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[that-one-girl2020]

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader Pt. 3

A/N: Wow. Okay this got a lot more attention than I expected it to in three days. Sorry this part took me a little longer to write but it has one-on-one interactions with each member, that’s why it’s longer than the other parts.

Also, sorry but I’ve reached the maximum number of mentions I can have in the tag list so the tag list is closed!

By majority vote, I will be giving the Saja Boys Korean names so depending on the situation and point of view, they’ll either be referred to as their stage names or their Korean names.

If you guys have any ideas for outtakes, leave them in the comments below!

TW: I needed some way for the reader’s stress to manifest, like how Rumi struggles to sing as the pattern progresses. This manifested as a form of self mutilation, mostly just scratching when stressed or anxious. Insecurity and self deprecating thoughts ahead as well!

Word Count: 6,388

Baby: Jum (king)

Romance: Chungae (noble and love)

Mystery: Hyeon (virtuous, worthy, able)

Abby: Kwan (one who is strong)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

The four boys knew that they had to talk to Jinu about what they found out about (Y/n) and, by default, her sister the hunter. But, they were summoned by Gwi Ma before they had a chance to. They appeared in the middle of a crowd of cheering demons so the boys fell into their idol personas, smiling and pandering to the crowd.

They couldn’t help how their chests clenched when Gwi Ma forced them back into their demon forms.

And then Jinu joined them, standing at the top of the mountain before Gwi Ma’s fire. “One of the Hunters and her sister bears my mark, but I have no control over them.”

The four boys shared looks with each other out of the corners of their eyes. Gwi Ma was in their heads, of course he already knew.

“That’s good. This means that they have shame. We’ll find out what it is and we can use it to destroy the Hunters for good,” Jinu plotted with a sly smirk.

“I’ve taught you well, Jinu.”

Gwi Ma dismissed the five boys back to the human world and they popped to the place they shared. “Hey, boss, we should talk about what we’re gonna do.”

The five spread across the living area, Kwan laying across the couch as Chungae picked up his legs so he could sit before replacing Kwan legs.

Jum sat on the ground, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t care but his eyes kept glancing up and around at the others.

Hyeon sat on the arm of the couch, picking at his lip even though he shouldn’t. It was hard to get used to not having his tusks anymore… It’s kinda become a tick at this point.

Jinu stood in front of them, “We need to find out what shame the Hunter and her sister have. To do that, we need to get close to them, make them comfortable around us.”

“You’ve had the most interaction with the Hunter, right? So she’ll be more open to you I think,” Chungae mused thoughtfully.

“But, there isn’t just one of us that the sister has spent more time with,” Jum pointed out.

None of the boys wanted to admit that they each knew your name, it would mean admitting that you had caught at least a little bit of their attention, enough to remember you.

“Well, I was the one that carried her tonight,” Chungae flipped his hair, smiling smugly.

“Hey hey, I was the one she was flirting with during the fight. And she was eyeing my abs so I should talk to her,” Kwan crossed his arms, nudging Chungae’s stomach with his foot.

“I was the one who won the spicy challenge, I feel like I should be the one to get close to her,” Jum added his own input.

Hyeon wanted to add his own argument but he didn’t think knowing your scent would really go in his favor… But his jaw itched to sink his teeth into your skin. Gently! He just wanted to bite you… affectionately…

Jinu pinched the bridge of his nose. He could see where the four were coming from and he was a bit disappointed that he already had the role of getting close to the Hunter but he couldn’t do anything about it. You were so cute when you were flustered too…

“You can all take a try at it, it’s four chances of her opening up to one of you so it should be fine. Just don’t overwhelm her or it’ll look sketchy,” Jinu told them. He dug through the stationary they had around, writing out a note for Derpy and his bird friend to deliver to the Hunter.

“I’m heading out.”

~~~

‘Was it bad that you were glad the girls hadn’t caught up to the Saja Boys…?’

You had run back to the Huntr/x tower, looking ridiculous with your arms inside your sweatshirt to cover your arms and very thankful that there weren’t any civilians out then. You tapped your foot impatiently as the elevator took you up and then you sprinted to your room to put on a different sweatshirt with a high neck tank top under to cover the marks spreading up your neck.

The girls were a few minutes behind you. You changed just in time to greet them with your first aid kit.

Rumi burst out of the elevator with a cry of your name, “You’re okay, right?!” She grabbed your arms, scanning you over frantically, checking for bruises or scratches.

“Those dirty playing demons,” Zoey fumed, stomping with her arms crossed childishly. “You are okay though, right, (Y/n)?”

Mira huffed, following the other two out of the elevator, “She’s fine guys, she doesn’t have a scratch.” You didn’t miss how her eyes scanned over you though, making sure that you really were alright.

“What were you thinking?!” Rumi stressed, grabbing your face in her hands to pull you closer to her. “Going after them?! You could’ve been hurt! You could’ve been…!” Rumi trailed off, the words stuck in her throat.

You could’ve been found out. Your pattern could’ve been seen. You’d have to tell Rumi later that the boys had ripped your sleeves.

But for now, you smiled with a light laugh, “I’m fine, Rumi, I promise. Let me patch you guys up, you guys look a little… eesh.” You grimaced as you took a good look at all the scratches on their faces. They were not offended, they completely understood.

The girls relaxed and let you tend to their scratches and bruises before going to change into lounge clothes and then coming back to see the Honmoon.

Thankfully, they bought your explanation that you lost the boys due to Gwi Ma summoning them and had headed back to the tower to wait for them, you had explained while you patched them up.

The girls stood at the window, looking at the red corrupting the Honmoon as you put the first aid supplies away and moved to the kitchen. You glanced at them with furrowed brows as you got out the ingredients for kimbap.

Then the elevator came up with Bobby, “Girls?”

The girls whipped out their compacts to aggressively cover the wounds on their faces and turned to greet him, “Hey Bobby!”

You threw the first aid supplies in one of the cupboards as you shook your head. You couldn’t help but find it amusing how well trained they were by now in covering up scrapes and bruises from their hunting.

You heard Bobby swiping through TikTok, and couldn’t help the way your shoulders bounced as the chorus of Soda Pop played on a loop.

“Zoey!”

“Bobby! Control those shoulders!”

You froze awkwardly. At least they hadn’t caught you… You focused on making the kimbap a little more aggressively, your head ducked down to avoid attention. It was such a catchy song…

You hunched down further when Rumi started plotting an aggressive diss track to perform at the International Idol Awards.

“Zoey, we’re gonna need a new song!”

“I got twenty-three notebooks full of demon insults ready to go.”

“Yeah! Let’s make it thirty notebooks!”

“Mira, the choreography?”

“Yup. Making them hotter.”

“Backup dancers, ready to go.”

“(Y/n),” you gave a strained smile at the sudden call of your name, standing at attention and thankfully not cutting your fingers with the knife in your hand. “Visuals?”

“Already making a mental Pinterest board!”

“Team of designers, ready for your call!”

“We’ll write a brand new song. A diss track to expose those Saja Boys.”

“And send those disgusting demons back to the depths where they belong!”

You bit back a grimace as the girls started raging enthusiastically.

“Yeah!”

“Yeah!”

“YeaHHH!”

“YeahHHH!”

“…”

“YEAHHH!!”

And then they ran off to their rooms to get started or rest or something… You sighed, carrying the plate of finished kimbap rolls over to stand next to Bobby to stare flatly after them.

Welp. More for you. You held out the plate to Bobby, “Kimbap?”

“Oh, thanks (Y/n)!”

You wrapped up the rest of the rolls except for one, taking it with you. You paused at Rumi’s door, raising your hand to knock. But you hesitated.

You should tell Rumi that the Saja Boys saw your pattern. Them knowing was a threat because then they also knew that Rumi had patterns too. But… maybe they would just think you were the only one with a demon pattern…? You’d have to talk to them.

So you lowered your hand and kept walking to your room. You shut the door behind you, almost screaming in surprise when a hand slapped over your mouth and dragged you out your balcony door and jumped up to the roof of the tower.

When they released you, you took a deep breath and scrambled away to put distance between you and your kidnapper. “You gotta stop doing that!”

Romance couldn’t help but chuckle, waving his hands disarmingly, “Sorry sorry, I just wanted to chat with you.”

You bit your lip. They knew about your pattern. “About what?” You asked, on guard.

“Your pattern.” There it is. “You’re part demon.”

“So what?” You snapped defensively, hugging your arms even though you knew your skin was covered.

“I was curious,” He admitted openly, brushing some hair out of his face as he leaned back against the edge of the small roof balcony. “You don’t hear him, do you?”

“No. W-wait, who?” You backpedaled, you had refused on instinct and then you registered what he said.

He looked at you obviously, “Gwi Ma. You didn’t make a deal with him? All demons hear his voice, constantly reminding them of… their shame.”

You loosened from your defensive pose, surprised by the vulnerable look on his face. He didn’t seem to want to hurt you, so you relaxed and leaned against the edge behind you, keeping your distance for now.

“Shame?” You echoed curiously.

He looked at you, analyzing you, “It’s all demons do, feel their shame and all the emotions that come with it. These patterns,” He held up his arm, his patterns glowing as he did. “They show that each demon carries a deep shame with them…”

Then he was in front of you, taking your hand as you gasped softly. Your own pattern started glowing through your clothes, “You do too, sweetheart…”

Your grip tightened on his hand. You looked down as your heart squeezed painfully. Yeah… you do…

“Romance—“

“Call me Chungae,” He interrupted you softly.

“Chungae. You… you guys won’t tell the others, right? Rumi… Rumi and I aren’t ready yet, but… we want to be the ones to tell them…” You hesitantly asked through stumbling words. They knew. They must know that you and Rumi are part demon…

You couldn’t help but think of all the moments you’ve wanted to share your secret with Mira and Zoey. You want to go to the bathhouse with them. You want to go to the beach. You want to be able to wear your skin comfortably instead of the itching, crawling feeling you get at just the idea of wearing shorts or a tank top.

But it wasn’t your choice whether you told them or not. It wasn’t your secret to tell. It was Rumi’s.

Chungae scanned your face, his look softening as he brushed a bit of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “I don’t know about the others, but I won’t tell.”

You couldn’t help but relax at the reassurance, your face warmer at his touch. These boys really weren’t evil, they were so… human.

You looked away, “You should go before the other girls come looking for me.”

Chungae couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your shy demeanor. How cute… It’s like the first time you met all over again, how cute and shy you were when the five of them invited you to their debut. “Of course.”

You gasped as he smoothly swept you into his arms and leapt down to your balcony as you bit back a shriek. When you got down from his arms, you couldn’t help but bend over with your hands on your knees, taking deep breaths to settle your heart from the shock of being carried down from one height to another. “Stop doing that!” You whisper shouted at him, disgruntled.

“Sorry sorry, darling, I’ll go now,” Chungae hopped up to the railing of your balcony, stopping to look over his shoulder at you, “Oh. You should know that the others are also interested in seeing you. Just a heads up.”

He smiled slyly before jumping and disappearing in a dramatic poof of demon magic. “Wait, huh!?”

You grabbed a pillow to scream into.

Oh wait. Your kimbap!

~~~

And they did.

The next day, you were out looking at fabrics for the visuals of the diss track the girls were working on. Something like their battle outfits would work good but with sharp color accents to make it pop and fit the stage. Less spikes too, a little less aggressive but fans will probably like the dark look. Maybe in a music video, the girls could use their weapons so then if they pull them out on stage, they just look like props and special effects…?

Oh. There’s a boy walking next to you.

“… Can I help you…?”

Hands stuffed in his pockets, looking around with a disinterested look but a spark of curiosity shone in his eyes underneath the hat hiding his features, “No. I’m good.”

“Okayyy… you do you, Baby” You decided to just keep going about your business as Baby followed at your side.

“Jum,” He corrected you.

“Uhm, okay, Jum…” You kept looking at the maknae out of the corner of your eye as he followed you into fabric shops, looking around curiously or scrolling on his phone as you talked with the owners.

“Hey,” You stopped on the sidewalk when Jum tugged on your sleeve, pointing over to a shop window, “What’s that?”

You looked over, “A cat cafe…?” You looked at him strangely. How old was he again…?

Jum was quiet for a moment. “Let’s go in.” He was already walking in before you could respond. You didn’t have to follow him, he had just decided to follow you after all, but—ughhhh!

You followed him in.

Going in, he looked like a lost kid. He was looking around at the tables and the people. “Welcome! How many people today and for how long?”

“Uhhh…”

You came up behind him, smiling at the host, “Table for two, just for an hour please.”

“Alright, right this way!”

Ah man, why did you follow him again…? Jum trailed after you as you followed the host into the sectioned off area to a booth by a window. “Someone will be by to take your order in a moment. Please feel free to give the cats treats!”

“Thank you!” You called after her as you sat, setting down your work bag as Jum slid into the seat across from you. He was staring. You followed his gaze to see he was in a staring contest with a black cat. You looked between the two of them, back and forth. It was kind of adorable.

“Pick what you want to order and then we can try and tempt some cats over.”

Jum didn’t know what to order. He was one of the few born in the demon realm, he had never been to the human realm before as the prince of a small territory. Not that the title mattered much with Gwi Ma ruling.

“If you wanna start simple, a coffee or hot chocolate would be good hot drinks. Or a vanilla or chocolate milkshake if you want something cold. For food, the sandwiches are good if you want something savory but the strawberry shortcake looks good for something sweet.”

You were almost tempted to recommend a soda pop for him but you’ve seen enough TikToks of fans giving them different sodas.

Jum took in the information you gave him with a hum, scanning over the menu again.

You ordered, Jum ended up getting a coffee and the strawberry shortcake. You almost laughed at the contrasting flavors he would be experiencing. But you pulled over the little container of cat treats, “Alright, let's see if we can get a few kitties over.”

Jum perked up at the same time as some of the cats as the container clinked as you opened it. Three cats hurried over, and you couldn’t help but laugh brightly as they jumped up on the bench to climb in your lap and over your shoulders, nuzzling your face cutely for treats. “Hey, settle down! You’ll get your treats!”

Jum’s face softened at the sight. You laughing so carelessly, smiling brightly as the fluffy creatures swarmed around you while your face flushed with joy. He couldn’t help but sneak a few photos and sent one to the Saja chat smugly. He ignored the chat as it started going off.

The two of you played with the cats for a while. The wondrous look on Jum’s face as he first pet a cat was adorable and you really wanted to take a picture but the girls were always taking selfies on the first phone they could grab. You couldn’t risk them seeing it.

