tears. “It reminded me all over again of what I’m missing. What I’ll never get to have.”

Carlos’ expression softens with understanding and he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, silently urging you to continue. You draw strength from his presence beside you.

“You two have this … bond. This connection, like you’re the only ones who truly understand each other’s perspectives. And I’m envious, Carlos. So envious of the lifetime of love and memories that exists just in the silent communication between you.” You let out a mirthless chuckle, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks. “God, that sounds so pathetic when I say it out loud.”

“No, mi vida.” Carlos is firm, his eyes shining with sincerity. “Not pathetic at all. You’re allowed to feel that longing, that sadness over being deprived of something so integral.” His free hand comes up to cradle your jaw, calloused thumb stroking along your cheekbone. “You miss your dad. You mourn not having that relationship in your life. Those are entirely valid feelings to have, especially on days like this when I got to share my joy with my own father.”

You lean into his touch, fresh tears spilling over at his words as your breath hitches. “It’s like … no matter what I accomplish, no matter how successful I become, there will always be this hole.” Your hand comes up to clasp his wrist, holding him close. “Because he never got to see it. He never got to be that person cheering me on, taking pride in my achievements. Instead, I’m left imagining what it would be like, watching you and your dad and aching for something I can’t have.”

Carlos’ eyes turn molten, brimming with empathy and sorrow for your pain. Slowly, he guides you forward until your foreheads are pressed together, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Mi amor … I can’t replace what you’ve lost, or take away that regret and heartache. All I can do is promise to spend every day showing you how proud I am of you.” His fingers thread through your hair, cradling your head tenderly. “You are the strongest, bravest, most amazing woman I have ever known. Watching you out on the track, giving everything you have with that same fire and spirit as your father … words can’t express how awestruck I am. How honored I feel to witness your brilliance and passion race after race.”

You suck in a sharp breath at the reverent tone in his voice, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks at the depth of feeling behind his words. Carlos tugs you even closer until there’s no space between your bodies, until you’re sharing the same air in an intimate embrace.

“I only wish he could see you the way I do,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours with each word. “I wish he was here to feel the immense pride and adoration I feel every single time you leave me breathless behind the wheel.” A tender, lingering kiss punctuates his words. “You are your father’s greatest legacy, mi alma. And I will spend every day showing you that, if you’ll let me.”

A choked whimper escapes your lips as you surge forward, capturing Carlos’ mouth in a searing, fevered kiss. You pour every ounce of overwhelmed emotion, every bit of ardor and heartache and gratitude into the heated glide of your lips against his. His arms band around you like steel cables, holding you impossibly close as the kiss turns bruising, desperate, all-consuming.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both panting harshly. Carlos’ pupils are blown wide, lips red and swollen and thoroughly kissed. He stares at you with such naked adoration, such devotion, that it steals what little breath you have left.

“Thank you,” you rasp, cradling his face in your trembling hands. “Thank you for loving me so completely. Despite all my broken pieces, you see me at my core and still chose me.”

He leans into your touch, lips brushing your palm. “There is nothing to thank me for, mi amor. You are the sun, I’m merely lucky enough to orbit you and bask in your warmth.” He places another soft, lingering kiss to your wrist, right over your thundering pulse. “I am yours, corazón. Every piece of me, for every piece of you. Never doubt that.”

A fresh wave of emotion rises up, this one filled with pure, dizzying love and affection for the incredible man kneeling before you. Pulling him up, you simply hold him for a long moment, relishing his solid strength surrounding you in the protective circle of his arms.

Here, in his embrace, the ache of your father’s absence dulls to a faded echo in the corners of your heart. Here, you can breathe easy, reassured and loved down to your very core.

Eventually, the sounds of celebration filter in through the door — your team must be getting restless waiting for their driver. Carlos seems to hear it too, huffing out a quiet chuckle against your hairline.

“We should get out there, hmm? Before both of our teams send a search party for their drivers.”

You nod, but make no move to disentangle yourself, soaking up his warmth and steady presence for a few more selfish moments.

When you do finally pull away, there are fresh tear tracks on your cheeks but also a peaceful smile gracing your lips. Reverently, you run your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at Carlos’ temples as his eyes flutter closed, savoring your touch.

“I love you,” you murmur, the words seeming impossibly inadequate to convey the depth of feeling they represent. “Endlessly, meu amado.”

Carlos’ gaze when he opens his eyes practically glows with emotion, pure elation and adoration radiating from his expression. “As I love you, mi alma,” he husks, stealing one more searingly tender kiss. “Always.”

With twin smiles and your hands linked tightly, you exit the room together into the raucous cheers and celebrations. Outside, you can see Carlos Sr. surrounded by a sea of red, laughing and beaming with incomparable pride and joy at his son’s success. Your breath catches when he spots the two of you emerging, arms flinging wide.

“There are my superstars! Vámonos, we have a victory to toast!”

As Carlos tugs you forward into the chaos, his father enveloping you both in a crushing embrace and peppering your cheeks with scratchy kisses, you feel a sense of peace settle over you.

Yes, there will always be an absence where your father should have been, a hollow space in your heart shaped perfectly to his memory. But you’ll never truly be alone.

Not with Carlos beside you every step of the way. Not with his family’s boundless love and affection enveloping you, treating you as their own daughter. They are the salve for when that empty ache becomes too much to bear.

So you let yourself sink into the celebration, into the warmth of the Sainz clan and the sheer euphoria of your personal success. As long as Carlos keeps chasing his passion with the same fanatical devotion as his father … as long as you chase your own with every ounce of vigor and spirit that your father passed down through shared blood … then Ayrton will never stop watching over you both with immeasurable pride and a heart overflowing with love.

And for now, for today, that will simply have to be enough.

Days Before the Miami Grand Prix, 2024

The Miami sun sinks lower in the sky, bathing the hotel balcony in a warm orange glow. You lean against the railing, staring unseeingly at the cruise ships dotting the horizon. Your eyes are glassy, your mind a million miles away.

It’s been thirty years to the day since your father’s life was snatched away. Thirty years of living in his immense shadow, constantly reminded of the racing legend you never truly knew.

Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, a steady stream of texts and calls offering condolences. Old acquaintances you haven’t spoken to in years, suddenly reaching out on this morbid anniversary.

What can you possibly say that the world doesn’t already know? That they haven’t already dissected and analyzed a million times over?

The harsh truth is that so many strangers have more vivid memories of Ayrton Senna than his own daughter. It’s a sobering reality, one that reopens that wound all over again every May 1st.

You feel numb, gutted, emptied out.

“Amor?” The familiar voice pulls you from your reverie. You turn to find Carlos staring at you with soft concern in his warm brown eyes. “Are you alright?”

You try for a reassuring smile, but it feels stale on your lips. “I’m fine, just … thinking.”

He sees right through you, the way he always does. Crossing the balcony, he wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head. You lean back into his solid embrace, drawing comfort from his presence.

“You know you don’t have to put on a brave face for me, right?” He murmurs against your hair. “Not today.”

You let out a shuddering breath, blinking back the sting of tears. “I know. It’s just … it never gets any easier, you know? All these years later and the wound still feels fresh.”

His arms tighten around you. “I’m so sorry, mi amor. I wish I could take the pain away.”

“You help more than you know, just by being here,” you reply thickly. A tremulous smile curves your lips as you cover his hands with yours. “Thank you for putting up with my melancholy every year.”

“You never have to thank me for that,” he says fiercely. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

The sound of the balcony door opening draws your attention as Carlos Sr. steps out onto the balcony, his eyes kind but assessing as he takes in the two of you embracing.

“Ah, lo siento,” he says apologetically. “I did not mean to intrude on a private moment.”

“No, no, you’re not intruding,” you assure him, reluctantly extracting yourself from Carlos’ arms. You turn to face his father, subtly wiping at your damp eyes. “What’s going on?”

Carlos Sr. hesitates, shooting his son a questioning look. Carlos nods almost imperceptibly.

“Actually, hijo, do you mind if I borrow Y/N for a few minutes?” Carlos’ father asks. “Hombre a hombre, as they say.”

Your brows knit in confusion, but Carlos just smiles faintly and drops a kiss on your temple. “Of course. I’ll be inside whenever you’re ready, mi vida.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, he disappears back into the suite, leaving you alone with his father on the balcony. The older Sainz settles into one of the plush lounge chairs with a slight groan.

“Please, join an old man,” he says, patting the chair beside him. You hesitate briefly before sinking into the indicated seat. An awkward silence stretches between you both.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Carlos’ father begins at last. “I am not usually at such a loss for words. But I find myself struggling to know what to say on a day like today.”

You manage a watery chuckle. “Trust me, you’re not the only one at a loss. I don’t even know what to say to myself half the time.”

He regards you with such tender understanding that it steals your breath away. “My dear girl, you have carried such a heavy burden on those young shoulders for far too long. No child should have to grow up in the shadow of tragedy the way you have.”

Tears well up anew in your eyes. “I just … I wish I could remember him, you know? Really remember him, not just what I’ve seen in videos or heard in interviews. It feels so unfair that the whole world has vibrant memories of who he was, but I’m just … left with echoes and fragments of a man I never truly knew.”

Carlos Sr.’s eyes glisten with empathy as he reaches over to take your hand, enveloping it in his calloused grip. “Listen to me, mija. While I cannot begin to understand the depth of your loss, I do know this — it is never strange to mourn someone you loved, even if you cannot recall the time you spent together.”

His words are like a soothing balm on the ragged wound of your heart. You squeeze his hand fiercely, struggling to keep your composure as he continues.

“Your father was ...” He pauses, seeming to carefully weigh his next words. “Your father was an incredible man, one who touched countless lives all over the world. But to you, he was simply your father. And that bond, that love between a parent and child, transcends memory. It lives on in here.” He taps his heart with his free hand. “In a way that no amount of biographies or documentaries could ever capture.”

The tears spill over, streaking down your cheeks. You make no effort to stop them this time. Carlos’ father merely watches you with infinite tenderness, his thumb brushing soothingly over your knuckles.

“I know I cannot replace the father you lost,” he continues softly. “Nor would I ever try. But I hope you know that our family … we love you as one of our own, mija. You will always have a home and a family with us, for as long as you desire it.”

A broken sound escapes your throat and Carlos Sr. immediately rises from his chair to gather you into his arms, his embrace warm and secure and achingly paternal. You bury your face in his shoulder, body shaking with muffled sobs as the floodgates finally burst open.

“That’s it, let it all out,” he murmurs, one broad hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Holding in such grief for so long, it’s a wonder you did not crumble beneath the weight of it long ago. You are stronger than you know, mija.”

You cry until you’re completely spent, until the front of Carlos Sr.’s shirt is damp and your eyes are swollen and puffy. When at last the tears subside, leaving you wrung out but strangely peaceful, he produces a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabs at your cheeks.

“There now, that’s better isn’t it?” He asks, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles down at you. “I think my son may have plans to cheer you up, if you’re amenable?”

You let out a watery chuckle, feeling lighter than you have in days … weeks … months maybe. “That does sound nice.”

The elder Spaniard presses the handkerchief into your hand, then steers you back towards the balcony door with a gentle hand on your back. “Then what are we waiting for? That boy may look like me, but his sweet tooth is all his mother’s doing.”

You pause in the doorway, impulsively turning to throw your arms around the man who has, in many ways, become a second father to you. “Thank you,” you whisper shakily against his shoulder. “For everything.”

His arms tighten around you briefly. “De nada, mija. That’s what family is for.”

When at last you disentangle yourself, Carlos is waiting just inside, a bright smile lighting up his face at the sight of the two of you. On the counter, a cheerful array of pastries and confections beckons, the delicious aroma of fresh Brazilian baked goods enveloping you in a warm, sugary hug.

Carlos’ eyes are shining with love and relief as you cross the room to plant a lingering kiss of gratitude on his smiling lips.

“I love you,” you murmur when you finally pull back, cradling his face in your palms. “Thank you for being you.”

His forehead drops to rest against yours. “Always, mi alma. I’ll never stop loving you and being here for you, no matter what.”

You hold him tightly for a long moment, savoring his warmth and solidity. When you finally part, Carlos’ arm stays looped around your waist as he turns towards the dessert spread.

“So, I may have gone a little overboard at the bakery,” he admits with an unrepentant grin, waving his free hand at the sugary bounty. “But it’s been a rough day and you deserve to indulge a little.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling some of the lingering heaviness dissipate at the pure, infectious joy on his face. Leave it to Carlos to try and solve everything with baked goods and affection.

“Well, when you put it that way,” you tease, leaning into his side, “I suppose I can’t say no to that face.”

“That’s the spirit!” Carlos crows, beaming at you with such adoration that it makes your heart squeeze. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he scoops up one of the frosted confections and holds it up to your lips. “Open wide, mi amor.”

You obediently take a bite of the sugary pastry, the rich flavors of doce de leite and buttery dough melting over your tongue. Carlos watches you with rapt attention, his eyes darkening slightly as you slowly lick a stray bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth.

His father clears his throat loudly behind you. “Ay dios mio, get a room you two!”

Carlos has the grace to look abashed, but you just grin unrepentantly at your future father-in-law as he shakes his head in mock exasperation.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Carlos says cheekily, surprising you by suddenly sweeping you up into his arms bridal-style.

You let out a squeak of surprise that quickly dissolves into delighted laughter as he starts carrying you toward the bedroom, peppering your face with noisy kisses. Over his shoulder, you catch Carlos Sr.’s indulgent smile and parting wink before the door swings shut behind you.

The rest of the evening passes in a sugary, affectionate haze. For the first time in as long as you can remember, the grief feels bearable, soothed by the love of your chosen family.

While the ache may never fully heal, you have a newfound sense of lightness in your heart.

As you lay tangled in the sheets later that night, Carlos’ arm a grounding weight around your waist, you send up a silent thank you to whatever cosmic forces brought this incredible man into your life.

And maybe, just maybe, your father can finally rest easy knowing his little girl found her way to happiness after all.

[yestrday]

― YANDERE! GENSHIN ACADEMY AU. pt one | two | three | four | five

⇢ alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno + ayato, baizhu, mika / gn! reader

introducing! from sumeru hails teyvat's brightest minds, and it's no surprise that many of the academu's smartest are true-blood sumerians. a lesser known fact is that these are less skilled in the workings of the heart, and therefore, a bit more unstable than the average lad.

warning! yandere, obsessive & possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, master-pet dynamics, mentions of bullying, physical wounds

— STOIC ACADEMIC TYPE. alhaitham | الهيثم

[ “if you’re looking to get my help, i’d rather you just outright say it than dilly-dallying around.” ]

⇢ one of the geniuses in your second year, haitham is a no-nonsense type of guy that has that air of arrogance around him. he’s quite hard to approach, and he doesn’t care to socialize with any of your circles. he has, however, taken a liking to you, and will usually just drag you around whenever he feels like it.

⇢ expect forced study sessions with him in the library. he’s very keen on making sure your grades are in tip-top shape, even though you never asked him for help. it’s obvious that he takes a bit of sadistic pleasure when you ask him for his help. when you ask him on how to solve a problem, he stops whatever he’s reading and scrutinizes you with those stoic eyes, before a small and smug grin forms on his face. sometimes you’re not sure if he truly wants to help you or he just likes to hear you plead and beg.

⇢ kinda likes to see you screw up as well. seeing you excel (because he helped you, after all) is all nice and good, but he likes to see you fumble it every once in a while. sometimes you get a bit arrogant, refusing his help and insisting that you can do it by yourself, only for it to backfire in your face. when you run back to him with your begging and pleading, he puts on a show of being nonchalant about it. didn’t you say you were fine? so why bother him now, and especially in the middle of a good book?

⇢doesn’t hide the fact that he sort of treats you like a pet, with the way he drags you to and fro. his blunt everyday tone makes everyone feel like he’s looking down at them, but even more so with the way he talks to you. stay, he says when you start approaching him. sit, he tells you. whether you follow or not is up to you, and while he does love having an obedient pet, there is some fun to be found in keeping a bratty one.

⇢likes to see you rely on him. is it out of genuine care or because he sees you as a complete fool who can’t do anything on their own, time will tell, but he’s strangely insistent about you depending on him. he doesn’t make it very obvious, especially when he acts like he could give two shits about anything, but when you mention having troubles, he says things like “that is what you’re having trouble with?” without offering his help, you usually start nagging him for the answer.

⇢haitham isn’t one for praise but… he does get a kick off you praising him. not because he’s starved for it (he’s had heaps of that ever since he showed his academic prowess) but because it felt just right. he does help you a lot, doesn’t he? taking the time out of his busy day to help you with whatever silly thing you need. the least you could do is thank him for it.

[ “honestly, you ought to be more grateful with how much i’m always helping you.” ]

– PASSIONATE TYPE. kaveh | کاوه

[ “oh yeah, uh, i guess i did win that! do… do you like it?” ]

⇢ your senior kaveh who’s been all over you ever since your first year. he’s a bit clingy with his touches, holding onto your arm while you walk and greeting you with hugs ever since the two of you got close. whenever the two of you see each other in the hallways, he immediately latches onto you and doesn’t let go. will drag you around while chatting your ear off.

