#I was just looking for smallest great white..

[imaginechishiya]

Falling

Pairing: chishiya x reader (no pronouns mentioned)

Summary: when chishiya thought you had died during a game, he realises he does have feelings after all

Warnings: angst, fluff

Word count: 977

You hated Spades games. No matter how much you worked out at the gym at the Beach, they still physically drained you. This game was especially tricky and brutal. It was a six of Spades and many were killed instantly.

You weren't close to any of them. Not that it makes their deaths any less horrible. This world was merciless. But sometimes you wondered if that's just how the real world was as well. People just didn't notice it as much as they did here.

When the chaos unfolded during the game, you missed Chishiya a little. He wouldn't even have flinched at the explosions. He would have been as calm as collected as ever, relying on his intellect.

It's what you learned to admire about him. It made him seem odd to others. But you knew most of it was a façade. He built high walls around him. No one would ever be able to break them down and see what's inside.

One late evening, when Chishiya and you accidentally bumped into each other on the rooftop, both of you avoiding the ongoing party downstairs, an unfolding deep conversation was all it took to chisel the smallest bit of a crack into one of those walls.

And ever since then, the rooftop meetings became more frequent. The conversations deeper. The words more meaningful. He wasn't one to show emotions. But the distance between the two of you slowly started to reduce. Mentally and physically.

A barely visible smile as he walked past you in the lobby when he was on his way to an executives' meeting. A small touch here and there when no one was around. His fingertips softly grazing your cheek, his thumb tracing your lip ever so slightly.

His actions spoke louder than words.

You smiled at the thought of him as you walked out of the almost collapsed building. You'd probably be meeting on the rooftop later tonight.

You walked around the corner, watching the cars of the Beach drive away. "Hey!" You shouted, sprinting after them and waving your hand. But they were already too far gone. "Great, now I have to walk to the Beach." You sighed.

Luckily, it was a warm and moonlit night. It took you about two hours to get back to the Beach.

The first thing you did was walk up to the roof, expecting Chishiya to sit in his usual spot. Sometimes, when he had not put the hood of his white jacket up, his hair was a little disheveled from the wind. If only he knew how truly beautiful he was.

To your surprise, Chishiya was not on the rooftop. You walked back down, scanning the rooms which were the least busy. He wouldn't be in any of the overcrowded party areas.

You spotted Kuina, playing with her fake cigarette while talking to some other people. "Hey, Kuina! Have you seen Chishiya?"

"Do you have to discuss something with him again? Privately?" Kuina grinned boldly. She didn't know about Chishiya and you. Which didn't mean she didn't suspect something.

You nodded. "Honestly, he seemed rather odd when I last saw him. Perhaps something has happened and they're in a meeting right now." She explained.

You thanked her and left for your room. You might just take a shower and go to bed early. The game tired you out anyway. And who knows how long that meeting would take.

You stopped right before your room. The door was slightly open which was weird. You always closed your door. You weren't able to lock it, Beach rules, but you never left it open. The room was dimly lit. A light, you guessed, came from the bedside lamp.

You knitted your brows as you opened the door further, stepping inside.

Chishiya sat at the edge of your bed, motionless, your light blue hoodie in his hands. He looked up immediately as he saw someone coming in. And for the first time, his face faltered, his eyes opened widely, looking at you as if he saw a ghost.

"They said you died. They said everyone who didn't come back with them has died during the game." His voice was so quiet, so ...broken.

You scoffed, "those fuckers left without me! They were already driving away when I wasn't even out of the building yet."

Chishiya jumped up, your hoodie falling to the floor. He was in front of you, breathing heavily. He hesitated to touch your face at first, his fingers trembling, but when he finally did, his breathing calmed down.

"Chishiya, I'm fine. I'm here." You barely finished your sentence before his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was passionate. He savoured the feeling of your soft lips against his. Lips he thought he would never be able to kiss again.

His hands were in your hair, pulling your head closer to him. "I thought you were dead." He repeated, leaning his forehead against yours.

"I promise you I'm okay." You said softly.

"I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even think. There was this dark mist in my head and everything became blurry. Like I was stuck in a nightmare, having nowhere to go." You were about to respond but he cut you right off, "don't you ever scare me like that again. You can't just come into my life and turn everything upside down. My life was perfectly safe, every risk calculated. But then you came and changed everything. I have never felt like this before and I'm scared. I cannot lose you."

You were completely taken aback, speechless. You would have never expected anything like that ever leaving Chishiya's mouth. You were surprised he was able to think like that. To feel like that.

And so was he. He never expected anything like this to happen. He never expected to fall in love.

[ghoulish-activities]

Why would you make Chain ghoul inspired by anything but Chain Catshark?

Name is perfect, they've also nocturnal, shy and hide away in crevices. Spend days at the sandy bottom, mostly motionless doing the day, become active at night or when feeding. They aren't social, usually hunting alone and spending time resting alone at seabed.

During courtship, they swim in circles together and bite each other? It's mostly focused on reproduction, but considering that ghouls are usually seen as social pack animals that part could be adjusted. I just find it cute that Chain would bite and swim around as courting behaviour.

And yes, they're deep-sea species, not only that in fact, THEY'RE BIOLUMINESCENT

Look at this silly guy!

How would I apply this to the Chain ghoul, well, I think of water ghouls as semi-aquatic, so they most likely would have tanks in their rooms. Real life Chain catshark needs at least 1500 liters in their tanks. They make challenging pets, I would love implying by it that Chain is far from first water ghoul or that he was extremely neglected until recently. Depending on which one you prefer. So anyway I think Chain would mostly spend days at the sandy bottom and only really socialise with other ghouls in the night. If forced into well lit environment would need eye protection, as deep-sea fish tend to be, Chain catsharks are really light sensitive, allowing them to see in dim environment, but in well light environment exposure could make them functionally blinded by the light. He would probably be one of less social, but still needs some pack presence to stay sane. Probably would just enjoying quiet time relaxing with other water ghouls. So yeah he's just a bit of an introverted fella. I was researching sharks and I stumbled upon this one, so I started typing it so I hope you enjoyed my rambling :)

I just realised you could make the markings look like chains... they kinda are close to that...

(Chain catshark and chain dogfish are the same animal BTW if you want to read up on those guys, I probably just scraped the surface)

[mikayuumouse]

top 5 bands/artists?

Hi I just died of happiness from how many things I had in my inbox

Also forewarning I'm like the most basic person in the world with music. I mostly only listen to Taylor Swift, she's my roman empire I love her so much and she's been my number one artist for years now. I'm addicted to her music tbh, I love all of it

So, #1 spot obviously goes to Taylor, one of the best humans to ever walk the earth

I'd say my second favorite artist is actually probably Conan Gray. He's super talented and underrated. His bridges and vocals are angelic

Third spot goes to Fall Out Boy, so many of their songs are so good. They're honestly just such a vibe of a band, I saw them live once, it was awesome

Fourth spot goes to Gracie Abrams :] I discovered her because of Taylor actually (they have a song together, called "us."), and now that I've listened to more of her music, I love it

Fifth spot goes to Mother Mother! Glad I decided to start listening to them, too. They should probably be more popular, imo, they deserve it 😔

Honorary mentions to TV Girl and Panic! At the Disco too :>

[wolfbluebird]

Maybe could we get a Natasha x reader where the team doesn’t know you are together (you are not on the team but know them) and you come home late one middle of night and call her asking if you can come over to hers because don’t want to be alone even though you know she just got back from a mission that afternoon. - gn reader would be great

Only You’d Answer

Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

A/N: I tried to keep this as accurate to your request as possible, also- I love this whole kind of secret lovers thing, I think it’s so cute.

Word Count: 1.2k

TW: There is none, pure fluff. Which is rare for me.

Men and Minors DNI

It was nearing 2 a.m. when you gave up pretending to sleep.

The rain was still falling — slow and steady, like a lullaby from a world you weren’t invited into tonight. It should’ve been calming, but your flat felt empty in the kind of way that echoed. Quiet wasn’t peaceful. It was loud. Deafening. Crawling up the walls, under your skin. You hadn’t been able to settle since the sun went down.

Your phone screen glowed too bright as you stared down at the one contact you’d been hovering over all night: Nat.

No emojis. No last name. Just those three letters. You’d learned not to label things when it came to her.

You knew she’d just gotten back from a mission. You knew she was probably dead on her feet, bruised and sore and fading into sleep for the first time in god knows how long. You knew calling her — asking to come over — would be selfish.

But you also knew she’d answer.

And so, at 2:07 a.m., with your stomach in knots and your jumper still damp from the rain that clung to the air like ghosts, you hit call.

It rang twice.

“…Hey.”

Her voice was rough, like gravel and warmth all at once.

You swallowed, suddenly unsure. “Did I wake you?”

A pause.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Nat—”

“You okay?” she asked, sharp now. Alert. Still half in mission-mode.

You let out a shaky breath. “I… I couldn’t sleep. I know you’re exhausted, I just… I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then: “Where are you?”

“Home. Just—” You paused, gripping the hem of your sleeve. “Could I come over? Just for a bit?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Door’ll be open.”

You could’ve cried.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

By the time you got there, the building was quiet. Stark had bought it for the team — tucked away, low-key, far enough from the Compound to feel private but close enough for emergency calls. You’d only been here a handful of times, and never like this.

The door creaked open at your touch. She’d left it unlocked just like she said. Your heart gave a stupid little lurch at that — trust like that from a woman like her meant something.

Her place was dark, save for the low amber glow from the lamp in the corner of the living room. The TV was paused on some black-and-white classic you’d seen her watch before, probably something to help her pretend she wasn’t waiting for sleep.

She was sitting curled on the sofa in an old tee and grey joggers, hair damp from a post-mission shower, a bruised patch blooming faintly beneath her collarbone. You clocked the ice pack on her knee and the blanket tossed beside her.

And then she looked up at you — tired, sure, but her expression softened in that quiet way it always did just for you. The smallest of smiles pulled at her mouth.

“Hey,” she murmured.

“Hey,” you whispered back.

You stood awkwardly in the doorway for a second before she wordlessly held the blanket out. You crossed the room faster than you meant to, shedding your coat and dropping your bag to the floor as you climbed beside her.

The warmth of her body next to yours was grounding. She pulled the blanket over you both, tugging you into her side like it was second nature. You settled against her chest, feeling the soft thrum of her heartbeat under your cheek.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

You traced idle patterns over the hem of her shirt, your hand brushing the faint line of a healing cut on her ribs. She didn’t flinch. Just let you touch, let you feel that she was whole.

It was only when your breathing slowed that she broke the silence.

“Bad day?” she asked softly, voice like silk laced with concern.

You nodded against her shoulder. “Felt off. Like the walls were closing in or something. Just… everything was too loud and too quiet at the same time.”

She hummed low in her throat, the sound vibrating through your skin. “I get that.”

“Didn’t wanna burden you, though. I know you’ve been through hell this week.”

Her fingers found yours beneath the blanket, lacing together easily.

“You’re never a burden,” she said. No fluff, no drama. Just the truth.

You looked up at her then, searching her face.

“We don’t… really do this, do we?” you said. “The showing up in the middle of the night part.”

Natasha’s lips twitched. “No. We do the secret glances and short texts and pretending like you don’t know what’s in my bedside drawer.”

You gave a weak laugh. “I think the drawer is mutual at this point.”

Her hand came up, fingers brushing your hair back gently. “You could’ve called any of them. Wanda. Sam. Even Barton.”

“None of them would’ve picked up at 2 a.m.”

“I always will.”

You blinked hard at the sudden sting in your eyes. Natasha didn’t say things unless she meant them. She didn’t need to.

“Is this what it’s like?” you asked, voice hoarse.

“What?”

“Being with someone. Really being with them.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment. Her thumb stroked yours under the blanket.

“Maybe,” she murmured. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧✯

You must’ve dozed off like that. When you woke, the rain had stopped and the light was dim, sunrise not far off. Natasha was still holding you — both arms now, one around your waist, the other cradling your head. Her breathing was slow. Steady. Peaceful.

You shifted slightly to look at her.

God, she looked young when she slept. Not in the helpless way people romanticised, but in the free way. Like someone who hadn’t carried half the world’s blood on her back. Like someone who deserved this quiet, this stillness. You knew how rare it was for her. You knew how rare it was for you, too.

Still, as much as you wanted to stay like this forever, the world was waiting.

You reached for your phone to check the time, and—

“Leaving already?” came her groggy voice.

You froze, then relaxed a little as she blinked at you through heavy lashes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” She yawned, rubbing her eyes. “I just missed the part where you were gonna sneak out on me.”

“I wasn’t— okay, maybe I was.”

She gave you a Look.

“I thought you’d want your space,” you mumbled. “After the mission. After me showing up like a stray cat.”

Natasha tilted her head.

“Maybe I like stray cats,” she said dryly. “Especially the ones who know where the tea is and don’t ask me to talk about body counts.”

You smiled faintly. “I know you’re not a morning person.”

“I’m barely a night person.”

“But still,” you whispered, leaning in slightly. “Thanks for picking up. For letting me in.”

Her hand cupped your jaw then, gentle, grounding.

“You’re not something I ‘let in,’ detka,” she said. “You’re already here.”

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

You left around sunrise, slipping out quietly with a soft kiss to her temple and one of her hoodies that she very pointedly pretended not to notice was missing.

The team would never know.

Not today. Maybe not for a long time.

But in the quiet hours of the morning, when it was just you and her and the hum of a city that hadn’t started yet — you didn’t need anyone else to know.

Because she knew.

And that was enough.

Masterlist

[chrissv4mp]

bring that over here , BILLIE E.

summary: when billie sees you come out of the shower, she can't hold back her crush on you anymore.

pairing: bsf!billie eilish × bsf!fem!reader

warnings/topics: smut, dom!billie, sub!reader, fingering, praise, begging, pet names(mamas, baby, good girl, pretty girl, etc.), oral, restraints, blindfolds, etc.

a/n: first billie one-shot, gimme ur thoughts🙏

wc: 2.6k

"call me back when you get here," billie said, finger tapping on the back of her phone as she looked up at the ceiling of her living room.

"i will, see you in a little, bills." you replied, smiling even if she couldn't see.

before you could hang up, billie's voice came through your phone again, and you put the device back up to your ear.

"wait, wait! i forgot to tell you that i got you somethin'." the girl spoke, sitting up straight on the couch before resting her feet on the coffee table.

your eyebrow raised, and you laughed nervously, "what? you really didn't have to, i'm just sleeping over for a few days. did i do something?"

billie smirked, "nope, just wanted to get you something. you work so hard and barely ever treat yourself, y/n."

your cheeks flushed, eyes flicking between your floor and the kitchen counter, "thank you."

"no problem, mamas." your smile faded at the nickname, face turning redder by the second.

it wasn't like that was the first time she's called you by that name. it was just that it had such an effect on you, and you had no idea why.

"see you later," billie muttered before she hung up.

the doorbell rang, and billie quickly got off the couch and went over to the front door. she smiled when the door opened, revealing you.

"hey," the black-haired girl said, leaning down to give you a hug before moving to the side to let you in.

"i missed you," you replied, looking back at her, placing your backpack beside the couch before sitting down.

billie hummed, lockint the door before walking over to the couch and taking a seat next to you, "i missed you, too."

"and that's why i got you this," the girl exclaimed, grabbing a white box from off the coffee table and giving it to you.

your smile widened as you grabbed the box, carefully opening it and revealing a necklace that had your initial on it, "oh my god, thank you so much, bills!"

she nodded, smile wide, "of course, y/n,"

"lemme help you put it on?" billie asked, reaching out for the necklace in which you gave it to her.

you turned your back to her, and billie gently moved your hair over to one of your shoulders, her cold touch making you shiver slightly.

billie bit her lip, noticing how soft and clear your neck was. she just wanted to mark your skin, make you hers.

she carefully clipped the necklace together, before scooting back as you turned to look over at her again.

"it looks great on you, mamas," she complimented, eyes traveling further down your body, going unnoticed by you.

your cheeks flushed again, looking down at the floor, nervous as you felt her gaze on you.

"thank you," you muttered, a small smile on your face.

"billie!" you called, and the girls head quickly went up from her phone as she got on her feet.

"yeah?" she yelled back, tucking her phone into her back pocket and making her way over to the hallway to hear you better.

"could you get my towel? i forgot it when i got in here. it's on your desk chair." billie hummed in response before making her way up the stairs to her room.

after she made her way back down, she knocked, towel hanging over her forearm as she waited for you to crack the door open.

you opened the door slightly, leaving the smallest space so billie could slip the towel through, and as the black-haired girl looked up, she froze.

her face flushed a light pink color, and her tongue peeked out to wet her lips at the sight of your body in the mirror. she could only see the top half of you, but she wasn't complaining.

your tits were on display, and billie couldn't help but stare. sure, she'd seen them whenever you two went to the beach together, but now they weren't covered.

your wet hair was still falling over your shoulders, some strands sticking to the wet skin of your neck. you looked unreal, and billie couldn't help but bite her lip.

"are you there?" your voice had the girl jump slightly before quickly slip the towel through the gap, her eyes moving down to the floor.

the door closed, and she wasted no time in walking back to the living room and sitting down in her spot again.

her phone wouldn't satiate her boredom anymore. she felt like only you could in this moment of time.

billie groaned, throwing her head back against the couch in frustration. she swore you did that on purpose. why else would you open the door that much?

maybe she was overthinking, but then again, you knew she had a crush on you. she didn't even try to hide it, and yet you still didn't care.

i mean, who wouldn't want billie eilish obsessing over them?

the creaking sound of the bathroom door caught billie's attention, her head turning to look over at you.

you stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but your towel wrapped around your body, your now dry hair falling perfectly over your shoulders.

the blush on your best friends face was noticeable from where you stood, now, and you couldn't help but smirk.

your smirk widened as you watched her stand up, making her way over to you with a pout clear on her face.

she stopped in front of you, closer than intended, before she spoke.