You had the same urge when you saw his face as he first tasted his coffee and then his cake. It was soooo adorable…

Before the two of you went your separate ways, Jum quietly told you that he wouldn’t spill your secret.

~~~

You watched from backstage as the girls politely clapped on screen, the boys awarded as the top artist of the week. They were really starting to make progress on their diss track but you couldn’t help but distance yourself from the project. The lyrics that were unfolding made you uncomfortable in a different way from how Golden did.

Golden had lines about not hiding anymore and being honest but it just felt like a lie whenever Rumi sang it with the girls. But Takedown… was strictly about killing demons because they were evil, unfeeling monsters that didn’t deserve to live. It made your skin crawl and you couldn’t help but itch at your arms and neck from time to time when you heard them discussing it.

You turned to make your way back to the girls’ dressing room to meet them once the awards ended and they left the stage. You could hear clapping again, the awards must have ended. And then you were swept away. Into a closet.

‘What was with these guys?!’ You were pinned against a shelf of cleaning supplies, a thick arm caging you in above you. Another held out a flower to you. “Hey there, babe~”

You crossed your arms, looking up at him unimpressed. Well… there was a little flush on your cheeks. “Hi Abby. What is this, a shoujo manga?”

He tsked, smirking playfully down at you, “Come on, babe, can’t spare a guy a warmer welcome?”

“Not when he and his friends keep sweeping me away for their whims. What did you want?” You plucked the flower from his hand, rolling the stem between your fingers.

Abby chuckled, his arm flexing as he swept his hair out of his face. “Well, our two youngest got to spend some one-on-one time with you and I wanted my turn. Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”

You hesitated. And not for the reasons you should’ve. “I… I have to get dinner ready for the girls…”

“What are you, their housewife?” He raised a brow down at you.

You grimaced as the words hit a little close to home. Yeah, he hit the nail right on the head. “I guess… they can order take out tonight…”

“Yes! Come on, before the other boys catch up!” Abby cheered, taking your wrist and jogging out of the closet and to the nearest exit.

“Hey!”

“Abby!”

“No fair!” You heard the cries of the other Saja Boys behind you as he dragged you along. You chuckled. The other demon boys could easily catch up if they wanted to. But dang, you dropped your flower back there…

A few streets over, you stopped as Abby slowed down barely out of breath, in contrast to you who was panting like a dog. Oh man, you felt way too gross to be with this man right now.

“So… I actually don’t know any good spots to eat at…”

You laughed at his sheepish expression. “Come on, there are some good food stalls at the night market.”

Without thought, you took his hand and led the way. When you got there, it turned out that Abby wasn’t picky about his food at all and that he could pack away a lot of food. You guys went from stall to stall, you were amazed as Abby charmed the older sellers, chatting with them as if they had known each other for a long time. Whatever food you couldn’t finish, Abby happily did.

“What are you? Some demon trash disposal? Where does it all go?” You asked him as he finished off the last of the chicken skewers you both had been eating.

“Straight to my muscles of course,” He smirked, flexing cheekily with a wink.

You laughed and shoved him jokingly. Then, a curious thought occurred to you, “Hey Abby? Can I… ask what the demon realm is like?”

He blinked, surprised by the question but you just continued looking forward, not meeting his eyes. He copied you, looking ahead as the two of you walked.

“It’s dark and depressing. The sky is red like it’s on fire and the ground is dry and desolate. Nothing grows there. There are two main types of demons: those that formed from souls fed to Gwi Ma and those that lost their souls making deals with Gwi Ma. There are also demons born from other demons but those are rare.”

You frowned in thought, not responding for a long moment. So, demons really could feel emotions. Did that mean… that your dad really did love your mom…?

Abby noticed your expression, lost in deep thought, “What’cha thinking about there, babe?”

You didn’t answer for a moment, too many thoughts trailing in too many different directions… “Nothing important. So, which are you guys, Abby?”

Abby hummed, “Call me Kwan,” he said, letting you change the subject. He couldn’t help but let you in a little closer. He thought if he just kept using his stage name with you, he could keep a little distance between you, keep the mission in mind. But… he wanted to let you close.

“Well, with the exception of Jum, we’re all humans that made deals with Gwi Ma years ago out of desperation. I…” Kwan trailed off and the two of you stopped by the river to sit on a bench in a quiet area. “I was born during an old war. I wasn’t strong enough to protect my family when it counted, so I asked Gwi Ma for strength to protect those I cared about.” He laughed sarcastically, “How well that turned out for me…”

You frowned, taking his hand slowly, hesitantly offering comfort from the obviously dark memories and regrets swimming through his head. He smiled softly at you, squeezing your hand as the two of you looked out over the river. There was nothing for either of you to say at that moment, but you understood each other.

~~~

After that interaction with Kwan, the girls noticed you were lost in thought more often, but they didn’t bring it up, figuring you were just deep in thought about the visuals and clothes for the new song. You often got lost in a new project when it really inspired you.

Except you didn’t like the new song. It was just so hateful towards demons and after you knew most demons come from human souls in some shape or form, you couldn’t fully support it. Especially with your own pattern steadily spreading across your skin. You had to start using a salve to help with the scratching the stress was causing. If they spread too much more, you would have to start wearing a face mask…

Now that you think about it, the only Saja Boys you haven’t really talked to are Jinu and Mystery. Which one would ambush you next? Was it bad that you were looking forward to it?

You needed a break from the girls. As the Honmoon corruption got worse and more demons came through, they got more tense and enthusiastic with the new diss track. So, you went to the park to sit and just breathe for a few minutes. You sat on a bench under the shade of a tree, head back and eyes closed under the sun as you took a deep breath. Someone was playing Soda Pop nearby and you could hear Golden somewhere too…

Your eyes snapped open when arms wrapped around you from behind a nose buried into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath. You flushed deep red, shrieking as you leapt to the other end of the bench. A hand pressed to your chest to settle your racing heart you turned to see it was a sulky Mystery, pouting at you pulling away so quickly.

“It’s just me,” He said.

“Personal space, dude!” You cried vehemently, your face still a dark red. Mystery circled the bench to sit next to you. Like, right next to you. Your thighs were touching. You deadpan at him, “This is not personal space, man.”

Mystery just tilted his head at you. It was nice to see you with the sun shining down on you like this. And your scent was so comforting when it filled his senses, he couldn’t help but burrow his nose in the crook of your neck. It made his teeth itch to bite again.

“How do you guys keep finding me? Do you have some kind of tracker or something…?”

“Nah, it’s mostly by chance,” Mystery told you, casually taking your hand to play with your fingers and the rings you had on. He didn’t tell you how Jinu’s bird was keeping an eye or three on you… He didn’t remember much about social normalities from when he was human, but he could remember that telling someone they were being watched was weird.

You shook your head and let him do as he pleased, taking a deep breath and tilting your head back to enjoy the sun while closing your eyes.

Then there was a tugging on your hand, “Let’s go.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond or ask where you were going before he was tugging you off the bench and away. “Wait, Mystery, where are we going?” You almost slapped a hand over your mouth, hoping no one heard that it was one of the Saja Boys out in public.

“Hyeon. De-stress,” he said simply. Then he was pulling you into an arcade. You didn’t really know how playing some games at an arcade would help you relax

But at least you didn’t have to pay to play because Hyeon was already pulling out his wallet! Don’t get it wrong, you could pay for stuff yourself, but it was refreshing after eating so much food with Jum and Kwan. You refused to let them pay for your food and you didn’t pay for theirs either but it was still money…

When Hyeon had the prepaid wristbands, he turned to hand one to you with a small smile, “Sometimes, you just need to act like a kid.”

You blinked. And then he was pulling you to the first game he saw with that small content smile and you couldn’t help but laugh.

You were pretty sure he also just wanted to go to an arcade…

Hyeon was right though. Playing those games, you couldn’t help but laugh and as you became more competitive with him, you forgot what was bugging you. You laughed louder and became more comfortable treating him like a close friend, pushing him and bickering as he gave you a little smug smirk when he won and a sulky pout when he lost. You had to pull him back when he started barking at a few people that tried to rush the two of you at some games…

It was late by the time you both left, matching ugly keychains in hand from the prize shop.

“… Thanks Hyeon, I really needed that,” You smiled at him as you stopped at the park where you would both be going your own ways.

He smiled, taking your hand in his. “Of course, princess. Anything to see that smile on your face.”

Oh boy. You didn’t think Hyeon would be the cheesy one but he said it so seriously before placing a kiss on your hand.

You shook yourself, your face flushing red as you steeled yourself, “Hey, I am not a princess!” You crossed your arms.

Hyeon smirked a little, “I don’t think you can handle what I really want to call you so princess will do for now.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but drop as your face flushed darker.

“See you soon, princess,” he said, and then he was walking away and you just stared after him, speechless.

‘What did he mean by that?! Ugh, stupid hot demon boys…’

~~~

Another award show passed and Golden won most played song of the week. But tensions were still high as the Saja Boys took over more and more of the billboards, they were all anyone could see on TikTok too, more fans joining the Pride.

Your nervous scratching was getting worse, you had to go out and get another salve. Thankfully, the girls were too focused on Takedown and demon hunting to keep track of when you were in or out of the tower. It hurt you a little though, that you fell to the wayside so easily.

You were mindlessly scratching over your sleeve with the salve safely wrapped in a small paper bag in your arms as you started the walk back to the tower. You needed to talk to the design team about what you had in mind and to the producers about visuals for a possible music video.

“What’cha got there, pretty girl?”

You turned to see him leaning against the wall in the shadows of an alley. You sighed, “Do you plan these dramatic encounters or do they just come naturally to you?”

Jinu chuckled, standing straight but his eyes lingered on the bag in your arms and the arm where you had been scratching. “Being an idol calls for a flare for the dramatic,” He shrugged.

You chuckled at his antics but then his hand snapped out to grab your wrist. Panicked, you tried to pull away as he pushed your sleeve up. You forgot that he knew about your pattern so it wasn’t those marks he was looking at.

No, it was the red scratch marks littering your arm where the pattern was darkest.

He snapped his eyes up to glare at you, pulling you somewhere, “What’s so bad that you scratch yourself to such a degree?”

You had no answer for him besides shame… So you didn’t say anything.

He sighed. Jinu ended up taking you to a small plaza, not many people around as he sat you on the edge of a fountain. He pulled out the small glass container of salve you had gotten, reading the ingredients with narrow eyes before opening it and smelling it.

Jinu tsked before taking your arm to gently apply the salve to each bleeding scratch and red mark, “The herbs used today are so bad, not as effective as the ones grown years ago… too much pollution…” He murmured to himself.

You couldn’t help but smile at his care. “Thanks Jinu…”

He glanced up and faltered, remembering who he was and who he was with as he quickly but carefully finished up, fumbling a little as his cheeks pinked, “Oh, ah, it’s fine, don’t mention it.” He quickly screwed the cap on of the salve and practically shoved it in your hands before awkwardly sitting down next to you.

Wow. Jinu was the most awkward of the group it seemed. Was Baby really the maknae of the group? You giggled at how the tips of his ears were red and he refused to look at you.

“Is it really… that bad living with the patterns…?”

You froze at his hesitant question. You gripped your arm over your sleeve to keep from scratching more at the flare of stress you felt. You couldn’t look at him. “I don’t know… I started scratching when I was a kid. It comes and goes depending on what I’m stressed about…”

“Meaning, when you’re stressed about your pattern,” Jinu summarized thoughtfully. You could feel his gaze on the side of your face.

“Yeah…” You avoided his gaze.

Jinu frowned. This wasn’t like the first interaction he had with your sister. That was filled with him trying to gain her trust, trying to convince her that he was the only one that would understand her. It made his stomach curl uncomfortably how she didn’t even argue that you understood her. Were you two not very close?

He saw something different than your sister in you, “You liked your patterns once, didn’t you?”

Your face slackened then hardened, “…I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He frowned but nodded in acceptance anyway. Pushing wouldn’t get him anywhere. “That’s alright, but I can understand what you’re going through,” It was the same thing he told your sister. But with you he couldn’t help but… genuinely mean it. He looked down at his hand. His pattern was a constant reminder of his shame after all. Sometimes he wanted to scratch until they just peeled away too.

“I know, I just… I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it…” You told him. Rumi should be the first one you talked to about this, right? But, wouldn’t she just recycle Aunt Celine’s words at you? Never show your faults (Y/n), never show your pattern (Y/n), you’d betray Rumi and everyone else if you shared your pattern (Y/n), you’re not enough (Y/n).

You shook your head and stood. “I want ice cream.”

He looked up at you with surprise, “Oh. Okay…?”

“Come on.” The shoe was on the other foot now as you started marching to the nearest ice cream shop, not waiting to see if he would follow.

“Wh-what? Wait, what’s happening?” He scrambled after you, confused but going along with your sudden decision.

Jinu followed you into the ice cream shop, sliding on a pair of glasses and a hat to disguise himself. You were already ordering what you wanted, two big scoops of your favorite flavor.

He almost jumped when you suddenly turned to him expectantly. “Oh, uh,” He stuttered, scanning the flavors before him. It felt like he was sweating with the sudden pressure he felt. There were so many names, why were there so many different ice cream names?! “Uh, two scoops of Chuckle Chunk.” He couldn’t even tell you what was in it.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how stiff Jinu was. You hadn’t meant to make him feel pressured but it was pretty adorkable.

The two of you paid and left the shop to eat your ice cream at the fountain. You watched as he hesitantly tried his ice cream. His face lit up.

You chuckled, starting to eat your own ice cream, “How is it?”

Jinu couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah, it’s got these really rich chocolate things and there’s these little white pieces and some salty caramel things too.”

You blinked at how he described it. “How old are you again…?” That was how he described brownie fudge chunks, marshmallow pieces, and sea salt caramel syrup?

He blinked too, “Four hundred…?”

You couldn’t help but balk, “Oh wow, you’re old.”

He deadpanned at you. “And you’re a baby.”

You laughed. Jinu didn’t really know what you were laughing about, maybe just the situation itself but he smiled.

It was easier to be around you than he thought it would be. “Don’t stress too much.”

You looked at him, “It’s kinda hard to avoid stress when Gwi Ma is trying to destroy the Honmoon and feast and the human souls of the whole population. Besides, I’ve got a lot going on: visuals for the girls, keeping our apartment clean, cooking, designing clothes and visuals for them, and then there’s a fan signing event coming up…” You sighed and Jinu grimaced. Wow.

Jinu knew he wasn’t helping with the stress you were going through but he couldn’t help his selfish streak. He wanted his memories gone…

“Just… Cut your nails or wear gloves so you don’t hurt yourself so badly…” Jinu told you.

You smiled. He was… worried for you. It was the first time that someone’s worry didn’t make you feel weak. It wasn’t about your fighting capabilities, it was about your well-being. When was the last time that someone worried about that?

“Thanks Jinu…” You smiled mischievously. “It’s the first time such a pretty boy has shown me such care,” You turned the table on him.

Jinu spontaneously combust. Stuttering as he shoved more ice cream in his mouth to occupy himself but that just made his head hurt.

“Brain freeze!” You laughed.

~~~

The night before the fan signing event, you laid awake in bed. The girls were surely already sleeping so that they could get plenty of rest. But you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Looking back on the past two weeks, you felt more conflicted than you ever had before.

The voice in your head that sounded like Aunt Celine said that you shouldn’t be letting the Saja Boys so close, getting so comfortable with them. The girls were going to kill them anyway so you were just looking to get your heart broken at this rate.

But a small part of yourself whispered that they made you feel safe, seen, heard in a way that you never had been before.

Outtake(s):

Jum(Baby): “Do they make these cakes…spicier?”

You: “Uh…no. No they do not.”

Jum(Baby): *Sadly* “Aw man…”

…

Hyeon(Mystery): *Sees someone just a little too close to you* “Grrrrr…”

You: *Being dragged along as you try to hold him back* “You can’t- Stop! Bad Saja Boy!”

Hyeon(Mystery): *Feral gremlin barking*

…

You: *sick of all these pretty boys flustering you* “What do you want, pretty boy?”

Jinu: *ERROR ERROR ERROR* “Uhhhh…”

…

Huntr/x: “You know, (Y/n) has been disappearing a lot lately… And she never wants to listen to our song…”

Huntr/x: “Maybe she’s uncomfortable with the lyrics?”

Huntr/x: …

Huntr/x: “Nah. She’s just way too inspired by our violent need to eradicate all demons.”

You: *frantically scratching*

Tag list:

@brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374

[valentinedrifter]

Days with Yuri: Packages

male reader x Jo Yuri

~12k words

A/N: A friend said "yuri fic when" so, here you go I guess? Also a lot of yapping involved, so apologies for that.

Enjoy.

You should’ve expected this to happen.

Jjoyul: Sharing Live Location. HELP NOW ASAP PLS

You blink. You squint.

What the fuck?

You read it again.

What the fuck, that’s not her address.

You: whats going on

Jjoyul: I NEED HELP I SWEAR ILL O U 1

You: with what where are you even are you safe

You sit up from your bed, rubbing a hand on your face in annoyance. Out of all the days, it had to be the day you slept in late for her to fuck about and make you find out instead.

Jjoyul: SAFEST PLACE IN D WORLD RN WILL XPLAIN LATR CAN U PLS COME T_T

You were halfway into typing the word “no” and go back to cuddling your comforter and enjoying some more well deserved sleep until your phone buzzed two more times.

Jjoyul: Image attached. PLSSSSSSS

You groan. Half tempted to throw your phone on the nightstand and forget all about the messages. Half tempted to open the image and hope that you can have an idea on what’s actually going on.

You let the angel on your shoulder win this round and open your phone.

Yuri’s face takes up your screen, sitting down on a couch with an all-familiar pout on her lips, finger pressing her chin, wide innocent eyes, and an adorable little head tilt. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen this type of picture so many times that you feel like she’s recycling old pictures.

You wonder how this brat can be this cute yet so annoying at times because you’re falling for her endearingly irritating tactic of cuteness to get you to help her with whatever it is she needs help with. You were about to press the location text she sent to see where she actually is when she sent one last message.