⇢ often starts to show off when you’re around. he tries to be really nonchalant about it too, like casually trying to slip in his accomplishment in the middle of a conversation to make it seem like he’s not trying too hard. when you smile and compliment him, he starts to stutter and blush, losing the cool composure he tried to maintain just moments ago. the others tease him for being a senior who wants to impress his junior and he quickly denies it (“they’re just saying what they want!” he’d huff to you), but you can’t deny the red blush and the pleased smile on his face.

⇢ always trying to help other people out, even if he’s too busy. while he’ll drop everything he’s doing when you ask him a favor, he also doesn’t have the heart to say no to others. some days, he gets a bit disheveled by dismissal after helping out so many people at once. when he starts whining to you and he becomes even clingier, be understanding and let him. he’s had a rough day, after all.

⇢ everyone knows the shenanigans that occur around you in school and kaveh is no exception. so he’s made a bit paranoid every day, wondering when of your crazed suitors will snap and just kidnap you. he could just do it himself and not worry about being separated from you, but he thinks he’s above such things (true, but only without the proper motivation). to compensate for this, he spends every second with you like it’s his last.

⇢ did you just hold his hand?!? that must mean something, right?! he conveniently forgets that you’ve held hands with numerous other people in this academy, but you can’t blame the poor dude, he’s the type to overthink stuff like that. he’s gone over seemingly normal moments between you two countless times in his head, wondering if any of that meant something. at the back of his head, he knows he’s overreacting. but then he remembers when you gave him some papers and your fingers lingered for some seconds then he starts squealing in his pillow, absolutely deluded by his fantasies.

⇢ he’s not the jealous type…! really! he knows how kind and sweet you are. he knows that the praises you have for him are genuine and the way you look at him in admiration is all real. you’re not the type to fake those after all…! even so… even so, you continue to look at others with that same look, and praise them with the same praise. it’s not that they don’t deserve it but… is he not just good enough? to have your praises reserved for only him… was he just not worthy of that?!

[ “did i… did i do something wrong…? please, just talk to me, look at me!” ]

— SASSY TYPE. tighnari | الطغنري

[ “those idiots… honestly, they could at least treat you with a little more care!” ]

⇢ straightforward and no-nonsense, tighnari is well-respected among his peers for being an academic with an honest personality. especially in a school where anything can just tip anyone off, tighnari does not care about who he has to offend to make them back off. as such, many suitors can’t just do their trickery to you whenever he’s watching, lest he call them out on the spot.

⇢ he’s very concerned about your wellbeing. he’s often warning you about the dangers of the men you surround yourself with. whether you believe him or not is up to you, but that won’t stop him from trying to prevent anything from happening to you. obviously, he can’t just say that someone’s killed someone— he doesn’t want to ruin your life like that— but he’s often cryptic, hoping that you’ll figure it out for yourself.

⇢ very naggy, though he nags like a disappointed mother rather than a caring one. you and cyno are often at the end of these rants when you two do something stupid (either together or as individuals), but it’s a sign that tighnari truly cares about you. he could care less whether haitham cut himself on one of his books, but when you do he’s immediately all over you and berating you for being stupid and careless.

⇢ becomes too smug whenever you show a preference for him. he loves feeling when you choose him over anyone else and the suitors stew in their anger when he shoots them a haughty grin. cyno often has to remind him that he’s being too much, but he knows how much tighnari delights in defeating the other harem members without even having to do anything. you chose him out of your own free will, and that says a lot more than having you forced to pick him.

⇢ being raised on botany and all its properties, tighnari’s almost an expert in all things plants and that includes their… chemistry. it’s no surprise that he’s one of the suitors who are capable of concocting their little mixtures. when using it on other competitors, he’s not one to dirty his hands. he often has cyno slipping a thing or two in their drinks (or in special cases, an overly desparate kaveh). but when it comes to tampering with your drink? well, he reserves that special privilege for himself, all for the pleasure of watching the chemicals slowly affect you.

⇢ a smart guy, who knows that the way to your heart is not intimidating you into it but instead playing the nice and concerned friend. poor you, always being chased around by these unstable men. why have them who will only hurt you, when you can come to him, someone that you can trust? even if your vision is slipping away, your body becomes heavy… you can trust him, no matter what~

[ “feeling sleepy already? dear me, your body is really fragile… and cute ♪” ]

— GUARD DOG TYPE. cyno | κύων 

[ “if they’re bothering you again, talk to me. i’ll be the one to handle it.” ]

⇢ serious cyno who amuses you with his corny jokes delivered with a stoic expression. despite looking so mature, being with cyno often gets you two into trouble that he didn’t foresee. it has something to do with that intimidating expression and the way he’s ready to fight anyone who nears him. people mistake him for challenging them to a fight, and more often than not you’re left watching cyno beat down opponents in self-defense.

⇢ when people aren’t busy trying to fight him, cyno’s always seen patrolling the campus halls as head of the security committee. you can tell who’s been caught by him before by the way they flinch and avoid his piercing gaze. even many of his admirers are a bit terrified of him, and all they can do is just watch him walk over to you and whisper in your ear. they think you’re in trouble, but in reality, he’s telling you to meet him at the same meeting spot because he wants to show you this rare genius invocation card he just bought.

⇢ no one in his friend group takes him seriously anymore, not when he’s busy challenging all of them to a tcg fight every get-together. they tend to get roped up into his antics, and you can see how boys really will just be boys as the four of them begin to one-up each other into petty competitions. and cyno’s always been the most competitive out of them.

⇢ cyno seems to have a habit of suddenly showing up moments before one of your suitors plans to do something. they might start to sneak into your lockers to steal something when they see cyno leaning casually against the wall with a knowing glint in his eye. or when one of them spikes your drink and cyno unhesitatingly takes your glass and dump it on the floor, without breaking eye contact with the suspect. the guard dog that you don’t know about.

⇢ part of the protective stalker group within your suitors who make sure to follow you from the shadows whenever he has free time. these stalkers are often chill with each other, nodding at each other in acknowledgment whenever they bump into each other in one of their stalking escapades. he keeps a close eye on you at all times, with your security purely his concern and nothing else.

⇢ indifferent to getting his hands bloody. he’s not unreasonable— he knows that he can’t kill someone just because he’s jealous or something like that. he can’t risk doing something that will have an impact on you. but justice has to be served, and when he sees someone hurt you or become a threat to your safety… he just can’t help it. whether it’s mixing nari’s poison or simply giving them a cold, swift death, everything he does is because he loves you so.

[ “hush, there’s nothing to cry about. they’re gone, no one will hurt you. i have served you justice.” ]

— SCHEMING TYPE. kamisato ayato | 神里綾人

[ “oho? it pains me that you’re so wary of me, even after all these years!” ]

⇢ senior ayato who always has that gentle but calculating mask on, socializing with many people but never close to any of them. when people start realizing that you might have caught his interest, they have warned you about him and whatever shady motives he might harbor. but whenever he approached you, he was so kind and generous with his offerings… not that you were fooled.

⇢ he’s always showering you with gifts whenever you’re together like he’s trying to flex his wealth. bump into him at the mall? he tells you to walk with him for a bit, but you leave with a luxury item you eyed for a few seconds. bundles you up in his scarf when you’re feeling chilly, however when you try to return it to him on the next day he just tells you to keep it so casually like the fabric doesn’t cost you your life savings.

⇢ when class isn’t keeping them both apart, thoma is always seen attending to ayato’s side. it’s not a secret that thoma can go to school because the kamisatos are funding his education, so no one really questions it. they do get a little bit suspicious whenever the two seem a little… intimate, but in the end, who really cares?

⇢ you should really heed others’ warnings about ayato, because it’s clear that he’s a dangerous fellow. he seems to know everything about everyone. once, he had threatened your bullies off with a thinly veiled threat regarding their shady pasts. you don’t know how he got hold of such rare information, but it seems that he’s one of the many people at this school with an information network under their fingertips.

⇢ while he does view you with adoration, it’s clear with how he talks to you that he doesn’t view you as his equal. with the way he talks you down sometimes like he’s talking to a pet rather than a fellow student, you sometimes feel a bit… demeaned. but when ayato tucks your hair behind your ear so tenderly, you have to second-guess your apprehensions.

⇢ the difference between you two is clear. he is the elite of the elite and you are… you. and he takes advantage of this without guilt. it starts as off remarks, about how you wouldn’t survive a day in their society, then it transforms into something bigger. before you know it, he’s criticizing your clothes, your posture, your personality… anything to nail in the fact that you. are. different. till you lose your pride and self-worth. till ayato makes sure that you won’t have the willpower to fight back once he begins his schemes.

[ “but i’m not lying, am i? you are different, and we can’t really do anything about that, can we?” ]

— SUSPICIOUS TYPE. baizhu | 白术

[ “another trip to the nurse, i see… if i didn’t know better, i would think you were here to see me.” ]

⇢ senior baizhu is head of the health committee and is often seen helping out at the nurse’s. his kind and gentle nature makes the sterile place feel a lot more comforting and he attends to each patient without complaint. but when you come over, the nurse remarks how baizhu seems a bit more stressed whenever he frets over you. you’re not quite sure… after all, baizhu has always been so caring towards you and everyone else.

⇢ he’s sickly himself, so sometimes he has to rely on others for help. he does seem to ask you for help more so than the others, but you really shouldn’t mind. after all, he’s done so much for you! he’s prone to fainting, thankfully not that severe, but you have to catch him in your arms before he hits the floor. the way he thanks you and softly utters your name has you almost dropping him, and you swear there’s a cheeky grin on his face that’s gone a second after.

⇢ although his reputation is generally favorable, there are whispers that he and his family are involved in shady medical research. baizhu, when asked about these, will always only laugh and shake his head. ‘let them say what they want to say’, he would tell them. ‘what matters is that i’m capable of tending to them when they come to me for help.’ such thoughtful words often erase whatever doubts they have about baizhu and even make them guilty for even falsely accusing him.

⇢ but they’re right, though. they are a big pharmaceutical company, and every massive corporation has its shadows. a solo research that he’s been working on is in the area of immortality. in recent years, he’s been working on it with much more fervor now that he’s met you. back then, his goal for immortality was always directionless, only researching for the sake of curiosity. but now he has a clear goal: to spend eternity with you and for you.

⇢ he’s an expert businessman and your harem members are well aware of that. among them, he’s known to make many shady deals, especially since he’s so knowledgeable in… drugs. he makes a lot of profit from this, but another clear advantage is his time with you. though these rich students could just buy their drugs literally anywhere, no one quite provides the safety of not being caught like baizhu.

⇢ … might make those deals because more often than not, they end up with you in the nurse’s office. whether bruised from the bullying of another suitor or disoriented from some sort of poison, you rush to the nurse before things get worse for you. you’re so smart, he’d praise you as he tends to the wounds. there is a pleasure in bandaging you up, knowing full well that he could easily dig his nails into the cuts and leave you more in need of his help.

— ANXIOUS TYPE. mika schmidt 

[ “they’re very cool but i… maybe i shouldn’t get too close…” ]

⇢ lil bro gets pushed around by the meaner people in his year and he doesn’t even question it. it’s just very easy to take advantage of him, with his eager-to-please personality and his notable ability to do almost anything exceptionally well. it takes him being adopted into the first-year harem group before the bullying dies down (mainly because most of the people there are well-known and powerful). he doesn’t quite understand how they could bond over a person (you) and was originally quite frightened at their almost fanatic worship of you.

⇢ no one would think he’s part of your harem, not with the way he desperately tries to avoid you. in fact, you could count the times you’ve talked to him on two hands. on all times he was a blushing and stuttering mess to the point that he was incoherent. xingqiu seemed to take a kick out of his embarrassment, while aether softly coaxed him into forming a full sentence in front of you. what stuck with you was how he refused to shake your hand, to which xingqiu bowled over laughing. 

⇢ when he got a little bit more comfortable with you, he was still shy albeit not much to the point that he wasn’t willing to offer you help. you’d often bump into each other while you’re on your errand, and he takes half the workload. most of the time, the two of you work in silence, with mika taking frequent glances at you. when you’re done, he says a meek ‘goodbye!’ and sprints off.

⇢ stalks you around school like a little creep, but thankfully not to the point where he follows you home. he’d peek from around a corner, watching you in the distance with wide eyes in admiration. you’re always so hardworking and excellent… it’s no wonder you have so many admirers! he was almost caught by you a few times, but thankfully you’re none the wiser. his stalking is painfully obvious to the other harem members, but they think him harmless enough that they don’t pay him any mind.

⇢ things that you need the most are always miraculously appearing in your bag, locker, table, etc. when you had complained to thoma about not bringing your lunch, later that day you’d open your locker to find a freshly made lunchbox. when you grumble to yourself about running out of correction tape, a pack with the plastic still on appears on your table. you’re perplexed, albeit grateful. after all, this isn’t the first time some creepy shit has happened to you.

⇢ he really really wishes he’d work up the courage to talk to you face to face without having to be so nervous… but he can’t help the jitters whenever you’re just in front of him! your voice has his ears ringing, your scent has him dizzy, and you’re just so, so cool that he feels so small compared to you! how could he ever talk to you like this…! maybe in the future, when mika would be more capable and dependable…

[ “a–aah… how could i talk to them! they’re too…!” ]

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𖥔

summary ; coriolanus needs to learn how to relax.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

notes ; smut. 18+ content. minors do not interact! handjob (male receiving). swearing. spoilers for tbosas !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

coriolanus’ determination to achieve the plinth prize was palpable. the coveted prize, awarded annually to the top students at the academy, granting them money and essentially a free ride through the university, was all he had been focusing on. 

countless books lay strewn across his desk, balls of crumpled up paper scattered around the room, as he stood before it. leaning against the old wooden table as his arms firmly held him steady. it was a clear indication that coriolanus had been pushing himself, striving to make every word and every thought count. 

while it was something to admire, that didn’t stop the worry that had been seeping in. it wouldn’t have been obvious to most, but to you, someone who spent a lot of time with him, you could see the dark circles that had begun to encapsulate his eyes, the way his hair was slightly disarrayed, or the fact that he hadn’t even completely changed out of his academy uniform. only his bright red pants and blue shirt still firmly clad on his body. 

he doesn’t hear you come in, doesn’t hear the thud from you closing the door, or you dropping your bag on the chair in the corner of the room. too enthralled by his textbooks and whatever scribbled nonsense is written in them, that it’s not until you wrap your arms around him from the back that he finally takes notice of your presence. 

a smile spreads across his face as he places a hand atop of yours, “what are you doing here?” he asks, surprised but pleased to see you. 

you pull him closer, embracing the feeling of holding him in your arms after barely getting to see him that day. the smell of roses filling your senses as you drink him in, “tigris let me in, said you’ve been cooped up in here all afternoon. plus, i… missed you.”

“i really missed you too, my love, but i-”

“-have so much to do. i know,” you cut him off, finishing his sentence. the same sentence you had been getting for weeks now. “which is exactly why you are going to put away the books and spend some time with your girlfriend.” 

you can physically see the gears beginning to turn in his head, trying to think of a way to let you down gently. you didn’t take it to heart, you knew how important it was for him to win the plinth prize. you were the only one outside of his family that did. 

“you already know you’re going to get that prize, coryo,” you sigh, “nobody even comes close in comparison to how hard you’ve been working for it, but you’ve gotta stop spreading yourself so thin.”

“i know, but tigris and grandma’am-”

“-would agree with me, that you need a night off,” you press a gentle kiss to the back of his shoulder, and pull him in even tighter. his head lulls back to lean against yours, blond curls falling into his face as a sigh leaves his lips. he knew you were right. “you’re always taking care of everyone else, let me take care of you for once.”

he turns to look at you now, eyes big and dewy, a mixture of surprise and understanding as he comprehends the hidden meaning behind your words. however, before he can utter a single word in response, your hands gently glides along his abdomen, gradually tracing its way down to were the band of his pants delicately meets his waist. his breath catches momentarily, captured by a flicker of anticipation, while his unwavering gaze remains fixed upon your own, unyielding and brimming with unspoken emotions. 

“you’ve been working so hard,” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost tauntingly, but he hears you all the same, “... let me help you relieve some of that tension.”

coriolanus swallows hard, falling into your hands, both physically and metaphorically, and he surrenders with a nod. it brought a smile to your face to see the hard exterior he put on crumble, become powerless, and just from your mere touch. 

his back stiffened as he leaned against you, watching as your hand roamed lower now, trailing down to where he was confined behind his pants. a shaky breath escapes him and he shifts on the balls of his feet, waiting with anticipation as you finally make contact with his now pulsing bulge. nothing separating you except for the thin material of his underwear. 

“y/n,” he sighs, your name falling from his lips so gracefully. 

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, pleased to see the effect you had on him. “shh, don’t think about it, you do enough of that as it is. just relax,” you push on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, as a bright flush spreads across it. 

you could feel him getting harder in your grasp, his breaths growing shorter and lower, eyes flailing closed with desperation. your hand runs circles around him, groping him where he needed you the most. it brought you pleasure just to hear the soft moans escaping him, watching him lose control to you. 

his chest rises and falls at a dramatic pace, his patience wearing thin, but that was all part of the fun. you wanted him needy, begging for you to touch him. 