"what game are you trying to play, y/n?" billie asked quietly, tilting her head to the side.

your eyes stayed on hers, arms crossed over the front of your chest to hold up your towel, "i don't know what you're talking about."

her lips upturned into a small smile, taking a step closer to your half-naked body. you could feel her breath on your lips.

billie's eyes went down to your lips, her breathing shaky from how close your two bodies were.

her hands stayed at her sides, not wanting to be the first one to give in, "oh, i think you do,"

"you're teasing me, trying to get me to break," she muttered, tongue peeking out to lick her lips again, "just tell me what you want, y/n."

your eyes moved to her lips, staying there for a while before your eyes found hers again.

exhaling shakily, you grabbed the collar of her shirt, pulling her body flush against yours, "i want you, billie."

she opened her mouth in a silent gasp, shock flashing over her features before she finally leaned down to kiss you.

you smiled into the kiss, feeling her hands on your waist through the fabric of your towel. billie sighed, running her tongue across your bottom lip, asking for entrance.

your lips parted, and the black-haired girl quickly dipped her tongue between your lips, exploring your mouth and whining.

she was the first to pull away, chest heaving up and down from breathlessness as she stared at you with lust-blown pupils.

"you're so fuckin' hot." the girl confessed, knees almost giving out just from the way you looked at her.

"and you're by far the best kisser i've ever met." you whispered, looking up at her.

she nodded with a smirk on her face, "yeah?"

you hummed in approval, grip on her collar loosening, "go upstairs, i'll be there in a minute."

the black-haired girl didn't think twice, following your orders as she quickly made it over and up the stairs to her bedroom.

she grabbed a hair tie from her desk, putting up her hair before sitting on the desk chair, waiting impatiently for you to come through the door.

billie bounced her leg as she heard the stairs creak, eyes fixated on her halfway open bedroom door.

she gasped quietly as she watched you open the door, your naked body on full display for her to see. her face flushed red, getting out of the chair and walking over to you.

her hand landed on your bare waist, and you shivered once again at her cold hands. her free hand went to close and lock the door before she pushed you against it.

her clothed body was flush against yours, and the feeling of the fabric of your bestfriends shirt rubbing against your chest made your nipples harden.

a whimper escaped your throat, lips parting slightly as you stared up at billie, "need you,"

the girl almost groaned at your confession, instead inhaling sharply before going to tease you, "how bad, baby?"

"s'fucking bad, bills.." you whined, hands going up to tug at her collared shirt.

her hand landed on yours, stopping your movements as she gripped your hand harshly. she finally got to touch you after all the time she's waited.

"well, you can wait a little longer, yeah? go sit on my chair for me." billie demanded softly, stepping back to let you walk over and sit.

she bit her lip, walking over and kneeling in front of where you sat, "so pretty, baby."

you sighed impatiently, moving to spread your legs and show your wetness to your best friend, "please."

the black-haired girls breath hitched, her pupils almost completely covering the light blue irises of her eyes.

"fuck—just, wait, stay here." billie exhaled, getting off her knees to go to her closet.

you listened to her, waiting on the chair for her return. when she did come back, you felt her presence behind you.

"put your hands behind the chair, y/n," she muttered softly, and you obeyed her, moving your hands so that they were resting behind you.

you felt the girl tie your hands together with a soft ribbon, and your eyes rolled back just at the thought of being restrained whole she touched you.

her hands left yours, and then she came into view again, walking back in front of you and getting on her knees.

she didn't even ask this time, knowing what your answer would be just by staring into your eyes before pulling your legs apart and tying each of them to either leg of the chair.

the ribbon was blue, of course, that was one of the colors she was obsessing over currently. she had blue everything, and fuck, even her shirt was a light blue.

there was still one last piece of fabric in her hands, and when she went to move behind you again, you knew what it was for.

"is this okay, y/n..?" she whispered, her breath on your ear turning you on even more.

you nodded frantically as if it was the last time you'd ever get to do this, and billie chuckled quietly before beginning to put it around your head.

your vision was completely black now, and you squirmed around in the chair out of excitement and nervousness.

"made me wait so fuckin' long.." you heard the girl grumble before you felt cold hands on your thighs.

"i should make you wait longer.." a pout showed on your lips, and you threw your head back softly with a whine, "but i'm nicer than that, and i want to taste you s'bad."

billie went silent, and you would've thought she left the room if it wasn't for the feeling of her breath on your chest and her weight on your lap.

you gasped as you felt her lips wrap around your nipple, her tongue swirling around the hardened bud.

her hand went to your other breast, toying with your nipple as she worked the other with her mouth.

the girl groaned as she continued her movements, her mouth moving higher up your chest and leaving a trail of purple-ish marks up to your neck.

she could mark you now, she could let everyone know that you were hers now. billie sucked on the pulse point of your neck, making you squirm even more at the pleasure.

"fuck, fuck, fuck. feels s'good, baby," you moaned quietly, hands straining against the ribbon around your wrists.

as she continued the bites on your neck, you groaned impatiently, hips bucking up in an attempt for some sort of friction.

"please, baby, i need you. need you t'fuck me so good.." you begged, and billie whined at the wetness pooling in her panties at your noises.

the girl got off your lap, quickly dropping to her knees for the third time that night. this time, you felt her lips on your thighs, trailing kissing upwards and toward the place you wanted her the most.

your hips bucked up again, and this time billie pushed you down, her grip surely leaving marks. your lips upturned into a smirk as you let your best friend control your movements.

you'd never been in a situation like this ever, and billie being one doing this to you made it all the more pleasurable.

"shit," you gasped, feeling the girls tongue run along your clit and then your entrance.

she dipped her tongue into you slightly before pulling back and repeating her motions.

after a few minutes of her torture, you heard the girl huff and then felt 2 of her fingers slip inside of your entrance.

"fuck!—billie, oh m'god," whines and whimpers fell from your lips, and you swore your wrists were white with how hard you were tugging on the ribbon.

the black-haired girl smirked as she watched you squirm, your chest rising and falling quickly, "doin' so good, pretty girl."

her fingers curled as soon as she was knuckles deep inside of you, making you let out a pornographic moan at the feeling.

she chuckled as she continued fucking you with her fingers, leaning down to wrap her lips around clit and suck harshly on the swollen bud.

billie was sure she would get noise complaints sometime tonight or tomorrow morning, but she didn't care. all she cared about was getting you off right now.

"m'gonna cum!—please, please, please lemme cum, bills..!" you begged, the rest of your sentence coming out as incoherent babbles.

she smiled around your clit, her fingers speeding up and ignoring the ache in her wrist.

her lips left your clit, and she licked them, groaning audibly at your taste, "cum for me, mamas, c'mon,"

just from her words, you came with an especially loud moan, eyes feeling like they would roll to the back of your head from the pleasure.

"s'good, such a good girl for me, baby." the girl praised, eyes fixated on the way your chest rose and fell with each breath you took.

as you came down, billie carefully pulled her fingers out of you, moving to stand up, "open."

you listened to the girl, opening your mouth and feeling her fingers rest on your tongue. you quickly lapped at them, licking then clean of your juices before she pulled her hand back.

billie took off the blindfold and restraints before helping you onto the edge of her bed to sit again.

"how was that, mamas?" she asked softly, stroking your cheek with her thumb as you rested on her clothed chest.

you only nodded, feeling incapable of speaking after the high you just came down from.

she smiled, laughing softly before kissing your head.

"so, i don't know if you know, but i'm interested in more than just bring your friend, y/n." she teased, and you laughed.

"actually shut the fuck up," you playfully nudged her shoulder before pulling her in again.

a few moments of silence, and then you spoke again, "i'm also interested in being more than just your friend, bills."

tags: @cindylcuwho @livialifesblog

[yandere-sins]

This idea came to me and I've waited a long time to actually write it, but the time is finally here!! I dedicate it to the Tsaritsa's handmaiden!reader anons, I got so overwhelmed back then that I just dropped the topic which was really not fair of me. Hope you guys enjoy!

Characters: Yandere!Childe (Genshin Impact) x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Exhibitionism, Public sex, Non-Con, Pregnancy/Impregnation Kink Mention, Needy Male, Biting), Blood Mention, Possessiveness

Snow never tasted so bad in his mouth.

For as long as Childe could remember, snow had always been bland and froze his tongue as he shoved handfuls of it into his mouth. It was iron-y from the taste of his own saliva, cold like the lonely nights.

To him, it was home.

But he couldn't say the same about it anymore as he marched into the Tsaritsa's palace, a building frozen over with her grief and suffering. It was beautiful in its own way, and yet, no concern of his. The snowflakes caught in his mouth as he had conquered the snowy path to the entrance, had not tasted like home. They tasted like an attempt to dissuade him, slow him down to get to the one true warmth he longed for.

It's been months since the last time he buried himself in your cunt.

Months of loneliness, of longing. Months that Childe spent palming his cock in the most indecent places, imagining you were there to take care of his need instead. But your image wasn't enough. It didn't thrill him the same way as chasing you did. Didn't fulfill him like the nights he spent searching every nook and cranny for you, only to be unable to find you, so he would go to your place of rest to fuck your pillow instead to release the tenstion.

It was nothing like that one time he managed to pin you down into the snow, push your skirt out of the way, and sink into you for only a moment. A brief moment that he was carelessly lost in the pleasure of your sweet, warm pussy, making it easy for you to escape out from under his grasp and disappear into the night without him fucking you properly. He could remember what it felt like to be buried inside you, but could never replicate that feeling with anyone else. Childe had been sent on this awful, long mission before he could finish what he started, all while longing for you.

Even now, he wasn't sure if the sight of you, standing behind the Tsaritsa's throne, would make him lose all control. If he could keep his composure in front of his boss when his cock was ready to burst at the smallest glimpse of you. Even if his memories grew hazy, his cock would always remember the feeling of being enveloped by you, longing to return to and unite with your sex.

Imagine the surprise when he entered the great hall, brilliant blue eyes scanning the even more brilliant white everywhere for a speck of warmth reflecting from frozen pillars, only to find none. "Tartaglia," the Tsaritsa called out, a polite, kind smile on her lips even though nothing about her screamed friendly, and he winced, forced to direct his focus where it mattered.

Even though everything screamed at him to go find you.

It was a long, unnecessarily edging meeting. Childe could barely contain himself, the nervousness of knowledge that you must be around somewhere as the Tsaritsa's handmaiden, killing him from the inside. There was an unusual sheen of sweat collecting on his forehead as he occasionally dared to look away and scan the room. It was so unlike him to be this much on edge, as if he was high on drugs—which you were to him—but the throbbing of his cock never let him live down the idea of finally burying himself in you.

"That will be all."

These four words were enough to make him snap. He uttered a barely audible, "Thanks, bye," before storming back the way he came from, leaving everyone in attendance a little more confused than before. There was always so little time to catch up to you, the chase neverending as you had proven over and over. In the hallway, servants were mingling, cleaning and repairing things, all of them faceless and looking the same to him, not worth bothering with.

Childe weaved between the countless maids and butlers, the guards standing around straightening up ever so slightly as he passed them by. He caught glimpses of everyone but dismissed them as soon as he realized they weren't you. He'd have known you from the tip of your nose, even though everyone wore the same clothes and headwear, looking almost like Dottore's clones with hardly any distinctions. Normally, Childe didn't care for the servants, but at that moment, he hated them. No matter how good he was in figuring you out, every second he could save from searching could be spent with his cock between your thighs.

People came and went as he scouted through the hallway, checking over his shoulder as if he was the one being hunted. Haunted, was probably more correct, as the thought of you was like a ghost that ran shudders down his back and made his cock throb. The hallway was branching off into smaller, less crowded areas. Fewer servants, fewer guards, more places to sneak into and hide as you always did.

He was desperate to find you, but without even a hint, Childe grew restless and hopeless at the same time. It wasn't often he felt the latter, his shoulders sacking ever so slightly as he raised his eyes to the ceiling, mustering the intricate, frozen decorations made on the building. They were beautiful. Like you. Rarely seen and yet, ever so perfect and admirable. But they also left him with a sense of longing as they were so unreachable. Would it be the same for you?

Taking a deep breath, the cold managed to clear his mind, thoughts so heated from his desire that he hadn't been able to really focus. You had to be somewhere, even if hidden from his sharp eyes. But no matter how well you could hide, Childe had long figured you out enough to find you anywhere.

Squeak.

He smirked.

He knew the sound better than anyone. It was a sign, obviously, as you still wanted him to come and find you. Otherwise, you'd have thrown away your old shoes in favor of new, not squeaky ones to break in before his arrival, regardless of the fact that they had been a gift of the Tsaritsa. The cold had already crept into his bones as he turned his head to the left, one squeak enough to tell him which of the countless, branching hallways you were in.

Even with everyone else moving around him, time seemed to slow as he took soundless steps towards where you dusted an old, unlit fireplace. He imagined this chase after his long absence to be grand, to completely wear you two down to the point you'd be lazily fucking in an empty room from exhaustion. But you had chosen a more direct approach, hiding in plain sight and yet, still apart from the crowd.

Childe could tell from the way you dusted that fireplace, your posture straight, head held high, lightly flicking the feather duster over the stone, that it was you. Undoubtedly. He saw the slight flinch in your posture as you noticed him from the corners of your eyes, his presence too strong to ignore with his fiery gaze burning holes into you. You turned, ready to leave in a hurry again and make him hunt you down like you seemed to love so much, but Childe was faster.

You must have underestimated what an obsessive need could do to someone's ferocity. Especially someone like Childe, who was out of control even without your influence. He crossed those last few steps without a sound, and yet, faster than you could step away from the fireplace, one of your gloved hands landing on the intricate stone rim as Childe's arm wrapped around you, his hand gripping between your thighs and pulling your ass against his fully erect cock.

A moment of complete silence passed you both, neither moving but waiting for the other to make a mistake that would either make or break this closeness. It was Childe who broke the silence first, taking a deep, audible breath before breathing it out, his face burying into the nape of your neck, pressing his lips to the small rim of skin above your collar.

"Found you. Missed you," he whispered, his grin widening while he placed his legs next to yours, forcing you to face towards the fireplace again and caging you there. His hands driving down your sides, you made a push backwards, your strength immaculate, especially when it caused your plush asscheeks to wrap around his shaft. Childe bit his lip, almost ready to explode from that alone, but luckily, the layers of fabric between you two took out some of the edge.

No one stopped to help, even as your hands curled into fists, and he gripped the fabric of your skirt, bundling it upwards. Childe cared very little for the servants passing by you two, unable to see much but they weren't stupid enough to interfer, stearing clear of him. He could feel the intricate fabric of your stockings, hooking his fingers around the garterbelt that kept them up and letting it snap back in place, making you flinch.

You must have been infuriated, body shivering ever so slightly as you tried to wring yourself out of his hold, Childe's fingers digging so deep into your skin that he was drawing blood. He couldn't see your face, but Childe knew it took everything you had to keep your composure, your little promise to the Tsaritsa already known to Childe. You couldn't kill him, even if you wanted.

Honestly, it excited him even more thinking about you trying to stab him.

Fingertips grazing your panties lightly, Childe felt the shape of your cunt, applying pressure to open your lips so he could test the waters. Did you miss him, too? Did you anticipate this as much as he had? Would he find you wet and ready for him after all this time apart? Childe couldn't imagine that the thought of his return didn't excite you even just a little. That your heart didn't race knowing you'd have to tiptoe around him again.

Eagerly, he curled his fingers over and over, thumb flicking your clothed clit as he caressed your pussy. Despite his own cock straining and pressing against his pants like crazy, demanding to be freed from its prison, he made sure to prepare you first, willing to wait if it meant you were ready to take all of him immediately. Who knew how much time he had before bursting. Everything had to be perfect this time.

You twisted in his hold, his hand grabbing your breast and squeezing it hard to secure you in place. It gave him the pleasure of hearing you whimper once as you straightened instead, his weight at your back pushing you towards the cold stone in front of you as he played with your breast, making sure the cold would stimulate you.

With his free hand, he loosened the buttons on your blouse, making the collar drop enough so he could pepper your skin with kisses, suckling at your nape before giving it a possessive bite. You shuddered, not allowing your sweet voice to ring out even if it hurt you, but to Childe, this was a necessary evil. A mark you couldn't erase so easily, proving to everyone and himself that you belonged to him.

"Mr. Ta- Tartaglia," you breathed out his Tsaritsa-given-name, and it had never displeased him so to hear it than when it fell off your lips.

"Ajax," he corrected, and you shook your head ever so slightly in refusal, angering him.

"This is inappropriate, please mind you manners," you tried to reprimand him, and Childe simply huffed a laugh into your ear, raising his hand with which he had petted your pussy to show you the strings of juices dripping from them.

"Don't try to be all goody-two-shoes when I felt you grinding against my hand."

"It's because this position is uncomfortable! Don't be crude!"

"Sure, if you say so."

Reaching between your legs again, you flinched as he dragged the nail of his thumb through your folds before disappearing to reach for his belt. Even with his patience, Childe had long surpassed his limits. The longer he waited, the more time he gave you to escape. You talking to him was rare enough, a clear sign that you were already plotting how to get away, and Childe realized he couldn't take another chase with his cock so painfully hard between his legs.