Jjoyul: ILL EVEN COOK U LUNCH AND DINNER NEXT TIME

Now while free food is nice, Yuri’s cooking is something else. Not that you’d ever tell her that because, well, her ego would skyrocket, but she could cook an egg and you’d think a sous chef made it.

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and all that. Your sleep-deprived brain isn’t helping much in that regard to stop it. Besides, it’s free food on call.

What’s the worst that could happen?

You: fine, be there in 30

Jjoyul: U DA BESTTTTTTT IM AT 221 BTW TELL THE LADY THAT UR HERE 4 ME TYTYTY <3

And so began your quick shower, a salmon riceball for brunch, and you’re walking out the door heading to her location. Said place is an apartment complex that looks similar to yours—tall, muted colors, minimalistic design—and you start to wonder what she’s doing in a place so far away from where she lives.

She was surprisingly close to your place too—a good ten minute walk to wake the legs up—and you’re stepping into the lobby to be greeted by the receptionist.

You tell her that you’re here for a “Jo Yuri” and all she does is raise an eyebrow.

“No packages?” Her head tilts in confusion.

“...No?” You respond. “Am I supposed to have one?”

“Oh, no, no!” The lady chuckles. “She’s been getting a lot lately, I thought you would be dropping off some more.”

She points you to where you can get to 221, and after thanking her, your mind stops to think:

What the fuck is she doing here?

You take the stairs, faster that way since she’s just a floor up, and you’re standing in front of apartment 221.

You take a deep breath, curl your fingers, prep yourself to call the cops if you need to, and knock.

Tap-tap-tap.

Silence greets you. You wait. Then try again.

Tap-tap-tap.

Still, no answer. You air out a ‘huh’ and decide to just–

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-

“Just a second!” Yuri’s muffled voice comes out of the door, and you hear her padded footsteps rushing.

The lock clicks, the handle turns, and you’re greeted to the sight of a disheveled looking Yuri grinning up to you.

“Hey–” She huffs, grabbing your arm and tugging you inside. Her hand is warm against yours, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “You got here pretty fast.”

“It’s a few blocks away from mine.” You turn around to see her already closing the door before leaning back to it, arms behind her back to face you, giving you a chance to properly look at her.

Hair framing that lovable face, smile that radiates trouble, crescents that screams innocent excitement all wrapped in a baggy shirt hanging off one shoulder and some shorts that hides her figure.

Not that you’d know anything about it, you just…saw it a couple of times. Like when you two attended Minju’s wedding as friends. 

Totally not as each other’s wedding date.

You definitely didn’t give her that wide-eyed stare when you picked her up. Or notice how beautiful she looked in the white dress which showed off a bit too much cleavage that definitely didn’t do things to both your heads. Or stand a little too close when one of the groomsmen complimented her on her looks.

And you really didn’t hold her hips when she dragged you to the dance floor because her favorite slow dance started playing. Didn’t like how your hands felt perfect on her. Didn’t feel your heart skip a beat when she gave you that smile when it ended.

You swear it wasn’t awkward the next few weeks after.

Nope. You’re absolutely sure that you and her were totally okay for that period of time.

You focus back on Yuri, who’s gotten close enough to lean into your personal space, face almost touching your chest, shirt swinging low enough for you to see a hint of her generous chest. You can even smell the jasmine radiating off her.

She’s too close.

You blink. She chuckles. 

You take a step back. She straightens.

Speaking of personal spaces–“Where are we, exactly?”

“This, exactly, is–” She stretches it out, making drum roll gestures, dancing around you. “–drumroll please–”

She stops, expecting eyes and a beaming set of lips looking up to you.

She wags her eyebrows. You sigh.

“Seriously?” You ask. Her smile widens.

You roll your eyes. She grins.

You make drum roll sounds. She makes drum roll hands as she continues to step backward into the middle of the living room before stretching her arms wide and giving a tiny hop.

“Jo Yuri’s brand new, very own home!” She declares, posing like a little kid who won the lottery. “Ta–da!”

The place was semi-furnished, all the heavier things already out and ready to be used like the couch on one end and the flat screen mounted on the wall. But what’s really getting to you are the amount of boxes in the room.

All the colors you can think of, all the different sizes, labeled, unlabeled, packed, unpacked; They were everywhere, from the floor to the kitchen counter. You don’t even want to know what was inside. God forbid she hands you one of them and it just so happens to be her underwear.

She wouldn’t do that anyway. You trust her enough to know what’s inside all the boxes.

It’s still a mess overall though, and as you’re taking it in, you realize:

You’re here to help her unpack all her shit.

“Pretty nice ain’t it?” Everything about her screams pride of what she’s accomplished—she should  be—like the hands on her hips and the way she says it.

“Don’t know about pretty, but it is nice.” You look behind her, eyeing the amount of boxes that were basically mocking you at this point. “How much shit do you even have? And when did you move in here?”

“This is like, eighty percent of it, give or take.” Jesus Christ. “I tried doing it on my own but there’s too many and I didn’t wanna bother the movers because they already helped with all the big appliances and I thought–”

Yuri’s making that thinking pose then a lightbulb gesture like she’s in a sitcom. “–Why do it alone when I can do it with my favorite person in the whole wide world!”

“I thought that was Yena?” You deadpan. 

She opens her mouth to answer, then closes it. Her eyes look to the side. Her lips make a thinking face. She looks too damn adorable. 

She opens her mouth to answer. “My second! Favorite person in the whole wide world!”

“That’s not how that works, Yuri.” Your head shakes. “Not at all.”

“It is to me.” She giggles, picking up one of the smaller boxes. “Besides, this is a lot more fun than getting this done all alone.”

“Don’t I have a say in this?” She pushes said box to your chest. “This is gonna take us all day.”

“You said yes the moment you agreed to my cooking.” She patters back to the couch, sitting on the small empty space it still has. “No take backs.”

Well, she’s got you there. Her cooking’s worth a day of unpacking all her stuff anywho.

“Can I renegotiate to have that lunch and dinner for two days?” You ask, cross legging down on the floor, opening up the box that contained kitchen utensils.

Fitting, considering the conversation.

“If we manage to get this done before–” She pauses, a box in her lap as she picks up a boxcutter. “Before dinner, I’ll make you food for the next week.”

“Say no more.” You let out a chuckle, the prospect of having Yuri cook for you till the next week already makes you salivate as you stand up to head into the kitchen. 

As soon as you see the counter, you freeze.

The kitchen’s chock full of boxes.

Fuck.

—

They seemed never ending, but you two managed to settle into a rhythm. You handled everything that was for the kitchen and the living room, she took care of the bathroom and the bedroom.

She didn’t bother with the labels anymore, just ripped the box open and handed it to you if it was different things for her shelves. You open them with care and precision so as not to make an even bigger mess of the already boxed up fuckery mess that is her apartment.

You can hear her in the bedroom, the rustling of the boxes coming out of the doorway when you came back from putting some of the cartons away and into the front door, so you take the chance to pick out something easy to unpack since you’ve been given all the big ones—definitely didn’t feel like you were setup.

So you pick up one of the smallest boxes you could see, sit down on the couch and lay it down on your lap.

The box itself was small, jet-black and discreet, not unlike all the other bright and colorful ones that preceded it. It was tightly wrapped as well, red tape all over the carton in a criss-crossy pattern. 

Nothing the cutter couldn’t handle.

You open it up, thinking that it was another-some-set of something that you feel like you can convince her to sell off because she seriously has too much stuff for one girl so you part the flaps and—

Dick.

Surprisingly detailed, with all the veins and contours and curls shaping it, the smooth head at the top staring back at you. Although the color ruined any form of realism, somewhere between vermillion or coquelicot or sienna—fucking red—that was practically screaming out what it is.

You blink. Two, three, four times.

You close the flaps. Your eyes follow, nose inhaling deep, mouth exhaling slowly,  mind counting to ten.

And then you open it again.

Dicks.

Multiple, plural, a lot. Some were small, others looked like a lightstick—that’s a vibrator—and there was even something metallic tucked in the bottom, underneath all the bubble wrap. 

You squint, hands frozen on the black carton, not trusting them to touch anything inside and holy shit is that a pair of handcuffs?

You don’t even want to know why she has so many because your mind is already being sidetracked to what she’s doing with them. How often she uses them, which one was her favorite— 

“Hey, how’s it going with the rest?” Yuri calls out, casually walking back into the living room.

You’re stuck, heat creeping up your ears, brain short circuiting, doing its damnedest to hot wire it back into thinking, acting, anything as you’re left frozen in time staring into the deep abyss of the box.

“What’s up with you?” Her chin rests on your shoulder, a grin on her features, chest pushing against your back and the smell of citrus invading your nostrils. 

It wasn’t until she saw what was in the box that made her lose all emotion, utter the Lord’s name in vain and straight up dive bomb into your arms.

“Gimme that!” She screams, her chest flattening against you sending even more thoughts into your head, her hands already snatching the hellish thing from your grasp, one hand closing the flaps and the other wrapping around the carton.

“You weren’t supposed to see that yet.” She mutters, holding it close to her chest, protecting it from you, or vice versa. It didn’t really matter to you. 

What matters was whatever the hell ‘yet’ meant.

“Well, I mean, I can-uh-fuck-” You’re stumbling, sputtering. Because what the fuck do you even say when you find a box full of sextoys that weren’t yours? “I can forget this ever happened?”

“Can you?” She asks, glares really. Raised eyebrow, doubtful eyes, the complete package of disbelief written on her. “Can you really?”

No, you really couldn’t. But you don’t even get the chance to tell her before she stands up.

“Just–don’t bring it up.” She sighs, walking away from you and back into her bedroom.

And it wasn’t. Nobody brought it up for a while, the both of you focusing on unpacking, folding, cleaning. It was all you two did, not even bothering to make conversation. Not without bringing up the box again.

Until she started to do something extremely simple.

Be a mess. 

And she’s dragging you into becoming one when she keeps brushing past you even if she didn’t have to. You could be sitting down on the couch and she’d walk past you to get the box that was right next to you instead of the ones that were stacked up right next to her bedroom door.

It wasn’t like there was a lack of them, if anything there were too many. And she kept doing it anyway.

Yuri didn’t even do anything that you’d consider odd or anything and she’s already distracting you. Every pass, brush of your hands, glances that were a bit too long. 

You were trying to pretend that you didn’t notice anything and gaslit yourself into thinking it wasn’t intentional. To leave her to do whatever she wants because it is her house but this, this was like scratching an itch.

If an itch were to ask her why she had so many dildos, that is.

You were rinsing up a few of her mugs when she plops down the couch, halfway empty of the cartons that were seated a few hours ago.

It was a mistake glancing because–

“Why do I keep so much stuff.” She moans out, the first words uttered after the box. Her arms stretched upward, her shirt riding up just a bit to show that bellybutton of hers. 

You tell yourself you weren’t staring. She’s just casually seducing you with an arm stretch and the temptation to ask her about the damn box grows higher.

“That sounds like a you problem than anything else.” You snap back down, focusing back on the cups. “Why’d you even bother moving out? I thought you shared the old place with Nako.”

“I did, I just…” Yuri goes silent for a moment, before she crosses her legs and gives you these adorable little puppy eyes that make you wanna squish her cheeks. “Promise you won’t tell her? Or anyone else?”

“You don’t need to tell me if it’s too personal, Yuls.” You shake the glass you’re holding. “We can always leave it at that.”

“It’s not really for me, it’s more for her than anything else.” She shakes her head, grabbing a nearby plushie of a bear she left on the couch because she needs one for ‘couch cuddles’. You remember getting that one for her birthday along with a new set of guitar strings.

And she wonders why she keeps so much extra shit like her toys—

“Just please promise me you won’t tell anyone?” She hugs said bear, keeping it close to her chest. “Pretty please?”

“Alright, alright, I promise.” You place the mug down on the dishwasher.

“Swear it.”

“I just said I promised.” You give her a look, as if she’s seriously asking you to double down on an agreement made just seconds ago.

“I need your utmost trust on this.” Yuri glares. It wasn’t scary at all, not with the bear looking at you with a permanent smile on its face. You wonder what that bear’s seen. Or felt.

“Wha-Fine.” You sigh, leaning back onto the counter. “I swear on my need for an eight-hour-sleep that I won’t tell anybody about what you will say.”

She narrows her eyes. “That’s not enough.”

“You know how much I need my eight hours.” 

“Everyone needs eight hours, idiot.” She shakes her head, an arm gesturing upwards. She wasn’t exactly wrong. You just thought you needed it more than everyone else because you have the tendency to stay up a lot.

“On my rank in League.” You state. “Happy now?”

That seemed to do the trick when Yuri hums for a moment to think, then nods. She knows how much you play that game to a near unhealthy degree back then before you were convinced—forcefully, you may add—to take a step back from it. Looking back, you’re a bit thankful that happened.

Lord knows what you would be doing if you kept that up.

But it doesn’t mean you stopped though. Maybe a long break or two, but you always come back to playing it like a drug. You were simply volun-told how to take the proper dosages.

“Now, what’s the big deal about you moving out?” You move to sit on the couch, facing Yuri who’s now hiding her face behind the bear.

“Uhm,” She stalls. Eyes darting from you to the bear she’s holding, gripping it tighter. “So you know how Nako’s been seeing Hitomi for a while now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“They may or may not be doing things when theythinkI'msleepingnextdoor.” She rushes, cheeks reddening at the words that came out as she hides further into her bear.

Silence precipitates the room, giving you the chance to soak in whatever Yuri just said.

“Hold on.” You start, lips unconsciously curving upwards. “You moved out because you couldn’t stand them fucking?”

“It’s more than that!” She shouts, slapping you with the bear in such a weak manner it makes you laugh.

“They’ve been wanting to move in together so I thought I’d move out instead.” She explains, grabbing a small yellow box on the table. “They wouldn’t have to worry about looking for another place if I did.”

“Pretty selfless of you.” You comment, leaning back and watching her rip the carton apart. “What made you wanna do that?”

She bites her lip, hesitating, hands stopping from unfurling the bubble wrap covering something.

“Too much?” You ask again, knowing that this wasn’t about her roommate anymore.

“No, I’ve just…” She replies, before she turns to look at you. “I’ve been wanting to move out for a while now, you know? Nako’s been my roomie ever since uni, and before that I shared my room with my sister.”

“Ah. You have that dilemma.” You remember the decision to do it yourself. Your parents were fifty-fifty on it till you had to convince them it was better than hour long commutes to and from work. 

“Yeah.” She nods, going back to focus on the wrap. “You must’ve went through that when you moved out.”

“I mean, sure.” Solo living had its perks. Made you appreciate doing chores yourself, you didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s dishes being left in the sink. You could walk around doing whatever with complete privacy, and no one would bat an eye for it.

“It gets lonely at times but you learn to do things for yourself every once in a while.” You add, leaning back to enjoy the soft cushion, watching her open up a box of books.

“And that’s why you got me, dummy.” She teases, picking up one of the books and giving it a once over. You can see a very familiar tie as the book cover and decide to keep that away for safekeeping.

Because a box full of sextoys isn’t enough for her, you guess.

“You do live pretty close by now.” You nod, standing up to pick up another blue container. “We can meet up more if you want.”

“You just like free food.” She bites, stacking up a few books of varying sizes. 

“And you like my company.” You bite back, cutting the tape with the boxcutter, the ripping sound following each stroke. You won’t lie and say that you didn’t like the idea of seeing Yuri more often. Maybe even get a peak of what she’d be doing with one of those toys—

You immediately stop that line of thought and glance back at her after and notice one of the stacks she made was close to toppling. “Might want to put the biggest one on the bottom.”

“Shut up.” She looks down, biting her lip to stop the smiling forming on her face as she starts to fix up her makeshift jenga structure. “Anyway, it took me a while to find this apartment, and the movers were a pain in the ass to talk to.”

“What, they didn’t like that you had so much shit for a single person?” You grin, placing the cutter down. “You can always sell these things online.”

“What am I even gonna sell?” She mutters, arms up in the air as she stops re-arranging her novels on the table. She pauses, stares at the books, then looks up to you staring right back at her.

“Don’t say it.” She warns, shaking her head, eyes widening a tiny bit. “I swear to god, don’t you fucking say it.”