“fuck, y/n,” he gasps, illiciting a stroke of excitement in you. 

deciding that he had enough of you teasing him, you waste no time delving into his underwear and releasing him from the constraints of his pants. an audible sigh of relief comes from coriolanus as you do so, his body shuddering slightly at the warmth of your hand finally making contact. 

he rests in your hand, his largely endowed member, all pretty and pink at the tip. you stroke him teasingly, rubbing the end with your finger to gather the pre-cum that had trickled out, using it to help you start stroking him. he shudders from the movement, struggling to stand still as you slowly pump your hand up and down his shaft. 

you remove your hand momentarily to collect some of your spit and when you hold him once more he shudders, struggling to stand still, and his hips begin to move involuntarily. if there was one thing coriolanus loved more than you pleasuring him, it was watching you pleasure him. 

tucking his chin against his chest, he watches as your hand works his length, pumping back and forth with ease. his hips jut forward, begging for more, until it all becomes to much and his hands lurch forward to grasp onto the table before him, just like they were when you walked in. 

“let it out for me, baby,” your voice is reassuring in his ear, sweet and soft, full of promise. 

hearing you speak to him in such a way pulls a moan from the back of his throat and he just about loses it. his body tightens at the same time, hips bucking himself into your hand faster as the coil in the pit of his stomach finally bends and breaks.

he clamps his teeth down on his lower lip to muffle his moans, trying to remain quiet so that no one else could hear what the two of you were up to. his knuckles turn white as he gently bangs his fist down on the desk, and it’s only seconds before your hand is warm with his cum. 

“fuck me,” he whisper-shouts, eyes clenching shut as his hips jut and dick twitches in your hand. 

“that’s my boy,” the comment pulls a small chuckle from coryo as you remove your hand, his white secretion now coating it, “though, it does seem like an awful waste. i guess it’s a good thing i’m not done with you yet.”

[formula1au]

home race

summary: it was the dutch gp that your boyfriend max verstappen won. After he saw you in his driver's room he couldn't resist you

pairing: max verstappen x gf!reader

content: fluff, smut!

warning: penetrative sex, riding, blowjob, finger sucking, no protection

word count: idk sorryyy

It was the Dutch GP, and you watched your boyfriend Max cross the checkered flag first. You knew he would win this. He's dominating the whole sport right now. He's also dominating you almost every minute in your life, but that's just him.

After he jumped out of the car, he ran to his team. They patted his back, and he looked so happy. But something was missing; he was searching for you. He quickly made his way to you and kissed you in front of the camera.

"Wait for me in the driver's room," he whispered into my ear with a smirk on his face.

I didn't even wait for the podium celebrations. I quickly walked to his driver's room and closed the door with a loud bang behind me. I was nervous and also so excited because every time he won his home grand prix, he made love to me so passionately. So it was a win for both of us. I waited for him for a long time. I forgot that he needed to do the press before he was free from all the media and work stuff. But the time finally came when the door opened and closed immediately. He locked it quickly and threw me a disappointed look.

"I thought it was clear that I wanted you naked and on your knees as soon as I arrived," he shook his head, clearly getting impatient.

"Are you deaf? Get to work," I started to undress. I didn't want him to be mad because then he would not let me climax.

After I was completely naked, he gestured for me to crawl to the couch. Max was already naked, and he looked so attractive. "Come on, baby. You're going to use that tongue of yours for something more useful," I nodded and sat between his legs. His erection was already hard and leaking.

Firstly, I teased him with gentle licks, but then I took him fully into my mouth. He started thrusting his hips into my mouth. Tears appeared in my eyes, and he seemed to enjoy it. After some time, he gripped my hair and pushed me onto his dick. My throat had never felt worse.

"Ugh, schatje, you're going to make me cum," he moaned and then pulled me off. "Open up," he said, and I opened my mouth for him to cum straight into it.

I needed release too, so I started touching myself and grinding onto the ground. Max immediately noticed. Of course, he did.

"Is my poor little baby getting all worked up?" He pulled me into his lap and thrust his fingers into me. I cried out from the unexpected stimulation on my clit. "You're going to cum on my fingers, and then I'm going to give you my cock, okay?" He asked, even though it wasn't even a question. I was his to do whatever he wanted with me.

I came pretty quickly when he even started sucking hickeys into my chest and pinching my nipples until they were all red and sensitive.

"I want your dick," I whined.

"What do we say when we want something? Where are your manners, liefje?" He stroked his dick and teased my entrance with his tip.

"Please, Maxie, I need it so badly," I cried out. My thighs were still trembling from the previous orgasm.

"There's my good girl again," he slammed me down onto his cock, holding me down. The burning sensation was so pleasurable.

"Come on, make yourself feel good on my cock and make yourself cum," he drew circles into my thighs as I started riding him.

Max whispered all sorts of dirty things into my ear. After I slowed down, he flipped me onto my stomach and started thrusting into me while stimulating my clit. I came with a shout of his name.

"That's it, y/n. You're literally milking me, baby. Look at that hole of yours taking me like a champ. I'm going to cum inside you," he mumbled, and then he came inside me with a loud groan.

"I'm pulling out, baby," he kissed my shoulder blade and pulled out. I felt his and my cum leaking out of me. He pushed one finger into my entrance and then sucked it clean.

"Do you want to taste yourself?" He did the same but put the finger into my mouth. I sucked his finger clean. Then I let myself collapse on the couch.

I heard some rustling behind me, so I turned onto my back and saw Max walking with a wet towel.

"I'm going to clean you," he kissed me and then cleaned me. "You need to go pee, baby." I stood up and walked into the small bathroom in his driver's room. I peed, washed my hands, and returned.

Max has already made the couch more comfortable. He walked towards me and picked me up. Then he laid me down and lay next to me. He put a cover on us.

"What about post-sex cuddles?" He asked with a smirk.

"Mhm, that sounds amazing," I giggled and snuggled into his warm skin.

"By the way, you did so well, Maxie. I didn't have time to tell you that," he laughs and kisses me on the head. "Thank you, schatje. I did it for you. And for my family. And for the fans." We laugh together, and then the room falls into peaceful quiet.

[minhosimthings]

Kitty Love || 18+

Synopsis: Minho fucking a baby into you, in throws of anger and jealousy

Pairings: husband!Minho × wife!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, angry sex, jealous sex, sex with plot, this is basically porn, breeding kink, p in v, Minho wants to fuck a baby into reader, unprotected sex (highly not recommended for you), volume control, kinda fluffy at the end

A/N: I need Minho to fuck a baby into me right now so... Have this instead

"Do you know how many people would have liked this dress on their bedroom floor tonight, kitten?"

"Minho I wasn't-"

"Shut it."

And yet again, yet another 'important buisness party' that Minho had to attend, completely forgetting your anniversary. And of course, as his trophy-good-for-nothing wife, you had to tag along, in a dress which was 'modest' enough to not attract all the other pig headed men at that event.

A married woman wearing a high slit dress, off shoulder dress? Certainly not! Scandalous, even.

And for Minho, it was more than just anger that flee through him as his eyes lay on all the disgusting men staring at your thighs all evening.

"Minho would you stop screaming and listen to me for once?" You cried, slamming your hand on the table. You were done with him, forgetting a day which was special and screaming at you for doing absolutely nothing.

His composure is sickly, every breath he takes - laboured and drawn out as he pushes himself closer to you, like he's trying to meld himself against you - seems to taunt you.

"we can have a 'fucking conversation' or we can start fucking," he grunts, rolling his hips into you as he watches your eyes roll in frustration, though not enough to mask the tell tale signs of arousal evident on you - a sheen of sweat glistening on your collarbone and highlighting your lust blown pupils.

"that's my girl," he grins, pushing your panties to the side and rubbing his digits through your slick, circling his index finger around your hole before plunging two in to prep you for his dick.

Your breath hitches as he begins to finger you, back arching off the bed as you try your best to remain impassive, unwilling to give him the emotional satisfaction of 'winning' the argument just because you let him get his dick wet.

With an arrogant smirk still residing on his features, he pulls his dick out - longer than it was thick, his tip cut and a blushing pink - teasing you with the head by slapping it on your soaked folds before slipping it in and groaning.

A stifled whine escapes through your sealed lips, the sound muted and restrained but desperate enough for coryo to hear and throb inside of you as he continues to sheath himself further.

"know it feels good kitten, y'dont have to hide," he taunts, patronising and knowing without a doubt that you're still mad and as a consequence refuse to explicitly vocalise any pleasure.

His thrusts start deep and slow, hitting that spot inside of you each time to chip away any composure you thought you had, your own forearm hiding tears of pleasure brimming at your waterline for how deep he was going, an abundance of emotions - alongside the sharp contrast of anger and pleasure - leave you feeling feverish and flush with confusion as he stimulates your most sensitive erogenous zones.

He coos at your dazed expression, your face ruddy and warm as he successfully fucks the anger out of you, quelling any urges you may have to shout by leaving you stupid and vulnerable due to the warmth of him inside you coupled with his measured, languid strokes.

Your hands are trembling. Your legs are shaking. Your chest is heaving. And the nickname sits on the tip of your tongue, yet you swallow it down.

"You really wanted to test me huh kitten?" Minho grunts, "Wearing that cute little slut outfit."

"Who said I was wearing it for you?"

“God, you’re such a fucking brat,” he sneers, tightening his hold on your hips before resuming his unrelenting pace. Thick cock stretching you open like it's the first time. “Fine. You want me to be jealous? Want me to say that I won’t share you with all those other men?”

And even if he’s mocking you, the thought has your pussy clenching. 

“Maybe I don’t want to share you,” he continues, although a bit softer. As though speaking to himself. “Maybe I won’t. Won’t fucking share you with any of them.”

“Gonna fuck my cum so deep into this pussy…you have my baby,” he exhales. “So then they know who you really belong to, yeah?”

“Is that what you want?” Another slap to your clit. “Wanna have my babies, kitten? Wanna carry me around? Wanna know that you own a part of me?”

You can’t think straight. Can’t fathom what he’s really saying to you, but it’s everything. Delicious and dirty and somehow, exactly what you need.

“Yeah? Oh, I know,” he nearly coos, and you feel his cock twitch. He’s close. “Then I’ll let you. Let you have my babies. Get you so pretty and pregnant. Make you mine—”

“Minho!,” you gasp before you’re cumming harder than you think you have in weeks. Flinging your arms around his neck in order to keep him as close as possible.

He’s beautiful. And he feels like heaven. It’s all you can truly comprehend as the warmth spreads through your cunt and makes a home in your pussy. As he keeps it there even long after you’ve both come back down.

"Still mad at me?" Minho mumbles into your ear, kissing the top of your forehead as both of you lay, sweating and euphonious on the bed.

You say nothing and grunt in response, cuddling closer to him, to catch all of his warmth.

"Don't worry kitten." Minho chuckles, "We'll have our anniversary tomorrow." You doze off to sleep under the tone of his voice, "A proper anniversary."

[captainsophiestark]

A New Man

Colin Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Colin has had feelings for his best friend for some time now, and has decided his new skills in charm and flirting are the perfect way to win her over. He is unfortunately very mistaken.

Word Count: 4,713

Category: Angst, Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"This is by far the best part of these society events," mused Benedict, one of my best friends, as the two of us perused the dessert table. "Sometimes it even makes putting up with all the marauding mamas worth it."

I laughed and picked up a delious looking cupcake.

"The mamas must be truly terrible this season if the food only sometimes makes them worth putting up with."

Benedict sighed. "You have no idea."

I nudged him with my shoulder, smiling as we stepped away from the dessert table together.

"Well, you have no need to worry, Benedict. As long as I am unattached, I am more than happy to act as a shield for you, especially when society dictates you must find a partner and dance."

"Thank you. You are a true friend. I know I can always count on-"

"Colin!" I turned to grin sheepishly at Benedict in the wake of my outburst and found him staring at me with a mocking, raised eyebrow. But I couldn't quite bring myself to care, since I'd just seen my absolute best friend in the world, Colin Bridgerton, standing across the lawn chatting with a group of ladies.

He'd left England this summer for another lengthy international trip, and I'd missed him terribly while he'd been gone. He looked different now, too, a little more sure of himself and wearing a style that had clearly come from somewhere on the continent rather than from here. And if my heart raced a little at the sight of him, well, that could easily be chalked up to excitement at the prospect of seeing a friend. I couldn't keep a smile off my face at the sight of him, even as I turned back to Benedict and found him with crossed arms and doubly raised eyebrows.

"When were you going to tell me that Colin had returned?" I demanded, completely ignoring Benedict's judgey look and barely managing to keep my voice at a socially acceptable level. Benedict just sighed and rolled his eyes.

"It is why I came over here in the first place, but then you distracted me with talks of friendship and cupcakes. And now I see it was all a lie, as you are clearly about to abandon me to the whims of this social event to go rush over and talk to my brother."

"Sorry, Benedict," I said, giving him a grin. "But I saw you throughout the summer. It has been much too long since I last saw Colin, so he takes precedence for the day. But I promise you I will come to your aid if you find yourself cornered by the mamas, or any other dangerous creature roaming the society grounds."

Benedict snorted, but I didn't give him the opportunity for a comeback as I turned back to Colin and walked quickly across the gravel paths, the smile growing on my face the closer I got to him. He didn't notice me as I approached, wrapped up in conversation with the handful of ladies in front of him, and my smile grew even more at the thought of his face when he finally caugh sight of me.

"...will be fighting over you," I heard Colin saying as I walked up to join the group. "I cannot compete."

All the ladies in the circle giggled, giving me perfect cover for my smile as I came to a stop in front of Colin. He turned to face me, a beaming smile on his face, then froze a bit as his eyebrows shot up when he realized who I was.

"Lady Y/L/N!" he said, the shock melting back into his charming smile. "What a pleasure it is to have you join us."

"Mister Bridgerton, what a pleasure it is to have you back in England with us."

Colin dipped his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a roguish smile before he returned his gaze to me.

"Believe me, Lady Y/L/N, the pleasure here is all mine."

Rather than the earnest excitement I'd been expecting, Colin's demeanor and voice dripped with a slick charm I didn't recognize. I'd been expecting his usual earnest, genuine emotion, not... this. I gave Colin a little frown of confusion, but quickly let my expression return to normal as he returned to addressing our entire group. He had an energy about him that I couldn't quite place, but it was much different than the Colin I'd gotten to know so well before he left. Still, we were in public. Neither of us were allowed to be anywhere near as effusive and close as we would've been in a more private setting.

"We were just discussing the season," Colin said, including me seamlessly in the conversation I'd joined between him and the other ladies. "Truly, it is amazing to me that all of your dance cards are not already full of suitors."

All the ladies around me giggled, hiding behind their fans and fluttering their eyelashes at Colin. I just stared at him, letting my brow furrow again as I watched my friend. He met my eyes, a smooth smile on his face and his eyes roaming me with an interest and flirtation they'd never had before. If Colin had looked at me like that when I'd last seen him, my heart would've started doing backflips. But his new demeanor made the gesture seem much less sincere, and much more shallow. I let my frown deepen.

"So..." I started, trying to clear the air of whatever strange energy seemed to be lurking here. "Mister Bridgerton, tell us of your travels. You sent so few letters this time, I have simply been dying to hear about everything you saw and did."

Colin flashed me a brilliant smile that didn't totally reach his eyes.

"This time, my stories from abroad are not suitable for such tender young ladies." Everyone around us giggled into their fans again, but Colin's eyes never left mine. "Were I to tell you even the tiniest adventure, well... I'd be forced to marry you."

He delivered the final few words with dramatic flourish, as if expecting for them to have some groundshaking impact. And with the way he stared at me with a simmering gaze, the words clearly intended to make every lady in earshoot swoon, he accomplished his goal. I couldn't hold back a snort of laughter, which I quickly hid as a cough behind my fan.

Colin looked shocked when I glanced up at him, but I still couldn't keep another laugh from bubbling up. He was being so ridiculous, so arrogant and flirting with everyone in sight like he was God's gift to the women of England, and I truly couldn't take him seriously this way.

I cleared my throat and straightened back up, keeping it together just enough as I faced Colin and the other ladies, giving each of them a shallow curtsey.

"Forgive me. I think... something in the air, it must have gotten to me. Excuse me, please."

With that, I turned on my heel and didn't look back. I walked quickly across the garden, seeking out and immediately finding Benedict among the crowd once again, hovering by some shrubbery in an attempt to hide from the ladies and their mothers. I sped up to reach him, the giggling smile returning to my face as I approached.

Benedict must've heard me coming, because at the sound of laughter in a semi-high pitched register he turned on his heel and started moving in the other direction without looking to see the origin of the sound. I walked faster, until I was close enough to call out to him without drawing undue attention.

"Relax, Benedict, it's just me!"

His shoulders slumped as he stopped and turned to face me, relief written in every line of his face. After a moment, however, his expression changed to one of confusion.