Like always, you struggled as you felt his shaft slip between your thighs, your plush skin welcoming him, and he groaned into your shoulder, ready to burst. Everything about you was so perfectly made for him, able to make him come in mere seconds. But if he had the choice between your legs and your now sopping wet cunt, he'd take the latter for now, your thighs a delicacy for another day.

He had to take the chance for as long as he could.

Drawing back his hips, he angled his shaft upwards, quickly using his hand to pull your underwear to the side. You gasped as, without warning, he snapped his body forward, burying himself deep inside you with no regard, your insides clenching and holding on to him with a tightness that could only belong to you.

You were deliciously upset, trying to lift yourself off him, which he allowed, plunging you back down at the last second. Childe felt the pearls of precum rise and leak into you, his cock ready to give you a perfectly good reason to stay with him forever. A family sounded like such a good idea now that he was back and ready to settle with you after the endless chases you two had in preparation for this moment.

Pushing you forward, Childe forced you up on your tiptoes, your knuckles turning pale as you gripped the rim of the stone fireplace in front of you. At the same time, your other hand had reached back, fisting his shirt to the point of ripping at it. Did you want him to not leave you so desperately? Adorable.

"So... good..." he mumbled into your shoulder as he pressed his cock even further inside you. Hilting you simply wasn't enough; Childe wanted to fill every inch of you, leaving no space for anyone else in your head and body. "You feel so good around my cock, baby."

"S-Stop!" you demanded, your voice cracking as Childe slammed his cock forward.

"I've waited so long for this, no chance I can stop now."

With very little movement outwardly, Childe humped you, reaching always an inch deeper every time he lodged his cock inside. You clutched his clothes, trying to tear them away and him off you. Still, he kept going, grunting softly into your shoulder, anticipating every sweet sound you suppressed by biting your tongue.

"S-Sir!" You wanted to sound stern, but instead, you mewled.

"Ajax," he growled back, picking up the pace as punishment for calling him the wrong name again.

Everyone could see what was happening between the poor maid and the Harbinger, but no one dared to say anything. Childe made sure that they couldn't see anything they weren't supposed to, by hiding you from view with his body and cloak. But the sounds you two made, albeit muffled, made most of the staff scurrying around you two blush and hurry by.

He didn't care.

All that mattered was your soft, squelching cunt opening up for him and swallowing his cock like a playful little temptress. He could kiss your soft skin and smell the expensive scents that the Tsaritsa made you wear, all while nibbling, assaulting, and marking you like the madman he was. You were everything, capturing every thought and sense of his as Childe felt himself come undone.

"So tight," he groaned, leaving almost no space between your bodies.

His hips picked up the pace, more desperate and eager than before. Soon enough, he lowered the arms he had caged you with, digging his fingers into your hips instead, guiding your flesh up and down his shaft to get himself off. Soon, he'd give you a beautiful little family and you'd forever warm his bed, ready to take his cock at any given time. The chase, although he'd miss it, would come to an end if your belly was round and swollen with his child and he'd get to take a different job around Snezhnaya so he could go home to you and the kid every evening and proceed to fuck you senseless every night. It would be a dream come true—a final, successful hunt.

You were letting out the prettiest gasps as you reached for his wrists, trying to break them with how crushing your grip was, but even so, Childe wouldn't let go. He was obsessed with finally finishing inside you, claiming you in a way no one else had. You were a shuddering mess impaled on his cock and he'd have not wanted you any other way.

Your cunt was dripping with juices by now, letting Childe know you were ready to cum and welcome his seed; ready to finally cave and become all his. You'd be such a pretty mommy, carrying his child and making him a daddy, all while trying to explain to everyone you worked with that you didn't get pregnant while you were assaulted in the hallway. You'd admit you did it with him on other occasions just to save face.

Childe would happily help this lie be more convincing.

Between grunts, he couldn't help but whimper as his thrusts became irregular and hard, all with the purpose to go as deep into you as possible and feel you completely. You were helping him, rocking your hips high and teasing his tip with your shuddering walls until he was finally close enough to taste the sweet release.

Childe groaned loudly, feeling his cum rush through his shaft when you suddenly pushed away from him. There was too much to think about and focus on, and his brain was overwhelmed with all the tasks, giving you the chance to escape. Your breaths were heavy as your cunt slipped off his dick, and you let out a soft gasp before pushing your skirt down and walking off quickly with your gaze lowered, not looking at anyone or anything.

You left him behind to fend for himself.

Unable to stop it, Childe spilled his cum all over the freshly cleaned fireplace, strings of white seeping into the stone pitifully as his seed was wasted on it. He couldn't think straight; he just kept coming pitifully, with his head fallen back and his hips jutting into the air.

You fucking minx.

Leading him on and then disappearing. You waited until the last moment for your escape, ruining everything Childe had built up to. What about your orgasm? Your pleasure? Could you just endure leaving without? Would you get it from someone else?

Panic and anger zapped through him as the last of his cum shot pitifully out of him. He'd not let anyone else make you orgasm. Not another servant, a lover, not even the Tsaritsa! Maybe he didn't finish like he wanted, but that gave no one else the right to enjoy themselves with you. You were his and his alone.

A grin spread over his lips as he stared at the cold, intricate patterns on the ceiling once again. Now, they looked so much more beautiful, even as they were unreachable. Because you weren't. He found you once and he'd find you again, his cock twitching as anticipation spread through him. He'd make you cum so hard, you'd see stars. And then again and again until you could think of nothing else but him, bewitching you in the same way you had him. You'd want no one else, unable to think of anyone beside Childe and his cock when he was done with you.

Once more, the chase was on.

And Childe wouldn't want it any other way.

[rinsnumber1fan]

Where bf rin walks up to you and sees you in a MAID OUTFIT.

You were a staff member in Blue Lock. One particular day, you were exhausted because of all the work you were given, managing files, statistics, keeping up with the blue lock players. Since you didn't really ever get the chance to talk to the only female in blue lock, Anri, you decided that for a break you'd visit her dorm room.

You made your way in her room uninvited like you owned the place, and you jumped over her bed with a yawn. "I'm exhausted." You groaned and Anri had a tired smirk on her face with the whole being bossed around by ego thing. "First time?"

An incredible idea popped into her brain "you know I have an idea." She begins with a grin "I'll let you test out some of my clothes and you can see which one you like. And in exchange you give me that red satin dress you showed me the other day." You squinted your eyes, " That's a little unfair , you know. That dress costed me a fortune." You argued but she sighed.

"Alright atleast let me get the white one." You blinked twice, "deal."

And with that the two of you began rummaging in her drawer, looking for different clothes and you even tried a few. They were great.

Something peeked from the corner of your eye, and you pulled it out of the drawer and undid it while anri tried on your dress. "Woah what's this?" You titled your head.

It was a white colored dress with a blacks in it, and revealing cleavage. [Somewhat like the cosplay Marin Kitagawa did] it was really , really sexy.

So I tugged it back in. "You won't try it on?" Anris voice had an obvious grin on it. "It's way too- revealing.. and where would I even wear this?" But I feel like I shouldve asked why she had this in the first place...

She groaned "you're so boring." And I closed my lips together, "shut up..." But she forced me to wear it anyway.

"HEY- OI!!!" "Just trust me!!!"

-- meanwhile --

Rin was walking down the hallways of the night instead of sleeping. He needed his phone to make a call to his mother who was really worried about him being out there alone.

He was caught in between all the different floors and doors and couldn't find egos office. In the end, he decided to enter that one room which seemed like it had the most light coming from the inside.

He turned the door knob, opened it, stopped and froze.

Because he totally just saw his girlfriend wearing some weirdly cute sexy maid outfit. The words die in his throat for a moment, his eyes unintentionally linger on your frame for a few moments before he let's out the smallest of a sound from his mouth which sounded like a "u- a-..." like he didn't know where to start.

And you? You were a whole other being right now. You literally almost passed out when you see that man who was too shy to even hold your hand in public in your doorway- well it was Anris.

"R-R-RIN!!!! UHH THIS IS... NOT..." a few awkward chuckles escape your mouth and you step forward towards rin to stop him from misunderstanding anything but rin already broke. You turned to your left, to your right, where did Anri go?!

Rin clears his throat, "yeah... I'm sure." You almost smack him , "why do you sound so sarcastic?!" He paused for a brief moment before his eyes lingered on your eyes, his gaze slowly felt half lidded and lustful and it almost felt like he was undressing you with his eyes.

"I just," he walked closer, and you stepped back. "You're.. really pretty..."

Red.

He had a fucking nosebleed.

Trails of crimson dripped down from his nose to the tip of his upper lip, he froze - you froze. "RIN!!! YOURE DYING--"

"i- ill come back later--" and he steps back, trying to shut the door but not when you lean closer with those oh so very oblivious eyes, "No!! You're having a nosebleed!!" And he feels himself twitch when you get closer. "God, stop- that.." and he took another step back.

"Don't forget to change when you get back!" He yelled as he literally ran away from the situation. And maybe from the ever growing bulge in his pants.

You stood there for a moment with a confused, blinking expression and tilted your head to the side "Uh...i think i did something wrong."

Yes, you started a war.

A/N: LEAVE A COMMENT PSLPSLSPLSLSPLS I WENT BLUE THEMED FOR THIS ONE!!!

[hy6erion]

For bbno$! I was thinking about something with the reader in a music video, maybe they're a dancer and they get injured or something and he comes to the rescue? 🥺 Excited to see you in the tag and looking forward to whatever you write about him!!

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚 𝐋𝐞𝐠! (𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲)

𝐁𝐛𝐧𝐨$ (𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐆𝐮𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐧) 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐛𝐧𝐨$ 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐭, 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞.

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 (𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜) 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤!! 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨 ᕕ[ ・ ▾ ・ ]ᕗ

The bass thrummed through the speakers, rattling the polished floors of the soundstage. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the set as the cameras weaved through dancers, catching every sharp movement, every flick of a wrist, every perfectly timed pop and lock.

You were one of his dancers.

A last-minute replacement, actually—someone had dropped out due to scheduling issues, and the choreographer had called you up two nights ago in a panic. You had barely gotten the routine down in time, practicing until your legs burned and your lungs ached, but you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity. This was bbno$, after all.

And if there was one thing you had quickly learned, it was that working with him was an experience in itself.

“Hold up,” bbno$—or Alex, as you’d heard the crew call him—had interrupted the first take of the day to dramatically re-tie his shoelace, despite the fact that the cameras weren’t even on his feet. “Gotta make sure these bad boys are locked in. We can’t have another incident.”

“…What incident?” the director had asked warily.

“You don’t wanna know.”

The crew had groaned. You had stifled a laugh.

But when the cameras were rolling? He was locked in. The moment the beat dropped, Alex transformed, exuding that signature confidence, all smooth footwork and effortless flow, somehow pulling off his chaotic brand of humor and making it look cool.

And you? You were determined to match that energy.

Until you didn’t.

One second, you were fully immersed in the choreography, body moving on autopilot. The next, your foot came down at the wrong angle.

Pain shot up your leg like lightning. Your ankle twisted, and before you could react, the floor rushed up to meet you.

There was a brief, stunned silence.

“Shit—cut, cut, cut!” the director yelled.

You barely processed it. The pain was immediate, sharp and hot, pulsing from your ankle to your calf. You inhaled sharply, trying to push yourself upright, but the moment you moved, a white-hot sting made your stomach flip.

Great. Fantastic. You had just completely wiped out in front of everyone, including the artist himself.

Before you could even process the embarrassment, there was a flash of pink in your periphery.

“What happened? Who died?”

Alex crouched beside you, sunglasses still on, despite the dim lighting. His tone was light, but his brows furrowed as he took in your expression.

“I—” You exhaled sharply, still gripping your ankle. “I think I landed wrong.”

“Damn.” He nodded solemnly, pushing his beanie up slightly. “That’s crazy. You ever think about how statistically speaking, ankles are, like, the weakest joint in the body?”

You shot him a flat look.

“Not now…” one of the dancers muttered.

“Okay, okay, my bad—uh, let’s assess the situation.” Alex tapped his chin, then pointed at you. “Can you move it?”

You swallowed hard and tested the smallest movement possible. The pain flared up instantly, and you sucked in a breath.

“Yeah, nope“ he said immediately, shaking his head. “That was a bad idea. We’re not doing that.”

You groaned, leaning your head back against the floor. “I can’t believe I just fell in front of everyone on set.”

“Uh, I can,” Alex said, sitting cross-legged beside you. “Listen, I get it. My music goes too hard. It happens. People can’t handle it.”

You let out a weak laugh despite yourself.

The crew had finally snapped into action—someone had gone to get an ice pack, the choreographer was whispering with the director, a few dancers were hovering nearby, unsure whether to step in. But Alex? He was still right there beside you, drumming his fingers against his knee.

“Alright, here’s the game plan,” he said, nodding to himself. “Step one: ice. Step two: carry you to the green room.”

“…Carry me?”

“Yeah. What, you tryna crawl there? What are we, cavemen?”

“I can hop.”

He snorted. “Yeah, no. That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

Before you could protest, one of the crew members returned with an ice pack. Alex immediately took it, adjusting it carefully against your swollen ankle with surprising gentleness.

“There we go,” he said. “Boom. Doctor bbno$ saves the day.”

“You are not a doctor.”

“Okay, rude.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips.

Then, without warning, Alex stood up and—holy shit—just scooped you up off the floor, cradling you effortlessly.

“Alex—!”

“Shhh,” he said dramatically, pressing a finger to your lips. “Let me have my moment.”

You were too stunned to even argue. He carried you with ease, arms steady, like this was just a normal Tuesday for him. Around you, the crew watched in disbelief, a few whispering in amusement.

“You are enjoying this way too much,” you muttered.

“Uh, yeah?” He grinned down at you. “This is peak main character energy. I’m thriving right now.”

You sighed, resting your head against his shoulder. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously romantic,” he corrected.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

The journey to the green room was filled with Alex being Alex—making random small talk about the benefits of eating frozen grapes, giving you an unsolicited fun fact about otters, and dramatically kicking open the door to the lounge area like he was in an action movie.

Finally, he set you down on the couch, pulling a chair up beside you. His playful expression softened ever so slightly as he adjusted the ice pack again.

“Seriously, though,” he said, voice quieter. “You okay?”

You met his gaze, surprised by the sincerity there. For all his antics, there was genuine concern behind those sunglasses.

“…Yeah,” you admitted. “Kinda sucks, but I’ll survive.”

He nodded. “Good. ‘Cause, like, no offense, but you totally face-planted back there. We all saw it.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “I hate you.”

“Nahhh, you love me,” he shot back, grinning.

You huffed, shaking your head. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

[jamminvroomvroom]

everything.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re his best friend until you’re something more

hi! here you go lmao. probs the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written and i am obsessed with the concept! thank you for being here and baring with me - i loved writing this one and i’d love to hear what you think! huge shoutout to my girlies @mcmuppet and @lavenderlando ily both!

songs that set the mood: pink and white by frank ocean, daylight by harry styles, angel by finneas, enchanted by taylor swift, hate to be lame by lizzy mcalpine

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, friends to lovers brain rot, slight corruption kink, readers first time, qatar angst

6.4k words

“do you wanna talk about it?” you whispered softly, your hand resting on lando’s sagged shoulder.

your eyes were fixed on the third place plaque on his table in front of you, his very much fixed on the floor.

“no.” his reply was short and sweet, his tone conveying exactly how deflated he was.

you’d only flown in to qatar this morning, the october sun hitting you hard as you walked into the paddock, drastically different to the london climate you’d grown accustomed to. lando had all but begged you to come, your evening before spent on the phone, and you knew that he needed a friend, otherwise he never would have asked you to fly halfway around the world.

friends. that’s what you were.

you’d hugged him tight and told him that the weekend had to get better, and then his teammate put it on pole and got his first win. so, yeah, maybe it wasn’t going to get better and not even the podium could cheer him up.

his radio messages had hurt your heart, your chest aching as he self deprecated in the cockpit. he owned his mistakes, sure, but he’d taken it a step too far and you knew you had a job to do. you’d do anything, quite literally anything, to cheer him up.

you’d always found a way to be there for eachother, your friendship spanning five long years after you’d knocked a coffee over a guy you quickly recognised as the new mclaren driver. both nineteen and awkward as hell, you’d um-ed and er-ed and danced around one another in the busy pret in central london, chucking tissues at him, attempting to mop up the frothy mess all over his white sweatshirt.

eventually you’d just burst into laughter, lando immediately following suit. your cheeks were hurting from smiling at the curly haired stranger, intrigued by the very way his faced moved when he laughed, and he’d looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, not like someone that had just destroyed a brand new hoodie.

and just like that, a connection was born.

you’d gotten used to having a friend for only half the year, but he never let you feel the distance. paddock passes often fell through your letter box and you could usually be located in the background of his streams when he was home long enough to do them, the amount of times you’d been wrongfully accused of being his girlfriend a list as long as your arm. even in those moments of awkwardness, friendship prevailed and you both managed to crack up together about the conspiracy that you were more than friends.

and what an intriguing conspiracy it was.

“we should get you back to the hotel, you need to get some rest.” you told him, standing from the sofa and offering him your hand.

lando grabbed it, squeezing, his own special way of telling you he was grateful for your presence, and let you pull him up. as he tried to walk towards the door, you stopped him, hands on his shoulders. you wanted to shake him, tell him how fucking great he was. you didn’t think he’d appreciate that after an intense session in the car.