All you do is give her a smirk, extremely tempted to say exactly what you were both thinking. Her hands were already moving to hold onto a small novel, and while it may seem idiotic to tempt physical danger, it also sounds very fun to piss her off.

“The bo–” A thump resonates. A pained shout erupts. A groan follows.

“I told you not to say it.” She repeats, hands on her hips. 

“Worth it though.” You grumble, hand rubbing your chest where the book hit you. “You’ll get money on the side anyway, what’s the big deal?”

“Getting to know what to sell is a big deal, duh.”

“You’re unpacking. This is like, the best time to.” You place her novel book on top of one of her stacks.

She slouches, looking like she’s considering the idea when she starts glancing around her towers of books and the rest of the taped up boxes. “Promise you’ll help?”

“If you tell me why you have a box full of sextoys, sure.” You smile, sitting down next to her. Externally, you looked cool as a cucumber. Internally, you were dying.

Why the fuck did that come out of your mouth, you wonder. You should’ve just agreed and be done with it but now the awkward silence was eating you alive.

“...Oh my god.” She groans, leaning back onto the couch. “I thought we already went past that!”

“Did we?” You shrug, taking another glance at her stack of books, pretending that you were completely okay with what you just blurted out. “I never agreed to that.”

“I hate you.” She smacks you with her plushie. “I seriously do.”

You laugh, flailing your arms to protect yourself from a bear. “No–you–don’t–”

She hits you a couple more times before she eventually stops—from exhaustion or from being lazy, you don’t know—and glares. Eyes narrowing, lips flattening, mind deliberating. All the while the bear is just staring at you.

The bear’s got a pretty cool hat you have to admit—

“Fine.” She states, lips slowly transforming into a grin. “If we still finish before dinner.”

“Yeah, I still get food though right–wait.” You stop, jaw dropping slowly. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” She answers, crossing her arms around the bear. “I’ll even give you a live demo if you want.”

“I think I’m good with the story, thanks.” You chuckle bashfully, hands raising in surrender. Not that watching her fuck a dildo wasn’t hot as fuck, it’s simply very bad for your mental and physical health to be given a clear view to that show.

“You sure?” She draws the words out, smirking and teasing. She leans in, her hair falling, getting closer and closer till you can feel her breath on your face. “You don’t wanna see me suck on a strap like it’s your di–”

“Yes I’m fucking sure!” You answer—scream, really—as you stand up, away from any more of her teasing because your hands are starting to get that itch instead of your mouth. You scratch that itch by going back to the mundane job of grabbing boxes.

You don’t notice the grin on Yuri’s face become absolutely feral.

The next few hours were spent unpacking everything else that was still trapped in their boxes, and anything that she thought she could sell she’d leave in the living room. A bunch of books, extra cables, some plushies she has.

You’re sitting down on one of her chairs for a short break when you let your eyes wander the room. Aside from the large cartons that you both decided to leave for later, the place was halfway there to becoming a home.

It inevitably lands back towards her—it always does—where she’s pulling her shirt up to wipe the sweat off her brow. It also lets you have another peek at her waist, the same pair that you held with your own two hands on that wedding.

There’s always that lingering thought in your head on what her bare hips would feel like, caressing them, tracing every inch of skin with your fingers and wondering what her moans would sound like.

Your mind strays, imagining her face when you trail them upwards, moving closer and closer towards her chest, watching her features morph into something filthy. Begging for you to do more. Touch her, kiss her, tame her.

It’s a good thing they’re just thoughts and not actions cause you don’t know if you’d be able to stop yourself from doing all of that given the chance.

Her offer to give a live performance is enough to make your cock twitch. Add your thoughts into the mix and you’re becoming a horny teenager again.

You exhale through your nose, quietly, hiding it through a tilt of your cup and a sip of cold liquid.

“You never answered me earlier.” You let out, getting your mind out of the gutter for once. 

It’s been happening too many times today.

“About what?” She peeks over the rim of her glass.

“About when you moved here.” You reiterate, elbows on your knees, placing the cup down on her coffee table. “What’s up with that?”

“Technically I started yesterday.” She scoffs. “But I had this place for a few weeks now when–”

She goes on about how she found out about the apartment through Yena and went with her mother to get an initial view. She got a deal to own it after a few years with a down payment and had the movers prep all her items throughout the weeks and have it all delivered in one go.

“I remember one of the assholes tried peeking down my top when they were moving the couch.” She gripes. “Wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it cause he kept sticking close, the creep.”

“...Do I need to talk to the guy?” 

“Mom already handled it.” She answers, standing up to pick up a few leftover cartons, giving you a grin. “But I’ll keep the offer in mind in case I need to move again.”

“Open up one of the big ones while I put these away?” She says, already walking out to her front hall. You could’ve been seeing things but she might’ve been putting a bit more sway in her hips.

“Sure.” Your feet are already moving towards one of them. “Offers always up when you need it!”

And you’re back to the grind. Open, unpack, store.

Except she’s ramped everything up to eleven. 

Intentionally bending over in front of you to show off her ass in those short shorts—you’re totally overthinking it when you thought you saw a small indent in her shorts—or giving you another look underneath her top; Her bra’s this dark blue that’s almost black—it’s a bra for fuck’s sake.

The small touches become more apparent. Less boxes, more space, no reason to take the long way and keep walking in front of you for a touch of your forearm instead of anywhere else.

And the looks she’s giving. The winks she’d send your way when she catches you glancing. The bite of her lip when she’s trying to force her way inside a box. 

Now this isn’t just mere coincidence anymore.

It’s bothering you a lot; You feel like the air conditioner isn’t cold enough, you’ve been drinking a lot more water in between breaks alongside the snacks that Yuri’s kept feeding you with. 

If this wasn’t paranoia, you don’t know what it is.

Then again, you agreed to this the moment she convinced you to help.

You walk back from her bathroom after placing down some medical supplies in one of the cabinets—You really need to have her sell some of her things—where you find her laying down on the floor, now clear of all the rainbow colored cartons save for one last box. 

“Want some more water?” You ask, already heading to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from her cupboard.

“Please.” She lazily throws an arm up towards you.

“Sit up.” You hold out her cup. “Or else I dunk you in it.”

You honestly could. Just shower her in water and soak that baggy shirt of hers, giving you an excuse to ogle her tits–

“Alright, alright.” She gets up to lean onto the sofa seats, grabbing the cup from your hands to take a sip. “Thanks.”

“It’s your house, I’m here to enjoy the free drink.” You sit down on a chair across from her.

“Always food with you.” She smiles underneath the cup. “Too bad you’re getting that story.”

“Speaking of which,” She continues, “Can you get the box from my bedroom? It should be by my desk.”

“Is it that box?” You put the cup down. “It’s that box isn’t it?”

“Are you actually scared of a box?” She giggles. “Yes, you dummy, it’s that box. Now go get it already. It’s important for the tea.”

“Do we really need it?” 

“Of course we need it dummy.”

“Just–making sure.” You cough, clearing your throat before doing as she asks, nervous anticipation consuming your thoughts.

You shake your head. You really need to stop with these things. 

She wouldn’t actually use them in front of you anyways.

So you distract yourself, focus on getting what you need, and get back to Yuri. It also gave you a chance to look around the place.

Her apartment started to look lived in, her shelves and cupboards full of items, the boxes all folded up and placed near her front door for recycling.

It looked a lot better than it was when you came in, that’s for sure.

You spot it immediately after coming inside her room. It was very her for the plushies to be used as a guitar stand alongside her many, many novels and right next to her keyboard standing near the desk.

Not even a day into living here and she’s already managed to make it into her own. Gotta give her props for that one.

Well, maybe not for some of her clothes still strewn about in her bed.

You can’t stare at it. You won’t. It’ll make you start thinking about what she’d look like in them. What she’d look like without them.

You booked it straight to the box—still black, still closed—your head staring at it, damn near putting holes in it as you walk out of the bedroom to avoid anything else except for the piece of carton in your hands.

Right into even more trouble.

The very first thing you noticed when you came back into her living room was her shorts on the floor.

The sounds registered after. The squelches, the moans, the gasps. All so low, so lewd, so incredibly fucking fucked hearing it all come from her.

You’re almost tempted to go back to her room and leave her be. Pretend you never saw anything, play the dummy that she always call you by.

But you look up, because what you’ve been imagining for so long is right in front of you and the devil in your shoulder is whispering all the dirty things that you’ve been wanting to do with Yuri. Do unto Yuri.

Everything.

And boy, was it a sight.

Yuri made herself comfortable on the couch, legs spread with a hand between her legs, blue-ish black panties that matched her bra pulled to the side with a small silvery object playing in her fingers rocking back and forth into her tight ass. Her other hand’s busy pinching a nipple, her shirt ridden up to her chest along with her bra.

She’s easing into the plug, teasing herself, the tip all wet and shiny from what you think is lube. You can see her tense up every time she pushes it in, mouth trying to bite a piece of her shirt to stifle her moans.

Didn’t really work, but the view.

Hips rocking with every thrust, the plug slowly disappearing into her, thighs shaking, muscles rippling. The hand on her tits hasn’t stopped pinching and squeezing. Everything about her looks so fuckable in all the ways you’ve thought extremely hard not to.

It almost made you drop the box, with the sound of saving it alerting Yuri to your presence.

“He-Hey.” She moans, pushing the entire thing deep, taking all of it into her ass before fixing up her panties. “You were taking too long.”

“I–” You start. Your mouth stays open for a good while, trying to think of something to say. You can’t.

Because you don’t exactly know what to say when someone’s fucking herself on a butt plug in front of you.

“You want-wanted to know about the toys right?” She says, letting the plug settle, hand pulling away from it to cup her tits. “C’mere and give me one.”

You follow, mouth still stuck in that perpetual curse of being unable to move as you sit down right next to her, box in hand. 

The box moves from one pair to another. Yours to hers, where the flaps open once more to show her very bright collection of dildos, vibrators, and handcuffs.

Yuri’s planning something devious, or ambitious. Could be one, could be both. She hums, eyes looking through her box, tongue slipping out of her mouth to lick at her lips. 

Definitely both.

“Pick a toy.” She asks you, face full of perverse mischief, hand roaming over her wares. “We can take turns choosing.”

You were completely still, stuck from earlier, mind processing; Embedding the image of Yuri playing with her ass into your head like a core memory of hers that you would never delete from your brain.

“Yuri–” You exhale, making her hum—purr, really, but who gives a shit at this point. “Are you seriously asking me to pick a fucking toy?”

“Duh. They’re all clean by the way, so touch all you want.” She answers, rolling her eyes, leaning back into the couch’s arm. Her shirt’s still ridden up, her breasts out in front of you, nipples hard from her earlier teasing. “Or do you want me to go first?”

She’s already reaching out to the black carton, decision made on what she’d be showing you—or using on herself—before you cut her off with yours.

“The dildo.” You say, one of your arms picking it up. It was the same one you first found when you opened it earlier. Red, large, and girthy, something that looked like it would fill her up all the way. “This one.”

You hand it over to her. It looked comically large in her hands, yet she’s all grins and giggles when she brings it closer to her mouth, tongue already lapping at the tip of it.

“Would you believe me when I say that this is the first one I bought?” She’s slobbering all over it, sucking on the first few inches of the toy, tongue flicking and licking to get it all wet and ready for her.

Her eyes are closing, moaning as she takes it deep, likely imagining that she’s throating a real cock. Yours is twitching at the thought of it being yours that she’s fucking her mouth with.

“This became one of my faves too.” She lets out, biting her lip as she lowers it down to her clothed pussy, rubbing it over herself. Her panties are stained from earlier, a wet darker patch of it in the middle. “Other than the vibrator, but I use both anyway–”

She cuts herself off with a strangled moan, her hips raising, arching as she presses the toy into that spot, rubbing it in, wetting it even more with the saliva that stuck to it.

Jesus Christ, is all you can manage to conjure up in your brain as you watch her edge herself with her favorite fucking strap. The thought of pulling her panties aside never seemed to cross her mind because she’s pushing it inside her to no avail.

“God, the things I did with this fucking thing–” She’s babbling, starting and stopping about how she’d always use it whenever, wherever, whoever.

“Fuck, I’d just use this to get off when I needed a good dicking–” It’s probably why she never goes out on dates even when everyone’s telling her to go on them. Who needs a boyfriend to satisfy her if she can do it herself anyway?

“Had to-god-to get the smaller ones cause I couldn’t walk in public with this.” That gets you thinking, pacing, recollecting every moment you’ve been with her if she had one stuffed inside of her pussy.

“Yena even borrowed one of them–” Now the vivid picture of Yuri and Yena sharing the red toy with each other, fucking each other with it, wondering how’d be on top, is painted inside of your mind.  “And she still hasn’t given it back, the bitch–” 

You might never look at Yena the same again with that.

All the while Yuri’s kept on going, hands never quite stopping with her metaphorical blue balling. Her underwear is completely soaked with her juices, even marking the couch with the damp spots underneath her.

“Fuck, Yuls–” Your cock’s been straining against your pants since she’s started, in dire need of relief from the confines of your clothes. One of your hands comes to undo the draws of your sweatpants to relieve the tension but you’d think the air can get you off at this point.

“Fuck me, huh?” Her tongue paints her lips before a question—a very dangerous one, you might add—comes out of her mouth. “Is that what you want?”

“God yes,” You confess, eyes roaming all over her. From her delectable thighs, her perky tits, her adorably sinful face; It’s all so ruinable. “Wanted you ever since–”

“The wedding?” She cuts you off.

“Even before that.” 

“Tell me.” 

So you do.

Tell her that it happened at that university reunion party you all attended. It was pretty memorable, considering that’s when Minju was officially announced ‘out of the market’.

Yuri was blonde then, wore this green dress that hugged her curves and showed her off in all the right places. That was the first time you ever saw her outside of baggy clothing or the tamer casual wear she has on.

It didn’t help that she stuck to you like glue for the majority of it all. You and her were making sure Yena didn’t do something stupid when she had a bit too much to drink.

You tell her how much you wanted to pull her into the bathroom and rail her against one of the stalls; You would hike her dress up and pull her underwear down and go to town on her pussy, not caring if anyone walked in and found out about it. 

Watch her face morph into a state of euphoria as you give her a nice, thick load at the end of it. Steal her panties so she’s forced to go back out there glowing from the aftermath and dripping with your cum.

Her eyes are closed all throughout, hand lazily circling the dildo over her, clinging to every single word, and all the dirty things you wanted to do to her that day. It gets her even more riled up hearing you talk like that, judging from the way she’s pushing the toy harder through the cloth.

Then she grins, pulling at the fabric covering her cunt at the same time she pushes. Whether it’s to tease you or to pleasure herself, you can say both and you’d be rewarded, just like she’s doing to herself when she stops for a moment to hike up her legs and take off her panties.

It’s left dangling on one of her legs when she brings it back down and spreads them once more, wet pussy out in the open. You wet your own lips at the sight of it, wanting to put your cock in between her legs and feel how hot she would feel.

Even the butt plug is mocking you, the shine of it inside of her ass barely visible because of the grip that she has on it. 

“You-you wanna know something funny?” Her eyes are locked into yours while her hands are back to playing with herself, grinding back on her toy. The lack of ruined underwear makes it even better for the both of you. “I had this plug on my ass that day. Fuck, I even had this on ever since we talked about moving in.”

You two were fucking hopeless.

She slides just the tip in, relieving all the built up tension she’s had for the past few whatever long time has passed and the moan she lets out sounded heavenly, the relief of everything crashing down on her.

“It was my first time too,” She continues, slouching down further into the couch to give you a better view of her ass, holes filled up with her toys. “Having it in me in public. I was so fucking horny that day that I probably would’ve let you fuck me in that bathroom–”

The red toy goes deeper inside of her, shutting herself up with her own actions. A whimper rings out, her thighs trembling with each thrust of the dildo into her drenched cunt.

“Wish th-this could be your cock–” She squeals, biting her lip to stop the perverse giggles that were trying to sing out of her. “You’d stretch me out so well–”

You couldn’t take it anymore. All the stories, the teasing, the view of Yuri fucking herself to the thought of you. You’re bursting at the seams, needing to chase your own pleasure this time.

So you stand up, a visible tent in your pants—she’s already eye-fucking it—and grab something different from her collection; A vibrator, all white with teal highlights because of course she has the classic one.