"What are you doing back here so soon?" he asked. "I thought you would spend at least the next hour with Colin, catching up on all his travels and making every eligible lady here incredibly jealous of the two of you."

"Well, I planned to catch up with him, but... Benedict, you will never believe what he said." Benedict raised an eyebrow, so I glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then took a step forward and lowered my voice all the same. Laughing about Colin with his brother was one thing, but I didn't want anyone in the rest of the Ton talking behind his back. "He said he couldn't possibly tell me his stories from abroad, because they weren't 'suitable for tender young ladies'."

Benedict scoffed. "Truly?"

"Truly! Benedict, he's come back from abroad strutting around like some peacock, as though he is God's gift to eligible young women everywhere. You know I love him, as you do, but... I cannot take him seriously with his new attitude. I do not think I could if I tried."

Benedict smiled and shook his head, staring over my shoulder, presumably at Colin. Then he turned back to me.

"Did he seem to be directing his newfound charm at anyone in particular?"

I frowned. "No, not that I noticed. It seemed to be more like buckshot, just aiming with broad strokes at everyone in range. Why? Are you joining the side of the mamas in trying to help your brother find a match?"

"No," Benedict sighed, sounding truly tired. "Simply trying to guague exactly how long I may have left before I am the only eligible Bridgerton son for the mamas to focus on."

I laughed. "Do not worry, Benedict. I think you have some time yet."

Benedict didn't respond, but I thought I heard him mumble something into his drink that sounded like, "we'll see". When I raised an eyebrow at him and prepared a question, however, he quickly changed the subject, and I let him. We spent most of the rest of the afternoon together, hiding out from societal obligations and occasionally laughing about how strange his siblings could be sometimes.

After the garden party, I didn't get much of a chance to speak with Colin again until Lady Danbury's ball. He'd approached me once or twice when we'd seen each other in passing at other events, but we'd always been interrupted by other ladies, and Colin seemed suddenly incapable of interacting with me without his base layer of extreme, over the top charm. I would've felt bad for how little time I'd spent with him since he'd returned home, but every time I'd tried to ask him about his travels or how he was doing, he turned it into a truly ridiculous line of flirting, the likes of which we used to make fun of other suitors for before his most recent summer travels.

As a result, when Lady Danbury's ball rolled around, I didn't seek Colin out the way I would've last season. Instead, I found Eloise, Benedict, and even Francesca for a while when she clearly needed a break from her first season out in society. I danced with a few of the men who were tolerable, and otherwise enjoyed my time at the refreshments table and talking to people I knew. Colin didn't seek me out for the first half of the ball, either, so when I heard a familiar voice trying to get my attention after I'd found a spot along the wall for a bit of a break from the rest of the party, it was more of a surprise than it should've been.

"Y/N."

I turned around with a smile to find Colin standing behind me, a grin on his own face. We were out of earshot of the rest of the party, so we could dispense with some of the titles and formality that had lost all meaning between us long ago.

"Colin, hello! I was beginning to think I might not see you at all during this ball, such your other engagements seemed to be."

"Well, I could never let my other engagements prevent me from conversing with the most beautiful woman at this ball, could I?"

He said it with an easy smile and a charming sincerity, but I'd seen him use the same attitude and similar words on enough other ladies in our few interactions this season that his words didn't work to sway me the way they seemed to sway others. My smile slipped, and I fought to hold back a sigh.

"Yes, well..."

Colin smiled at me for another moment, and when I didn't pick up the conversation, he gave an easy chuckle and fixed me with another roguish grin.

"As delighted as I am for any opportunity to spend time with you, my lady, I did come over here to ask you if you might do me the honor of a dance. I truly cannot think of a partner I would rather have than you."

I fought a grimace, barely managing to turn it into a polite smile. I looked around briefly to make sure we were still out of earshot of any other party-goers or servants, which we were. I turned back to Colin with a sigh.

"Colin... I am going to tell you this because I truly care about you, although that may not seem to be my motivation at first glance."

"...Alright," said Colin, blinking a few times and trying to hide any confusion with another easy smile. I took a deep breath.

"I do not wish to dance with you." The smile dropped off Colin's face and his eyebrows knit together as I continued. "I never thought I would say such a thing, as quite often dancing and laughing with you were the only things that made attending society events bearable. But ever since you've returned home from your trip, Colin... it has been nearly impossible to talk to you.

"The man I thought I knew, my friend, whom I deeply cared about and whom I could talk to about anything, seems to have gone. And in his place I have found a Colin Bridgerton who not only flirts with anything that moves, but who does so in a way that is incredibly condescending and impossible to have a meaningful conversation with. Your letters from your previous travels were wonderful, Colin, and when you returned we were able to discuss them at length. You know I have an interest in learning and the world at large, and yet now, whenever I bring the subject up, I am told I could not possibly handle hearing about the things you saw and did, since I am but a fragile woman. Your sincerety and genuine expression of yourself has become cloaked in an oily layer of false sentiment and charm, directed equally at everyone you speak to, no matter your relation to them or your true feelings. I have no idea what brought about this change in you, Colin, but I am sorry to say I do not enjoy it the way the rest of the ladies here seem to."

Colin just stared at me, blinking and gaping like a fish. I frowned, feeling a big guilty, but lying to him would serve no purpose for either of us. Still, he was my friend, and I did care about him regardless of his recent changes. Choosing to ignore society for a brief moment, I put my hand out and rested it gently on his arm.

"Do not mistake my words as an insult designed to hurt you, Colin. You are my friend, and always will be. I have simply... found it harder to be around the person you have become recently. I am truly happy for you and your newfound confidence, but it seems to have extended a bit beyond confidence and into something more challenging, especially with ladies. Even ones you've known as long as you've known me."

I gave him a tight smile, which he seemed too stunned to return. I gave him a moment, but when he still didn't seem capable of a response, I curtsied and took a few steps backwards.

"Well. I will... take my leave. I do hope you enjoy the rest of the ball."

Colin just watched me as I took another few steps backwards. Finally, I turned on my heel and walked away. I wasn't sure how I'd been expecting him to take my statement, but complete speechlessness certainly hadn't been my prediction. I could only hope I hadn't wounded him too badly, and that he might come around enough to be the man I remembered as my friend and confidant, who could discuss the world with me as an equal and laugh with me through anything.

Thankfully, no one at the ball seemed to have noticed our exchange. Colin kept his distance from me for the rest of the evening, although I did notive him staring in my direction once or twice.

I debated finding Benedict to ask him his opinion about what I'd said to Colin, and how Colin might be feeling, but eventually decided against it. No matter how true my words had been, or how I'd tried to keep them from sounding harsh or designed to hurt, Colin would likely need his space for a time while he processed. And sending his brother in as my proxy would be the opposite of giving Colin space.

I expected Colin to keep his distance from me for a few days at least, if not for much, much longer. But as I took my seat in the sitting room of my family home the next morning for the start of the calling hours, I turned out to be quite incorrect. Before the clock had finished chiming to mark the start of the first hour, none other than Colin Bridgerton came striding through the door, ahead of the butler who normally would have announced him.

"Lady Y/N," he said, bowing to me and then to my mother sitting on the couch next to me. "I have come to call on you, if you are willing to entertain my company."

He still walked and spoke with confidence, but the layer of charm that had honeyed his words since the first day he'd returned for the season was gone, replaced by a directness and frankness that felt like taking a breath of fresh air. I gave him a small smile.

"I would be more than happy to have your company, Mister Bridgerton."

Colin gave me a small smile in return, and the two of us moved to the other end of the room, still able to be chaperoned but out of immediate earshot. I settled into the couch, Colin sitting right beside me.

"Y/N... thank you for being willing to speak to me. I had to see you, to apologize... and to explain."

My eyebrows shot up. Now that we were sitting closer together, I noticed a few irregularities in Colin's appearance. He had a few shadows under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept well, and his hair wasn't as neatly quaffed as I was used to seeing it. His shirt was rumpled in a few places a maid or a butler or a hovering older sibling might've insisted on fixing if they could've, and although Colin's new confidence appeared to be mostly intact, the charm had been replaced with a nervous energy I'd hardly ever seen from him.

"Colin... are you quite alright?" I asked, leaning a bit closer to him as I studied his face. When I looked up to meet his eyes, I found them instead scanning my face, until he apparenlty snapped out of it and met my gaze. He took a deep breath and sighed.

"Yes. Well, no. Perhaps. I am not sure, I think my wellbeing may depend a bit on the outcome of this conversation."

"Colin, before you begin, if I was too harsh on you the other night then I must apologize-"

"No! No. You were not." He took another fortifying breath, closing his eyes for a moment and dropping his shoulders from where they'd been creeping closer to his ears, before meeting my eyes again. "I have been quite different since I came home. I found myself while I was away from society, in a way I have never felt able to do here. But... I also learned the kind of charm that most of the Ton enjoys. It worked so well from the moment I got back, I did not think much of it. But I should have. And I am sorry if our relationship suffered as a result of my attitude."

Colin paused to take a deep breath, and I took the opening to reach out and rest my hand on his forearm.

"Colin, you do not-"

"Y/N, please. Please allow me to get all the way through this. I need to say it all, and I may not be able to get it out if I have an opportunity to change the subject."

I leaned back a little to stare at Colin, though I didn't remove my hand. His eyebrows were knit together with worry and his eyes never left my face. Slolwy, I nodded. Colin let out a sigh.

"Thank you." He squared his shoulders and sat up straighter, resting his hand on top of my own. "I understand why my approach was... not appreciated when we spoke in the garden and at Lady Danbury's ball. But the sentiment behind what I was saying was genuine. I have been searching for the way to tell you this for years, and I thought the charm and flirtation I learned abroad would be the way to finally do it. Clearly I was wrong. You should have seen the face Benedict made when I talked to him last night..."

Colin trailed off, shaking his head and apparently lost in thought. After a moment, I took a breath to say something else, but the noise must've been enough to jar Colin out of his memories. His stare snapped back to me, eyes slightly wider than usual.

"I love you. I have been in love with you for years, and when I returned home from this trip, I decided to finally do something about it. I thought the charm that worked so well on everyone else would work just as well for you, but... clearly I was mistaken."

I huffed a laugh. That was certainly an understatement.

"I wanted everything to be perfect, to come home changed and sweep you off your feet, but I've already failed at that, and I cannot keep my feelings to myself a moment longer. I love you, and I want to share everything with you. You are my best friend, my confidant, and the only woman I could possibly imagine spending the rest of my life with. Is there even the slightest chance you may feel the same way?"

Colin looked at me with the most open, vulnerable expression I'd ever seen, from anyone. My heart raced in my chest, and all I wanted to do was throw my arms around him and never let go. But I forced myself to take a moment, rather than letting my emotions run wild.

"I need you to answer two questions for me, Colin," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and level. Unfortunately, I didn't totally succeed. Colin nodded quickly.

"Anything."

"First... how were your travels? Where was your favorite place to visit?"

Colin huffed a laugh, relaxing and leaning into me slightly as a faint smile pulled onto his face. My heart raced, but I forced myself to keep a neutral expression.

"I apologize for even making this test necessary, but my travels were... incredible. I may ask you not to share details with the rest of the Ton, but anything you ask, I will be happy to share with you. And my favorite place was Paris. I could not stop thinking about the two of us returning someday to visit together. It is a truly romantic city."

Colin's words removed any hope I had at keeping a smile off my face. I leaned into it, grinning at him and squeezing his hand a little as my heart began to race.

"Well then, I look forward to hearing all about them."

"And I look forward to telling you. Your second question?"

"...Did you truly go to Benedict for help with this last night?"

Colin groaned and threw his head back, which made me laugh. He shook his head as he met my eyes again, but he was smiling all the same.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I know you are close with him, and I noticed you going to speak to him after you abruptly left our conversation at the garden party. I thought he might have some insight, and I was right. It just came at the cost of quite a bit of mocking."

"You truly must be serious to give Benedict such ammunition to use against you for the rest of your lives."

"I am incredibly serious. And I would brave the teasing of every one of my siblings if, at the end, it brought me to you."

"Colin, that may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Does that mean... you return my affections?"

I smiled. "Yes, Colin. It does. You are my best friend, and I cannot think of anyone I would rather spend my time with than you."

Colin absolutely beamed at me. He began to lean forward, then thought better of himself even as his eyes still strayed to my lips.

"I cannot begin to tell you how desperately I wish we were alone in this moment," he said, voice low and husky. My heart did a backflip as I felt myself flush.

"Hopefully we will not have to wait long," I replied. We stayed there together, the tension and heat growing between us, until my mother cleared her throat from across the room and we were both brought back to reality. We leaned slightly further apart, although we didn't let go of each others' hands, and shared a grin.

"So... does that mean you will marry me?"

I laughed. "Colin, you cannot be serious! You began courting me a handful of minutes ago!"

I met Colin's eyes, expecting to share the joke, but instead I found him staring at me with a burning sincerity to go with his words.

"I am happy to wait as long as you need me to," he said, voice lowered slightly. "But I would also happily announce our engagement today."

I smiled and shook my head, my heart pounding in my chest so hard I thought Colin might actually be able to hear it.

"I may ask you to wait at least long enough for us to spend an evening or two together while courting, to see what it may be like to have a different relationship, rather than to spend time together as friends. But... I do not predict you will need to wait long."

The grin that spread across Colin's face was blinding, rivaling the happiest looks I'd ever seen from anyone in my life.

"That is good to hear. There are quite a few things I can hardly wait for, all of which come with engagement and marriage."

"Hm. Thank goodness we are both of positions and family that allow us to disappear for months on a honeymoon, finally sharing some travels around the world together. Among other things."

Colin squeezed my hand, and I could see him fighting back a handful of inappropriate responses and actions. I just grinned back at him, the two of us settling into our usual ease on the couch togehter after a moment so I could finally get Colin to tell me about the things he'd done on his travels. Hopefully, no one else would show up during the calling hours, and Colin and I could spend every moment of the day together just like this.

I'd meant what I'd said about wanting to wait, at least a short while, before announcing an engagement, and I did think it was a good idea. But I also couldn't imagine anything coming between Colin and I again after this. My best friend was back, and we were in love. What more could I possibly ask for in a match than that? Even if Benedict would be insufferable, claiming to be the one who'd set us up. It would be worth it, especially because we would weather the storm of his siblings together. Just like we'd do everything else that came for the rest of our lives.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

[pseudowho]

The Chase

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

Kento doesn't appreciate your insistence on No-Nut November. At a Curse-user VS Jujutsu Sorcerer event with the students, Kento hunts you down in a slow-burning, cat-and-mouse, smutty thrill ride.

WARNINGS: 18+, Oral sex (F2M), BDSM, use of toys, some subtle knife-play, overstimulation, orgasm denial, PiV sex, Nanami Kento falling off his perch and Inumaki being an absolute menace, Y/N is a Jujutsu High teacher with a badly explained technique

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"AND WHAT SAY WE TO DEATH, CHILDREN?"

"NOT TODAY!" "SALMON!"

Satoru beamed and clapped at the fighting words of his students, who rustled together and chatted in excitement for their team training day. You smiled fondly at your students (Nobara, Yuuji and Inumaki particularly pumped), but you felt a shiver run down your chest and shoulders.

Kento's eyes bore only into you, and as he pulled the black leather glove tighter to his hand, you felt heat blossom in your belly and pussy. Team game or not, you knew, as a bead of sweat dripped between your cleavage- not unnoticed by Kento, whose wolfish smirk only grew, cock twitching in his black jumpsuit- that you were his prey today, and his alone.

The hunt was on- and you had nobody to blame but yourself.

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Kento clipped a suitcase shut, and zipped his satchel with a huff, mentally ticking off his to-do list, before the team training day which he was in no mood for. While you trailed in and out of the bedroom behind him, every time you brushed past his back, or your fingers grazed his to take something from the bed, his skin turned electric. He reached down to his crotch and squeezed his cock with a suppressed growl; he had been half-hard for weeks, all because of you and your stupid game. No-Nut November was a fucking ridiculous concept, and you had a lot to answer for. Silent and stewing, his strong shoulders were rock solid, as he imagined taking you on the bed, in the shower wet and pink as he hammered into you from behind, making you ride him on the sofa until you were floppy and pliable and begging him to cum inside you, and--

"Kento, are you alright? It is a bit hot in here. You look all sweaty." Feigning concern, and reaching up to scratch your nails through the back of his undercut, you knew exactly what was wrong with your fiancé. Kento's head preened backwards, shivering into your nails, and he turned, pressing you against the wall, his usual gentleness barely winning over his insistence, his need.

"We don't need to continue these silly games any longer, do we darling?" he crooned into your neck, voice honey-laced and persuasive, "You're feeling it too. I know. There would be no winners or losers, here." One muscled forearm pressed against the wall above your head, tongue licking slow circles on your decolletage, while the other hand ghosted over your nipple, tweaking softly. Kento's cock ached desperately, pressing against you. His heart dropped as you laughed and kissed him playfully, sliding out from under his towering frame.