“hey, look at me. you got this, okay?” you smiled reassuringly, managing to get the smallest crack back from him, his lips upturning ever so slightly. something in his eyes told you that you’d succeeded, a small glimmer of an emotion that you didn’t know how to unpack.

friends.

that’s what you were.

-

you tried to ignore how touchy lando was being. you figured he just needed some comfort, physical touch not out of bounds in your friendship, but a new level had been reached.

on the entire walk through the paddock to his car, his hand sat comfortably on the small of your back, despite the endless amount of cameras pointed at you. his hand skimmed your thigh in the car, accidentally, you told yourself, and you had to avert your eyes when his hand graced your headrest as he reversed out of the parking space. knowing that he needed you in qatar so desperately that he’d flown you out was one thing, the way he was treating you once you got there was something else.

he’d opened your door when you pulled up at the hotel valet, helping you out of the car, his hand tucked in yours for a second longer than necessary. once again, his hand seemed to be glued to your lower back the whole way to the elevator.

the ding of the lift had you both shuffling out onto your floor, trailing towards your rooms in a heavy silence, something more left unsaid in the air.

you reached your door first, coming to a stop and shuffling around in your bag for your keycard.

“um, i need to be at the track early tomorrow. breakfast?” lando asked.

you turned to look at him, nodding your head profusely.

“of course, just drop me a message and i’ll come down and meet you.” you affirmed, your fingers finally grasping the piece of plastic that had, of course, fallen to the very bottom of your tardis of a tote bag.

you expected him to leave, but he lingered, as if there was something else on his mind.

“you okay?” you raised an eyebrow, unlocking your door. lando seemed to snap out of it then, awkwardly running a hand through his curls that had taken a brutal hit from the humidity. you liked the look on him, nonetheless.

“yeah, i- yeah, i think i just need some sleep.”

“okay, well, goodnight. let me know if you need anything.” you disappeared through the door then, the tension getting the better of you. you slumped against the shut door, wondering what he so clearly wanted to say.

-

the clock read 1:32am on your bedside.

a faint tapping had woken you up, and you groggily scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise. you deduced that it was coming from your door, letting out a groan as you threw the cosy comforter off and trudged towards the disturbance.

you cracked it open, peeking through the gap and coming face to face with your best friend.

“lando?” you croaked, opening the door further.

“i’m sorry, can’t sleep. can i come in? it’s okay if not, i just didn’t know what to do.” he sounded so shy, something you didn’t recognise in the man stood before you, and you quickly swung the door open, ushering him inside.

“come, sit.” you waved for him to follow you across the room to the foot of your bed. he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping.

you patted your lap and he instantly knew what to do, laying down with his head in your lap. it’s something he did quite frequently when you were sprawled on his sofa at home, watching a shitty movie that neither of you were really paying attention to. you’d often be looking at him, praying he didn’t notice, and he’d be playing with your fingers, tracing the palm of your hand.

you couldn’t help yourself, running your hand through his curls. you didn’t mean to, stomach instantly twisting with embarrassment, but it was quickly twisting with something else. his eyes fluttered shut, a low groan falling from the back of his throat. it made your thighs clench, and he must have noticed, the tiniest smirk on his face.

“you okay?” lando asked, his eyes still shut, a look of relaxation finally on his face.

you coughed awkwardly.

“yeah, sorry. are you comfy?” you said teasingly, trying to cut the growing tension in the room.

“i am now, could fall asleep here.”

“you can, you know.” you whispered. his eyes flew open. your heart was hammering in your chest. this was new territory and you were worried you’d fucked up. sleepovers were also a norm, but one of you usually retired to a guest room, not the other side of eachothers beds.

“you want me to stay?” his voice rose in surprise.

“well, i mean, you can if you want, like, there’s space and-“ you rambled.

“do you want me to stay?” he repeated.

“is it gonna help?” you questioned cautiously.

“yes.” the confidence in which he replied did something to you.

“then stay.”

you crawled up the mattress, falling back into the place you’d so comfortably occupied just minutes before. you laid so still, watching with quiet curiosity as he slipped his hoodie off. his shirt came with it ever so slightly, riding up over his back, and you had to pry your eyes away, the ache between your thighs still ever present.

what on earth were you doing, allowing your best friend to crawl into bed with you? emotions were running so high, but it felt like a switch had been flipped ever since you hit the tarmac in qatar. every look, every touch was fuelled by something different to what it had been before and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

lando turned towards you, making his way back over to the bed. he looked apprehensive, as if he was thinking the same thoughts as you, wondering if there was any logic in what was about to happen. he seemed to come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, happening, crawling into bed beside you.

“is this okay?” lando breathed into the darkness of the room, his hand brushing yours. you were both as still as planks, mere centimetres separating you, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.

“yeah,” you took a deep breath, preparing for the words that were about to come tumbling out. “i’ve just never done this before.” you spoke quickly, sucking in another breath as you finished.

“you’ve never…”

“i’ve never shared a bed… like this.”

“like what?”

“with a… a guy?” your anxiety riddled words came out more like a question than an answer.

“oh. oh.” it seemed to dawn on lando then. “so, you’ve never… oh. i mean i can go if you’re uncomfortable.”

“lando, no, i just wanted you to know. i’m always comfortable with you.” you said, quietly baring your soul to him.

you weren’t sure why you’d basically told him you were a virgin. it held no relevance, he was just here to sleep, for some friendly comfort. he was not here for any other reason. and yet here you were, spilling the beans, all over the bed you found yourself sharing.

“i didn’t come here to, you know. i just needed you.”

you tried to ignore the pang in your chest and the annoying, minuscule butterfly springing to life in your belly.

“god, yeah i know! i didn’t think that you wanted to, well i mean not with me because why would you want me like that anyway, i get why you’re here, lando.” you rambled into the empty air. you heard yourself, groaning in embarrassment and dragging the cover over your face. lando laughed, pulling it back so he could see you again.

he was leaning over you, perched on his side, resting on his elbow.

“trust me, i’m more than happy with any part of yourself that you wanna give me.”

“don’t tease me, lando.” you scoffed. he was joking, right? right?

“i’m not! i promise, this is the one place i want to be.”

“why? why with me? i mean you could’ve called max. all he does is stream when you’re not home, think he misses you.” you were half joking, half deadly serious.

“come on, it’s you. it’s just… its been so hard this year, being away from you so much more. and then you came all the way here…” lando trailed off, averting eye contact.

you turned on your side to face him, placing your hand over his affectionately.

“you needed me.”

“exactly. i needed you. you.”

he gave you a look, one that you didn’t recognise, but you understood what it meant. it said more than anything had done since this confusingly beautiful interaction began. you got it, then, why you were here.

“lando-“

“i know that i shouldn’t tell you this and i can’t just spring this on you in the middle of the night, but i-“

“lando!”

“what?”

“kiss me.”

and god, he kissed you. the air was sucked out of your lungs, dragged out of you by the way he put his hands on your body, so urgent.

you sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up top. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now.

he paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” lando breathed, scanning your face as if he was trying to take it all in. you, panting beneath him, coy smile, cheeks flushed. you’d never looked so gorgeous to him.

you leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.

lando pulled away, peppering your flushed cheeks with kisses, a dazed giggle passing your swollen lips.

he flopped onto his side, grinning at the ceiling mindlessly. you hadn’t seen him smile that big all weekend.

“are you tired?” you whispered, lips brushing his cheek, his light stubble rough against you. you wondered how it would feel elsewhere, scratching over your bare skin.

“no.”

“then why did you stop?” you asked, the words falling off your tongue slowly, sinking all over him like honey. you felt the way he tensed up, the suggestion that laced the seemingly innocent question making you tingle.

“i didn’t come here for that.” he reiterated.

“and i didn’t let you in for that. but here we are.” you weren’t ashamed of what you were asking, the moment was right, the one, and you knew it.

“it’s too soon.” lando was apprehensive. he was always overly protective of you, previously as his friend, but this, god, this was an entirely different ball park and he was proceeding with caution, against every natural instinct in his body screaming at him.

“says who?”

“it’s your first. it needs to be special.”

“everything about this is better than i could have ever imagined.”

“are you sure you want it to be me?” there it was again, those unrecognisable nerves that made everything inside of you flutter.

“lando, there is no one else i could ever want to do this with more than i want to do it with you. i want it to be you.”

“but… now? are you sure? i don’t want you to regret this.”

“the only thing i regret is that this didn’t happen sooner.”

“one last time. i just need to hear it one last time.”

“i want you, lando.”

and with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. lando pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.

“can i take this off?” he tugged at the hem of your shirt. you nodded profusely. “words, sweetheart. i need you to use your words.” lando cupped your jaw as he said it, squeezing ever so slightly, enough to turn you into putty in his hands.

“please. yes.” you said shakily.

he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.

“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.

“okay.” you choked out, head tipping back as he placed a kiss to the base of your throat.

his kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.

lando pulled away, just for a second, just so that he could shift you from his lap onto his thigh. he was still fully clothed beneath you, totally in control, and you craved him in a way you didn’t know was humanly possible, so much so that you didn’t need the encouragement he was giving you to start rolling your hips, pussy grinding down on his covered thighs, the friction of your underwear driving you insane.

“oh, baby. you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” his hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. he licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.

and then he was kissing you again, tongue slow over yours, his fingertips surely leaving marks where he was controlling your pace. the kiss was filthy, untameable, and you found yourself dragging against him slower, harder.

“i need you.” you panted, forehead falling on his shoulder as you pulled away from his lips, goosebumps pricking your sweat slicked skin. you were so close to an orgasm, desperate to feel him everywhere.

“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, baby?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” and you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.

you were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. you were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. his arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.

“you did so well, baby.” lando crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”

“i want everything.” you breathed, pulling him against you. you smoothed your hands over his shirt until you reached the hem, dragging it up over his back. he helped you take it off, and then it was lost to the room. you grabbed at his shoulder blades, smooth, muscular planes of bronzed skin so warm under your touch. you felt insatiable, like nothing was enough, totally intoxicated by him and everything he was managing to make you feel.

lando’s hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.

“you’re so fucking good for me, god.” lando almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.

lando didn’t give you much time to dwell on it, mouth latching onto your underwear where it met the crease of your thigh. he was so close, so tantalising close to where you were aching for him and you were just about levitating off the bed when his teeth grazed your inner thigh. you couldn’t see him looking at you, losing it, inhibitions out the window. your eyes were already squeezed shut when he began mouthing over your cloth-covered pussy, spit further ruining the sodden material.

“take them off.” you cried out, tugging hard at his curls that you hadn’t even realised you were clutching for dear life. and lando was a good listener, because he complied immediately, tearing the lace down your legs like a starved man.

his tongue was on you then, everywhere all at once, running through your folds and over your clit. you didn’t know if you were dead or alive, a different kind of pleasure than anything you’d ever experienced coursing hot through your veins. lando switched between long, slow licks, his tongue flat against you, and rapid kitten licks, burying his face in your cunt.

everything was moving in slow motion, your hands grasping frantically at anything you could reach; his curls, the sheets, his shoulders. you could barely make out what he was saying, his words muffled, lost to the soft flesh between your legs. it seemed to echo, every lick, stroke, word. you snapped out of it, finally, when he pulled away.

“more? you want my fingers, baby? gonna get you nice and ready for me.” you just nodded, voice lost to the air of the room.

one arm locked around your thigh, pinning you still, and the other snaked up your leg until he reached the mess between your thighs. he took a moment to take it in, how wet you were, how fucked out you looked, knowing full well he must have looked the same, unhinged as he gave into your shared desire that he’d tried his best to keep hidden. he’d never felt more stupid in his life for holding back, as he took in the ethereal delight sprawled under his touch.

when lando slid the first finger in, your stomach twisted deliciously. he watched you carefully, searching for discomfort but all he could find was sheer bliss, written all over your face as clear as daylight. he worked the digit in and out, nice and slow, curling against your walls. he could feel how tight you were, clamping around just one finger and he thought his head was gonna explode. he added another finger, watching the way you took him in, twisting his fingers.

“are you gonna let go for me again, sweetheart?” lando punctuated his words by putting his mouth back on you, teeth grazing your clit as he sucked.

you were thrashing, a silent scream building from the fire in your belly. you could just about make out the way he was spurring you on, his mouth running as you spilled over the edge, covering his fingers. you saw white, maybe god, ears ringing, and when you finally mustered the energy to look at him, you could have come for a third time. lando looked feral, lips red and coated in everything you had to offer him. his eyes were glazed over, a hazy grey that sent a jolt through your body, the aftershocks of the orgasm setting in.

“christ.” was all you could sigh out. a lazy smile painted your face, your eyes blown out, everything a little blurry. everything except him.

you could feel him scaling up your body, crawling over you until he was level with your face. he placed a kiss to your throat, your jaw and finally your lips; when he pulled away all that was left was shared giddy smile, both of you suddenly shy. you couldn’t stop the roaming of your hands, exploring all the parts of him that you could reach. when you found the waist band of his joggers, your hand grazing his abs as you did, he sucked all of the air out of the room, a sharp inhalation making him tense up.

“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. lando was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.

“all of you. lando, this is… you’re perfect.” you admitted, lips brushing his. your hands pushed the material down his hips, nails raking over him as you did. he couldn’t seem to wait any longer, kicking them off the rest of the way, his boxers quickly following suit.

you couldn’t help but stare, all of him bare against all of you. your nipples brushed his chest, his hands holding you close, your hands threaded through his curls. it was like you were sussing each other out, eyes watching lips and hands getting lost. you stayed like that for a moment, pressed together, closer and closer, until he was slotted between your legs like he was coming home. lando searched your face one last time, hunting for a smidge of discomfort.

“are you ready for me?” he whispered.

“yes.”

the initial stretch burned, but he slid into you smoothly, his cock slipping through your folds with ease. he felt you clamp down on him, his head thrown back as far as it could go, thick neck exposed to you. you bit down on his shoulder, where it met the base of his throat, trying to mask the gasp of pleasure that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. he grunted at the sensation, enjoying the sting.

“oh, fuck.” he was shuddering, trying to keep himself in check.

“don’t, oh god,” you started, meeting the roll of his hips. “don’t hold back.”

“we gotta go easy.”

“i don’t want easy.” you tightened around him then, and he saw stars.

“you’re so fucking good.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back. how much he wanted you, and a bittersweet weekend of frustration versus success came crashing down and he couldn’t do anything except give himself to you exactly how you wanted.

lando was a delicious weight on top of you, the drag of his hips slow, meeting yours hard. the pressure made you lightheaded, his body moving against yours like the thick drip of honey, smooth and sweet. you couldn’t make sense of it, of how fucking good he felt, grinding deeper and deeper into you like he’d found buried treasure. the overstimulation had your third orgasm building nice and quick, waves of pleasure making you dizzy.

“you like it like this? like when i fuck you nice and hard?” yes you did. “don’t think i can go without this now, you know that? such a good fucking girl.” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just let his words wash over you. “so beautiful, taking me so well.”

you couldn’t process that this was your best friend lando. this was a different person, it had to be. yet, somehow, it made sense that the man you knew, the one who spoke his mind, mischievous and troublesome, would be like this, a god above you as he fucked deeper into you with every thrust. he was filthy and gentle, brutal and sweet. it didn’t make sense, but it also just did.

“are you gonna come for me? one more time, baby. need to feel that perfect fucking pussy.” well, his wish was your command, because then you were gushing. the one thing you could feel was him, none of your other senses worked, you couldn’t see past the tears that fell, couldn’t get any words past your lips. maybe you screamed, you weren’t exactly sure.

lando was kissing you everywhere. each hip bone was met with his lips, your stomach, over your ribs, breasts, clavicle, neck. your face was covered in kisses next, your cheeks, forehead, a dainty peck to your nose.

“can you look at me?”

your eyes cracked open slowly, the exhaustion hitting as you came back to reality.

“was that okay?” there he was again, this shy version of lando that you couldn’t get used to.

“okay? lando that was…” you shook your head in awe. “that meant everything to me.”

he smiled then, that gorgeous, gorgeous smile, the one with the crinkles by his eyes and his teeth on full display. you melted.

“me too. you’re fucking beautiful. so, so fucking beautiful. should’ve told you sooner.” he murmured.

his words made you think, way too hard for your current state. what happened next? lando had said some things, some pretty big things that you didn’t know how to comprehend. it was crazy, how scared you were to bring it back up to him, considering he’d just been inside of you.

“sooner?” you whispered, hardly audible. lando was midway through tucking you both into bed, pulling your flushed, naked body into his own under the duvet.

“yes. a lot sooner.” he replied, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

‘how much sooner?’ you thought to yourself, unable to stay awake any longer to agonise over it, your dreams haunted by the way he touched you so well. it was magnificent to fall asleep in his arms, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering when it would happen again.

-

you woke up tangled with him, fingers stroking your cheek, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.

lando was always so warm, but now his tanned skin radiated sunshine, a beacon of light in your bed. you smiled, eyes still shut, shielding yourself from the streaks of light casting over the room from the crack in the curtains.

“what time is it?” you croaked, bringing a hand to your eyes to rub away the sleep.

“gone eleven. i need to go, baby.”

baby.

you hadn’t gotten a chance to take my notice of the things he’d called you last night, too caught up in the way he played with your body. now that you heard it, in the calm after the storm, it made you swoon.

“already?” you tried to hide your disappointment, not quite ready to detangle yourself from him.

“need to get to the track. i think i’m already late. i just wanted to be here when you woke up.” lando sounded so soft, not as groggy as you, and you wondered how long he’d been awake, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest.