You turn it on, watch it whir for a moment before turning it off. You turn your head back towards her, still fixated on your pants, your cock, before you take a step. Her breath hitches.

Take another, and you stop to take your pants off. Quick, crass, it did the job to relieve your own stress as your length is freed from its confines. Yuri visibly shivers in excitement.

One more, and you’re cock-to-face with Yuri, her gaze finally looking up from one head to another. 

“Holy shit.” It’s only two words, but those alone speak volumes. She reaches out, gripping you at the base, before she starts to lazily pump away at your shaft. “You’d ruin me for all my toys with this.”

“Would I?” You ask, moving to grope one of her tits. She felt so soft against your hand, so perfect. You needed to feel every inch of her, squeezing, pinching, tugging. Move from one breast to another, and you’re addicted. “All those toys, and I’d ruin you?”

“You fucking would.” She arches, hand between her legs moving faster, no rhyme or rhythm to it. Only a need to cum, and she didn’t care how she’d achieve that high. She pulls you closer, your cock resting on her face, the tip of her tongue having a small taste of you. “Because a real cock would feel so much more better.”

She starts kissing your cock, making out with the head, lips glued to you. Her tongue’s twirling and flicking and dousing you in her spit. She moans, the vibrations thrumming over you, making you clench your legs.

“Yuri, what the fuck–” You steady yourself by leaving her tits to grip her head, the other still holding onto her vibrator, waiting, begging to be used on her. 

“This already beats out sucking on Glassy.” She even has a name for the damn thing, and it’s not even made of glass. “I can feel you throbbing.”

And you were, when she presses you back to her face. You are when she giggles, giving you pecks all over your length. And you still will be when she inevitably goes back to sucking your cock.

Her hands pump what she can’t put inside of her, wetting your shaft, surrounded by the hot feeling of her mouth that shakes you to your knees. She has the perfect grip on you, stroking you just fast enough to keep you aching for more.

You don’t know if she’s practiced on a dildo to suck somebody’s—your—dick. Not that it mattered if she did it for anyone else.

Because it’s Jo fucking Yuri that’s loving your cock right now, and that is a dream come true.

Her cheeks hollow, tightening her lips around you, just like yours hands are around her hair. It might’ve hurt her scalp. In reality it turned her on even more, bobbing her head quicker, taking more of you inside her mouth.

Then you remember: You’re holding onto one of her toys too.

A finger is pressed on a button, and it begins humming low, drowned out by her filthy fucking slurps. She’s too entranced with your cock to notice that you’ve brought it down to her chest, letting it massage one of her tits.

She hums, eyes closing, enjoying all the sensations she’s feeling. It’s all a fucking mess; From her sucking you off to fucking herself on Glassy. And she’s enjoying every single minute of it.

She mutters something; Too hard to understand with your cock in her mouth, too obsessed with your cock to let go of it. Girl can’t even bother to let her lips go off your head. So she speaks with her actions instead.

Her hand leaves the base of your shaft in favor of your forearm, resting there while you move the vibrator from one nub to another. Still set low, massaging her breasts slowly, pressing it into her. 

Yuri even incentivizes it. She starts going at you faster, getting messier and messier with spit starting to drool down her chin. She keeps uttering indescribable things while she’s at it, and you can’t understand a single fucking thing.

“You know I can’t understand what you’re saying.” You pull at her hair, popping your cock out of her lips, now pouting at the loss of her new favorite toy.

“I was enjoying that.” She whines, trying to push herself back onto you, pulling your arm, anything to get you back. “You taste so good, I could just suck on you all day.”

“I’m not exactly part of your collection, Yuls.”

“Yeah you are.” She retorts, shaking her head at another attempt to escape your grasp. “I have Glassy, and you are Dummy.”

“Fucking–Seriously?” You’re in disbelief. Known each other for who knows how long and she suddenly treats you like an object. “I’m a toy to you now?”

“Of course not!” She grins, hand finally coming up from her legs with the sex toy. She’s waving it around, drenched in her juices, glistening in it. “I love each and every single one of them.”

The implications are damning, yet your lust-addled brain is too horny to comprehend that fact.

“So who’s this?” You ask, pressing the vibrator into her chest, watching her tits sink in. You so badly want to suck on them, make her cry out when you bite one of her nipples. But you save that for later. 

Right now you have other priorities.

“Oh, Cherry?” She has a name for everything. “A friend got it for me when she went to Japan.”

The only one you knew that went to Japan recently was—

“You wouldn’t believe the stuff she has.” She grins, the hand on your arm pulling you downwards, to the dip of her breasts, to her midriff, and stopping just above her clit. “She’s crazier than me.”

“Having toys isn’t enough?” You push the vibrator, making sure to up the setting and make her thighs quiver. “Nothing’s crazier than that.”

“You-You’d be surprised.” She admits in the middle of her moans. “Cherry’s the real reason why I moved out.”

“Yeah?” You bring it lower, the head of it moving directly on top of her clit, and you repeat the same words she told you minutes prior. 

“Tell me.”

So she does.

Tells you all about that time when she overheard Nako and Hitomi over the walls of her old bedroom. All the moans they were letting out. They were trying to hide it for Yuri too, when she says that they were a lot more muffled than usual.

She just got the toy you’re holding; ”All the way from Japan.” She comments, and was wanting—dying—to try it out. 

“The hearing aid helped out a lot.”

She continues with how she used it in tandem with her other toys. Had it go in the same places you had it while she bounced on top of a dildo while she had another smaller one up her ass.

“I’ve always wanted to have this in my ass but it’s too fucking big–”

Her breathy moans sing out of her lips every few words, drawing her story out even more. Yet the pressure on her clit never really goes away, only being released for a short moment when she gets too lost in the pleasure to keep on talking.

She knows what you’re doing because she’s done the exact same thing to herself. All the words, the actions. It’s gotten to a point where the both of you are getting so close to losing all composure, yet you still want to carry on with this game.

So she carries on, giving you a play-by-play of what she did that night. It’s so detailed it makes your cock harder if that was even possible, made you leak pre-cum right there in front of her. 

She’s eyeing it of course, has been since she’s started talking, still deprived of your cock in her mouth. She brings her hand back to your shaft, gripping you, jerking you slow. Another comes back to her pussy, her toy pushing back inside of her.

Her eyes meet yours, and the face she makes for you is extremely tempting; Tongue pushing into her cheek, eyebrows wagging, eyes full of perverse ideas.

A pull of her hair stops her, and with a whine or a whimper, she keeps on going.

She admits how she got a bit too noisy after a while, louder than the couple at the other side of her room. She didn’t stop even when they did, if anything it got her hornier at the thought that they knew about what she was doing.

All her thoughts about that night was how much she wanted to get in on the action between the two. Yuri’s heard them so many times and the one time they took her into consideration her libido was at an all time high.

“It wasn’t the first time, either.” Yuri giggles, confessing that she’s gotten off to the both of them so many times at this point. The realization that she got caught that night made her cum all over her bedsheets.

The morning after was awkward for the both of them, she says. How Nako had to sit her down and tell her to stop being so loud with what she was doing. But that only spurred Yuri on, knowing that Nako was listening in on her masturbating to said girl.

Her hands haven’t been idle; Stroking you faster, fucking herself deeper. Her clit’s being abused by the vibrator that you��ve constantly held there, and you can tell that she’s close to cumming her brains out.

Her hands haven’t been idle; Stroking you faster, fucking herself deeper. Her clit’s being abused by the vibrator that you’ve constantly held there, and you can tell that she’s close to cumming her brains out.

She’s all twitchy, legs and arms and mouth just begging for you to turn it up to the max.

“You are just…” You pause, trying to find a single word in your limited dictionary of horny thoughts. A lot of words spring up to mind, but only one really fits the description of Jo Yuri in this very instance. “Such a slut.”

“Yeah?” She cackles, depraved, debauched, deafening. Her entire being is screaming it, and you are loving every second of it. “Cute innocent Yuri being such a closet perv, who would’ve known.”

“Be-Bet you didn’t think of that when you wanted to-to dick me down at that party.” She’s abandoned Glassy in favor of bracing herself to your arm, the shaking in her thighs intensifying as you turn the vibrator up a notch. “Like–Fuck, like you wanna do me right here on this couch.”

You want to confirm something. It’s been gnawing at you ever since she’s decided to ‘obtain’ you as part of her collection. And just as she was about to cum, you slow down.

“One more.” You press a button, and the humming dims.

“One-one what?” She can’t focus anymore, so you turn the toy down to low and watch her exhale in annoyance. “What the fu–I was so close!”

“One last toy you gotta tell me about.” You answer her, tugging her hair back and making her fall back down into the sofa. “Swear on my rank I’ll make you cum right after.”

She’s taking deep breaths, her entire body having these micro spasms, angry and disappointed at her orgasm being halted as well as urging her to finish the job herself. But she decides to indulge you.

“Fi-Fine.” She accepts, “Which toy?”

You reach down, yanking the toy out of her pussy, a guttural mewl spilling out of her followed by a  yelp as you throw the vibrator away and pick her up by the waist. You take her place on the couch, ignoring the fact that there’s a giant damp spot where she sat—you’ll help her clean it up after—and manhandle her into your lap.

“This toy.” Your cock is pressed to her lips, dripping with need. You can feel the heat in her legs. “Tell me everything you want to do to me.”

Yuri takes a moment to regain her bearings. It doesn’t take long for those words to register in her head, and when it does, she looks you dead in the eye, and grins.

“Fucking perv.” She comments, grinding onto your lap, shirt up and thrown out of her frame somewhere into her apartment, her bra following soon after. You can feel the heat radiating off her legs and the cold plug in her ass. “Wanna hear me say how much I’ve wanted your dick?”

“I told you mine.” You slide a hand up to one of her tits. “Tell me yours.”

Her grin’s turned into this lewd smirk. Combine that with a bite of her lower lip, and you might as well forget about what you asked at this point.

“Remember that bachelorette party,” She’s edging herself with your cock now, toys all but forgotten. ”When you came to pick me up after we got in trouble with the club. That’s how long I’ve wanted you.”

She’s on a roll, going over all the times she’s gotten wet to the thought of you. The wedding, the after party, every night, to right fucking now. She hasn’t stopped rubbing her folds—like you haven’t been groping her tits—cock in between as she starts to lose herself one more time to the pleasure.

“Watching me fuck myself, having me suck your cock–” Her eyes are fluttering shut, the utter perversion of her words taking over the both of you, pouring gasoline into the already raging inferno of your libidos. “You could dick me down right fucking now and I’d thank you for it.”

Fuck it, you’ve heard, seen, and felt enough.

You grab her by the waist and lift her like she’s another damn box to unpack, and push into her in one smooth thrust. You’re both gasping at the sensation, her arms wrapping around your neck, yours around her hips.

“So much better than my toys.” She sighs out, finally getting what she wants. What you both want. “You’re fucking throbbing.”

“And you’re so fucking tight.” It’s unbelievable how true those words are, gripping you so snug every movement makes her squeeze you oh so harder. She’s had that dildo inside her for so long that it made fucking her all the more easier, and all the more better. You slither a hand down to have a feel of her ass, giving it a little pinch before you start to lift her up and down your length.

Her moans ring out in your ear alongside the kisses down your neck as you bounce her on your cock as if she’s your sex toy now. She’s not idle at all however, hands tugging your hair, her hips rolling in your palms, tits pressing up against your chest. 

“S-Shit, you’re the best.” She gasps, needy pants airing out straight into your eardrums. “Don’t think I’ll ever go back to my toys after having this dick all to myself.”

“What makes you think I’m yours, Yuls–”

“Shut up, you fucking dummy.” She cuts you off, straightening up before bottoming herself down, taking your entire length. “Thought about this for weeks. Got myself off at the thought of riding you.”

“I know you’ve thought about it too.” You can barely understand a word, her pussy almost suffocating you. “Fucking told me all about it, you dummy. And now you’re mine.”

She starts doing the repetitively damning motion of lifting herself up and slamming herself down on your cock. She was slow, enjoying the way you fill her up, taking every single inch of you before she rides back up again.

Her hands are still on your shoulders, staring right into the face that’s enjoying every small bit of Yuri’s doing. Every hip roll, every squeeze, every bounce; It is everything and more that you’ve thought about with her, and you are craving to have more of it.

You snap your hips up just as she comes back down, giving her ass a squeeze. The gasp she lets out when you do add a slap to the same cheek is like getting hooked up on drugs.

“And what does that make you, huh–” You’re grabbing onto both ass cheeks, keeping her steady as you take back control, setting a rough pace that makes her leave scratch marks on your shoulders. You catch glimpses of the cool metal of her butt plug on your fingers, still fitted so snugly inside of her ass. 

“Wh-What do you think?” She retorts amidst the cries of bliss that you’ve caused. 

“Say it.” A hand creeps down to the metal, giving it a tug before placing it back in. The guttural moan that comes echoing into the room makes your cock throb harder inside her, as if it wasn’t already throbbing enough for her.

“N-No–” She’s lost all control of her body, surrendering it to the pleasure she’s feeling yet she’s still putting up a front to you. Pretending that she hasn’t when you both know she already has.

“Say it, you brat.” Another slap to her ass before the both of you pause.

Yuri stares. Gives you that look you’ve seen a million times by now. Her entire body’s sweating, hair matted to her face, even with the cool blow of the AC. The playful glint in her eyes that never seems to leave, and you can’t help but be lost in them for just a moment.

And utters two words. Two words that caused you to come right down to reality, and snap.

“Make me.”

Your grip moves to her waist, hard, enough to leave marks on them as you start to pound into her needy cunt, as if you want her to regret ever saying those words. 

She won’t, and she never will. Doesn’t mean you won’t try.

“Oh my god–” Her hand braces itself onto her couch, absolutely ruined by what you two have done to it. “Give me more, fucking wreck me–”

You don’t stop. Make her perverse moans turn into desperate gasps in the air. Turn her body into mush in your hands as you do in fact, wreck her pussy for anything and anyone else.

Fuck her till she has tears in her eyes from how good she’s taking you. Until her toes go numb from all the curling.  Until she can’t take it anymore. Until she begs.

“Say it.” It’s a mantra you’ve repeated all throughout. Everytime you fuck her so close to cumming before you stop, slow down, whatever it took to keep her from reaching that high.

And she’ll keep denying it. Keep saying all these different ways to tell you no and you’ll keep forcing it out of her. Keep fucking it out of her.

It’s a game. Some fucked up, depraved version of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Neither of you want to lose, but the both of you oh so want to win.

So you start cheating.

Your mouth moves to her chest, taking in one of her nipples, twirling the nub over and under your tongue and giving it a messy suck. You can taste the sweat off of her, that surprised gasp ringing in your ear when you give her a bite.

“Yes, fuck–” She moans, hands wrapping around your neck, mixing through your hair as she leans further into your mouth, keeping you locked in her entire frame. You’re hammering into her harder, the couch protesting in silence at the stress it’s received today. “I’m so close, please, please–”

You murmur those two words, the repetition breaking her down, sending the vibrations straight into her chest with a swipe of your tongue over a bud before clamping back down to suck on her tit.

Your other hand isn’t idle, dipping down low between her legs, your hand getting a coating of her juices before you bring it back to her plug, using it against her. Pushing, pulling, teasing her tight, delectable ass.

You repeat those two words one last time, reveling in the fact that you’re ruining her for everything else, just like she said you would. Feel her legs start to tremble, waist start to shake, face start to get a rosy hue from all the teasing. All the fucking.

“Please, please keep going, I-I’ll say it, just–” She’s pleading, demanding, begging, for you to finish what you’ve started. “Just make me cum!”

“Swear it.” You’re making her work for it, pushing that plug all the way in to her ass, making her take every inch of the plug as you fuck her into her much needed orgasm. 

You only need her to speak the words you’ve been wanting, no, needing to hear into existence, and you’ll give her what she wants. What her body is naturally telling her to do.

Yet she’s lost all manner of speaking, syllables coming out as broken moans because you’re not giving her a chance to rest. The heat of her pants brushes your face when she brings you up from her chest to meet her gaze. Yuri lets out this silly drunk chuckle, before her lips crash into yours.

It’s needy, it’s soft, it’s messy, it’s her. It’s a way of agreement, and you respond with fervor. Tongues meld, grips tighten around each other’s bodies, an urge to take everything this brat of a woman in your lap is giving you rising deep within your chest.