"It's the 28th today, Kento. We're nearly there. Just imagine how good we're going to feel on the 1st." Truth be told, you were absolutely desperate, growing more so as his attempts to seduce you had grown more bawdry, more wiley. Abandoning towels completely as he padded around the house after his shower. Spooning you all night so you couldn't escape from his cock, hard and heavy against your lower back. Choosing movies with only the best sex scenes and tracing the outline of your pussy under the blanket.

You wanted to see him unhinged. You wanted him rough, heavy and all at once, his anger and frustration taken out on your quaking body. You wanted to see just how far you could deny him before he snapped and ate you out for hours, just to hear you fall apart above him. You had even wickedly pondered the possibility of denying him on the 1st.

Kento laughed sardonically, still leaning on his forearm against the wall. The cold in his voice sent icy trickles through your clit and nipples, and even the standing hairs on the back of your neck listened as that same cold voice began to speak to you.

"So this is how you want it? You want me begging?" He shifted his weight, and you could tell he was trying to find some relief for his hard cock in his tight jeans. "So it's a team game today, right? Curse-users VS Jujutsu sorcerers, hiding and hunting, using all of your best espionage techniques to get out victorious, right?" You remained quiet, pretending to finish packing, ears intently pricked.

"We aren't, of course, on the same team- why would we be? So all this time, you've been the bad guy, and today we swap."  His voice dropped an octave, and you jumped as his breath ghosted millimetres away from your ear, not even feeling him move towards you. His hand drew roughly round your hip and clasped your pussy hard, making you squeak, "Today, I'm the bad guy. Would you fancy your chances against a Curse-user like me?"

He stepped away, leaving you flushed and thrilled, panting at the threat and promise.

Kento was now taking the suitcase and bags to the door, seemingly unaffected. He called from the hallway.

"Oh and, darling? I think you'd better give me a safe word. Or god knows what I'll do with you once I catch you."

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It was late, nearly 10pm, as Kento drew the car smoothly into a bay, pulling up the handbrake. You stepped out into the underground car park of the shopping centre, turned into a vast playground for Sorcerers, for one night only. Kento opened the door for you, declining your offers to help him get bags out of the car. Glancing round, he noted you were the first to arrive, and quickly began stripping to change into his outfit for the night- a heavy black jumpsuit, cuffed above dense back boots, leather gloves pulled taut, dark glasses, and a black mask covering his mouth and nose. You watched him breathlessly, already in your usual mission-wear; you were, after all, on the Jujutsu sorcerers team, not the Curse-user team. You imagined Kento stalking through low lights in that outfit, and felt wetness pool between your legs, making your thighs sticky with arousal. As Kento clipped his watch back on, a pair of grey vans pulled into the parking bays opposite you, and soon enough,  your excitable students poured out, greeting you and Kento with bows and waves.

Yuuji, Nobara, Megumi, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki jostled around the vans for their bags. Satoru, Shoko and Ino came next, Ino running directly to Nanami, and already wearing his jumpsuit.

Nobara, Megumi and Maki clambered back into the vans, and shortly after emerged dressed identically to Kento. You had not known the layout of the teams in advance, and by the confused looks on Yuuji, Inumaki and Panda's faces as they joined you, you felt distinctly outnumbered. Kento, Ino, Maki, Nobara and Megumi cut an intimidating team. Kento looked you up and down with glinting eyes, pulling his blade onto his back, and lowering his mask to smirk at you.

You noticed that Maki had with her one of Yaga's cursed dolls. A blue felt teddy with large, watery looking eyes, held onto her back, peering round at the crowd. You heard Maki explaining to Ino that, whilst her glasses were great for seeing curses, they were not so good for seeing cursed energy, and so she had been lent a cursed doll to act as a sniffer dog for anyone leaking above a certain volume of cursed energy. You weren't sure why this was important.

"OKAY TEAMS!" shouted Satoru, demanding audience, as everyone turned to face him and Shoko.

"We will now lay out your objectives; the game is simple. Predator VS Prey, but only you can decide which of those you will be. Nanamin! Care to take over?"

Kento cleared his throat, and stepped up to Satoru, now nearly matching Satoru's height due to the depth of his boots, but vastly broader, built.

"You all have plenty of experience fighting Curses, but little fighting Curse-users. Fighting another man or woman bears vastly different challenges and consequences. The fights are rarely fair, in number or skill or intellect. You must learn to conceal your cursed energy even more vigorously. Why? To minimise your appearance as a threat so you may release it and strike to your best advantage. To hide when your only task is reconnaissance, or getting out of there alive."

Kento took a deep breath, "A dead sorcerer is not a lesson learned. That sorcerer will learn nothing, ever again. The limit of their skill and knowledge has been reached, then cut short. That sorcerer will never again save a civilian, a friend or a colleague. But whether you view your party as allies or fodder, is up to you." You felt heavy sadness in your chest, knowing as Kento stared into the students, that he saw only Yu Haibara, battered and dead on the cold mortuary slab. Satoru and Shoko were silent and grave, Suguru behind their eyes and grimaces.

Kento let his words hang in the cool night air for a few seconds. "Finally, the shopping centre has been chosen as a base of operations for two reasons. Firstly, to remind you of the value of your surroundings, and we ask you to fight intelligently with little to no collateral damage where possible. The building has been stripped of civilians and security cameras all night for our use. I trust you will all behave responsibly."

The students nodded sagely, carrying deep respect for Kento and his words. Nobara's hand shot into the air. Kento gestured fluidly towards her.

"What's the second reason, Nanami-sensei?" Kento didn't correct her, more willing to be sensei now if it meant working alongside you. Kento stepped aside as Satoru stepped forward.

"It would be obviously unfair for me to participate. But, I will be invigilating the event, and if you perform well tonight, I will treat you all to shopping and breakfast in the morning. Why else would I tell you to bring a normal outfit?" Nobara squeaked with delight, and the students began to hustle together as Satoru encouraged a battle-cry.

While the rest of the team jostled and dissipated to find hiding spots with their ten-minute warnings, you bit the bullet and walked, more confidently than you felt, centimetres away from Kento. His eyes met yours and your breath mingled, each feeling the sexual tension as you slipped something into his pocketed hand. You darted out your tongue to graze against his bottom lip, and his breathing hitched as you whispered to him.

"In case I'm too good at hiding, I thought you may need something else to sniff me out."

You turned and ran up the stairs into the shopping centre, disappearing from sight, Nanami turned on by your skill as your cursed energy disappeared completely. Removing a glove and fingering the item in your pocket, his ears reddened and blood rushed directly to his cock, as he felt the still-damp lace of your underwear against his fingertips. He licked his thumb clean of your taste surreptitiously, and raised his mask once more.

Kento clenched his fists and cracked his neck from side to side, adjusting his aching cock in his jumpsuit. The last to leave the car park, he mounted the stairs in leaps, figure dark and imposing as he slipped into the dimmed lights of the shopping centre above. Hunting you. Wanting you.

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You sprinted through the atrium of the shopping centre, quick light footsteps on the white marbled floors. All of the lights above you were significantly dimmed, apart from occasional orange emergency lights, flashing sporadically above fire exits, illuminating your surroundings in brief spats.

A plan formed quickly in your mind, as you slipped into a book shop, hopping over the counter to crouch beneath the tills. Your abilities were good, in some ways exceptional, but you were ill-suited to fight those on the Curse-user team. You considered your chances against all members of the team one at a time; your conclusions were grim, should you face head to head combat. Your skills lay largely in reconnaissance and manipulation, your intelligence for tactical battle-planning vastly outstretching almost all of your peers. Only one member of the team could absolutely match your intelligence, and absolutely exceed your combat prowess; Kento.

You shivered in anticipation. You remember feeling your heart stop, feeling the danger in the air as you ran from Kento, leaving your arousal-damp underwear in his pocket. You grazed a hand over your pussy, covered in nothing but your leather trousers, and felt the outrageous urge to pleasure yourself to Kento, alone and gasping, on the book shop floor.

The thought was cut short as you heard soft rustles against the book store carpet on the other side of the counter. Whatever it was, it didn't weigh much, and it wasn't making much effort to suppress its cursed energy. Your brain ticked- Maki's cursed doll. You stayed calm, your ability to dampen your cursed energy one of your greatest strengths.

It would be a great inconvenience to Maki, you thought slyly, if you destroyed her sniffer-dog. While Maki's own cursed energy was minimal at best, so was her ability to hide it, and so, eyes heavily lidded, you felt Maki approach the book shop, bladed staff in hand. You felt her pause at the door, watching her cursed doll amble uncertainly around the shop, knowing that something nearby had cursed energy, but unable to pin you down.

"You've found something, huh, bear?" Maki walked into the shop. She stood considering her options. "Well, at least we know it's not Itadori-kun. He sticks out like a sore thumb. Another Curse-user would make themselves known to me. So is it Inumaki, Panda, or Y/N-sensei?"

You smiled, proud of Maki. You knew that she and you would have been friends had you attended Jujutsu High at the same time. But, you resolved to make an attempt on the life of her bear, and escape her. You were not here to fight, but to survive.

Your abilities lent themselves best, in the form of telepathic suggestion. In a gentler, more insidious way than Inumaki, you could compel the heart and mind of another in any manner of your choosing. It worked well, most of the time, and served well in keeping you hidden. You were not powerful enough to compel another to violence, or drastic choices.

Maki did not find it unusual when she was compelled to check the darker areas at the back of the store, ignoring her cursed doll, who had now started trying to climb the counter. Reaching over the counter slowly, you whipped the bear into your arms, and, muffling its cries with your foot, savagely ripped off all limbs but one, before shoving it in a dank stationary cupboard.

Its watery blue eyes looked up at you, trembling and whimpering in terror as you pointed a finger in its face, "If you know what's good for you, bear, you'll shut your mouth when Maki calls for you, or I'll deliver you back to Yaga one piece of stuffing at a time." The doll threw its remaining arm over its eyes dramatically, rolling silently against a tape dispenser, quietly weeping. Monstrously satisfied, you locked the cupboard, and slipped effortlessly out of the bookshop.

Immediately at the other end of the atrium, you saw a fight break out- Megumi and Inumaki, you noted. Inumaki's chances were good, but he was a glass cannon, and your confidence in taking out a Curse-user soared as you considered Inumaki your ally. You sprinted towards the fight as Megumi's Nue swept down towards Inumaki, who rolled athletically aside.

I need to get down to the floor, you forced into Megumi's mind as he circled above Inumaki on Nue, I need to get down, and physically incapacitate Inumaki. Not doubting for a moment that his thought was his own, Megumi dismissed Nue at ground level, and, about to beckon his remaining Demon Dog to attack, you leapt at Megumi's back and slammed an elbow into the back of his head. Megumi was in no way prepared, and hit the floor face-first, hard. Inumaki took his chance, unzipping his mouth and speaking directly at Megumi:

"Laugh uncontrollably!" Immediately, Megumi began twisting on the floor in hysterics, blood from his nose dripping into his mouth, wracked with painful laughter as he struggled to get up. In horror, you and Inumaki recalled that Megumi can summon shikigami with his hands alone. Inumaki cried out again:

"Hands down your pants!" Involuntarily, and still wheezing with laughter, Megumi shoved one hand down the front of his pants, and one hand down the back.  Now blushing wildly, sweating, laughing and bloody, Megumi dropped to his knees. You high-fived Inumaki and reached into your pocket, pulling a thick white paint marker out. Leaning down to Megumi and ruffling his hair, you painted a large, white cross over the chest of his jumpsuit. Inumaki dropped blithely off the balcony beside you, hanging by his hands from the railings, only his fingertips now visible.

One down, you thought. Moving to stand, you felt your legs swept abruptly from under you, hitting the floor with a crunch as  Maki loomed over you, staff at your throat.

"I should have known it was you making me search that shop, Y/N-sensei. But where did you put my fucking bear?" You grinned toothily up at Maki, pointing to a Build-a-Bear Workshop on the other side of the hallway. Maki looked away from you at your insistence, and missed Inumaki climbing up the balcony behind her, waggling his tongue before whispering in her ear:

"Have a nice sit down." Maki dropped wordlessly to the floor, legs now completely useless, as you scooted away from her and she swung her staff furiously, cussing at you and Inumaki. Inumaki pulled out his throat medicine, spraying lightly into his mouth while you patted his back in congratulations.

"That was sloppy, Maki, you can do better than that."

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Walking away from Maki, who you couldn't yet determine to be truly defeated as much as severely limited, you and Inumaki wordlessly split ways.

Just Ino, Nobara and Kento left. Rounding a corner, you felt a hushed, deep pulse of cursed energy through your chest. Your breath caught. This cursed energy you knew better than you knew your own. It washed over you when he made you cum. It rumbled through you when he made love to you in the dark of the night. And he was making little, if any effort to conceal it from you, confident in his ability to hunt you until his completion.

Stepping into a doorway backlit only by an intermittently flashing orange light, the black figure of Nanami Kento, huge, blade in hand, remained in the doorway for just enough flashes of light for you to see him and feel dreadful arousal sink into your belly. Another flash came, and the doorway was empty.

All of the breath left your body at once.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

When Kento first reached the top of the stairs into the shopping centre atrium, he felt multiple residual cursed energies heading away from him, his head filing them away rapidly- Inumaki and Megumi, front right, Maki hard right, Panda hard left, and Yuuji, thrumming with cursed energy like a beacon, hard left.

Ino and Nobara took high perches among the huge white rafters, watching, waiting.

He could not, however, feel you. He was not surprised; you were very good at hiding your cursed energy, but Kento knew you better than anyone. He twiddled your lace underwear between his fingers as he considered his options. You were most likely to be flushed out if you considered an ally to be at risk, and Kento considered you most likely to have followed Yuuji, the newbie, and the one whose poorly controlled cursed energy would most likely disguise your own.

He took a left down a curved hallway in the atrium, carefully avoiding any traces of cursed energy, on his way to Yuuji. Suppressing his arousal, his wish to hunt you down like an animal, he reminded himself he also had a job to do.

Meandering around a series of shops, he felt Yuuji, getting closer and closer, until he pushed through the staff entrance of a brightly lit teddy bear shop. Stuffed toys of all varieties, from the size of his palm to the size of a grizzly bear, lined the stacks and shelves, glassy-eyed and plush. Kento briefly considered leaving some money in the till and choosing you one, before gruffly remembering you were an absolute brat who needed the attitude fucked out of you, not a teddy bear. Twisting his neck again as his arousal peaked, he felt his cock growing and throbbing along his thigh. He sighed in frustration. Best just get on with it,  he mulled.

Reaching into an enormous pile of plush unicorns, Kento lifted Yuuji out by the front of his uniform. Yuuji yelped, and took a half-hearted swing at Kento's face. Kento grunted as knuckles chipped his jaw, and he held Yuuji aloft with the same hand as his blade, slapping Yuuji bodily across the cheek.

"Nanamin!" Yuuji gasped, squirming half-heartedly in his grasp. He looked at Kento, wet-eyed, unable to make the decision to fight him. Kento scowled and barely reduced his full force as he swung Yuuji at the floor, hearing marble floor crack under the carpets. Kento knelt, knees pinning Yuuji's arms to the floor as Yuuji choked down blood, gasping and sputtering.

"I'm disappointed in you, Itadori-kun. Fight me, boy." He slapped Yuuji again, and pressed his blade to Yuuji's throat. "Gone. You're dead. In just seconds, because you hesitated to hurt me, because you think I'm your friend." He spat the last word at Yuuji, who stared up at him, jaw steadfast and eyes trembling.

"Would you kill me, boy, if I turned? If I walked with the real Curse-users one day? I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it, in my darkest moments."

"You would never. I trust you, Nanamin." Nanami sighed, resting back on his haunches, drawing a painty white cross on Yuuji's chest. Kento stood, pulling Yuuji up from the floor, certain he'd at least broken some of Yuuji's ribs. Yuuji grinned a bloody grin up at Kento.

"Go on, Itadori-kun," Kento sighed, disappointed but unsurprised, "get yourself to Shoko. She's probably at the coffee shop on level 2. Get yourself patched up." Kento didn't even have the heart to interrogate him.

As Yuuji hobbled away, he paused in the staff entrance doorway, and turned to Nanami.

"I'd already made my mind up, Nanamin. If any of you turned to the Curse-users, I wouldn't hurt you because I wouldn't blame you. I'd blame myself for not being there enough. For not helping you." Yuuji walked away, leaving Kento in ponderous silence.

Moments later, Kento felt a warm whoosh of released cursed energy, unmistakeably you. He ducked left, concealed behind the shutters, and, gazing out through the slats, he watched as you and Inumaki flawlessly took out Megumi and Maki. His eyes darkened as you ruffled Megumi's hair, touched Inumaki's hands, patted his shoulders.

Jealous of boys, he scoffed at himself. His self-restraint was now wildly out of touch, obsessing over you barely touching him all month, skirting around him at home, acting like this torture was all for a good cause. He growled lowly at the thought of you now, turning away down a corridor, wondering if you were wet for him, wondering if you were afraid of being caught by him. His mouth salivated at the thought of you pinned against a wall in the dark, crying out for mercy and relief as he pounded, deep and long, into your tight, gummy walls.