“thank you.” you knew that you’d have spiralled waking up alone, and you were immensely grateful that he’d stayed.

lando began to get up, wincing at your whine of protest.

“i’m sorry. i’ll have someone pick you up later, okay? i’ll see you soon, i promise.”

you knew he had to work hard today, knew how much analysis he needed to do before the race. he was starting further back than anyone would have liked, and he had something to prove as well, oscar starting too close to the front for lando’s liking. there were places to make up and hard work to be done to get back to the front.

“don’t apologise. i hope it goes smoothly today.” you smiled at him, watching him collect his long forgotten clothes. you were entranced by the way his body moved, the lines and shapes that tensed and rippled as he dressed himself.

“i’ll message you.” he promised, creeping back over to the bed. you weren’t sure what to expect, but the soft kiss to your lips, almost apprehensive on his part, could have killed you off, your heart pounding.

your grinned like a fool when the door shut behind him.

-

the shower was burning hot, loosening up your muscles. you cleaned yourself slowly, examining your body, the same one that you’d given to lando. he’d taken you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together, the traces of him that he’d left behind delectably apparent.

you followed the trail of marks he’d left, starting with the love bite below your right breast that you couldn’t even remember him leaving, making your way to the litter of fingerprints that were tattooed into your hips. your fingertips ghosted over your swollen lips, the kiss that he’d left at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, reminiscing the evening. you seemed to ache everywhere, the dull pain setting into your bones so nicely.

you prayed it would happen again. you felt like it would, everything between you had changed now, changed from any possible return to the norm. you wanted it to change, you couldn’t fathom the idea of staying friends when the lines had blurred like this, when he’d kissed you so deeply, touched you so intimately.

the shower was much needed, refreshing your body that was now tainted by him in the best way. you tried to keep a clear head while you got yourself ready, taking your time to make yourself presentable to the paddock. the time of your departure was looming, the pink and white sunset outside your window indicating that the race was only a few hours away. the air had cooled slightly, and you knew you needed to make your way to the lobby.

your phone dinged in your hand as you were packing your essentials into your bag. you glanced down at the device, unruly smile gracing your face.

see you soon, the text read, an orange love heart punctuating the short but sweet text. it was safe to say that the butterflies in your belly were well and truly alive.

-

the screen beeped as you scanned your paddock pass, and you slipped through the gate, making your way into the paddock. it was beautiful in qatar, they’d outdone themselves with this structure, the glass ceilings and jungle of greenery an expression of wealth and elegance.

you made a beeline for the mclaren garage, greeting lando’s pr officer who smiled warmly at you. you recognised oscar smirking as you appeared in the garage, and as you got closer you realised why.

“nice to see you. looking for lando?” his monotonous voice held an amused twang.

“hey oscar, great job last night!” you said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “yeah, is he around here somewhere?”

“yeah he’s just doing press i think. extra spring in his step today.” oscar gave you a knowing look, one that made you blush.

“what do you know?” you deadpanned, fighting back laughter.

“i know that this was a long time coming.” he smiled, and then he was gone, lost to the bustle of the garage.

you stood there, probably in the way, lost in thought about what oscar had just said. he was right, this was a long time coming.

you jumped a bit when a hand landed on your waist, relaxing instantly into lando’s body when he pressed himself against you, head on your shoulder.

“i’m so glad you’re here.” he whispered, pressing a secret kiss under your ear, and then he, too, was gone, before you could even react.

your nerves were shot, ushered to the back of the garage where you found a headset. you chewed your nails, anxious about it all. the race, the changes that you were surely coming. you wanted it, wanted everything from him that he’d give you, willing to commit to all of it, to him. the distance, borrowed time, chaos of his world. last night had changed everything and you couldn’t have asked for more.

eventually the lights went out and the fight was underway. you found your hands clasped together, sweating in the dry heat and the anxiety. you clapped every time he made an overtake, storming through the field. when he made it into p3, picking the pace up on oscar, the nerves resurged and you prayed for a clean end to this race.

lando’s radio messages flooded your ears, and your leg bounced uncontrollably, your shoe slapping against the floor.

“be sensible, lando.” you muttered under your breath, resting your chin on your tightly clasped hands. he would be on the podium, but you knew it wasn’t enough for him, it never was. would you be enough for him?

eventually he agreed to hold position, thank fuck, and you could breathe again. he’d driven a beautiful recovery drive, bringing the car onto the podium, and you rushed out with the team to congratulate him. you lingered at the back of the pack behind the metal barriers, watching in quiet admiration as he jumped out of the car. he slapped oscar on the back, hugging his younger teammate before bounding towards the team. his head was darting around as if he was looking for something, but you couldn’t make it out with his helmet still on. and then the helmet came off and it became clear.

he was looking for you.

lando pulled away from a hug with a mechanic, leaning over the barrier right in front of you. you gravitated towards him, somehow moving through the swarm of team members until you were pressed against the metal too. he was beaming, eyes brighter than they had been all working weekend, and then his hands were on you. the hug he pulled you into was tight and you clung to one another for a moment, unbothered by his damp race suit, or the tickle of his sweat slicked curls.

the kiss he pressed to your cheek was far less secret than the one in the garage, so was the one he pressed to your forehead, but the one he pressed to your lips, as quick as it may have been, was the one that really took the cake. you were blushing when he pulled back, a mischievous grin on his face. you shook your head in disbelief at his boldness, unable to tame your bewildered smile.

“what are you doing for dinner, baby?” he called out to you as he walked away. the podium high had clearly set in.

nothing, you mouthed back, not quite confident enough to shout across parc ferme.

“good, we’re going on a date.” lando winked and then he was gone, pulled into the chaos of post race duties.

tears pricked your eyes when he stood on the podium, a much happier man than the one you found when you’d arrived. you couldn’t put it into words, how one night had changed everything, giving you everything you didn’t realise you wanted.

then again, lando was always good at beating expectations.

-

hehe the end

-

taglist

had to remove some tags that aren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed xo

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @juno-1610 @lqvesoph @wilmasvensson @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @h0e-xoxo @mattxxamryli @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3

[mossangelll]

Dress Me like Your French Girls

yandere!caitlyn x reader x yandere!jinx requested by anon!

took me longer than i would’ve liked (with many tense mistakes included oops) but i hope you can enjoy! i took a lot of liberties with this request and kinda ran with it ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

tw: kidnapping, violence, controlling behaviour, objectification

Bedsheets made of prussian blue silk and white lace borders, floor to ceiling windows that looked out to the great expanse of the gardens, even fresh flowers set on your vanity each morning without fail - all before you even had the chance to rub sleep from your eyes. You knew the beauty that surrounded you was merely a mirage, something to distract you from opening your eyes to its harsh reality. You may be a nobody from Zaun but you’re no fool; you could see the minute you stepped foot in this place you that it was just a prison, even if it had a crystal chandelier.

Today, you’re sat at your walnut desk reading the book Caitlyn - no, Cait, got for you.

It was something about flowers you couldn’t care less about but you know when Caitlyn comes to see you for the evening, she’ll expect to hear all about your riveting day, including your thoughts on the book she gifted to you. Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you turn the page with a gloved hand, but the words and diagrams blur together into a puddle of ink you can’t decipher. Well, as long as you could recount a handful of trite facts she should be satisfied.

After all, she mentioned a special gift that you would both enjoy, that is what her focus will be on for most of the evening.

Your eyes flicker to the wardrobe stuffed to the brim with expensive, custom-made garments that looms over you and you find your mind turns to static in an attempt to block out all the intrusive memories you’d rather lose to the abyss of time, even if you know that you will never be able to cut away Cait’s lasting scars.

She will always intertwined in your life as much as you are hers.

Whenever she brings one of these “gifts” to your room, you know what to expect. It’s never anything sordid - oh, Cait could never do anything as debased as what those cruel animals do. Ever the pinnacle of Kiramman self-control, or as you like to call it - repression. But still, when she’s done, her tongue darts out to lick her lips, her face blooms with all the effort of her rapidly beating heart and she has the demeanour of a woman starved, she simply…retracts into herself as if the inferno burning deep inside of her isn’t roaring to be let out and engulf everything it touches.

It starts with Cait slipping into your room at night with a heavy sigh, head leaning against the ornate doors and fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turn bone white.

The light from the chandelier is dimmed, casting dark shadows to contrast her silhouette and pronounce the weariness of her face, and yet she manages to have not a single hair out of place much to your ever-growing chagrin.

Then, she ambles over to where you’re sat, each tap of her heeled boots in sync with the pounding of your heart, making her own attempt at casual conversation (that somehow always manages to come off as strained, like she has to force the words out from her throat) about your day as if any of this was normal, as if you actually had free will and the ability to make your own choices, not just the the illusion of it all. But that was what Cait was best at, keeping up illusions no matter how cracked and faded they become.

She guides you with hands tight on your shoulders to sit at the ornate vanity, a hand moving to the middle of your back to force it ramrod straight, so she can brush your hair with a featherlight touch from the crown of your head to the tangled ends. Back before you had her rules ingrained into the every other fibre of your being, you told her that you’re not some porcelain doll that could break at the smallest touch but all you get in return was the hardened stare you’d come to know well in the reflection of the mirror - you don’t speak unless spoken to. Always.

She starts to get you ready for bed, ever so slightly calloused hands wiping away the day’s makeup. It felt wrong to see her, sole heir to the House of Kiramman, act so subservient just for you. It was an unnatural upheaval of the entire hierarchy that dictated your life until this point and it never fails to make your head spin with its taboo intoxication.

She saves the part you dread the most for last, and no matter how many times you went through the same monotonous routine, you still felt uneasy every time the clock’s chime rang through the halls closer and closer to her arrival.

Cait ensured she was the only one to undress you from whatever restrictive clothes she had forced upon you in the morning. No maids could be trusted to be anywhere near you, let alone get to see you in such a revealing state. That was reserved for her eyes only.

Graceful fingers weave between the laces of your corset, unravelling the thread at a snail’s pace. Sometimes, though she would vehemently deny the accusation with great fervour, she would yank at the corset strings just a tad too tight, fingers flexing at your waist to calm herself when she felt your hands grasp at her forearms in an attempt to stabilise yourself. You knew just as well as she that she got a sick thrill from how much you needed her.

The corset is soon discarded alongside the rest of your clothing and she traces the curve of your spine, goose bumps rising on your skin like hackles, before choosing your nightgown for the evening from the very wardrobe you despised with each ounce of your body.

She would get you to lift up your arms and have you to stand in the gauzy fabric as she pulls it up your body, not even giving you the chance to huddle in on yourself.

She makes you twirl for her in the centre of the room and her eyes glow in delight as the skirt of your dress fans out and rises before gently falling back down, so close to being indecent but just able to keep from toeing the line she drew. You wonder if the moonlight can penetrate through the thin dresses and illuminate each and every part of you, even the parts you’d rather remain unseen, and if that’s why she makes you do all this, even if she’d never admit it.

She sits you down on your plush footboard and kneels at your feet, blue eyes staring up at you with restrained wonderment. Humming in satisfaction, her hands slowly, painstakingly slowly, push the sheer fabric of your nightgown higher up your legs until you feel the need to cover yourself from her piercing gaze.

Her fingers hook into the tops of your stockings and all you want to do is cross your legs, shove her thin frame away and say no, no, no!

But you know Cait has no patience for that kind of attitude - especially not from you. So you stare down at her, hair free and untamed, and allow her to tug the stockings down your legs, your shaking hands clutching the sturdy underside of the footboard.

She tends to stall at this point, hands instead choosing to lightly stroke and swirl patterns on the doughy flesh of your thighs. Your chest heaves even more than it did before and far beyond what should be humanly possible and you find it hard to understand exactly what is going through her mind at that moment.

Cait wears her heart on her sleeve and though you ache to use that against her, it’s still so hard to pick apart her actions that it leaves your head spinning with the commotion of it all.

Time passes slowly in the still of your room as she inches closer to you, almost imperceptibly, until her head lays on your kneecap so softly you wouldn’t even know she was there if not for the light tickle of her hair.

Her lips leave paper-light kisses on your skin as she mumbles you through the intricacies of her day, things you could never even begin to understand, but you can tell how much it means to her just to be sat with you - the enforcers, her critical mother, every single expectation that is forced upon her shoulders, it all fades into the background as the frown on her face slowly dissipates.

Once she’s content she continues pulling off your stockings until they lie in a crumpled pile on the carpet next to her. You don’t know what she does with the stockings but you never see them again, another of Cait’s great mysteries.

Such an intimate routine that you know is unnervingly chaste. No lingering touches or stolen kisses you can’t object to, it never goes beyond that point and somehow that makes it so much worse because you spend your days in wait for a day that you know will come eventually - you just don’t know when.

She leads you to your grand, four poster bed and tucks you in with such an overwhelming amount of love just oozing from her pores that a part of you almost wishes this was ok, that you met her under normal circumstances and that you actually loved her.

“Beautiful.” she sighs without fail every time she’s done getting you ready, stroking your hair in an attempt to get you to sleep. Though you’re never quite sure if she’s talking about you or her creation.

You slip out of your trance and look at the golden hands on the clock you swore had gone forwards despite no time passing at all. You’re still on the same page you were ten minutes ago - shit.

The curtains were drawn, letting in rays of light that hit the crystal chandelier. You would’ve found the whole affair to be beautiful if it wasn’t for the fact that the light refracted directly into eyes - you had to work hard to resist the urge to squint your eyes or blink.

Caitlyn- fuck, Cait! You feel the urge to rip your hair out at each stumble and mistake. You could never trip up like this in front of her, not if you wanted to steer well clear of her punishments.

Cait doesn’t like to see you make ugly faces or anything even remotely human, “Such… crude expressions don’t suit your face, darling.” She said in that soft tone of hers but the words would be dripping in derision.

Her hand would ghost the side of your face, so close to touching you that you could feel the warmth radiate from her but then she pulls away like she was being held back by some invisible force. But, to your surprise, she pushes through the internal conflicts that raged within her and her hand would return to grace the side of your face and trace from your brow bone down to the apples of your cheeks which she would gently cup, the other hand going to smooth out the lines and tension that marred your forehead before letting out a small, “All better.”

It’s hard to remember what life was like before Caitlyn sunk her claws into you, before you stopped being human and simply became her toy. You don’t know how she managed to take you - all you know is from the loving declarations she whispered in the dead of night about how she would stop at nothing until she got you - as if you would swoon. All you felt was sick to your core.

Click. Click. Click.

You hear footsteps just outside your door and freeze - why is she here so early? You hurry to your assigned place and assume doll-like role Cait expects from you. You can hear fumbling at the lock and the door handle jangling from the force of her hand. Today must have been rough on her which means your evening ritual will last longer than usual. Bile rises up your throat at the thought but you school your features into the perfect mask of neutrality. There, you think, all perfect for Cait.

So you find yourself surprised when instead of Caitlyn in her all-consuming haughtiness, a false pretence you saw through long ago, you see a woman with long blue braids and a ferocious smile stalking towards you without a care in the world.

How did she get past the guards?

“Lookie here, you’re the hidden treasure our fair lady has been keeping hush about. My intel didn’t tell me it’d be so…delicate.” She swung her head back to bark out a sharp laugh as a manicured hand twirled a graffitied gun around her finger. Still, when her laughter stops, she stares at you with a look you can’t decipher, something…darker swirling in her dilated eyes. Something you’re certain you’ve only ever seen in Cait’s eyes.

“Not like she’s doin’ a good job.” She speaks off to the side in a lazy, condescending drawl, a hand covering her mouth, and you search the room for the invisible audience. What is going on? Who is she?

Suddenly, the lithe intruder jumps to your place at the desk, slinging her arm around your shoulders in such a familiar way you can’t help but feel flustered.

“Hiya, toots. I’m Jinx and you are…?” She waggles her hand in your face before trailing off in wait of an answer but you keep your eyes trained in front of you. Not a single movement betrays you.

You can tell this upsets her as the conspiring look on her face quickly turns sour - she’s not used to being ignored.

She swings herself around with surprising dexterity and lands in your lap before you can even process what’s going on - she’s so close you can feel each puff of air leave her nose and hit your face in short bursts.

At this distance, you can notice every little detail that marks her face. The skin surrounding her pink eyes streaked with dark, branch-like veins. Her gap tooth and dark purple lipstick that stained her plump lips. The soft curve of her rounded cheeks and the misbehaving strand of cerulean hair that escapes the confines of her long braids. She smells like gunpowder, sweat and a hint of the cloying sweetness that could only be from artificial sugar. Her clothes are tattered but full of life and personality with each spot she had sloppily sewn back together herself - most importantly, she was everything Cait wasn’t. A welcome breath of fresh air in your own, albeit unnecessary, opinion.

Her cold hands poke at your cheeks in a childlike manner, indignation bubbling up inside of you and so close to bursting out. Why did everyone treat you like an object to be observed and played with?

“You are a real person, right?” The intruder squishes your cheeks together, staring into your eyes with rising suspicion. What kind of question even was that?!

You want to fidget and squirm, desperate to get away from whoever this Jinx is but the cautious voice in your head stops you, what if this was a test from Cait? To see if you would remain loyal to her? To see if you would stick to her rules no matter what?

But she claps her hand with a resounding crack that echoes throughout the room, maybe even the entire wing of the manor judging by how the birds outside took off, and your whole body jumps in shock completely abandoning your desire to remain as still as Cait would expect of you.

“Hah! Caught you! I knew you were real!” She jumps up from your lap and fist pumps the air. She seems so proud of herself for finally eliciting a reaction out of you that you decide it must be ok to test the waters and figure out exactly what is happening here.