You accept it, all of it, and you return it in earnest by finally giving her what she wants.

You all but rip the buttplug out of her ass at the same time you bottom into her, and she’s reached that high she’s been denied for so long.

Yuri seizes up, abruptly pulling away from your lips as her jaw slackens, back arching as a silent scream is frozen on her features before she starts to shake, jerk, convulse everywhere. Her thighs, her chest, her pussy. She’s gushing, spilling herself all over your cock, the couch, the floor, and you’re left close to your own end.

Yet you pepper her neck with kisses, holding her as she trashes about on your lap. Give your entire focus on her, one of the most beautiful things you’ve seen, and the moans and whimpers that followed were so…fuck.

In that moment all you know is her, completely enraptured by the view of her being undone. Let her break, and watch her be remade. Her teary eyes return back to you, and she regains her bearings with a cup of your cheeks.

“Yeah,” She lets out a weak laugh, leaning in to press her forehead to yours. “Definitely the best.”

She leans in, pecking your lips. Then another, and another, until she’s showering you with them.  She’s following it up with these giggles that sounded suspicious.

“Give you my spare key if you give me yours.” She whispers after leaving a kiss on your cheek. It’s a sign of an unspoken promise between you two. One you wholeheartedly agree to.

“If it’s an excuse to spend more time with you,” You reply, thumbs circling her hips. “Then it’s a deal.”

“Like you would say no after this.” Yuri laughs, before a flicker of realization crosses her face, followed by a short roll of her hip that makes your cock jump inside her. “You haven’t cum yet.”

“Close.” You groan, fingers tightening around her hips, head lolling to the sofa back. “Really close.”

“You gonna cum inside me?” You can see the perverted amusement twinkling in her eyes, lips turning into a smirk. “Make me swallow your thick cum? Maybe cum in my ass. You would, wouldn’t you, perv.”

“Christ, Yuri–”

“You’d cum on my face though, right?” She’s given you all these options but the brat’s already decided where you would cum. “Shut me up with that cock, make me choke on it, fuck my face till you burst–”

You’re not going to fall for it. Not gonna pull her off of you and get her down on her knees and cum all over her—the thought makes your cock twitch—when her pussy’s pulsing around your length, trying to milk you of your cum. You feel like you’d cum when you pull out anyway, and she would probably consider that a waste.

So you grab her hips and flip her on her back, pull her legs up to her chest, and give her another sloppy kiss. She moans into it, even as you shove your tongue down her throat just to get her to stop talking. You didn’t even realize that you'd placed your hand on her neck when you pull away.

“Just shut up and get fucked, Yuls.”

You give her throat a squeeze, firm enough to make her gasp, make her eyes blow out and this shit-eating grin forms as you slam into her, fast and rough, with no regard for her at all this time.

“That’s it.” She’s hooked her arms around her legs, keeping them upright for you, giving you all the leverage in the world to fuck her into the sofa. “Use me as your toy, make yourself cum. Fuck it all inside me, I’ll take it, I promise I’ll take all of it for you–”

“I said shut up.” You clamp down harder on her neck, feeling the vibrations of her gullet as she moans into every harsh thrust. Her walls are clenching around you, drowning you in her juices, making it so much easier to drive your hips down harder, urging you to flood her with your cum.

Yuri’s fucking you up with your eyes too. Her eyes are starting to roll back, jaw gaping in struggling sobs, perky tits swaying at every movement, a desire to slap the flesh stirring deep within you.

But you can’t. Not when you’re so close to filling her up with your cum. Your hips get punchier, unfocused. Keep hitting that spot that gets you dizzy from how tight and wet and amazing she feels, taking the hand out of her neck in favor of pressing down on her legs.

She’s almost folded in half, but she’s taking your cock so well, her wails burrowing the slaps of wet flesh against each other as she experiences another orgasm, and the last few thrusts makes your entire body tense up and you finally let go.

Every spurt felt larger than the last; Each rope of cum being unloaded deep inside her. The pleasure was immense, the feeling of filling her up seemed endless, giving her deep thrusts as if you wanted to fuck the cum deeper.

You don’t think you can ever go back to your hands after this.

You’ve collapsed on top of her, completely spent as you move your arms to rest on each side of her face, brushing a stray strand.

“So much…” She mutters, glassy eyes looking up at you, wrapping her arms around your nape. “It feels so good.”

Ditto, is all you can muster up, too tired to move a muscle. You can’t help but stare at her. The matted hair, the drool on her chin, the sweat of her skin, and she’s positively glowing after being wrecked.

She presses a kiss on your forehead, before dropping back down on the couch. “You’re helping me clean this up.”

“Anything for you, Yuls.” You blurt it out without thinking, and the giggle you hear makes you smile.

“Dummy.” She utters, giving you a small peck on the lips before pushing you up. “Come on, get up. I need to make dinner.”

“I thought I wouldn’t be getting free food anymore.” You chuckle, sliding yourself free from her. The both of you let out differing versions of disappointment in your mouths—hums, moans, whines, groans. 

“I’m hungry.” Is all she needs to say. “But we both need a shower first.”

“Is that an invitation?” 

“No.” She denies, pouts, thinks, then smiles. “Maybe after dinner.”

[solxamber]

Winner Takes It All

The one in which they're too late.

Characters: Ace - Deuce, Leona - Vil, Jamil - Kalim

Angst no comfort!

divider credits to @chocolatebearstrawberry i love you <3

Ace - Deuce

"So, uh..." Deuce's face is redder than Riddle's hair as he fidgets with the hem of his uniform jacket. "We wanted to tell you something."

Ace glances up from his phone, sprawled across his bed in their shared dorm room. "Yeah? Did you finally figure out that two plus two equals four, Juice?"

You elbow him lightly, but you're smiling—that soft, fond smile that makes something warm unfurl in Ace's chest every single time. The same smile he's been hoarding like treasure for months, telling himself he has all the time in the world to make it his.

"Be nice," you chide, and God, he loves when you do that. Loves the way you defend Deuce but still laugh at his jokes. Loves how you've somehow managed to make your chaotic trio work when by all rights, it should have fallen apart ages ago.

"We're dating now," Deuce blurts out, and the words hang in the air like a death sentence.

Ace's phone slips from his fingers.

For a moment, the room is so quiet he can hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. Can hear the way his breath catches in his throat like he's been sucker-punched. Can hear the world reshuffling itself around him, rearranging into a configuration where you belong to someone else.

Where you belong to Deuce.

"Oh," he says, and his voice sounds strange and distant even to his own ears. "Oh, cool."

You're watching him carefully, your expression uncertain. "Ace? Are you okay?"

And that—that breaks something in him. Because of course you'd be worried about him. Of course you'd care about his reaction even in your moment of happiness. You've always been like that, always putting everyone else first, always making sure no one gets left behind.

He should have known you'd fall for someone who does the same thing.

The laugh that bubbles up from his chest tastes like blood and sounds like broken glass. "Okay? I'm great! This is hilarious." He sits up, forcing that familiar cocky grin onto his face even though it feels like wearing a mask made of knives. "Deuce actually managed to get a partner before me? Man, I really am losing my touch."

Deuce flushes darker. "It's not a competition, Ace."

"Isn't it though?" The words slip out sharper than he intended, and he sees you flinch. Sees the hurt flash across your face, and he wants to take it back, wants to swallow the poison before it can spread. But it's too late. It's always too late with him.

"I mean," he continues, dialing back the venom and cranking up the trademark Ace Trappola charm, "someone had to win eventually, right? And hey, at least it wasn't some random guy from another dorm. That would've been embarrassing."

You and Deuce exchange a look—one of those silent conversations that couples have, and isn't that just perfect? You're already developing your own language, your own secret world that doesn't include him.

"We were worried about telling you," you admit quietly. "We didn't want things to be weird between us."

Things are already weird, he wants to scream. Things have been weird since the day I realized I was in love with my best friend and did absolutely nothing about it.

Instead, he shrugs. "Why would it be weird? You're both my friends. I'm happy for you."

The lies taste like ash in his mouth.

"Really?" Deuce asks, and there's something fragile in his voice. Something that makes Ace remember they're supposed to be best friends too. That he's supposed to care about Deuce's happiness.

And he does. That's the worst part. Even through the jealousy and the pain and the way his chest feels like it's caving in on itself, he genuinely cares about Deuce. Loves him like a brother. Which makes this whole situation feel like a betrayal and a tragedy all rolled into one.

"Really," Ace says, and this time he almost means it. "You're good for each other. Deuce needs someone who'll keep him from running headfirst into traffic, and you need someone who actually listens when you talk."

Unlike me. The words hang unspoken in the air.

You beam at him, relief written all over your face, and lean over to hug him. For a moment, you're in his arms again—warm and familiar and perfect—and he lets himself pretend. Lets himself imagine this is you telling him you love him back, not you saying goodbye to whatever chance he never took.

"Thank you," you whisper against his shoulder. "This means everything."

You mean everything, he doesn't say. You meant everything, and I was too much of a coward to tell you.

Instead, he pats your back and grins when you pull away. "Yeah, yeah, don't get all sappy on me. Save that for lover boy over here."

Deuce groans and covers his face with his hands. "Please don't call me that."

"Oh, I'm absolutely calling you that. And Juicy. And honey bun. And—"

"Ace!" you and Deuce protest in unison, and the sound of your laughter mixing together is beautiful and terrible and everything he'll never have.

Later, after you've both left to go celebrate or whatever it is new couples do, Ace lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling. His phone buzzes with notifications—probably Cater posting something stupid on Magicam, or Grim demanding tuna.

He ignores it all.

The thing is, he'd always just assumed. Assumed you'd be there when he was ready. Assumed that someday, when he'd gotten his act together, when he'd figured out how to be the kind of guy who deserves someone like you—someday, you'd still be waiting.

He'd been building himself a fence, thinking he was being smart. Playing it cool. Not wanting to ruin the friendship if you didn't feel the same way. Too scared of rejection to risk it all.

But while he was busy protecting himself, Deuce was being brave. Deuce was showing up. Deuce was becoming everything Ace was too much of a coward to be.

And now Deuce gets to hold your hand in public. Gets to kiss you goodnight. Gets to wake up every day knowing he's the one you chose.

The winner takes it all.

Ace rolls over and buries his face in his pillow, finally letting the mask slip. Finally letting himself feel the full weight of what he's lost, what he never even tried to win.

His phone buzzes again. A text from you: Thanks for being so cool about this. Love you, Ace.

He stares at those three words until his vision blurs, knowing you'll never mean them the way he does when he types back: Love you too, loser.

The gods threw their dice, and someone way down here lost someone dear.

And all Ace can do is smile and pretend his heart isn't breaking.

Leona - Vil

The words hit him like a physical blow.

"Did you hear? They're dating now—officially."

Leona's grip tightens around his phone, knuckles going white as Ruggie's voice continues on the other end, oblivious to the way his housewarden's world just tilted off its axis.

"Vil and—"

He hangs up before he can hear your name spoken in the same breath as his. The phone clatters onto his desk, and Leona stares at it like it's personally offended him. Like it's the messenger he wants to shoot.

But the damage is done. The words are already echoing in his skull, bouncing around like shards of glass.

You're with him now.

Leona sinks back into his chair, one hand dragging down his face as something hot and vicious claws at his chest. It burns—Sevens, it burns like he's swallowed fire, like there's molten metal pooling in his lungs. He can't breathe around it.

He should have seen this coming. Should have known that someone like you wouldn't stay single forever. Should have known that when he let his pride and his fears drive you away, someone else would be there to catch what he'd been too much of a coward to hold onto.

And of course it had to be Vil.

Perfect, untouchable Vil Schoenheit. Everything Leona isn't and never will be. Where Leona is rough edges and lazy afternoons, Vil is polished perfection and ambition that burns brighter than the sun. Where Leona pushes people away with his sharp tongue and sharper truths, Vil draws them in with charm and grace.

The worst part? He can see it. Can see exactly why you'd choose Vil over the memory of what you had together. Vil won't make you feel like you're asking for too much when you want to hold his hand in public. Won't make you question if he actually cares when he gets distant and cold. Won't make you cry in empty hallways because he's too proud to say the words you needed to hear.

Leona's jaw clenches so hard it aches.

He wants you in his arms instead. And that's the thing that's killing him—you had belonged there. In his arms, in his space, in his life. You'd fit against him like you were made for it, like the universe had crafted you specifically to fill the hollow spaces he'd carried around his whole life. And for a while, a brief, shining while, he'd let himself believe it could last.

But he'd been a fool. Playing by rules he'd never understood, building walls when he should have been building bridges. Every time you'd reached for him, he'd pulled back. Every time you'd needed reassurance, he'd given you silence. Every time you'd tried to make it work, he'd found a new way to sabotage it.

Because that's what second sons are good for, right? Destroying things. Being the one who doesn't get the crown, doesn't get the happy ending.

The chair groans as he pushes back from his desk, stalking to the window. The sun is setting over the garden, painting everything gold and orange, and he wonders if you're watching it too. If you're watching it with him.

His reflection stares back at him from the glass—tired eyes, bitter smile, the face of someone who's lost everything that mattered and knows it's his own damn fault.

"The winner takes it all," he murmurs to his reflection, voice rough with something that might be tears if he were anyone else. If he were the kind of person who got to cry over lost love instead of just... enduring it.

But he's not. He's Leona Kingscholar, second prince of the Sunset Savanna, and he doesn't get to fall apart just because the best thing in his life chose someone better.

Even if it's ripping him apart from the inside out.

Even if he'd give anything—his pride, his title, his very soul—for one more chance to hold you and do it right this time.

Even if the thought of Vil's hands where his used to be makes him want to scream until his throat bleeds.

The sun disappears behind the horizon, and Leona closes his eyes.

Why should I complain?

Jamil - Kalim

"Jamil! Jamil, you'll never guess what happened!"

Kalim bursts through the door of Scarabia's lounge like a miniature sun, all bright smiles and boundless energy. He's practically vibrating with excitement, and Jamil doesn't need to guess what's put that particular glow in his eyes.

He already knows. Has known since he saw you and Kalim dancing together at last night's party, saw the way you laughed at something Kalim whispered in your ear, saw the way Kalim looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"Let me guess," Jamil says, not looking up from the paperwork spread across the coffee table. His voice is perfectly level, perfectly controlled. Years of practice have made him an expert at hiding the cracks in his composure. "You asked them out."

"Yes! And they said yes!" Kalim spins around, arms spread wide like he wants to embrace the whole world. "Can you believe it? I was so nervous, but you know how you always tell me to just be honest about my feelings? So I did, and—Jamil, I think I'm in love."

The pen in Jamil's hand stops moving.

Be honest about your feelings.

Of course. Of course that's the advice that would come back to haunt him. How many times has he told Kalim exactly that? How many times has he watched him succeed simply by wearing his heart on his sleeve, by being brave in all the ways Jamil has never allowed himself to be?

Jamil clears his throat, forces the words out.

"I'm happy for you."

And the truly devastating part is that he means it. Even as his own heart is crumbling to dust in his chest, even as every breath feels like swallowing glass, he genuinely wants Kalim to be happy. Because that's what he's been trained to do his entire life—put Kalim's happiness above his own.

Even when it destroys him.

"I have to plan the perfect date," Kalim continues, oblivious to the way Jamil's world has just collapsed. "Maybe a carpet ride at sunset? Or we could have a picnic by the oasis! Oh, or—"

"The carpet ride," Jamil interrupts quietly. "They mentioned once that they'd always wanted to try flying."

You'd mentioned it to him. During one of those late-night conversations when it was just the two of them in the kitchen, when you'd help him prep for the next day's meals and talk about everything and nothing. You'd looked so wistful when you said it, so quietly longing, and Jamil had filed it away in his heart like every other precious detail about you.

He'd planned to take you himself. Had been working up the courage for weeks, crafting the perfect moment in his mind. After the next exam, he'd told himself. After Kalim's birthday celebration. After the inter-dorm tournament. Always after, always waiting for the perfect moment that would never come.

"Really?" Kalim's face lights up even brighter, if that's possible. "You always know exactly what people want, Jamil. You're the best!"

The praise feels like a knife between his ribs.

"I should go tell them now!" Kalim heads for the door, then pauses and turns back. "Actually, wait. You don't mind, do you? I know you two are friends, and I don't want things to be weird..."