Kento was fully erect now, and silently thanked his tight boxers for pinning his aching length against his leg, the heavy jumpsuit material hiding his sticky precum, leaking continuously now, sticking to the hairs on his thighs.

Waiting for Inumaki and you to disappear, he forced up the shutter and crouched underneath, walking across the atrium, finger pressed to his lips as Megumi (still laughing) and Maki saw him. Dropping like a cat onto the level below from the balcony,  he landed on his feet and sprinted ahead, directly underneath the direction he imagined you were headed. Finding a fire escape, he headed up the stairs, and, coated in shadow, emerged into the doorway where he saw you.

Cock thick and hot against his leg, he abandoned any pretence of a game. Hungry and quietly seething, he darted from the doorway into the dark, swearing he could smell you on the air.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You knew your only chance of escape at this point was to lead Kento through an assault course which was big enough for you, but not for him. The biggest part of you was desperate to be caught, punished at his hands for your torment, and everything inside you clenched in anticipation as you felt your thighs grow steadily wetter with your arousal. Another, competitive part of you wanted to win, and prove to Kento that you were determined to see November to the end. You knew that if you sincerely told Kento to stop, he would drop his every need, his most vital wish being your safety, your right to say no.

But he knew you better than that- knowing your safe word now, knowing how desperately you ached for him, too, he fully committed to your plan to not go down without a fight. When Nanami Kento takes on a duty, he takes it on seriously. And his duty now? To hunt you down, and use you as a personal cocksleeve.

You had already taken a running slide under a partially raised shutter, and heard Kento curse behind you, too bulky to fit beneath it, and an echoing screech as he yanked it upwards. By this point, you were well on your way into a tiny service lift, standing room for one only, the door closing just too fast for Kento to reach. He roared his frustration and, eyes meeting yours through the wired square of glass, you watched his figure disappear as you blew him a kiss.

All of your tactical abilities had grown wings and gone. You panted, nipples erect, thighs sticky, thrilled by the chase, and trying, failing to plan your next move.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento paced like a tiger.

If I have to pull you out of a fucking dumbwaiter, I will. He turned tail to the doors and rolled under the shutters, moving seamlessly back onto his feet and searching for the nearest store-room access point. Finding one, bathed in sickly light, Kento ignored individual stairs and instead leapt them a flight at a time, like a man possessed.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

As soon as you made your way out of the lift, you realised you had made a terrible error of judgement. Between the rolling trolleys and stacks of cardboard boxes, you could see only one way out. Above you, you heard rhythmic slams, getting closer, as someone hit each staircase downwards with terrifying force.

You turned tail and ran back into the service lift, hammering your forefinger on the 'up' button repeatedly, screaming and clapping a hand over your mouth as the store room door slammed open and heavy footsteps sprinted towards you, the lift door nearly closed but four thick fingers pushed past the gap and with a grunt of effort turned satisfied sigh, Kento stepped into the space, barely wide enough for a stack of boxes, and now with he and you crammed against each other.

Still clad in black glasses and mask, he glowers at you wordlessly, reaching one finger behind him to press the 'down' button, keeping the lift in place in the dimly lit basement. You stutter up at him, utterly trapped.

"Kento-" you start, and he presses a leather-gloved finger to your lips. Pushing you, looming over to you until you're flush against the back wall of the lift, you moan as he slowly lifts you off the ground with his thigh and knee pressed against the wall, pussy now grinding against his flexing muscles. You shudder at the sudden pressure, unable to stop yourself bucking your sex against his thigh. Before you could plead for relief, he pressed two black gloved fingers into your mouth, firmly caressing your tongue at first, before pushing them deeply to the back of your throat. A satisfied huff came from beneath his mask as you choked and gagged, his second hand coming up to lightly squeeze the front of your throat, feeling for his fingers inside you.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he breathed, low and dangerous, continuing to fuck your mouth with his fingers, gradually releasing and squeezing your throat in time with your desperate bucking against his thigh. He groaned lowly, savouring your flushed cheeks and the tears of overstimulation running down them.

"Oh darling," he intoned, watching you struggle to get yourself off against his thigh. "Would this help?" He released your mouth and throat abruptly, reached between your legs with both hands and ripped your trousers at the crotch, your pussy now directly on the harsh cloth of his jumpsuited thigh. You let out a momentary cry of protest, and Kento laughed cruelly.

"You make me hunt you like an animal just for a good fuck, and you draw the line at torn clothes? Please. Your pussy's going to need fresh air for a month after what I'm about to do to you."

He hoisted you roughly by the hips and you wrapped your legs around him, and now you could feel the complete outline of his cock, straining and pulsing against the fabric of his jumpsuit.

"Put the effort in, sweetheart," he said as he let go of your thighs, slamming his clothed cock against your bare pussy to hold you against the wall, and you humped furiously against his length, folds open and clit rubbing directly on rough cloth. He gasped beneath his mask, and as you clawed at his back and sucked a droplet of sweat off the side of his throat, he growled, low and threatening.

You felt his hands move together, one to grip your throat again and push your head hard against the wall, and the other to rip open your shirt and tear the fabric of your bra to release your breasts. He tugged at your nipples until you mewled and squirmed against him. He felt your arousal seep through his jumpsuit and underwear, mixing with his precum and making you both wetter. Involuntarily, his hips bucked into you, and you broke, begging and pleading for him to let you cum.

Abruptly, he pulled away from you, leaving you splayed, pussy cold and throbbing, denied the pleasure of your approaching orgasm. Kento turned away from you, shoulders heaving with effort, gripping the base of his cock through his jumpsuit. Head thrown back as he panted, you felt lightheaded with the smell of his sweat and natural scent filling the air around you.

"No...no. You don't get off that easily. And I won't get off that easily, humping like teenagers in a store cupboard. You take pleasure in denial? I'll give you denial."

He turned, spinning you and pressing your face against the cold wall, hand still gloved. You were astounded and appalled by his level of self-control, his own continued self-denial, refusing himself sensory stimuli by remaining gloved, clothed and masked. He rolled his hand into a fist and pressed the small of your back.

"Arch. Now," he ordered. You did as you were told, dropping your belly and pushing your arse out, teasing again against his straining cock. You heard a slow unzipping behind you, and a rustling. You cried out as fabric was crammed into your mouth and, tasting yourself and Kento on your tongue, you guessed he had used your panties to clean himself up before silencing you.

Another noise filled you with alarm- Kento reaching to his back and unsheathing his blade. You felt one finger gently tap the side of your head as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, "You and I both know you have other ways to get your safe word across, hmm?"

You felt something cool and hard rub slowly between your wet, bare folds, and realised with a moan and a blush that Kento was about to fuck you with the handle of his blade. Rubbing lazy circles around your clit, Kento sighed, watching creamy arousal drip down the handle of his blade. He wanted nothing more than to duck down and lick it clean before plunging his tongue into your velvety walls, for you to ride his face until he had you seeing stars. Denying yourself pleasure had meant denying him pleasure, and you knew as well as he did that all it took for him to cum in his pants was you moaning, breaking and falling apart as he ate you out.

For now, he'd let his rage burn slowly, bright embers on black coal, and remind you just how patient he could really be. It would be all the better to lose control with you when you were fucked out, floppy and incapable of denying him any longer.

"Are you going to cum on my blade, hmm?" he whispered against your ear, quickening his circles around your clit as you nodded and whimpered, occasionally threatening to push his blade's handle inside you, denying you as you pressed yourself back into him. Suddenly, inchingly, he raised the handle to your entrance, sliding it through velvet walls and your slick until it bottomed out at the hilt. You whined, and squealed as he twisted the blade, so the nub at the end of the handle pushed insistently against your cervix and sweet spot.

Thrusting it in and out of you harshly, Kento felt dizzy as you shook and whined, leather glove now coated with your creamy white arousal, smells of sweat and cum mingling in the air, and he was overwhelmed for a moment with untouched pleasure and affection, with how well you were doing for him, and he mumbled into your ear as if he were the one being pleasured blind.

"Oh god, yes, yesssss, keep going. Keep going darling, don't stop now, you're taking it so well for me." He groaned into your ear as it became harder for him to push the handle back into you as your pussy clenched and fluttered as you approached your orgasm, tears streaming down your cheeks, so he sped up, reaching round you with his other hand to pinch your clit harshly.

You came with a shout, bliss overwhelming you, wishing it was his cock your walls were milking, your voice drawing out into pathetic mewling as Kento continued his ministrations. Your vision speckled with white lights and your legs shook, seeking Kento's eyes behind his dark glasses. He raised his eyebrows and looked over his glasses at you, eye-to-eye for the first time since you had left home and through Kento's flinty gaze, was a fleck of playfulness as he toyed with you, a cat with a mouse.

Kento hummed, "Too much, not enough...hard to please, aren't you? Oh, keep going my love, because I won't be satisfied until you're putty in my hands." Precum dripped down his throbbing cock as you came again, crying out weakly, nearly collapsing onto the handle of his blade. Slowing down as you rode the waves of pleasure, Kento pulled the handle out and wiped the tears from your eyes, shushing you. He tugged the panties out of your mouth as you coughed and pocketed them, raising the handle up to your mouth.

"Clean it," he ordered, eyeing you intently as you obediently locked and sucked your own essence of the length of the handle. "Not too much," he urged, sheathing his blade back between his shoulders, "I want to smell you on my hands after I fight."

You turned, back pressed against the wall, and Kento allowed it. He appraised his work, you now trembling and sweating, your arousal evident on the torn leather of your trousers, and you begged him.

"Kento, please...I need you inside me. I'll do anything. Please."

"I'm not sure," he intoned again, "you haven't taken me for quite some time, you see. I feel like we need to stretch you out a little, before I wrap you around my cock."

Still staring at you, eyes settled on your heaving breasts, squashed together by your torn shirt, he removed his gloves, one finger at a time. Reaching into another pocket, you heard the rustle of packaging, and Kento deftly unpackaged a dildo and rabbit duo, and a tiny controller that he rolled musingly between his thick fingers.

Hand around your throat again, warningly, Kento gave a gentle squeeze as he stuffed the dildo up with little warning until it bottomed out in you, rabbit lined up with your clit. You jumped in shock, still sensitive from cumming- but blurted out through your tight throat, "Not as big as you."

Kento chuckled sardonically, "Oh? You remember how big I am?" He yanked you in by your neck until you were nose to nose, "Only, you haven't been very good friends with my cock this past-" he checked his watch, "29 days, have you?" He removed his glasses, tossing them aside, rewarding you again with his impassive gaze. His mood was swinging so wildly, he was giving you whiplash. Kento, for the first time in years, seemed positively unhinged. He slammed a mask-shielded kiss to your mouth, moaning into you, and as you came up for air, he buried his hand deep into your hair, grabbing at the roots and forcing you down to your knees, the tightness of the space bringing you face to face with his clothed, hard cock.

He stared down into your eyes, satisfied with the arrangement as you clutched his thighs, and you felt the vibrator buzz to life while he once again unzipped his jumpsuit agonisingly slowly, stripteasing you as first the hard planes of his chest, then his abdomen, then his neatly trimmed honey-coloured pubes came into view.

Reaching the hand holding the controller down, he reached into his underwear and finally revealed his heavy cock and balls, falling hard onto your face. Your mouth watered as you stared up at him, opening your mouth obediently, and Kento's last thread snapped.

Both hands now buried in your hair, and gripping the controller, Kento rammed his cock immediately to the back of your throat, whimpering with relief at the intense pleasure of your throat gagging around him. A few quick clicks of the controller and the vibrator maxed out, strangled squeaks coming from you at the combined intensity of Kento fucking your face with wild abandon and the buzz of the vibrator on your swollen, hypersensitive clit.

Kento gripped you by the hair, slamming his cock repeatedly into your mouth and throat, grunting and gasping as he felt your tongue raise to cup the underside of his sensitive length, pink head brushing against the wet muscle as he thrust, and thrust, and thrust. His head swirled with pleasure, vision thick and hazy after denying himself and being denied for so long, moaning your name, begging to cum down your throat, begging you to cum with him. Head thrown back, he saw stars.

Rolling his head down to look at you, tears running down your cheeks, and mingling with your own saliva and his precum, he fell apart as he watched you play with your own nipples, your mouth tight around him.

As you came again, throat closing around him, he held you nose to pubes as he came with a bark, a month's worth of pent up seed squirtig down your throat in thick, hot bursts. You swallowed, twitching and jerking as the vibrator overstimulated you and you struggled to swallow Kento's massive load. Kento shook, grip in your hair loosening, cock still pulsing and leaping in your mouth as his orgasm drew-out, moaning your name and sweet nothings to you.

Pulling out of your mouth, cock still impossibly hard, he pulled you up to him, pulling the dildo out of you and throwing it and his mask aside. Your eyes met, thoughts headed in the same direction and he pressed you against the wall, your legs locked around his hips.

Kento sunk his cock between your puffy folds, hammering into you immediately, kissing you properly for the first time. Both addled and desperate, you cried out his name as Kento rammed repeatedly into you, pulling out almost completely before bottoming out again, feeling your cervix jump against your belly every time he hit you deeply.

Hair a mess, sweat mingling on his chest, and eyes ablaze, Kento watched you with total adoration as you melted around him, as pliable and floppy as he'd wanted you, eyes glazed as you shook your head and whined.

"I can't cum again...Kento...hurts..."

He leaned close, huffing into your neck as his cock continued to abuse your hole, used and swollen, denying himself from finishing until you came again. His hand coming to rest at your throat again, and his other at your breasts, he squeezed both harshly. The overstimulation combined with lack of air caused a rush that went straight to your pussy, and you broke, gushing around him as you came again.

Kento came again, all shaking moans and pleas, cockhead squirting against your cervix as you felt warmth seep into your belly, both riding your highs, clinging to each other as if on a sinking ship.

Moments passed, panting in each others' arms, and Kento drew both arms around you, embracing you warmly, nose in your hair. You sunk against his chest in bliss, a moment of emptiness as his cock slipped out, and cum trickled down your thighs.

"You were right," he finally groaned, "it was especially good after so long."

You grinned into his chest, nuzzling it and planting a wet kiss above his heart, "And you were right."

Kento looked down at you, one eyebrow raised quizzically. You nipped his left pec, playful.

"I wouldn't fancy my chances against a Curse-user like you."

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Principal Yaga sat with Gojo and Nanami, reading through progress reports for the students, looking with special interest at the Sorcerer VS Curse-user event.

"So, let me get this straight:

Fushiguro would have laughed himself to death if Inumaki hadn't finally released his technique, and Shoko healed him of a minor concussion caused by Nanami-sensei.

Zenin Maki had to be carried back to the van by Ijichi-san, as Inumaki wouldn't release his technique, as he worried Zenin would stab him to death.

Nanami, you broke four of Itadori-kun's ribs, as he refused to fight you. As he was headed to Shoko for treatment, Nobara nailed him to the walls of a lingerie store, but both declined to answer who was in there first. Nobara went to browse the clothing shops.

Ino was found asleep at 2am in a bed store, and once Inumaki had ordered him to tidy up after himself, he was then ordered to go and play by himself in the adjacent toy shop.

Inumaki settled himself down in the book shop, and sellotaped my Curse-doll back together, which he found inside a stationary cupboard, after it had been torn to shreds by Nanami-sensei.

Nanami captured you in the store rooms after a brief combat."

Yaga then glared up at Gojo, eyes narrowed as Gojo sipped coffee innocuously. Yaga continued.

"And Gojo witnessed none of it, as he and Shoko spent the whole night gossiping at the coffee shop on Level 2."

"I figured Nanamin and his girl had things handled."

Yaga scoffed, tucking the papers back inside their folder.

"So who would you both agree to have been MVP of the event?"

Nanami and Gojo looked at each other. Considering, Nanami spoke first.

"I'd say it had to have been Inumaki. Excellent use of his cursed-technique to incapacitate without injuring, taking out 3 of the 5 Curse-user team, with a little support from my wife."

"Actually," Gojo interjected, "I'd have to say it was Panda." Nanami raised an eyebrow in inquiry- he had completely forgotten about Panda.

Gojo continued, "He stayed as still as the grave against the shelves in the Build-a-Bear Factory. Said he hadn't planned to stay there that long, but he found watching Nanamin beat Itadori-kun half to death so intimidating, he stayed there all night. I didn't find him until 7am."

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Reader when she runs from Kento after pushing her undies into his pocket:

Being chased down by horny Nanami?

Haha pussy go BRRRR

[lolokouhm]

Could you rail me? pt. 2

Don’t overthink it. Just let go.

Sounds easy, right?

Not for Megumi, no.

Especially with your body in his T-shirt underneath him. On his own bed, in his own bedroom, way after dark, with some faint sound of an autumn playlist that’s been playing for hours now. 

Right now, there are two problems.

First of all - he’s not a virgin, but he wouldn’t call himself a sex god either, by no means. It’s not like female pleasure has been some sort of black magic he hasn’t learned - the few girls he’s been with seemed rather satisfied and they even tried to contact him the day after, but he rarely replied. Not that he ghosted them, rather politely suggested that he wasn’t interested in exploring the relationship (or situationship) further. That was the truth - he wasn’t. He couldn’t force himself to do that, it would be simply rude. The girls could be nice, but they just weren’t you. And when the thought pops up in his head, he’s shattered. „Rather satisfied” with you won’t do. It just won’t. You need to see stars. Hell, fucking galaxies - which leads straight to the second problem.