“W-who are you and what are you doing in my room?” Your voice is low from disuse but it still manages to catch her attention away from her victory dance.

Her pink eyes wander over your doll-like figure, so unnaturally stiff and composed. It was as if you were posed and left to rot away in your dollhouse until your owner came to play with you again.

“I think I know how ya’ feel, all alone like this. You wanna be happy, tell me I’m wrong.” She shrugs with an air of indifference, but she’s anything but. The cogs have started turning in her head and set into motion a plan she can’t resist despite the immorality of it all. A plan where she saves you from this place so you can be happy - with her. Then again, when has she cared about morals?

Tremors ripple through your body and you gulp, not knowing where to look or what to think. You won’t give in to her downright cruel line of questioning, no matter how much you want to scream out that you were kidnapped and you just want to go home.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You decide to settle on instead, turning your back at the only chance of freedom you had.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong - I mean look at you. You’re dressed up like a stupid Piltie and you’re telling me you can make your own decisions?” Her hand gestures to your get-up and you look down at yourself in shame, face feeling hot and your limbs shaking, “Pfft, and here I thought I was the liar.” She shakes her head in derision.

“I’m about to do you a favour, toots.” Her arm reaches to hold onto the back of your chair, blocking off any path of escape, and she stares dead into your eyes and you can’t help but startle at how cold they are, not even a speck of warmth hiding beneath the surface. She slinks off to stand behind you where you’re unable to figure out what move she’ll try to pull next.

Before you can start to question what she meant, a sharp pain hits you in the base of your skull.

Flashes of colour swim in your vision and the sudden urge to throw up overcomes you before you lose control of your body, slumping over from your seated position and hitting the floor before everything fades to black.

masterlist

[luveline]

Bombshell reader is my queen. What would happen if she like got hold hostage or something? She’s usually so confident, I’m sure going thru that would rough her up. Would Spencer take up the more ‘active’ role and take care of her

tysm for requesting ♡ fem, 1k

Spencer doesn't know if you're aiming for him when you come out but he grabs you as soon as he can get his hands on you. You were running hard enough to wind him, breathless yourself as you gasp into his shoulder. He can't feel you right wearing the FBI vest, desperate to take it off. 

You won't let him go. 

It must've been bad inside to panic you like this. "Are you okay?" he asks, forcing you away to check you over. "Do you need medical?" He's mildly hysterical.

"No," you say, eyes closed, shaking your head until he lets you back into his arms. "I'm fine." 

"You don't sound fine–" 

"Spencer, I'm fine." 

Spencer can't remember the last time you called him Spencer. He's used to Spence, babe, baby, handsome. He's even used to your hand on his elbow to say hello without speaking. So no matter what you say, he knows you're not fine. 

Spencer leads you over to the back of an ambulance, where you glare at him. You've definitely never done that before. 

"I don't need medical–" 

"You have to get checked out." He's definitely never spoken to you like that. Terse, his hands on your arms to stop you from getting up. "Non-negotiable." 

Your eyes shine with betrayal while the EMTs check your vitals. You have a bruise like whiplash against your neck that's tender to the touch, wincing as they prod it with their white gloved fingers. You're acting peculiarly but not outside of the realm of reasonable. 

A car backfires somewhere in the street and you flinch. "Spence," you say, looking up at him through your lashes, "can we go?" 

He waits for a nod. "Yeah, we can go." 

The issue is that you can't stand. You push up, you blink, and you sit down hard again, making a small pained sound from the back of your throat that Spencer cant abide by. "What's wrong with her?" he asks.

"Adrenaline." The EMT squeezes your shoulder affectionately. "You're alright, hun. You can sit here until you feel ready." 

She and her partner take a break in the front of the ambulance and tell you to shout if you need help. Spencer hesitates for a few seconds, looking down at you with a quick assessment of behaviour. He finds the things that are wrong with you —shaking hands, painful contusion against your throat, obvious emotional distress, weak legs— and he runs through options on how he's going to help you. 

Spencer takes your hands into his, just a little smaller, less skinny, and way softer. He doesn't know whether he can truly smell your hand cream or if he knows the scent from the hundreds of times watching your routine. You take it from the pocket in your purse, squeeze the smallest bit from the tub, and rub it in slow circles around your palms. It calms you in your rare wounded moments, and Spencer imitates that now. He draws gentle circles into your skin, the tremble ever so slightly quelled. 

"Is it bad?" he asks you, transferring both of your hands into one. Freed, he trails the knuckles of his left hand parallel to your wicked bruise. 

"It hurts." Your eyes are glassy, your lips in a downturn that turns his heart. "Hurt my ego." 

"He got a cheap shot," Spencer says sympathetically, dipping forward to kiss your jaw just above the bruise. You go still. He worries it was the wrong thing to do, but you crane your head forward into his chest.

Your tired sigh is like a rake.

"It's okay. It's okay." He takes your hand again. "We'll ice it at the hotel. With arnica, it'll be gone in a week."

"I was really scared," you murmur. 

Sitting as you are in the back of the ambulance, he doesn't have to bend much to press your joined hands to his chest. Eyes shut, that close to one another, Spencer swears he can hear your rapid heart. 

"But you made it out. You're always going to make it out, because we have a great team and you're good at what you do. You're strong. Smart. And you're brave, because you got scared and you kept going anyway. You saved someone just now." 

You push him away without malice, your perfect eyebrows pinched up at the starts. "I thought maybe this time I wouldn't make it out. Not like me, huh?" 

Spencer sits next to you in the ambulance, sliding his fingers into yours with more confidence than he feels. "That's easily explainable. Do you know what working memory is?" 

Your stress melds fond. "No." 

"Working memory is one of the brain's systems necessary for thought and function. It's important for everything. And when you're under immense pressure, the strength of your working memory depletes– being in a high stakes situation like that, it's natural to choke. It doesn't mean you underperformed. It doesn't mean you let anyone down." 

"I never said I let someone down." 

"I worried you were thinking about it." 

"I was." Your glassy eyes have clarified. Spencer lets out a breath of relief as you raise your hand to his cheek, stroking it briefly with the back of your fingers. "I'm glad you think that, but I doubt Hotch will say the same thing." 

"Hotch will tell you well done and make you take mandatory leave for a week. We should regroup with the others." Spencer nudges you in the arm. "I'll write your paperwork if you tell me what to say." 

You drop your face into his shoulder. "I'm recovering from a traumatic event. Can't you do the muscle work?" 

"Y/N!" Hotch calls, a phone glued to his ear. "Well done. Nothing else tonight." You smile. "You can do the paperwork when you get back next week." 

"Ugh." 

"Told you. Well done, mandatory leave," Spencer says. 

"Excessive," you mutter into his arm. It takes you a few seconds to warm up, and when you do it's like groundhog day, sunshine filtering through the chill, "Thanks, handsome. For everything." 

[niteshade925]

April 20, Beijing, China, National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆 (Part 2 - Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展 continued):

This was actually the very first piece I encountered at the entrance to the exhibition, a gigantic basket of flowers (probably over 1 meter tall and over 1 meter wide?), the entire thing made of porcelain.

And to reiterate, every part of every piece is porcelain. Though I will say that despite the ultra-realistic shape of the flower petals and leaves, the only detail that hinted at these flowers being made out of porcelain was that the painted colors weren't as vibrant as real flowers. That's it. If you don't examine it up close you really can't tell that it's all porcelain.

This is a good place to roughly introduce the technical side of Dehua white porcelain. The color of Dehua white porcelain mainly comes from the clay it uses, which is a special kaolin clay (gaolingtu/高岭土 in Chinese) found in Dehua. The clay mineral used naturally contains sericite and quartz, both of which are silica minerals and may have contibuted to the almost translucent look of the finished pieces; it also contains comparatively high amounts of potassium oxides, while the amount of iron oxides present is low. Due to the intricate designs of the pieces, the firing success rate may be very low. All those pieces involving super thin parts representing fabric or paper or flower petals? They may bring the success rate down to about 5%. Which means many of these pieces may be the 15th-20th try that finally survived firing. For people who are more interested in the chemistry of Dehua white porcelain, this paper goes into depth about it. There's also a great book in Chinese that goes into depth all about Dehua porcelain. (link goes to the first chapter only)

Continuing on, this is one of many Guanyin/观音 (Avalokiteśvara) statues at the exhibition, again with light clothing made out of porcelain:

More Guanyin statues in various classic depictions/forms, of which there are 33 total. This particular form is called Yulan Guanyin/鱼篮观音 (鱼篮 means fish basket), and comes from a legend where Guanyin transformed into a beautiful female fish vendor in order to guide mortals.

I believe the text here reads 持经观音 (Guanyin holding scripture)? The Guanyin here is holding a vase instead of a scroll though.

This is a classic depiction of Guanyin with a little bit of a modern-ish twist? Guanyin is often depicted with a vase of divine water, but here it forms a circle.

Despite some of the Guanyin statues having the amazing ceramic "clothing", this one remains my favorite, just because of the sense of space and serenity that this simple "frame" design creates:

And this very literal take on "thousand arm Guanyin" (千手观音). It's giving me that "biblically accurate angels" vibe:

Buddha floating atop.......idk what that is but the texture is amazing:

A fully painted statue of Guanyu/关羽. The gradient and detailed patterns on his robes is amazing:

Two identical (I think?) statues of the daomadan/刀马旦 (female commander archetype) character Mu Guiying/穆桂英 as she would appear in Chinese traditional opera, one painted and one unpainted. The word 巾帼英雄 in the title means "hero in women's headscarf", which is a term used exclusively in reference to female heroes. There's also the phrase "巾帼不让须眉", which roughly means "those in women's headscarves aren't inferior to those with beards and thick brows"

Porcelain depiction of Dunhuang's famous feitian/飞天 figures, in the classic pose of playing pipa in reverse (called 反弹琵琶). The clothing on this figure is made of porcelain, but this time also painted:

A porcelain statue of a couple in traditional Lhoba/Luoba/珞巴 clothing. The Lhoba/Luoba people are one of China's 55 少数民族 who mainly live in the south-eastern region of Tibet Autonomous Region, and as of 2019, it is the 少数民族 with the smallest population

A porcelain statue of a woman in traditional Miao/苗 clothing. I love how the artist recreated the traditional Miao silver crown in porcelain.

Painted porcelain bust of a woman wearing the Xunbu/蟳埔 "flower crown", named a zanhuawei/簪花围. The town of Xunbu in Fujian province is known for its tradition of zanhua/簪花, or wearing flowers in one’s hair.

Porcelain statue of a Buddhist monk wearing a zhiduo/直裰 (the robes on the inside) and a jiasha/袈裟 (काषाय/kasaya; the garment on the outside that drapes over the left shoulder). From its looks, one can tell that zhiduo originated from hanfu, but with some minor changes (sidenote, this is not the same as the zhiduo of Ming-era hanfu). Jiasha evolved from the clothing of Indian Buddhist monks, but there appears to be a lot of influence from Central Asia and ancient Greece as well (link goes to pdf; this article is in Chinese).

Some modern-themed pieces. Look at those dresses omg

A porcelain statue of Hua Mulan/花木兰, the character from traditional Chinese literature and opera that inspired the Disney character. I will say though this pose reminds me of someone else.......

[etherealrin]

Hey! Love your works, it's really nice to read them and I just love your style💖, may I request an isagi x reader but the reader is kaiser's little sibling? It sounds fun ☺️

⋆｡˚꩜ a comprehensive tutorial on how to piss off michael kaiser in his penthouse; by yoichi isagi.

yoichi isagi just wants to hang out with you...but your brother is making it quite uncomfortable

warnings: slight violent descriptions (as a joke), michael kaiser gives you no privacy, one mention of google translated german // wc: 957

note: i was giggling the entire time writing this LMAOO imo such a funny dynamic, the rivalry goes crazy.

your bubbly laughs that echo through the penthouse allow isagi to relax, just a little bit. the environment is new to him, and he’s afraid that the smallest slip-up will result in his head being chopped off by one of the rather large, menacing butcher knives lined against the marble kitchen walls.

but what’s even more threatening is the way kaiser is glaring at him, blue gaze more piercing than any dagger.

“micha, you’re making yoi uncomfortable,” you begin, shooting the blonde haired man your own look of annoyance. you turn your attention away from the mixing bowl in front of you to interlace your fingers with yoichi’s, trying to offer him some comfort. isagi wonders if theres nervous sweat on them.

“he’s in my penthouse, with my sibling? am i meant to leave him unattended, to let this donkey roam around with free will?” kaiser huffs, arms crossing.

yikes, was he in a mood today.

“you’re calling my boyfriend a donkey?” yeah, you were ready to throw hands right there.

isagi had practically jumped for joy when you’d invited him over to bake cookies. he somehow managed to forget that you were rival’s little sibling, and that your house was technically also michael’s—of course he would own a penthouse with a city view. michael was an oddly protective elder brother, or maybe his rivalry with yoichi just ran that deeply; was it not enough for isagi to steal the soccer ball on court? did he have to steal michael’s bloodline too?

“go, um, read a psychology book or something,” you say, wanting to get your brother off the scene. “hang out with ness! i’m sure he’d love to!”

yoichi nods his head hurriedly in agreement.

“you think you two are getting rid of me that easily? that’s-“ your brother is cut off mid-scoff, his phone ringing loudly and persistently. you snicker, knowing that you were about to win.

“was zum teufel,” michael spits, picking up the line.

“no, ness, i’m busy…what? you seriously can’t drive yourself? can’t i…uh….i guess you’re right,” he seems to be arguing with ness, going back and forth.

“you two lucky idiots are getting your wish,” michael snaps as he hangs up, hurrying out the door. before it closes, a warning: “isagi, if you try anything, i’ll screw you over before you can blink twice.”

“yeah yeah, shitty rose.” yoichi’s ego gets the best of him. great, now he’d been rude to your brother in front of you!

but you don’t seem to mind, maybe you didn’t care, humming softly as you add chocolate chips to the mix.

"you need to move out," yoichi doesn't think he can visit you if this is how your brother was going to be.

“hmmm, could be worse. what if we made s’mores cookies?” you reply excitedly.

“the ones with marshmallows?”

“yep! i think i have them somewhere,” you pull him into your startling large pantry. the size is almost that of a grocery aisle, and it’s stocked with an insane amount of protein powder—likely your brother’s doing—but you find the small package of the fluffy white sweets tucked away in a corner.

except, you can’t quite get to it, the nook being far above your head.

“let me,” yoichi says, reaching up. he has to be on the tips of his toes, curse michael kaiser for being so damn tall!

as yoichi fumbles above you for a bit, he doesn’t notice the odd position he’s forced you into, your back flush against the shelves. you’re not that much shorter than him, but he’s gripping onto your shoulder for support, and the proximity makes you flustered. he smells good, crisp and clean, a hint of citrus in the mix.

with a small flop, the bag finally comes crashing down, along with yoichi’s balance. he lets out a startled yelp, hurriedly latching onto your other shoulder.

oh.

you blink, fazed by his deep aquamarine eyes, and the way that your noses are practically touching. his breath is ticklish, irregular from the earlier struggle, and a cherry red blush painted across his entire face.

you’re both too scared to move, stuck in the haze, should you move? closer? maybe further?

it’s like that for an agonizingly long second—still—until yoichi chooses for the both of you, his fingertips make contact with your jaw and they’re warm, hot like the kiss he suddenly pulls you into.

you’re far too eager to reciprocate, hands finding their way into his soft dark locks. the cookie batter stays neglected on the sleek white countertop, both of you distracted and lost in another world.

when your lungs threaten to implode from lack of air, that’s when you pull away, gasping softly.

your boyfriend’s face is ten times redder now.

“sorry, i- i should’ve asked first,” yoichi stammers, flustered and unable to meet your eyes.

“it’s fine, i like you when you’re confident, yoi,” you smile, twisting a strand of his hair.

you fail to notice how the front door had opened, and you’re greeted with michael kaiser standing in the hallway, gawking at the two of you.

“why’s he in my pantry?” michael’s pissed now. “of all damn places, could you two not make out in the middle of my protein powder? seriously, that is gross. i won’t be able to drink that shit now!”

“oops,” you giggle. “you’re just upset that you don’t have someone.” your brother lets out an indignant huff, ready to start hell as he marches closer. you’re still snickering.

unfortunately, yoichi cannot find any of this nearly as funny as you do—no, he’s already thinking about the hell your brother’s going to give him during the game tomorrow, convinced that both of the kaisers would be the death of him.

a/n: michael says "what the hell" in german, i just wanted to make it diverse idk. like genuinely isagi is lucky if he makes it through the week dating a kaiser sibling...kaiser is not giving his blessing for the wedding LMFAO

masterlist!

[fatty-lit]

September 30th, 2024 9:05pm

Swiping through hinge. Her prompts are funny, but thoughful. She's definitely cute, but most of her pics are cropped or taken from such an angle as to not totally reveal her body type, but there is one less guarded picture taken at what looks like a friend's wedding that reveals a bit of chubbiness in the arms and maybe even a little roundness in the mid-section.

I do my best to think of somethin witty for an opening line.

October 3rd, 2024 2:03pm

While casually perusing the shelves, I check my phone, and there's a text saying she's here. I look around and towards the romance section - that's what she said I should stop her from buying.

There you are. Tight blue jeans and an over-sized cable knit sweater. Even though it was on your profile, you're taller than I expected.

"Is it you?"