Mind? Jamil wants to laugh, wants to scream, wants to grab Kalim by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that this isn't just friendship, that Jamil has been desperately, hopelessly in love with you for months.

But he can't. Because Kalim is looking at him with such genuine concern, such innocent worry about disrupting a friendship, and it's clear that Kalim has no idea. No clue that Jamil's feelings run deeper than casual companionship.

And why would he? Jamil has spent so long hiding, so long keeping every emotion locked behind layers of duty and propriety and fear. So long being the perfect servant who wants for nothing, who exists only to facilitate his master's happiness.

"Of course not," Jamil says, and his voice doesn't even waver. "Why would I mind? You're perfect for each other."

More perfect than we could ever be.

The thought tastes bitter as poison. Because it's true, isn't it? Kalim can offer you everything Jamil can't. Freedom. Adventure. A future without the weight of servitude hanging over every moment. Kalim can love you openly, publicly, without having to hide behind carefully constructed walls.

Kalim can give you the world. Jamil can barely give you an honest conversation about his feelings.

"Thanks, Jamil!" Kalim beams and rushes out, leaving Jamil alone with the wreckage of his carefully guarded heart.

The paperwork blurs in front of him. The numbers don't make sense anymore, each figure dissolving into meaningless shapes as something hot and desperate claws at his throat.

He'd been so careful. So cautious. Waiting for the right moment, the right words, the right everything. Terrified of rejection, yes, but more terrified of what acceptance might mean. How could he ask you to tie yourself to someone who isn't even free? Someone who can't promise you anything beyond stolen moments and hidden affection?

But while he was busy protecting himself, protecting you from the complications his feelings would bring, Kalim was simply... being Kalim. Open. Honest. Brave in the way that only someone who's never had to hide can be.

The winner takes it all, and the loser has to fall.

Jamil sets down his pen and buries his face in his hands, finally allowing himself this one moment of weakness. This one moment to mourn what never was and never could have been.

Tomorrow, he'll smile and congratulate you both. He'll help plan the perfect dates and give the perfect advice and be the perfect friend, because that's what's expected of him. That's what he's good at.

But tonight, in the silence of his own failure, Jamil lets himself grieve for the love he was too afraid to fight for.

Masterlist

[cherryappleblizz]

The Hank(s) [Parent HC’s]

SPOILERS FOR AFTER REALIZATION ENDING

A/n: Ever since Hank 5 said his dream is to be a dad, the breeding kink side of me awaken like nothing ever before. I can’t stop thinking about how cute the boys would be as parents

Side warning: I don’t have the game, so my limited knowledge is entirely based off YouTube playthroughs of the Hanks and some clips I seen on Tik Tok. Sorry if some parts are off or wrong!!!

(Fluff/suggestive but not really, Female reader)

They use your pregnancy as motivation to pursue their dreams harder, not only for themselves but to also help support you financially

They follow you EVERYWHEREEEEE

You can barely get up from bed without them asking a million questions of what’s wrong or what you need

Whatever you need, they’re at your beak and call. Feeling sore? They’re rubbing you up. Have weird cravings at 5 a.m.? They’re racing to the kitchen dropping everything on their way back to you

When it’s time to deliver they are all over the place:

Hank 1 and 3 are holding your hand

Hank 5 wiping away your sweat and tears trying his best to comfort you, telling you it’ll all be over soon

Hank 4 is pacing back and forth saying he can’t look but keep looking anyways

Hank 2 passed out on the floor

You honestly believe the Hanks are crying more than the baby when it’s in your arms

The baby is an identical copy of Hank 5, from the hair to the moles. Looks absolutely nothing like you.

9 months in your womb, making you suffer… THE’RE PERFECT!!!

When y/n is trying to breastfeed, Hank 3 is trying to take a peak/making suggestive comments like “When they’re done, can I have a taste?” And gets slap against the head from the other hanks

They set a rotating schedule based on days of the week for changing diapers and who wakes up to check on the baby at night

They all have their own nicknames for mini Hank. Something cheesy like meatball, dumpling, etc

When you have to leave for the real world, the baby starts crying like crazy missing you terribly. So when you get home, you often walk in on the guys cosplaying as you.

The daddy-O shirt Hank 5 is wearing was used to surprise the Hanks with your pregnancy

Hank 5 never took it off since then

A/n: Aaaaa this is my first time ever writing anything so sorry for any mistakes! PLEASE PLEASE let me know of your headcanons! I’m dying for more Hank content so please share!

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Obsidian [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds (The Void) x reader

wc: 3k

summary: Bob loves you, but he’s trapped by his own fears and silence. Void, the shadow of his pain, confronts you with the burden he carries—leaving you scared and unsure of what comes next.

warnings: complex emotional themes, mental health struggles, ambiguous supernatural presence, mentions of intense psychological tension, choking (not in the good way, lol) mild language, no explicit violence or sexual content.

masterlist part 1 part 3

Wait for a part three (and final) titled "cobalt" soon with the resolution of this focusing on Bob!

Several days had passed since that night with Sentry, but the memory of it had not faded.

Sometimes it returned in the form of a fleeting image: the liquid gold of his eyes, the contained weight of his gaze, the impossible calm he'd brought with him. Other times, it returned as an awkward silence between Bob and you. One neither of you could name, but one that felt more present than any conversation.

You hadn't mentioned anything to him and had tried, as best you could, to maintain a normal demeanor around Bob. The conversation with his alter ego wasn't something he was aware of, so bringing up the fact that he was in love with you would have felt strange and invasive. Of course, as the days went by, you began to notice tiny actions that hid in the everyday and revealed the feeling.

Sentry wasn't lying when he told you Bob was watching you all the time. Not in a stalker way, of course, but the truth is you'd caught him staring at you more than once when he thought you were distracted.

At times, it even seemed like he avoided you. You thought maybe he didn't know how to handle his affection, which was why he preferred to stay quiet and distant. But little by little, you gained ground. After discovering that he seemed more shy in groups, the times you approached him were often alone, usually to talk about trivial matters.

Some days, you were kind enough to leave a treat in the cupboard for when he had a sweet tooth. You made his tea, shared your meal, or helped him with chores.

However, his signals were too confusing. One day he was laughing with you, chatting like never before, his eyes shining with joy. The next, he barely said hello to you in the morning, spending all day in his room, and his glances seemed to carry reproach rather than tenderness. You couldn't tell what was going on in his head, or why his ambivalent behavior toward you, but you were trying your best. To be patient. To wait for him to be ready, as the golden boy had said.

On one of those afternoons, you didn't expect anything to be different. You were sitting on the floor, one leg tucked under you and the other stretched out, while you idly flipped through a report you'd found on the table.

Bucky was on the couch, lying sideways, one leg dangling over the edge. He held a steaming mug and spoke leisurely, with the raspy voice of someone who'd spent the day giving orders.

“…and when we opened the door, the guy was eating cereal. With a half-assembled rocket launcher on the table. As if that were the most normal thing in the world.”

“Cereal?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Cereal. With banana. And without milk.”

“That’s his real crime.”

“The real crime was him pointing the spoon at me like it was a gun.”

Your laugh was instant, clean, so natural that John—who had just walked in with a bottle of water and a towel over his shoulders—stopped for a second to listen.

“What are you two laughing about?”

“Bucky tells me about a weird guy with a rocket launcher and…”

“Cereal,” John finished, tossing the towel over a chair.

“You were with him, weren’t you?”

The soldier nodded.

“Bucky froze when he saw it. I thought the guy had brained him out.”

“I was just processing the scene,” Bucky defended himself, smiling. “Sometimes it’s harder when there’s no blood. It confuses me.”

“And what did you do?” you asked John.

“I took the spoon away. I offered him oatmeal. And I handcuffed him.”

You laughed again, louder now. You leaned your forehead against your bent knee, still laughing, and when you looked up, Bucky was already staring at you. Not in a stuffy, awkward way. Just… attentive. As if watching your laughter was something worth memorizing.

“You should let me go with you sometime,” you said. “Sounds like fun.”

“You wouldn’t survive,” John murmured, with a half smile.

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“Because you'd befriend the cereal guy before we could arrest him.”

“Don’t underestimate her,” Bucky added. “She has that look that says, ‘I’m listening to you, but I’m really analyzing your weaknesses.’”

“What I have is a good memory,” you replied in a mocking tone, “And a high threshold for human stupidity.”

John laughed and plopped down on the couch next to you. He offered you the bottle, which you accepted without hesitation. Bucky gave you a knowing look.

“You see? That’s why we want you around. You have a tactical spirit.”

“And because you're small. Everyone makes the mistake of dismissing you as a threat,” John added.

“That’s true,” you said, raising the bottle in a toast. “My real secret weapon.”

Bucky chuckled softly, more to himself. Then, in a quieter tone, not intending to be overheard by everyone, he said:

“It’s weird talking to you. I don’t usually laugh like this with anyone.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, smiling softly.

“You should do it more often. Even if it’s not with me.”

He looked down for a second, almost blushing.

And across the room, Bob turned the page. Again. Without having read the previous one.

He didn't look directly at you or participate in the conversation, but he felt everything. The natural flow of your laughter with them. The ease with which Bucky made you let your guard down. The way John touched your arm to emphasize a joke.

He wanted to get closer, but the more he thought about the idea, the more absurd it seemed. It wasn't that any of the three of you were doing anything wrong, it was just... you being yourselves. You could speak calmly, fluently, as if you didn't even have to think about what you were saying. Bucky was a more than experienced super soldier. Walker was another super soldier, although younger, a little more charismatic than his partner. And you seemed happy listening to them. Admiring them.

After a while, you noticed Bob get up from his seat, put his book on the table, and walk toward the hallway. You thought it was strange.

You would have liked to follow him, even without knowing the reasons for his departure, but you thought maybe he wanted to be alone. You never suspected anything had bothered him. There was no reason to think so.

When night fell, things got complicated.

Lying in your bed, you felt restless. At first, it was mild, as if the air in your room had thickened. You'd tried to distract yourself by reading, scrolling through something on your phone, or simply wasting time between empty notifications, but you couldn't focus. You felt a subtle buzzing, like static electricity seeping into the edges of your thoughts. The room was silent, and yet, something vibrated in the air as if you weren't alone.

You convinced yourself it was exhaustion. You tried to sleep, but when you couldn't, you resorted to some insomnia pills that had been forgotten in a drawer on your counter. It took you almost an hour to fall asleep.

It was in the middle of the night that you felt an abrupt change in the atmosphere. You woke up without warning, your chest tight with a surge of fear. Then you saw it.

It wasn't an apparition, nor a clear voice. It was a presence. Cold, like a shadow creeping under a door. Like an absence so absolute it ended up being more tangible than any body. You didn't know if you had closed your eyes for a moment or if the room had darkened on its own, but something in you recognized the energy before your mind could name it.

The room had no open doors, but it didn't matter. Because Void didn't just walk in. He flooded in. Sneaking into your room the same way he did into your mind: stealthily, without asking any kind of permission.

“Who’s there?” you stammered.

The question was awkward. You already knew the answer.

“You still pretend not to know.”

The voice sounded deep, not guttural or monstrous… but soft, too soft. Like torn silk.

“You’re not here,” you whispered. “I must be dreaming. You… can’t.”

“But here I am.” A pause. Then, more slowly: “Like all the thoughts he tries to bury.”

You felt it then. The oppression. The way the air seemed to lean in one direction, as if something invisible was breathing with you. Your skin prickled.

"What do you want?"

“Nothing. Why do you always think I come here for something?” A shadow darker than darkness itself moved across the wall, as if testing the limits of space. “I just came to see you. To understand what’s so special about the thing that keeps me contained.”

“Bob…”

“No. I’m not Bob. He has nothing to do with this.”

For a moment, the shadow moved closer to the edge of the bed, as if it could materialize, but still refused to take shape. You breathed heavily.

"He's sick with you."

"Don't say that."

“Why not? Because it makes it sound… twisted? Like loving you hurts him.” He laughed. It was a hollow sound. “Well, yes. It does.”

You stood there silently, unsure whether to move, whether to speak. Void continued.

“He looks at you as if you were an unattainable promise. As if simply getting close to you is a betrayal of what he believes you deserve. And yet… he can't help it.”

“I’ve never asked him for anything,” you replied. “I don’t… I’m not doing it to hurt him.”

“I know. That’s why it hurts more.”

You felt the mattress give way. Not because of the weight of anything corporeal, but because of the way the darkness seemed to thicken. As if a faceless presence were sitting next to you.

“I saw you laugh today. With them.”

He didn't say their names. He didn't have to. That's when Bob's withdrawal made sense in your head.

“So easy, so comfortable. Dazzled. As if you were part of their world. As if they understood you.”

“They are my friends.”

"Of course."

The sarcasm was palpable.

A shudder ran through you as you felt him closer. Not physically, but… emotionally. Breaking through an invisible barrier you didn't even know you had.

“He loves you, you know?”

“You shouldn’t say that.”

“And why not? Because I'm not him, right? Because you're uncomfortable with the truth coming from a monster.”

A silence.

“Do you think he’s the only victim in all of this? No. He represses. He holds back. He keeps quiet. But all of it… everything he can’t tell you, everything he won’t allow himself to feel, he throws at me. Every thought that shames him, every desire that makes him hate himself, every image of you in his head that he can’t shake off—I carry it.”

Suddenly, you heard his low voice, even closer. That calmness in his speech hurt more than a scream.

"And you know what the worst part is? He does it without guilt. As if I don't feel anything. As if I'm just a pit to dump everything that breaks him. All the shit he can't deal with."

You swore you felt his gaze. But not like Bob's. Never like Bob's.

“I hear everything. I feel everything. He just looks down. But inside, he's screaming. And those screams, he leaves them for me. While he smiles at you, he vomits his guilt at me.”

There's a pause, as if measuring how much more he can let go without breaking.

“Every time he tells himself he doesn't have the right to touch you. Every time he imagines what it would be like to touch you, to kiss you, to have you... and then hates himself for wanting it. Every time he punishes himself for feeling what he feels. He throws it at me. He forces it on me.”

A shadow slid up your arm. You didn't feel a hand, but you did feel a slight chill, as if something were barely gliding over your skin. It wasn't lascivious. It was… analytical.

“And having you here, in front of me, I see you so soft… so alive.”

A shiver ran through your entire body.

“You can’t touch me”

“What if I don’t want to touch you?” his raspy voice spoke. “What if I just want to understand why he thinks he can’t have you?”

You turned toward the void. There was no face. But you felt it as close as if it were breathing on you.

“Why are you angry?”

“Because I exist for him. Because he breaks himself in two so he doesn't love you too much… and yet he loves you more than he can bear.”

A long, uncomfortable silence.

“And you don’t do anything. You just smile. You speak softly to him. As if it doesn’t hurt. As if he could stand it.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

You were sincere. First, Sentry came to tell you to love him back, and now Void came, scolding you that any attempt to do so was only hurting Bob.

“Maybe nothing. But what if I told you that every time you talk to him, you make me stronger?”

His words slid like blades wrapped in velvet.

“Because you can’t love a man who hates himself.”

And then you felt it. The shadows rose. Like invisible fingers, like branches of smoke that lightly tangled around your arms, your waist, your hips. He was touching you—if you could even call it that—in the way only a lover is allowed to. You couldn't pull away; you didn't know if it was out of fear or because, in some sick way, his caresses were enjoyable.

An inexplicable force compelled you to lie back on the mattress so he could continue exploring you. You felt those fingers—cold and sharp—ride over the soft flesh of your breasts, covered by your pajama top. It wasn't a gentle touch. It was a strong, hard… possessive one.

You held back a moan, one that would have revealed both pleasure and fear, as you felt his presence near your warm core; he spread your legs wildly, gripping your thighs just enough to tease, but not satisfy.

“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this? Not the pleasure. The stillness. The silence of your body breathing next to his. And knowing it won’t be real is what shapes me.”

There was silence. Then you felt as if he were breathing against your lips.

“He likes you,” the raspy, thick voice made you shiver. “But I need you.”

You were unable to say anything. His hands, still planted firmly on your body, began tracing the curves of your sides up your chest. They ended at your neck. They didn't hurt at first. But they chilled you. And then... they began to squeeze.

"What are you doing?"