Megumi is pretty sure the moment you touch him he will come. Like, straightaway. 

But you don’t mind. Like at all. Because the way he looks at you, so hungry, so messy - it’s so different from his usual IDGAF attire and that honestly turns you on beyond comprehension. You lean in and pull him into a kiss, another one of these incredible ones you’ve shared in the kitchen a few moments ago. These are enough to make you see stars, as his fingers slowly slide down your collarbone.

„Please”, you whimper and he pulls back, startled by your tearful tone. God, you’re so pretty. „Touch me, Megumi. I need you.”

And for the first time in forever, Megumi actually lets go.

He doesn’t hesitate anymore - with a low groan his hands travel under your T-shirt and he closes his eyes when his cold hands finally land on your tits. He leaves a few more kisses on your neck, caressing them gently at first, but getting more and more rougher with every squeeze. They are so soft. He imagined how they would feel many, many times - you’ve even caught him staring once when you went to the beach back in the summer. You made a snarky comment about respectful men being disrespectful, but he brushed it off with such disinterest that you couldn’t possibly know what was going on in his head. But this - this is different. He wants to see them, not in the bikini, not in the bra, and the curiosity wins. He catches the hem of your T-shirt and rolls it up to expose your body, and you don’t even have time to say his name before he’s sucking your left nipple, gently swiping his thumb over the right one.

„Fuck, Megumi. It feels so good.” His tongue is circling over your protruding buds and you’re so impossibly wet that you’re scared you’re actually going to drown. It’s like he’s got some spidey sense or something, because the moment you think about it his hand is already reaching down and grabbing the boxers he gave you. You try to lift your hips to help him, but he’s doing just fine. A silent curse leaves his lips as he feels, on his own fingers, how wet you are and just the sensation makes his head spin. He caresses your clit for a moment, but you really don’t need any additional stimulation. You need him inside. Now.

So that’s what you get. The T-shirt falls back on your breasts as Megumi moves down and slides the boxers off you, full of slick and completely ruined. He hasn’t even taken a single part of his wardrobe yet, he really doesn’t want to stop pleasuring you, no matter how tight his own boxers feel right now - but it’s just too hot, so he finally gets rid of the sweater and you just stare in awe. You’ve seen his bare chest before, but not like that. He’s sculpted in the tastiest way possible. 

„Come here.” You suddenly feel his hands on your thighs as he’s dragging you down the bed, just a little bit so your hips are on the verge of the mattress. „Tell me if it feels good, okay? I… I really want you to feel good. So if it’s not it then you need to say it.” 

With wide-opened eyes you observe as Megumi gets on his knees in front of the bed, placing your legs on both of his shoulders, and you could swear you’re salivating.

„I’m not the one who has problems with expressing — fuck.” You don’t really have time to think about it any further as you suddenly feel his tongue on your clit - he moves it up and down, slowly and delicately, trying not to overwhelm you with the sensation. „That definitely doesn’t feel bad, oh god. W-why are you laughing?” You could swear you heard him chuckle. 

„You’re just so cute” he mutters, slowly sliding his finger inside of you. Your fear is actually becoming reality - if the two of you keep going on like this, Megumi’s going to fucking drown. „And so wet. Oh god.” His voice sounds so hazy and dreamy, as if he wasn’t in his right mind. And maybe he isn’t. You could never imagine him saying these things, but now, with him on his knees in front of you, it’s more than real, even though, at the same time, it isn’t. His left hand is keeping your hips in place, but it’s not the easiest task. Especially with his erection slowly becoming just painful. „And so sweet” he murmurs, and you get the chills - and it’s over. You actually needed his one finger and three compliments to come, and you’re shaking like crazy. 

That’s just embarrassing. 

But Megumi doesn’t see it. He’s in awe. He’s happier the ever, which is pretty ironic, as that’s exactly what plays in the background right now from his speakers. He makes you ride your orgasm out - it’s messy and it gets you a little scared as Megumi really loves to keep things clean - but it’s different for him. He’s high. He’s pussy drunk, no, scratch that. He’s drunk on you. 

You can see that clearly when he’s on top of you again. Not only that - he’s also in pain. And you feel more than determined to help him.

„It’s my turn now”, you whisper, wiggling your way out of his embrace. „You were amazing.” Your hands automatically run to his pants, but before you’re even able to unbuckle his belt, his palm lands on top of your fingers.

„No, (Y/N)…” he mutters, and his gaze is feverish. „If you touch me I’ll come right away.”

„Well, that’s a pity then” you say, still shaking a little from your orgasm. „At least you’ll be coming inside of me.” 

Megumi just groans and his head falls back on the pillow as you continue unzipping his pants, getting rid of your t-shirt somewhere in-between. 

„Don’t say such things.” You feel a squeeze on your thigh as you’re straddling his ABS, his whole body tense with need. „It’s not helping.”

„Just shut up and be my pillow princess now, okay?” You finally manage to get the pants off him and feel nervous again. You expected him to be big, just not that big. And hard. He squirms when your fingers brush against his leaking tip, and then - well, he’s just a moaning mess. It’s still going better than he expected, he thinks when your lips touch him softly.

„Oh, fuck it, just sit on it. Have some mercy.” 

But you don’t. Instead you take him a little bit deeper into your throat and you squeeze his heavy balls, and by that time Megumi’s had enough. The moment his cock leaves your throat he grabs you by the waist and turns you around so you can finally face him. He fixes his position, sitting up and leaning against the bed’s soft headboard, surprising you with his rough movements as you wiggle on his lap.

„I told you” he whispers, fingers sliding from your sweaty forehead to your parted lips. He throws his head back the moment you take his thumb into your own mouth and suck it. „Have some mercy on me.” 

And even though you’d love to play with him more, you just cannot stand the way he looks at you. Like he’s begging. Maybe he really is? 

So you do it.

He still holds you, when you painfully slowly slide down his cock, your walls hugging him so tightly that he’s going insane.

„Fuck” he whimpers. „I didn’t know you’d be so tight.”

„I didn’t know you’d be so talkative”, you purr before leaning in for a kiss. He’s stretching you so much that now you’re grateful for your embarrassing wetness - if you weren’t leaking, you’d have a problem fitting him inside. 

„Are you all right?” he asks, but he already looks so fucked out that the question is just adorable. You finally move, and his head falls back with a moan. „Oh fuck.”

„You need to stop cursing” you whine, trying to set a tempo and then follow it, but your legs feel like jelly. You begin bouncing on him and you’re really grateful for being on top, just for the view - Megumi’s breathtaking. And surprisingly loud. He moans when he sucks your nipples, incredibly sensitive by now and as his fingers brush your clit again, your ability to think logically is completely gone. You chase your next high and then he suddenly stops, grabs you and now he’s on top again, thrusting into you and caressing your pussy in slow, deep strokes. He’s so close, but it’s like a challenge he’s not going to lose - you need to come first, and you need to come on his cock. Megumi is stubborn.

He’s really close to losing, but he perseveres yet again, just to fall apart right after you - your walls squeezing him like that is simply too much for him to handle. Both of you are a moaning, groaning mess as he squeezes your hand so tight you’re definitely getting some bruises from that. Despite being harsh, his touch is full of pure passion and it feels weirdly safe.

His thrusts get more and more sloppier as he’s emptying in you, and it takes a while - you’ve overstimulated him a little too much. After a few final strokes, Megumi’s body finally falls heavy on yours. He should probably pull out, but as his cum is slowly leaking and dripping down the sheets, none of you care. You’re too tired to even move a limb.

„It’s a mess.” That’s a fact, and you just state it. His body against yours. His bed. Your relationship. 

„Yeah.” Megumi nuzzles into your neck as his fingers intertwine with yours, yet again. „But I guess I could live with that.”

masterlist ❤️

[heartshapedmisery]

thinking about riding patrick in the locker rooms after he wins a match...

SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI

...He'd be sitting on the bench near the back corner, slumped against the locker as he watched you work your hips across his lap without even breaking a sweat.

Your skirt would be bunched up around your hips and your panties pulled to the side for easy access, as there was no time for leisure. Patrick was simply too eager to feel you wrapped around him while the adrenaline from his game still coursed through his veins.

Your eyes would be on the door every five seconds, keeping watch in case anyone was to walk in. But his eyes would only be on you, watching your face contort with each roll of your hips. The way your mouth fell ajar at the feeling of his tip brushing with your cervix. The way your teeth caught your bottom lip in an attempt to keep your moans at bay, but managed to spill out and echo throughout the locker room (per Patrick's request.)

When he wasn't fiddling with the frilly fabric of your skirt, his thumb would reach down to rub your clit, matching the rhythm of your hips as you felt your legs begin to shake around his muscular thighs. Your lower back burned, but the pleasure that coursed throughout your body masked it, making your muscles relax as he unwinded you with each circle of his thumb.

"That's it, baby," he'd whisper to you, his eyelids heavy as he watched you in a daze, close to his climax already. "Taking me so well..."

His words would make your chest tighten, the familiar coil in your stomach snapping completely as you came with a raspy whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders for leverage as you nearly lost your balance.

The sight of you coming undone on top of him was all he needed to let go as well, his hands moving to grip your ass tightly as he pumped his release deep inside of you.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped, your hips stilling altogether as you felt his pelvis tense against your mound.

Suddenly, the sound of muffled voices was clear outside of the door, sending you into a panic. You quickly climbed off of him (trying your hardest to ignore the feeling of his cum beginning to drip out of you) and readjusted your skirt to an appropriate level, meeting patrick's eyes worriedly as he tucks himself back into his shorts.

Your faces were red and flushed when you walked out together, looking as if you had been in a heated argument with one another (at least to the three players getting ready to go into the locker room.) You both averted eye contact with them, but Patrick couldn't seem to bite back the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Stop it." you held back a laugh, your flustered state beginning to die down as you walked down the hallway.

"Maybe we could make this a tradition after every game I win? It's a good reward system, don't you think?"

You shook your head. "Is this how I'm gonna get you to finally keep a winning streak?"

Patrick smiled. "Trust me, after the way you were wrapped around me in that locker room, I'll never lose a game again."

[bigification]

Tag You're Fat

"Bro, why the fuck are we playing tag, we are grown ass adults." John asked.

"Just go with it man, it'll be fun." Brad pleaded. "It's not just any game of tag, It's called tag you're FAT! The way it works is that one person gets selected randomly to be it. He will eat this." Brad holds up a large pill. "It will turn them into a fatass for a short time, the fatass will then be contagious. Any person he touches will also become a fatass. Everyone hides and the last person to get fattened wins."

"Dude this game seems weird." Graham spoke out.

"C'mon just try it, it'll be fun." Brad pleaded once again.

The group seemed to collectively sigh and agree to play. Brad then pulled up a random number generator on his phone. "Everyone pick a number, I'll be one."

Each man then says a number between one and seven. Brad generated a number. "It's 4, who's 4!"

A couple guys pointed at Graham. "Man this is bullshit, I didn't even want to play this stupid ass game." Graham complained.

"That's too damn bad, take the pill." Brad responded.

Graham grabbed the pill and stared at it for a bit. "This is temporary right?" He asked.

"Ya of course, just take it." Brad said as he pulled up a photo of Graham on his phone, just for comparison for after.

Everyone started to get impatient so Graham finally swallowed the pill. Almost instantly, he began to twitch and grunt. As he twitched, his body began to jiggle more and more. His once flat stomach grew rounder and rounder by the second, riding up his shirt in the process. It kept growing until he had a solid beer gut that sagged over his waist line and love handles that thickened his once slim waist. His defined pecs became soft and plump as they sagged onto his gut and his arms became plump with a thick layer of fat. His pants tightened under the pressure of his growing ass and thick thighs. Finally his face widened as fat filled his cheeks.

Graham stood in silence as he took off his tiny shirt. His friends waited in silence for him to say something.

"Huh huh huh, that felt good!" He said in a dumb voice.

No one could tell if he was being serious, but they figured he was when he kept giggling and playing with the fat on his belly.

"Ok everyone, HIDE!" John yelled as he ran to a hiding spot. No one had time to react, so they just ran. Each of them found a hiding spot as Graham started to slowly hunt them down.

John trembled as he heard the large man stomp towards his hiding spot. He struggled to keep quiet as Graham approached. "Boo!" Graham yelled as he turned the corner. John jumped and proceeded to plead for Graham to not tag him.

"Wait wait! You don't need to tag me. You can just go find someone else." He practically pegged.

"isn't that the point of the game though?" Graham asked as he reached for John's arm. John yelled in fear, but immediately stopped when Graham made contact.

His muscles seemed to tense up, and he started to grunt. John started to grow much faster than Graham did. Within moments his belly had grown so big that he looked pregnant. It grew and grew, almost never ending until it was larger than a beach ball, ripping straight through his shirt. His hands grew to twice their size as he held his massive gut. A thick layer of fat covered the rest of his body, giving thick arms and legs, and large man tits. His ass also grew to the point that it ripped through his pants, leaving him completely naked, though it's not like you could seem much under that hulking gut. Similar to Graham, his face was the last to change. His face rounded out until it looked like a circle and he grew multiple chins under his thick beard.

John sat there for a moment, getting used to the way his body felt. The thick legs that rubbed together and the giant gut that changed his centre of gravity made it hard for him to move around.

"Get up big guy!" Graham pulled John to his feet.

"Shut it pipsqueak, you try movin around with a gut like this." John snapped back.

The two men soon went back to searching for the rest of their friends, shaking the ground as they walked. Dewayne and Miguel hid together nearby and peered around a corner to see Graham and John searching.

"Dude is that John?! He's fucking massive, and he's naked." Miguel whispered.

"Shut up, they're gonna hear us." Dewayne whispered back.

Almost as if on cue, John and Graham turn and start walking toward their hiding spots. They were cornered, so they just curled up and hoped they wouldn't be seen. It did not work. Graham turned the corner, chuckled, and grabbed both men.

Dewayne started to grunt as his body grew. His soft gut spilled out of his black tang top and over his shorts. He grew soft man tits that stretched his shirt to its limit. His body quickly started to say under its own weight as a thick layer of pudge covered his body.

Miguel befell a similar fate soon after. Although the effects didn't seem as bad on him since he was such an athletic person, but that could only help him so much. His six pack rapidly turned into a beer belly larger than his own dad's gut, riding up his tiny gym shirt. His solid pecs swelled into a pair of moobs with nipples that showed through his shirt. The defined arms and legs he worked so hard for softened into pudgy limbs.

The two men emerged from their hiding spots, happy as ever without a thought going through their minds.

It didn't take long for them to find Andrew after that. He was the tallest in the group, making it hard for him to hide. He tried to run but quickly ran into John, knocking him straight on his ass. Unfortunately for him, his arms hit John's belly in the impact. Andrew sat on the floor as his mind cleared and his body started to grow. Within seconds he had a giant hairy belly hanging out of his shirt, only rivaled by John's. His limbs bilmped out and his ass expanded, popping open his belt and threatening to rip his jeans. Finally a thick double chin formed under his beard. Andrew stood up, towering over the rest and crossed his arms. "Well who's gonna find the rest?" He asked in a dumb voice.

Brad trembled as he heard someone approaching his hiding spot. He had no idea who it was, but it sounded like someone massive. He got scared and decided to get up and run from his hiding spot. As he got up, he was met by Andrews thick underbelly.

His forehead impacted Andrews belly, knocking him back. He grunted in pleasure and pain as the transformation began. His body was hit the hardest since John. His once unnoticeable belly soon became impossible to miss, riding up his shirt to his chest and drooping over his waist. His skinny chest exploded with fat, growing larger tits than he had ever seen before, with large sensitive nipples. His previously thin arms became engulfed with fat and his legs thickened until it was basically impossible for him to separate them. His love handles spilled over his waist and his ass fattened until his crack was visible above his pants. He got up once his transformation was complete, struggling to stay up due to his immense weight. He pulled up his shirt and looked down at his hulking gut and man tits, he smiled before following the rest of the men to find the last of their friends.

"Omar, you're the last one you can come out now!" John yelled.

Omar appeared from behind a couch and stood in shock at the sight of his friends. Each one of them bursting out of their clothes and sagging with fat, John had even ripped out of his clothes. Omar started to laugh hysterically, pointing out how fat his friends were. Once he regained his composure he asked his friends, "so when does this wear off?"

"What do you mean wear off, why would we want it to wear off?" John responded.

"No no, you said it would wear off." Omar's expression quickly changed.

"What do you say boys, this guy is lookin a bit too skinny for our standards, how about we change that." John asked the rest of the boys.

Omar backed away, but quickly became cornered by the horde of large men. It didn't take long for one of them to grab his arm. He froze in place and started to grunt as his body began to change. He tried to resist, but there was no point. His gut burst out of his shirt, popping off the buttons in the process. His pecs grew into thick moobs, and he grew multiple chins under his light stubble. His ass fattened until it ripped through his jeans, and his thighs ripped what was left of them, leaving him naked from the waist down. His arms fattened up as he held his gut.