Your head turns around, and once you see me and register recognition, your body follows. Your curly, bobbed hair frames the exact radiant smile advertised on your profile. Your deep blue eyes are magnified by your oversized glasses. Your face is just the slightest bit fuller than I remember from your profile, however, the sweater shrouds any conclusions I might be able to make about your body type.

Coffee chat is great. There's great banter right off the bat. You're very easy to talk to, but also hard set in your opinions, which makes for fun and challenging converstaion. Many of those opinions are about food. I'm new to town, so you give me a complete and detailed run-down of every restaraunt worth trying within 20 miles. The way you talk about food is so sensual, so passionate. It's captivating. One of the restaraunts you recommend is only a block away. It's not quite 5 yet, but the conversation is going well enough and we both seem to be enjoying eachother enough that I hazard an "Are you hungry?" then a "Do you wanna get some food?"

It's a ramen place and you get yours fully loaded. I love watching you strategically slurp, swallow, and savor every last noodle. It's so cute watching you try to talk through a mouth full of ramen. Broth dripping down your chin. The self conscious giggle when it dribbles on your sweater. Yours goes a lot faster than mine and the conversation keeps flowing.

"Wanna get some ice cream?" Your eyes light up, and you make it very clear that you're never going to turn down ice cream. As we walk to the shop, you adjust your jeans a couple times. They're obviously not fitting as well after the meal. It's just a split second when the sweater gets lifted just enough that I catch the smallest flash of soft white flesh being bitten by a tight denim waistband. There's some surprise, unadvertised softness there.

It's getting dark and it's a Sunday, so I offer you a ride home. Outside your house I give you a single long kiss. We promise eachother we'll do it again.

November 9th 2024 6:31pm

Dinner was great. You weren't shy with the appetizer and cleaned your plate. Plus two beers before dinner and another during. A girl who can put things away. The ice cream gambit somehow passes again. You weren't lying when you said you'd never turn it down.

Back to your place and this time I'm invited in.

Making out on your couch and I finally start to get a sense of your body. Not a big girl by any means, but under the sweater I can feel some evidence that you enjoy your indulgences. Round arms with some softness and just enough tummy to make me understand why you love your baggy sweaters. The beers, the appetizers, the dinner, and the obligatory ice cream certainly haven't minimized anything in that area.

Then the sweater's off and I can see how much strain is being put on those jeans. I get the impression that they fit a lot better in the not-so-distant past. I can tell your sucking in while I work on the button and once it's undone I hear and feel you exhale your relief. There's an angry red impression of a waistband circumnavigating your abdomen.

As my lips make their way down your body, they linger on your belly. Undoubtedly bloated but still with a seductive outer layer of softness.

November 10th 2024 10:13am

It's not until you finally get out of bed that I get the privilege of taking in your body as a whole in the soft morning light streaming in through sheer curtains. Smooth thighs and a modest but soft ass. Wide hips. A soft pooch significantly less pronounced after a night of digestion. Tits are a perky B cup and your round face is just as radiant first thing in the morning.

January 2nd 2025 5:54pm

The door is unlocked because you're expecting me. Knobs creak and the hiss of water quiets and then stops. You holler from the bathroom a greeting and that you'll be out in a minute. I take the opportunity to set the bags down on the coffee table and slip the pint of Ben & Jerry's into the freezer for later.

When you emerge, you're already in your PJs getting fully equipped for a night in. We go through the usual motions. You tell me how long your day was. How excited you are to relax tonight. How happy you are that I was down for a low key evening. I'm waiting for you on the couch listening and nodding and occasionally commenting on your words as you crack a couple beers and finally come join me. Once plopped down, you lean in to kiss me. Your hair is still wet from the shower and I feel a cold damp curl brush against my face. Then without missing a beat you open the laden take-out bag. "Oh my God YES! Thank you for grabbing this on your way over" as you heft out a full-sized burrito. "I'm *starving*! I've been looking forward to this all day!"

The opening credits roll across the TV and you start tearing into the fully-loaded burrito. Extra sour cream and guac just as you like it.

"My buddy recommended their carne asada quesadilla. You're welcome to try it" I offer, non-chalantly.

"Babe, you got a burrito and a quesadilla? You must have had an even longer day than me." But it's not for me. I'm trying a bit of an experiment, and I feel a tinge of guilt about it. All of our encounters center around food. Even if the main event of the date isn't supposed to be food, it always ends up circling back around to a big meal, and with each meal I've become more and more obsessed with watching you eat. It's so passionate, so unrestrained. You've always cleaned your plate with ease, and I just have to know how much you can fit in that belly before it starts to slow you down.

So the quesadilla is not for me. I just have to see if you'll eat it. I feel sneaky conducting an experiment on you like this, but I just can't take it. I'm obsessed. I have to know. So when I see you're just about to finish your burrito, I set the trap. I lay out the 12" quesadilla on the coffee table with a side of sour cream to entice you. It's cut up into six sections and I break the seal by taking the first one myself. It's dense and greasy. I know you'll love it and let you know. Your burrito is gone before long and you avow fullness, but sure enough after not-even-a-minute has passed, you idly slather a dollop of sour cream on a slice and start munching. You moan with pleasure and side eye me with an approving look and nod. In 20 minutes you're cleaning the last of the sour cream out of the cup with the last bite of the last slice.

That's my cue to grab the ice cream out of the freezer.

"Are you serious? A whole burrito, a quesadilla, and you're going for desert?" Aparantly you've kept the illusion that we split the quesadilla. "You're on your own, babe. I'm absolutely stuffed... And please, don't let me eat any of your quesadilla next time." You let out a performative groan and place your hands on your belly to show just how full you say you are.

As I sit down you lay back with a more sincere groan and rest your head on my lap. I take the first couple bites to myself to entice you, and sure enough, you catch my eyes and look up at me with your mouth open expectantly. Obediently, I spoon you a lump of rich, fatty cream. We alternate bites until about halfway through - as per usual - I stop eating my share and feed the rest to you.

By the time the movie's over you've eaten and entire burrito, all but a slice of a carne asada quesadilla, and appoximately 3/4s of a pint of ice cream, and you're feeling it. "Fuck, babe. You can't let me eat like that!" you whine "mmm... I'm so bloated."

I couldn't tell you what happened in a single scene of that movie, but I could recount in detail every single bite you took during that feast. Your head is still in my lap, so I know you're aware how hard I've been this whole time.

"Don't be mad, baby, but my stomach is too uncomfy to have sex tonight." Your breathing is strained and the occasional whimper escapes your lips.

"I need to go lie down" you say rubbing your distended belly under your loose, flowing nighty. "Will you cuddle me?" You pause as you waddle towards your bedroom and turn back to me. "And seriously, babe... sometimes you gotta take the food out of my hands."

I oblige the first request, but I've already decided that the extra servings are now a permanent part of the routine.

March 5th 2025 12:14pm

Social media reveals more to the story. Scroll back a year and we find a rail thin runner with toned muscles. A girl with medals and scholarships. Great distances on foot at impressive speeds. A girl with a strict workout regiment and extremely limited diet.

Then sometime around last spring there's a gap and when pics resume being posted in the fall the tight running outfits are no where to be seen. No pictures of you crossing finish lines with a drained expression. The focus is more on friends and food and beer. Smiles with a much less chisiled jawline. No more pictures in sports bras, but it seems a safe bet that those toned abs might a bit more hidden from here on out.

April 9th 2025 9:43pm

Conversation fills the story in even more. Growing up in an athletic family. Finding a knack for running in middle school and authority figures latching onto it. Keep working out. Eat right. Win. Years of praise for athletic acheivement and a toned body. Scholarships to go run in college. More pressure to push further. Run harder. Maintain. Extra weigtht only slows you down.

College ends and so does the competition, but not the conditioning. You're valued for your physique and athleticisim. What would you be if that was gone? What else is there? Just you?

What do you actually enjoy? How does your body want to be treated?

June 23rd 2025 10:58am

"Babe! The pancakes are ready!" I shout from the kitchen, but get no reply. You're supposed to be getting ready for the first beach day of the season with some mutual friends. "Babe? Everything okay in there?"

I see you there standing naked in front of the full length mirror. You're looking absolutely plump these days. We've been hanging out almost constantly. Most nights I'm either staying at your place or you're staying at mine, which means I'm either bringing or cooking you a feast most nights of the week. And everytime you eat until you're groaning. You're not even shy about it anymore. The little game we played at the beginning where I pretend to share the desert with you is dated. I just hand you the ice cream and you go to town. The donuts I bring to your house in the morning are all for you. The transition has occurred unspoken.

The bodily changes to this point have only been spoken of at a distance. An offhand remark about some pants no longer fitting. Another about a dress being too tight. No more than a handful in the months of constant growth. But it's been much more than a handful of pounds added. Smooth and supple thighs turned into large wobbly trunks of squish and cellulite. A cute shapely - if tastefully soft - ass widened out, made flabby and covered in dimples. That cute almost-pot belly made round, prominent, and unobscurable through near constant engorgement. On the verge of hanging any day now, but kept round by the newness of its fat and how fast it has all accumulated. A true wonder that pregnancy questions have yet to be proffered. A slightly pudgy, sorta curvy girl turned into a wide and round pear through her own ignorant gluttony.

The changes are all too obvious and prominent. The epitome of desirability to me. I tell you everyday, multiple times a day how beautiful I think you are, and how attracted I am to you at all times, but I haven't found the right moment to get into certain specifics of my attraction. This is partially because your feelings about your changing body have not been made known. It's created a strange tension. It's impossible that you're as ignorant as you seem. There's going to come a moment when you have to address it. When you're going to have to ask how have you gotten so fat and what are you going to do about it?

. . . Or you secretly love the changes. You love fattening yourself up *and* the changes that come with it. I mean, obviously you love what goes into making yourself this fat: copious amounts of rich and decadent food meticulously shoved into your ever greedier gut. But maybe you also love the result? Maybe you also love the soft sensuality. The evidence of pure gluttonous hedonism. But then why not be more open about it? Maybe your in the same position I am? Unwilling to share for fear of the other's reaction? Ashamed of actually liking being fat.

You don't notice me staring at you. You're too caught up with what you see in the mirror. I pause a moment to take in what I'm seeing. From the doorway I get a perfect profile view. It's truly impressive how far your gut is protruding today. Out past the tits - which, while definitely growing larger and softer, have been decidedly outpaced - and gradually curving until below the belly button where a particularly soft mound of fat curves quickly down and in to the subtle crease that separates your proturding gut from your deliciously fattened pubic mound. Looking up toward you face, you have the cutest round of fat below the chin, which wraps around obscuring your jawline completely and blending perfectly with your signature round chubby cheeks and greedy lips.

But then I see your eyes. Those usually radiant blue beacons are pink and puffy and I realize whats going on.

Without saying a word, I walk up behind you and wrap my arms around you. My body pressed comfortably into your soft ass and my arms sinking into your plump curves. A kiss on the neck "What's wrong baby?"

"Look at this" your voice shaky and you trace with your pudgy fingers faint pink parentheses forming on either side of your belly button. A sob escapes. "I'm a fucking pig" *sob* "I used to have abs!"

I knew this conversation was inevitable and imminent, but I never prepared, and now I'm choking on my words. How much do I say? Do I deny the obvious? Minimize? Just tell you how hot it's been watching you become a pig? Watching you stuff your growing body day after day? That those faint stretch marks are some of the hottest things I've ever seen? I try to give a little bit of space between us, because I don't want you to feel how hard I'm getting from you referring to yourself as a pig. It seems like an inopportune moment for an erection. "Baby, I . . ." Nothing comes.

"I'm so sorry!" *another sob* "You must be so disgusted with what I've done to myself!"

"No, baby! I'm more attracted to you now than the day we met. I find you sexier every single day. I tell you that all the time and I always mean it. You've put on a little weight, but you know I love your curves." It's the best I can manage, and it seems to have mitigated things, but I know I've only delayed what I should have come out with right then.

"You don't have to say that . . ." The sobbing has stopped but your face is still red and puffy and you're still sniveling as tear slide down your round cheeks. "Nobody is attracted to this," and you grab the roll of your lower belly and shake it. We both watch in the mirror as ripples roll up the curve of your gut and bounce your tits. I'm fully cocked beneathe my jeans and finding it even harder to think.

I grab you by your wide, soft hips and spin you around away from the mirror to face me. One hand reaches up to your puffy pink face to wipe a tear off your soft cheek. "You know how sexy I think you are. Haven't I told you enough times? Don't I show you every day?" My other hand slowly makes its way up. Gently tracing your curves and delicately fingering your side rolls before abrubtly heading back down to your spacious, fat ass and pulling you in tight to me. Your soft belly squishes up against me before anything else, and the area right below your belly button presses right into my crotch and I know you can feel me pressing through my jeans.

The look in your eye changes from sorrow to lust as you take your queue to start unbuttoning my pants. "Good girl."

. . .

You decide to go for less pancakes than usual, but it's followed by a particularly heavy lunch and above average amount of snacking before dinner.

July 6th, 2025 11:37am

You return to the couch with a long slice of leftover pizza from the night before, dangling the tip above your head and lowering into your mouth for the first bite. It's only been an hour since you cleaned a couple plates of french toast - I didn't keep track of slices of bacon this time - but this isn't out of the ordinary.

The twist comes when you climb up on top of me to straddle my lap. Another bite of pizza. You're not usually much of a lap girl. You've gotten to be a big girl as I've remained fairly lanky. You don't even take the top during sex very often. This was the case even before the bulk of the weight gain, but now you get visibly winded from that sort of exertion. The weight is a lot to handle, but I'm not complaining.

You pull your robe back to display every roll. In a distracted tone you say, "I think you like fat girls," and take another bite of pizza as if you're trying to underscore how decietfully nonchalant your last statement was.

My mouth opens but nothing comes out as I feel my face get flush. This is not how I expected the morning to go, but I'm getting the feeling that this has been in the chamber for a few days. I'm exactly where you want me.

"I've been thinking a lot since my little break-down last weekend about what I want to do. I know I've gotten fat." The hand not holding the pizza finds its way to your soft belly and idly carresses it. "Ever since I quit track, I've been gaining weight. I felt so limited for so long, and it felt so unhealthy even when I was young, but I was told it was necessary. I did really enjoy competing, but it came at a cost I never took the time to consider. I felt distant from my own body, and everything in my life was structured around the time it took me to run around the track. The thrill of competition had subsumed everything else I used to enjoy. I wasn't even sure what those things were anymore."

Another bite of pizza before continuing slightly muffled through a mouth full of food. "After I quit, I wanted to rehabilitate my relationship with my body, with food, and with myself in a healthy way. I made the conscious decision not to think about it, follow what brought me joy, and see where it goes. I was rail thin - that was only a few months before you met me - so of course some weight started to come on. I got to a 'healthy weight' in basically no time, and it felt great. It didn't cross my mind to stop there."

Another bite, and now you're rambling. You seem lost in your own thoughts; letting loose the pressure they've built up inside your head. My eyes are fixated on you but your eyes are off somewhere else. "By the time I met you I was feeling pudgy and just getting back into dating. I was honestly feeling pretty insecure, but you immediately made me feel beautiful. I felt so free with you. I had gotten so good at not thinking and following joy and pleasure, and you were bringing me so much of both. You really felt like the embodiment of what I had been calling into my life."

More pizza. A little bit of sauce on your chin gets wiped off with your free hand before returning it to rest on your stomach. "I know it's kind of your fault." A little smirk flashes on your face as you take a pause to look at me for a moment observe mine getting even redder before returning your gaze to the distance beyond the walls of our living room. "But not completely." I audibly exhale. "You just facilitated - and maybe expedited - the process I was already in the midst of. I was the one constantly making the unconscious decision to keep eating everything you put in front of me. Your main contibution to all of this," and you trace the curve of your belly with a light stroke of your finger to make sure there was no confusion of what 'this' referred to, "was reinforcement. You kept reminding me I was beautiful, and I could feel you meant it with every look and every enthusiastic night. And as embarrassed and insecure as I've been feeling, I actually was feeling beautiful in a way, in large part thanks to you. Maybe I feel it now more than I ever have . . . I feel so femine with my soft curves after feeling so hard and mechanical during my life as an athlete. I feel like I'm really in my own body." This last remark makes your eyes start to well up as they continue to stare off into nothing.

Another bite, and it's almost gone. "But my favorite part - the part I always come back to - has been the freedom of indulgence. I've been able to just eat and eat anything and everything I want at anytime, and because I'm with you, without judgement. I just *looove* the feeling of having my belly filled to the brim with delicious food. I feel so decadent and nourished. It's a feeling I was never allowed to have or allowed myself to have for pretty much my entire life. I just can't seem to get enough of it. Everytime I've gotten lost in my insecurities and think about stopping or slowing down, I just think about the joy of free indulgence, the safety and satisfaction of a full belly, and she begins to grumble," and you softly circle your round hanging paunch with the palm of a pudgy hand. "I just don't think I want to stop . . ."

You shove the remaining hunk of crust in your mouth and slowly come out of your revery and look down at me, face flush and looking up at you with mouth agape. I'm starting to really feel your weight crushing my legs and impeding blood flow.

Now your face gets flushed after you realize the extent of all you've just shared. You're feeling shy again all of a sudden and avert your eyes from my star struck gaze. The two seconds of tension feels like an eternity for us both.