"Now for the best part about the game." John started as he approached Omar. "It has made up who we were meant to be, it made us hot." John gets really close to Omar, pressing both their bellies together. "Now we can do whatever we want with each other." John grabbed Omar's dick as he spoke, making him moan.

With all the tension built up over the game, it didn't take long for all of them to rip off their tiny clothes. Nothing in their heads other than sex and food.

[cupcakeinat0r]

DadBod!Miguel as a brat tamer

You’d been dying to go out dancing for a while now, but your man, Miguel, wasn’t too keen on going. Besides being swamped with work, he also wasn’t really into the scene due to his introverted nature. Not that you were an extrovert nor was it your scene either, however, you did love to dance. You didn’t need to drink or smoke or take those “poppers” or network with a bunch of fakes or whatever. You just loved to dance, and Miguel loves nothing more than to see you happy, so he agreed.

Miguel took you to a really nice spot in the city that played some salsa and reggaeton bangers. For Miguel, the smile plastered on your face made all the loud music and over-bearing people worth dealing with.

“Alright, mama, the floor is all yours. I’ll be waiting here.” He uses his lips to motion at a small table off to the side. Attached to his arm, you look up at him with a frown.

“You sure you don’t wanna dance with meeeee?” You bat your eyes, using one last effort to get him on the dance floor, but alas, he wouldn’t budge. To ease the disappointment, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and tells you to have fun, and that he gets more joy out of watching you instead.

Making your way into the crowd, one of your favorite songs comes on and you immediately get into it, and like sew, you find a group of those sweet girls that are complete strangers but end up being your best friends by the end of the night because that’s how nights at the club go.

You all dance with each other, singing/screaming the lyrics at each other. Y’all salsa dance with each other, swaying your hips, letting loose. You’re having a blast, but a part of you still wishes that Miguel was dancing with you.

You glance over at the small table where he sits with his legs spread wide open, his black slacks that fit his thick thighs and ass perfectly, and his belt hugging his wide waist, his soft belly the cherry on top. His black top is buttoned up except for the top four, letting his chest hair peek. The long sleeves are fighting for their lives as they try to contain his bulging muscles. He makes the table look so small. His dress shoes are just as shiny as the thin, gold chain around his neck. He takes a swig of his drink as he looks back at you, practically undressing you with his eyes. You smile at him when you decide to give him a show.

Miguel lets his mouth sit slightly open as he watches you dance, your ass jiggling through the thin fabric of your dress. Whilst enjoying your show, he’s simultaneously looking around, making sure no one makes a move on what’s his.

The song comes to an end and a more slow one begins. You start seeing people couple up and you look at Miguel again, your hand motioning for him to come to you.

Miguel shakes his head and raises his hands in refusal, but you’re not giving up.

It’s corny, but you start lassoing a pretend rope, miming as if you’re pulling him onto the dance floor. This wins a chuckle from him, but he doesn’t get up, shaking his head ‘no’. You drop your hands in defeat then make a tear drop motion with your finger on your face and pout. He pouts as well, and mouths ‘I love you’ as a sorry for not wanting to dance.

You chuckle back and roll your eyes, walking toward the table.

“You’re really not gonna slow dance with me? Not even a little bit?” You ask with your hands on your hips.

“Baby, you know I’m not a dancer.” He says, grabbing your hand to rub circles on with his thumb.

“I’m not asking you to be a dancer, I’m asking you to hold me and step side to side with me for like 2 minutes.” You cross your arms, actually getting upset now.

“How about this, I’ll slow dance with you when we get home, alright?” He speaks lovingly, trying to compromise his own insecurities so that you were happy. You let out a short sigh, “You’re acting like an old man…” Miguel wasn’t amused by that comment, but he knows you’re just giving attitude at this point. “ay beba, por favor, no seas asi conmigo…” he tuts, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer in between his legs, his thumbs making circles on the fat of your hips.

“No, that’s fine. Be like that then.” You pull away from his hands to turn on your heel, going back to the dance floor.

Everyone is already paired up, and you look around awkwardly trying to figure out what to do. You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see a guy.

He’s absolutely nothing compared to your Miguel but you guess he’ll do for now. You smile at him and begin dancing with him. It’s bachata, so your hips are extremely close to his, his hands tightly grabbing your waist to keep you tightly against his own body.

The glass in Miguel‘s hand could’ve broken had he squeezed any tighter.

You paid no mind to him, but you could feel Miguel’s eyes practically burning a hole into you. Maybe next time, he won’t think twice about dancing with you now.

He thinks about just running in there and ripping the guy to shreds, but he knew better than to embarrass his girl in public like that. He’ll have a talk with you later, privately.

2 hours go by and Miguel sits miserably at his seat after watching you dance with strangers. When you walk back to the table tiredly, you see how pissed Miguel looks.

“Okay… I’m ready to go home!” You’re breathing hard from dancing. Miguel is silent and cold, but still stands to take your hand and walk you out of the club, holding your purse, carrying your shoes, and letting you wear his jacket.

The whole ride home is quiet and his hand that is usually on your thigh isn’t there. You know why. You felt bad, but you never asked much of him, and the one thing you ask for, he wouldn’t give to you.

Still feeling guilty, you try to start conversation in the car, about what to possibly cook for dinner or if y’all needed any groceries, but he just kept facing the road, his brows furrowed and hands clutching onto the steering wheel.

Once you two get home, you reach for your car door handle, but Miguel spits out a curt ‘wait’. Miguel hates when you open doors for yourself. That’s his job, the gentleman. He leaves the car to go over to your side to open the door, but when he does, he stands in your path, and you’re not able to get out, “Care to explain to me what all that was?” His speaks with authority.

“What do you mean?” You play slick. You knew your boyfriend was a giant teddy bear at heart, but sometimes… it was fun pushing his buttons.

“Que tu creer? The stunt you pulled at the club, that’s what I’m talking about.” You’re really trying him, but Miguel is doing his best to control his temper.

“I was just dancing. I asked you if wanted to and you said no, so-“ and in less than a second, Miguel’s pulled you over his shoulder and is carrying you into the house.

You laugh hysterically, kicking your feet, calling out his name and telling him to put you down. Oh, he was mad. You were laughing, but none of this was funny to Miguel.

“o, bueno, entonce baile con un cabron, right?”His voice starts to raise and his blood begins to boil as he walks through the front door and makes way to y’all’s bedroom.

He throws you onto your bed, your body bouncing on the softness of the comforter as you let out some giddy chuckles.

“Jealous?” You smirk, having a little too much fun with this.

“You think this is funny? Cuz’ I don’t.” His lips don’t curl even a bit, which meant you were in for it. You watch him start to unbuckle his pants, biting your lip and rubbing your thighs together.

Just when he was gonna pull down his slacks and briefs, you gasp when he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you open. He basically rips your panties off to find that you’re already starting to drip. “Puta madre, you’re so needy…” he hisses under his breath while he pulls down his briefs, revealing his own dripping, hard mess. He goes to pump himself, inches away from your heat. Watching him fuck his own hand so close to your entrance, you needed some type of relief, so you reach for your clit, but Miguel is quick to catch it and hold it above your head, pinning your other hand shortly after, “Nuh uh, you don’t get to do that. Not tonight, baby.”

His vice on your wrist is tight, making you squirm under him while he thrusts into his one hand, your wrists pinned against the pillow in the other.

His breathing picks up as he edges to his climax, the squelching of his pre-cum in his hand ringing in your ears. He purposefully moans and whimpers into the shell of your ear, putting you through absolute torture. “You don’t like it, do you? Not getting what’s yours? Huh?” He breathlessly speaks between each pound into his fist, your moans becoming more desperate. You can feel yourself clench around nothing, your body weeping for his fat cock.

“Mig, please, pleaseeeee… not fairrrrr,” you beg, wriggling under his grasp, his belly grazing yours every time you arch your back. You had your legs wrapped around his waist and any time you tried lifting your cunt closer to his dick, he’d pull away so you wouldn’t reach, and you’d whine in defeat.

“Not fair? Dancing with some idiot when I told you to wait ‘til we get home isn’t fair.” He growled. With a small whimper, he did one last, slow thrust into his hand before he could combust, edging himself because he wasn’t gonna let you have the pleasure of having his come all over your stomach. Not yet.

He lets go of your hands and positions himself on his knees, moving closer to your leaking cunt. Getting hot, he unbuttons his top and throws it across your shared bedroom, unveiling his now glistening dad bod. You thought you could come just from the sight.

“Fuck, had you not acted up, I’d be devouring this… mierda…” his mouth waters from how wet you were, but he had to stand on business. You flinched when you feel one of his thick fingers drag along your folds, from the bottom to top. When his middle finger meets your pulsing clit, he draws small circles on it, making you whine, “Miguel! Please, I’m sorryyyy, pleasepleasepleaseplease…”

Your eyes are wide shut and your mouth completely open when he starts quickly shaking his forefingers against your clit, your juices flying and falling onto his lap. Miguel takes your moans as indications that you’re close, so just when you’re about to come,

He stops.

You literally cry when he pulls away his hand, a smirk growing on his face, “Mig, I- please, I can’t- I can’t, I’m sorryyy,” you plead for his fat cock, which is practically hovering over your aching heat.

He lowers himself to you, his hands gripping onto the softness of your waist. This allows you to feel his length against your pelvic bone, twitching and wet.

“Sorry for what?” He glares down at you, waiting for your reply.

“Sorry for being mean… just wanted to dance with my man, is all,” you pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing his forehead to yours.

“I won’t do it again, I promise. Please, fuck me?” Your eyes wide with innocence and pleas, you push over Miguel’s heart. You play with his chest hair as he scans your body, thinking if he should accept your apology.

“Coño… such a brat. I’ve spoiled you, you know that?” His voice softens, lining himself up with your hips.

“Because you love me!” You baby talk back to him, batting your lashes at him knowing you’re finally gonna get what you wanted.

“I do. Too much.” Is what he breaths out before rooting a hot, tongued kiss. He groans into your mouth when he starts grinding his cock against your folds, with the addition of your hand pulling on his curly locks on the back of his head.

He pulls away, a string of saliva breaking as he looks down to guide his puffy tip to your entrance. He brings his lips to your ear again and as he slides his dick in, he simultaneously grunts in your ear, “Don’t ever do that again.”

Giving you no time to adjust, he pounds your pussy into tomorrow. The room full with your pornographic moans as well as Miguel’s, the lewd squelching, and the bed creaking. If he went any harder, he’d break it.

Miguel has your legs pushed against your chest now, putting you in a panting mess. He bunched up your dress so that your skirt was up to your midriff and the neckline sat right below your bouncing tits. The way his tip meets your spot every time had you seeing stars and yelping high-pitched gibberish. His happy trail and lower belly slapping against your clit was the cherry on top of everything.

After groaning in your ear, Miguel whispers again, “Am I still an old man, Beba? Huh?” His lip curls as he watches you go dumb from his cock.

You didn’t even bother answering him because all you could think about was how good he was filling you.

He slaps your ass and this snaps some sense into you, somewhat bringing your gaze to his. “Answer me, baby.”

Your voice shakes from the rigor of his thrusts, but you still manage a, “N-no, baby… no…” While you were somewhat right, Miguel was still technically older than you, but that didn’t stop him from fucking you like a horny college boy. The man knew how to fuck and make you come.

“That’s right, mama… fuuck…” Miguel lets a couple more groans out, his ability to be so vocal helping the coil in your stomach unfurl.

“Baby, I’m- I’m gonna c- I’m gonna come…” you barely get it out in a whisper.

Miguel slaps your ass again, “louder.”

“I’m gonna come!” You cry out, your climax about to explode, but Miguel feels you clench.

“ay, diablo… you liked that, didn’t you? Squeezing me s’good…” he slaps your ass one more time before you let out a series of ‘yes’, your hips stuttering against his.

Miguel drags out his own high, slowly pumping in and out of you as he groans into your ear, “Mmmfuckkkk mami…”

He pulls out slowly as to not hurt you, his juices mixed with yours, eventually leaking out. After telling you how good you were and placing a loving kiss to your cheek, He grabbed some tissues on the night stand and cleaned you both up.

“Hey, I really am sorry about earlier. I feel bad for how I acted.” You finally catch your breath, speaking sweetly to Miguel who was changing into a clean set of boxers. He had put you in one of his t-shirts that fits oversized and grabbed a pair of panties for you.

Miguel insists on getting you everything and doing everything for you. When he said he spoiled you, he meant it. He took off your dress and dressed you, he wiped your face with toner, got you some water, everything. You were his queen.

“Mamita, please, I should be sorry for not dancing with you.” He coddled you, pulling you to his chest. No bed sheet or pillow could compare to his soft stomach. “Well, still, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” You look up at him from his chest and he looks down at you, his hand rubbing your back underneath your shirt.

He lets out a soft chuckle, “It’s alright, mama. Besides,” he turns over to his side, making you two face each other and he whispers, “I can just fuck the attitude out of you.”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder while he lets out a velvety laugh.

Even though the space between y’all is minimal, it is still too far for Miguel’s liking, so he wraps you in his burly arms, your leg instinctively slinking over his waist. His laughter dies down, your own giggling coming to a stop, and he just whispers, “You know I love you, right? So much, it’s crazy.” Which makes you smile like an idiot, so you roll your eyes.

“I love you, too, viejito.” Now it was Miguel’s turn to scowl and you laugh.

But his expression melts when you kiss his nose as a quick save. Not enough, Miguel cups your face for a full kiss. It was a less passionate kiss, but a long, loving one, putting the perfect seal to an incredibly romantic and intimate moment.

Want more DadBod!Miguel? Here’s my master list bae!

Tags <3

@reewrite @pigeonmama @fayeofthenightingale

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is The Doctor (Dr Who)

So! I've been on a Dr Who High for a little while now, and I thought this idea up.

Danny, as the apprentice to Clockwork, has the ability to traverse Time, and his can use his own Powers to traverse Space.

(He is not at the same level of Time Manipulation as Clockwork, but he is still very good at it. Less of a Time Master, and more of a Time Lord if you will)

So, after his family dies and he is left alone for his Immortal Life, he gets bored. Taking a Cue from Ellie and her whole Exploration Obsession, while also indulging in his own Space Obsession, Danny decides to explore Space and Time to his heart's content. (Maybe Ellie is his Companion?)

He travels the Universe, visiting different planets, witnessing historical events, and sometimes even Helping wherever he can. He is still a Protector Spirit after all.

He doesn't use his powers much these days, in fact he has mostly locked them away in favor of using his own custom built Inventions to get any task done. He is the son of Mad Scientists after all, and he likes to Own It.

Danny becomes known across the Universe in the same way that the Doctor is. To some he is a Savior, a Healer, a Wiseman. To others he is a Demon, a Trickster, a Warrior.

Danny becomes the Boogeyman of the Universe, so it's no surprise that one day someone tries to contain him, to keep him Locked Up so he can never interfere with the Universe again. To do so, they build a Device named, The Pandorica.

(Yup, I'm using that little thing in this)

Danny is trapped within the Pandorica, mulling over the Irony of being trapped by a Device named after one of his friends, for Eons. He is completely and utterly trapped.

Sealed Away, waiting for the day when someone will set him free.

...

Now imagine this.

The JLA has just confiscated an extremely Old and Extremely Magical Box from an Alien Cult, who were proclaiming that they would use the Pandorica Warrior to fell their greatest foe.

They call in Constantine to explain what it is, and just imagine the Doctors description of the Pandorica Scene coming him him.

"This is the Pandorica, an Ancient Magical Prison designed to hold the worst of all bad guys." Started Constantine.

"Why was it made?" Asked Superman.

"There was a Goblin, or a Trickster. Or a Warrior." Constantine explained as he paced a circle around the Box in front of them, "A nameless, terrible thing. Soaked in the blood of a Billion Galaxies. The most feared being in all the cosmos."

He took a closer look at the box and Continued. "And nothing could stop it, or hold it, or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world."

He paused and took a deep breath, "Or at least that's how the Story goes, probably why those cultists wanted it so bad. The greatest Warrior in existence on their side? It would be an instant win button."

"Is it possible to open it?" Asked Batman.

"Easily, anybody can break into a Prison. I just want to know what we'll find first."

Zatanna interrupted, "Won't need to wait long, it's already opening. Layers and Layers of Magical Barriers are dispersing as we speak. That Cult knew what they were doing, it's going to open soon. Very soon."

The Box in front of them shuddered a little, and they tensed. They waited for a few moments to see if it would do anything, but eventually they realized it was probably just a side effect of the barriers falling.

"How soon can we expect it to open?" Asked Batman, still tense.

Constantine replied this time, "From what I can tell, maybe 2 hours at most. So you have that much time to prepare to meet the Universes most feared Individual."

...

Just thought of this while I was binging Dr Who videos on Tiktok and thought, "this would be cool as a dpxdc idea"

Here is the Video that inspired me, give it a watch