"Baby . . ." I pause trying to process everything I've just heard while my thighs scream at me to get this massive load off of me. "I . . . I don't want you to stop. And for my part, I couldn't stop feeding you if I tried. My greatest joy is spoiling and pampering you. Watching you indulge the way you do is the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed. I want nothing more than to help you continue to fulfill your desires for the rest of my life. I love you. I love everything about you, and I love every inch of you, and I love you even more with every added inch. I do like fat girls, but I love you, and I'd love you at any size." Now my hands are beginning to explore and grope and squeeze every delectable roll they find. "But I am glad your are the size you are. I've always only ever wanted to spoil you: to give you everything you desire, and the way your gorgeous body has developed if just a bonus." I pull the robe off your shoulders to reveal the whole mass of your big blubbery body, then I pull you in closer to me feeling my torso sink into the squish of all your accumulated lard and kiss you on your greedy, greasy pursed lips.

[jo-speaks]

Hi, Can I request a crybaby! reader x Quinn where the reader cries easily 😭 I love your writing btw! tysm 🌸

SWEET BLUES

overview: even the smallest gifts can get you overwhelmed with emotions.

warnings: none!

note: i absolutely love this request!! i did keep it short, but i hope you enjoy, sweet nonnie <3

You wouldn’t say you were sensitive, per se. But emotional? One hundred percent.

It didn’t matter if the situation made you extremely joyful, incredibly sad, or anything in between, but it truly felt as if you had no control over it as soon as the first tear slipped. It was like trying to build a dam to hold back all the water that fell from Niagara Falls. 

So when you first started dating Quinn, it was a shock to him, to say the least. 

Quinn knocked on your apartment door, waiting for you to grace him with the presence of not only yourself but the warmth of your apartment which heavily contrasted with the cool Vancouver air. 

You opened the door, a smile appearing on your face as you met eyes with your boyfriend of eight months. “Hey, you.” 

He chuckled at your greeting, “Hi, baby.”

Opening the entrance further, Quinn stepped into your place, immediately crowding your space to place a cold-lipped kiss on your warm ones. You relaxed in his hold, before being distracted by the sound of faint rustling. You pulled away, your eyes following the directions given by your ears. 

Looking down, you noticed Quinn was holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers. He followed your gaze, lifting them to your hold. 

“I noticed the ones I got you last month were wilting, so I figured I’d restock them myself.” He admitted, causing a warm feeling to rush to your cheeks. 

You didn’t say anything, opting to pull him in with your arms slung tightly around his broad shoulders. He leaned down to hold you close, wrapping his arms around your waist, trying not to make you uncomfortable with the wrapping of his gift. 

“Thank you.” You sniffled, your voice barely audible as your mouth was muffled against his shirt. 

Quinn pulled away from you, feeling a damp patch on his shoulder. He immediately found your eyes the guilty culprit, redness replacing the usual white of your pupil with tears falling from them like a stream.

“Are you okay? Why are you crying?” He asked, panic setting in. 

You nodded, smiling at him. “It’s just a really sweet gesture. I really appreciate it, Q.” 

He laughed at your reaction, not understanding how flowers made you cry this badly, but regardless, he was glad you liked his gift enough to induce tears.

“C’mon. Let’s get these in some water and then watch a movie or something, hm?” He suggested, wanting to do more than just stand with you as you cried. 

You choked out a reply, taking the bouquet from his hand and walking into the kitchen to replace the dying flowers from their home. You set them aside, wanting to use the dried petals for cute memorabilia you’d most likely end up keeping for yourself or gifting to Quinn.

Quinn took the vase, pouring out the polluted liquid and replacing it with fresh water from the tap. He brought it back over, wrapping his arms around your waist as you cut the tips of the stems of the flowers before placing them into the refreshed dish.

“Looks great,” Quinn mumbled, placing an innocent kiss on your neck. 

When you didn’t answer, Quinn quirked an eyebrow before leaning over your shoulder to notice even more tears slipping from your eyes. 

This time, he couldn’t help but let out a full-throated laugh. Not at you, but at your reaction. 

“Baby! What is it now?” He asked, trying to contain himself. 

You shared a wet laugh with him, “It’s just- I don’t know!”

The two of you laughed together, tears yet to halt their release. Quinn held you close, his warm, gasping breaths tickling your neck as he tried to stop himself. 

Eventually, you both calmed down. Quinn turned you around to face him, placing a loving kiss on your forehead, then your nose, and ending on your lips, his kiss lingering as he tasted the saltiness that had dripped onto your mouth. 

“You’re such a crybaby.” He teased, his tone endearing. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Whatever.”

He chuckled, “Might have to start carrying tissues with me if this is how you’re gonna react whenever I get you a gift.”

“Honestly, that might be a good idea.”

[bodythieves]

shane mccutcheon x you | cw: intox!makeout, slight fingering?, dirty talk-ish | stoner!shane, neighbor!shane, anxious!reader (is that how i label this shit?)

THIS IS RLY LONG!

okay, okay. let's be honest here: you are not one for change. you are not one to break out of your routine, one to sway from your typical path. no, rather, you are steadfast in every moment of your day, to an absolute t. some of your friends like to tease you until your skin feels hot, and you look down at your feet. you have a google calendar (your lord and savior) and a prescription for an unnamed anxiety medication that you'd-rather-not-talk-about.

and shane. oh, god, shane mccutcheon. shane was your neighbor in a shitty LA apartment, a hairstylist/absolute fucking menace. every other day, she's sitting on the stoop, feet flat on the ground and elbows on her knees, a cigarette dangled between her lips. she'd smile, check you out- go to say something. but you- being you, of course- would quickly swing open the and duck inside.

today was particularly awful for you, though. your therapist had broken up with you. he was moving to a new practice, they didn't accept your insurance, and you had just gotten so comfortable. remember how we made it known that you weren't great with change? the smallest thing could make you itch. make you feel as if you had lost everything, like it all was over. so, understandably, you were having a meltdown inwardly that you couldn't let out until you reached the sanctuary of your one bedroom apartment and closed that manager's-special, white door. except you wouldn't be doing that, no. not now. because you felt your face betray you as you neared the pathway that led to the glass vestibule of the apartment complex. there she was.

"oh, look," she snorts softly through her nostrils, her lips quirking up into a smile upon seeing your own (even if it was microscopic). she had just sat down to smoke as you neared, her lithe frame hunched over as she picked through a paper cigarette pack. "didn't know you were able to do that." tracking shane's movements, your eyes followed the brunette as her slender fingers plucked out a cigarette, and brought it to that smug grin.

"I've smiled at you before." you said this far quicker than you would've liked to. quick enough that shane could tell you were already nervous. your paces brought you to the cement set of steps before the vestibule, the glass reflecting a soft glare from the setting LA sun. as you came closer, you let your gaze drift over her. shaggy brown hair, a charming disposition- definitely was trying to make you laugh. you cleared your throat, then looked back at Shane's cigarette before she lit it. "do you.. care if i bum one of those?"

um, who the fuck is that? why are you asking for a cigarette right now? oh, that’s right. you were being you when faced with uncomfortable amounts of difference in your typical day-to-day life. your therapist dumped you, your job is mundane, your family is incessantly nagging you, your anxiety is never-

“oh?” shane perked up, the filter of her cigarette now between her teeth as she smiled, rather than her lips. dark green eyes sparkled playfully, but her brows pushed up in an attempt to feign sympathy. she could tell you were feeling off today. after all, you were speaking. “yeah, sure, of course,” she said, fingering open the back with her thumb and taking a look. something about shane’s voice sounded so teasing. as if she wanted to sound like she’d take care of you, like she was worried. her left hand moved up to pull the cigarette from her teeth and her tongue darted out to wet the corner of her lip. A small tsk could be heard from her. “mm.. I only got my lucky left. you don’t care to share, do you?”

you were gonna faint. you were gonna fall over, die, cream your fucking pants. yeah, of course, you thought shane was hot before. why else would you avoid her every time she tried to holler at you? you couldn’t handle that. like we established earlier- you’re a hazard when your schedule is disturbed. but now? right here, standing just a couple feet away from a shane, engaging in conversation, breaking your perfectly time-alotted pattern? the thing that kept you distracted from all the shit of your daily experience? you’d never seen anything hotter.

you felt your body begin moving against your will, sitting down beside shane without missing a beat. your feet became brutus, your mind julius, crying why! you too?! you’re betraying me! as you turn and allow the backs of your sneakers to hit the cement step, lowering yourself down. part of it was definitely to show yourself off to shane. at least a little bit. if you were going to deter from your repetitive habits, why not be a little risky? flirt a little? on the other, you just needed to know that another person was real. what better proof is proximity? “yeah, that’s cool,” your voice is quiet as you take in the sight of shane so close and in such pretty light, your nerves absolutely eating at you.

her lighter was lime green and struggled to spark at first. instinctively, you reach out. you cup your hand around the lighter and use your fingers to hide shane’s cigarette. smoke curls from her nose and she pulls her face away, pinching her brows together as the cigarette began to spark. nodding a silent thank you for your assistance. hush sounds of burning paper, then a cloud of smoke, exhaled through the woman’s nose- you begin to forget. why had you never really spoken to her before? why do you avoid interaction like this?

“well,” shane mumbled from the butt of the cigarette, more smoke leaving her nose. “you have a pretty smile.”

you and shane sit in a friendly silence for a moment, but it’s quickly changing. you can feel that shane is checking you out. of course she is- you’re insanely cute. with high features that are just soft enough, making you so easily approachable. if only you weren’t an anxiety attack on legs! taking a glance at her, you can feel your heart pick up motion in your chest, thrumming inside of your work uniform. shane puts her fingers to her lips and pulls the cigarette away with her thumb and forefinger.

“you smoke weed?” you asked her, raising your eyebrow. your fingers moved, taking the cigarette between your own thumb and finger.

“uh,” she said, starting to let out a chuckle. “i mean, yeah. why?”

“you hold it like you’re smoking a joint.”

“hm,” shane smirked a little, letting you take the cigarette from between her fingers. “do you smoke?”

you shrug a little, taking a slow pull from the dart of tobacco, letting the thick smoke hit your throat and sit for a second. it had been a long time since you’d had one, and it always felt so right when you needed it. “sometimes,” you said, still holding your drag in your throat. “gives me bad anxiety on occasion. try to steer away from it.”

“damn,” shane’s green eyes rake over the side of your face, taking in your features as you blew out a faint stream of smoke. “you think this could be one of your sometimes?”

you pass the cigarette back, turning your head slightly to the left so you can look at shane. a sheepish expression crosses your lips and you mull over the thought. but only for a minute.

“yeah. honestly, i could probably use it.” what was a little more change? what was a little more anxiety? at this point, neither could push you any further than you already were. your response to shane’s question caused the brunette to smirk around the filter of the cigarette, and she nodded as she exhaled. you two sat for a few minutes after, sharing the smoke. there weren’t really any words spoken, but the lack of conversation was made up for in exchanged glances. you took a final drag of the cigarette, then dropped it on the ground and used the toe of your shoe to step it out.

simultaneously, you and shane stood on your feet from the stoop of the apartment complex. you looked her over- taking in her tall and dangly frame, hidden beneath a dark gray zip up and loose jeans, hanging from her hips. her shaggy hair was flippy and chopped, a small blonde tuft in the back. she was.. god, she was actually so cute. you looked away for a second, remembering that you were about to join her. upstairs. in her apartment. and smoke weed. with hot cheeks, you turned on your sneaker and moved on to the cement steps, pacing towards the glass door and slipping your key inside. shane’s presence was looming. literally. you felt her come up behind you and grab ahold of the metal frame just above your head, pulling it open wider so you could get in.

christ, you thought. you were betraying everything you knew: routine, mundanity, consistency. to go hang out with your neighbor who brought home new girls every other night, who smoked out the whole complex, who always smiled at you when she saw you. fuck, fuck, fuck- sneakers, both yours and shane’s, lightly thudded on the linoleum steps of the apartment hallway, bouncing off walls. jeez, focus long enough, you were certain you could hear your heartbeat echo back to you. oh, god, oh, god, oh, god- you stand behind shane, she leads you into her apartment. messy, disorganized, totally not you. you are well kept, you are neat, you are- totally about to jump this woman’s bones. you realize this as Shane sits down on her futon, legs spread wide, her lap just begging for you to come sit on it. oh, god. fuck. oh, god, oh-

“fuck,” you breathed out. you’d had to have been holding that in forever, lungs burning and eyes clenched tight. your head fell back on to the arm of shane’s futon and you could’ve sworn that this was all just a dream. that joint was either insanely strong, or you were losing time because of your previously high levels of anxiety and tension. ‘relax’- she had whispered to you, just before this heated session- ‘let me take care of you. i know what i’m doing, swear. only if you want me to.’ of course you wanted to. to deny that would be an absolute lie.

you feel shane’s breath fan against your neck, the sensation warm and all-consuming. her nose pushing against your jaw and nestling below your ear, soft lips brushing along your skin, ringed fingers slipped up your shirt and ghosted her fingers over your naval, teasing gently at a metal piercing that lay in the skin. her smile could be felt against your neck and she reared back, leaning on to the heels of her feet with a playful grin. her eyes sparkled and she pulled the hem of your shirt up with her right hand, then moved her left from the back of the futon. that hand made its sneaky way to your thigh, pushing your knee into the futon’s black fabric.

“that’s cute.”

“yeah?”

“oh, for sure. you.. got another one?”

“no,” you murmur shakily. you suddenly wished you had more. wished you’d succumbed to those thoughts of impulsivity that rushed through your brain when your spiraled out of control. you thought, for a moment, it would’ve made you more attractive. but… it seemed like shane didn’t mind it. she dropped your shirt and brought that right hand to her mouth, running her thumb and forefinger over her chin. her left then took hold of your black slacks, the uniform for your job, her forefinger hooking into a belt loop.

“that’s okay,” she said, looking at you through her lashes, letting her hand fall as she spoke. “you’d look really good with some more.”

you can’t do this any longer you are losing grip now. you shift your hips desperately, the futon squeaking annoyingly beneath you, but you brush it off. your nerves are shot, you’re insanely horny, you need to get this shit out of your system. “shane,” you mumble lowly, trying to get her attention. you succeed.

but first, she cracks that teeth-rotting smile. the one just sweet enough to make your mouth hurt, and sexy enough to make you sick. then, she does it. she leans in again, and you are full on making out. no longer just slowly kissing, clouded in a smoky haze, kisses tasting of resin and cigarettes. her lips are so soft, her fingers nimble and dexterous as they cup the small of your back. she pulls you. up, into a sitting position, and wraps her palm around the nape of your neck to hold you there. the hand that had pulled you shifted once more as shane lay back on to the futon, and you went right with her. she was handling you. not forcibly, no, but gently, enough to just guide you.

and seeking a safety net in your crumbling control, you let her. you slid into position, right in shane’s lap like you’d wanted to be in the first place. perfect. hanging your head low, you pushed down against your neighbor’s lap and felt yourself rush with a specific heat you only experienced when you knew you weren’t supposed to be doing something. foreheads pushed together, lips a breath apart, you closed the gap. your hands brace the sides of shane’s head and your knuckles nearly turn white from how hard you grasp on to the wooden frame.

shane’s kiss is absolutely filthy. she’s licking, drawing your mouth open as if it were a profound cavern she was in dire need to explore, pulling air from your lungs. you aren’t sure how you’re still feeling at this point, but a trace of shane’s touch runs down across your belly button piercing again and pulls at the button of your slacks. expertly, her lips never once stop moving as the plastic black button pops and she teases down your zipper.

you. oh, you have never been so hungry. you were starving. fuck schedules. fuck routine, to hell with repetition. what was it for anyway? to be comfortable? being comfortable never brought you into situations like this. without thinking, one of your hand relents from the frame and rushes to grab shane’s hand, pushing at her wrist so her fingers would cup just above your underwear, palm right over your pubis. you hadn’t shaved in awhile. though you were tidy, you hadn’t had any in awhile. shane liked it though. you could tell based on how she smiles against your mouth.

words no longer suffice. you clench violently around nothing, your need so heavy that you feel your pulse in the depths of your center. shane pulls away only for a moment to gaze into your eyes as she pulls the fabric of your slacks just slightly past your hips. enough to where she can push your underwear to the side and tuck her fingers against your warm skin, and enough to watch you react.

“you..” shane nearly moans out the word. “you’re.. stupid wet right now.” her brows turn up and she parts her lips, leaning forward on to futon so she could be closer to you. her fingers moved. and you’d never felt something so good. silver rings, soft fingertips, hands that knew what they were doing. you shuddered and jerked, nearly squealing as she ran her thumb over your clit. she looked like she was about to worship you. like she was ready to pray to you. she was so adorable, somehow.

“yeah,” there’s hardly anything but desire behind your voice now. “yeah, i.. i told you-“ you grunt and jerk your hips.

just as Shane’s fingers begin to move in circles, your eyes flutter shut and you begin rocking your hips.

“i needed that joint.”

shane hums out a low chuckle and nods her head. her thumb leaves your clit for only a moment. brushing south and rubbing along your entrance, she eases the truth from your lips.

“i hoped it would end with this, too.” you tone was airy, so overwhelmed with need that you could hardly hear yourself speak.

and just like that, how the truth did set you free. shane’s lips met yours and she kissed you so slowly. lips locked passionately, as if she were thirsty and the only refreshing thing was your kiss. her fingers moved back to your clit, stroking and pushing in motions that rounded your hood with horrifying ease. this was too good. this was great. this was perfect.

you were never going to stick to routine ever again.

notes: okay that’s it im done Im so sorry to lead up so much to barely anything at all but. BUT I GOT NERVOUS. ANYWAY HERE’S THIS IM TAGGING @thestarkillers bc ik they love shane the way i do and this is for them ok bai ALSO i wrote the second half of this drunk. enjoy!