Your question went unanswered. A second later, you began to breathe heavily. His presence surrounded you. The invisible hands weren't physical, but they choked you just the same. Not out of force. Out of guilt.

Desperate, you raised both hands to try to free yourself from his grasp, but it was useless. It wasn't something you could touch; it was beyond the tangible. The pressure seemed to come from within, as if your throat were closing on its own.

"Stop…"

“Are you scared now?” his voice softened, as if he truly regretted something. The lack of air made you close your eyes. “It’s not you I want to suffocate. It’s hunger. It’s myself.”

He confessed in your ear. You wanted to ask him to stop, but there wasn't enough air left to form a sentence.

“But you are so close…”

The whisper dissolved into the air like smoke, and then the silence became absolute. Not the silence of a still room, but the silence of an abyss containing all the unspoken things.

The shadows did not retreat.

The cold wasn't just on the surface anymore: it was inside you, spreading through your ribs like a dark tide that was slowly draining you. It wasn't painful. It was worse. It was the sensation of being sucked in.

There was no face. There was no breath. But you could feel his desperation enveloping everything.

The pressure on your throat fluctuated. It wasn't constant, as if he were hesitating. As if every attempt to pull away from you only dragged him deeper into his need to have you near.

Your numb fingers tried to find something to hold on to. A corner of the mattress, the seam of the sheet, anything. But there was no anchor possible when emptiness was what sustained you.

Soon the suffocation, though not complete, became constant. Air came in drips and drips. Your body began to give in to fatigue. And you couldn't even process the situation enough to feel afraid of dying.

It was right there, at that edge, that you felt him stop. The shadows flickered. As if on that last line, where only surrender or destruction remained, he didn't know which to choose.

Then he let you go.

Your breathing returned suddenly, raspy, clumsy, wet with tears you didn't remember shedding. Your hands trembled. And he was still there. Not moving.

The shadow seemed hunched. Surrendered. You might even say resigned.

“He’ll wake up again without knowing I was here,” you suddenly heard. It had become just the echo of a voice in the room again. “But you… you won’t forget.”

He stood there for a few more seconds, wavering, suspended between shadow and reality. Then he began to fade away little by little, like smoke carried by an invisible breeze. The cold in the room gradually dissipated, but the emptiness it left behind continued to throb in your chest, deeper than any visible wound.

You were left alone, trembling, tears streaming uncontrollably down your cheeks. Fear tangled with worry, and although silence returned, his presence continued to pierce your mind.

You didn't know what would happen to Bob, or what part of him had been trapped in that darkness that now seemed to have visited you. But you did know that, for the first time, you felt more lost than ever.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @calzone-d @jessyimpala @p34ch-tr33 @meiluu

[cheftsunoda]

Hi how are you? So I have a kinda weird request because is for drivers that usually don’t a lot of love lol but since you wrote for mick i think i won’t be judge lol.

So mick x stroll!reader x esteban have been dating for a couple years but no one in the public knows, only their families and some close friends/drivers know. The three of them are ALWAYS together and fans think she’s either dating mick or este, or even that mick and esteban are dating each other and reader is the third wheel 😂 and she spends race days going from one garage to other to support her brother and her boyfriends (so i guess mick needs to be driving in f1 for this to work, any team works tbh)

So eventually mick and este get to share a podium and she is so proud that ends up hard launching their relationship lol.

Anyway that’s my little weird request, thanks for reading my rambling 🫶🏻

estie bestie? no. estie boyfie. — mick schumacher + esteban ocon

smau + blurbs

esteban ocon x stroll reader x mick schumacher

to the world, you were lance stroll’s supportive younger sister, maybe wag to esteban ocon— maybe mick schumacher. or maybe, as twitter liked to suggest, the tragic third wheel to their slow burn bromance. and you let them believe it. because the truth? you’d been in love with both of them — and they with you — for nearly three years. it started quietly. long nights in hotel rooms after races, comfort in shared silences, in the way mick kissed your knuckles before press conferences and esteban held your hand under the table during dinners. now it was your normal—switching garages like outfits, falling asleep tangled between two hearts you never expected to hold. no one knew — except a few friends, family, and the world’s worst secret keeper— sebastian vettel. to everyone else, you were just the girl with too many lanyards, too many photo ops, and too many unexplained blushes when either of them walked past. but behind the pr smiles and speculation threads, your love story was unfolding. and the world was getting closer to finding out.

fc : kornelia.ski

(a/n) : hi baby! im okay, life’s been rough. been beating me down a little bit but thank you for asking! hope you are well. i am so sorry this took so long— I’ve been behind but I hope you enjoy it! love youuuu

—

yn_stroll

liked by lance_stroll, estebanocon, mickschumacher and 1,115,707 others.

yn_stroll : my recent chaos 🎞️📷

tagged : lance_stroll, estebanocon and mickschumacher

—

view 185,305 other comments.

lance_stroll : why am i always collateral in your little aesthetic dumps…you always post the worst pictures 🙄🙄

liked by yn_stroll

↳ yn_stroll : not my fault you look ugly every time my camera comes out 😁

↳ lance_stroll : im taking away your paddock privileges. you are BANNED.

↳ yn_stroll : luckily i still have two ways in…3 if you count ollie

liked by olliebearman, mickschumacher and estebanocon

lando : so which one is your boyfriend or are they boyfriends???

liked by yn_stroll

↳ yn_stroll : nosey nosey man.

liked by lando

↳ lando : IM NOT NOSEY. mainly just want to know if you’re single 👀

liked by yn_stroll

↳ lance_stroll : out lando

↳ mickschumacher : she will not be going out with lando ‘man whore’ norris

↳ lando : i have one phase and get banned for life

↳ olliebearman : boooooo tomatoes tomatoes 🍅 🍅

liked by yn_stroll and estebanocon

↳ lando : OK OK. why is the child here

↳ yn_stroll : he is my bestie

liked by olliebearman

username00 : she sits between them on the plane. I AM IN TEARS. they are so together.

haasf1team : our estie and his besties 💅🏻

liked by yn_stroll, estebanocon and mickschumacher

↳ username0 : are we sure they are just besties??👀

username1 : lance being the only unbothered one while his sister and two of his colleagues carry out a covert love plot 😭💀

sebastianvettel : Miss all this chaos. Come visit soon Liebling!

liked by yn_stroll

↳ yn_stroll : miss you more! we are planning on making a trip within the next month!

liked by sebastianvettel

↳ username5 : we???? oh they r so dating.

—

You knew before even sitting down that this flight was going to be ridiculous. Because someone — probably Esteban — had insisted on booking three seats in a row, even in first class. Just the three of you, limbs too long and too tangled, stuffed into a luxury cocoon of champagne. You were wedged in the middle, naturally. Where you always ended up. You didn’t mind.

Mick was already curled up by the window, hoodie up, face tucked into the neck pillow you’d stolen from the lounge. He looked soft and impossibly tired — probably from whatever late night sim race he’d gotten dragged into the night before. Esteban, on the other hand, was still scrolling through the in flight movie options like it was a life or death decision.

“Just pick one,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder. “We’ll be in Miami before you decide.”

“I don’t want to waste it on something you two will sleep through,” he replied, voice low and teasing as he glanced at you. “You always do. Ten minutes in and it’s dead weight on both sides.”

You stuck your tongue out, and on cue, Mick reached over and gently flicked his forehead.

“I’m not sleeping. I’m resting my eyes,” he mumbled, eyes still closed but his hand finding yours under the shared blanket.

“Liar,” you smiled, threading your fingers through his. “You were snoring during the safety video.”

“I was breathing deeply.”

Esteban snorted. “You were whistling through your nose.”

You couldn’t help but laugh — that half silent kind of giggle that makes your chest ache with love. The cabin lights had dimmed, casting the three of you in a soft gold glow. You shifted in your seat, the curve of Mick’s body pressing warmly against your side while Esteban pulled the blanket higher up your lap, thumb drawing lazy circles on your knee beneath it.

It was a moment no one else would ever see. No cameras. No paddock rumors. Just quiet breathing and shared warmth.

“I love this,” you said softly, mostly to yourself.

Esteban heard it anyway. He turned toward you, his nose brushing your cheek. “What? The terrible rom-com you’re about to fall asleep during?”

You shook your head. “This. Us. Flying across the world for another chaotic race weekend. But having… this. You two.”

Mick shifted closer, his voice hoarse and gentle in your ear. “You always have us. You know that, right?”

You nodded, but your throat felt tight, like you could cry if you let yourself.

Esteban leaned in and kissed your temple, while Mick kissed the back of your hand. Neither of them needed you to explain. They just knew.

“We’ll stay like this forever,” Esteban whispered. “Just maybe one day we will stop hiding from the people on Twitter…”

You laughed again — tired, safe, soft. Wrapped in a blanket of limbs and love, tucked between the only two people in the world who made the chaos worth it.

And when the movie finally started and your eyes began to drift shut, you barely registered Esteban pulling your legs across his lap or Mick laying his head in your neck. You were right where you belonged.

—

The hotel suite was big, stupidly big, with windows that overlooked the city skyline. Neon lights danced across the walls as the sun dipped below the edge of the world, and somewhere in the distance, you could hear the low thrum of nightlife already waking up. But in here, it was quiet. Soft. Dimly lit and safe.

You’d barely kicked off your shoes before Esteban was tugging your carry on out of your hand and disappearing into the bathroom with a whispered, “Give me ten minutes.”

Mick had already flopped down onto the king sized bed, still in his hoodie from the flight, arms behind his head and eyes closed like he planned to nap through the weekend.

You stood awkwardly by the window, unsure what to do with yourself until he cracked one eye open and smiled.

“Stop hovering,” he said, voice thick with affection. “Come here.”

You padded over and let him pull you down beside him, your head landing on his chest, his fingers finding your hair immediately. He always ran his hands through it when you were tired — and you were, deep in your bones.

“I ordered room service,” he murmured. “Your pasta, Este’s weird sparkling water, my burger. Should be up soon.”

“You’re perfect,” you mumbled into his hoodie.

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, well. You’re easy to love.”

Before you could reply, the bathroom door cracked open and a wave of steam poured out. Esteban stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled up and a mischievous smile on his face.

“Bath’s ready,” he said, like he hadn’t just transformed a standard hotel tub into a spa sanctuary.

You sat up, blinking. “You ran me a bath?”

“With bubbles,” he said proudly. “And lavender oil. And I folded a towel into a swan.”

Mick raised a brow. “You folded a swan?”

“It’s a gesture,” Esteban said, waving dramatically. “She deserves softness.”

You laughed, unable to hide how your heart swelled in your chest. No matter how many races you traveled to, no matter how many late nights or jetlagged days — they never let you forget how loved you were.

You pressed a kiss to Mick’s cheek, then padded into the bathroom, where Esteban was waiting with the biggest, dorkiest grin and a glass of wine he definitely swiped from the minibar.

“Get in,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll wash your hair for you.”

You blinked up at him, overwhelmed. “You guys… you didn’t have to—”

He stopped you with a kiss to the top of your head.

“We wanted to.”

By the time you sunk into the warm water, bubbles lapping gently at your skin, Mick wandered in with a plate of breadsticks and settled onto the bathroom floor. Esteban knelt behind you, fingers gently massaging shampoo into your scalp while you leaned back into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. The three of you, in your own little world, quiet and full of love. No cameras. No questions. No hiding. Just the soft hum of city lights and the feeling of being completely, wholly safe.

—

f1gossipgirls

2,110,003 likes.

f1gossipgirls : The paddock’s favorite (unconfirmed) throuple has arrived in Miami! YN Stroll was spotted alongside big brother Lance on Thursday for media day duties, keeping things casual and cool as ever. Meanwhile, Esteban Ocon and Mick Schumacher made their entrance together, only fueling rumors that something a little more than friendly is going on behind the scenes. Throughout the weekend, YN was seen bouncing between the Haas and Mercedes garages, often in tow with both Esteban and Mick — sometimes hand in hand, sometimes with one arm slung over each shoulder, always leaving fans and photographers asking the same question—who is she actually dating… or is it both? No confirmations, no denials — just a lot of coordinated outfits, knowing glances, and suspiciously affectionate moments. Stay tuned, because this triangle isn’t getting less tangled anytime soon.

—

Your hair was already sticking to the back of your neck by the time you’d jogged from the Aston hospitality tent to the Mercedes garage for the third time that day. The paddock was sweltering, Miami sun sharp and unforgiving, but you didn’t care — you had a job to do. Well, not a real job.

Just the emotionally demanding and highly unrecognized role of loving two very competitive F1 drivers without spontaneously combusting from the attention it brought.

“Thought I’d lost you to Aston,” Mick teased the second you stepped through the Mercedes garage entrance.

He looked unfairly good in the heat — sleeves rolled up, headset pushed back, towel around his neck. He passed you a cold water bottle without you even asking, then leaned down to press a quick, barely there kiss to your cheek. It was too crowded for anything more. Too many eyes. Too many cameras.

“I’m doing my rounds,” you said dramatically, taking a long sip and smiling at him over the cap. “Your PR girl gave me a look like I was loitering.”

Mick chuckled. “That’s because you’re always stealing my snacks.”

You winked. “And your hoodies. And your heart.”

Before he could respond, your phone buzzed with a single word text from Esteban—

NOW.

You sighed, kissed Mick’s hand, and turned to head toward Haas.

The second you stepped into the Haas garage, someone was already barreling toward you.

“YN!!” Ollie Bearman’s voice cracked.

He looked sun kissed and over caffeinated, throwing his arms around you in a hug that nearly knocked your sunglasses off.

“I’ve seen you three times today and you’ve ditched me every time,” he pouted, still holding onto you like a clingy little brother. “Am I no longer your favorite Brit?”

You snorted. “You were never my favorite Brit. That’s Lewis. But you’re close.”

Ollie gasped like you’d just kicked him in the shins. “You’re cruel. Evil. Cold hearted.”

“You’re dramatic.”

He pulled you into the Haas motorhome and flopped dramatically onto the couch, dragging you down with him. “Do the boyfriends know you cheat on them with me every weekend?”

You glanced toward the other side of the hospitality area, where Esteban was deep in conversation with an engineer, but his eyes flicked to you like they always did — like a compass needle realigning with north.

He smiled.

You smiled back.

“They’re fine with it,” you whispered to Ollie, nudging his knee with yours. “You’re harmless.”

“I could be scandalous,” he said and shrugged.

“You eat cereal with orange juice.”

He groaned. “Why would you bring that up again?! I was out of milk!”

You laughed so hard your stomach hurt. Ollie leaned against you, limbs too long and too chaotic, while Esteban finally made his way over.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, one brow raised.

Ollie looked up. “Just convincing her to dump you for me.”

Esteban didn’t miss a beat. “You’ll have to fight Mick.”

“Threesome boxing match?” Ollie suggested.

You smacked his arm. “OUT.”

Esteban offered you a hand to pull you up, his fingers brushing softly against yours — the smallest secret in a space filled with noise and heat and protocol.

You leaned up and gave Ollie a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’ll always be my favorite backup plan.”

“I’m honored,” he called after you dramatically, hand to his chest.

You left with Esteban, fingers brushing briefly between you, both of you pretending your heart wasn’t beating just a little faster. It was exhausting, this dance — slipping between garages, between stories, between glances that held so much more than they could say. But you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when love waited for you in every corner of the paddock.

—

By the time you made it to back Aston, the sun was high, the air sticky with Miami heat. Your paddock pass was practically a golden ticket at this point, but walking into the Aston garage felt like walking into your actual home base. Lance spotted you immediately, slouched in a director’s chair with his race suit half zipped and a protein shake in hand.

“Look who finally remembered she has a brother,” he called out, grinning.

You rolled your eyes, plucking his shake from his hand and sipping it without asking. “You’ve seen me three times today.”

“Yeah, sprinting past me like I’m background noise.”

Fernando, sitting nearby with his arms crossed and an amused look on his face, tilted his head. “To be fair, she is in high demand.”

You smirked. “Thank you, Nando. At least someone appreciates me.”

Lance scoffed. “He’s just being nice so you’ll stop stealing his snacks.”

Fernando raised a brow. “Actually, I think she’s the only one allowed to take my snacks.”

You flopped into the seat next to Lance, stretching your legs out with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve walked more today than I did the entire off season.”

“You do realize you don’t have to do the grand tour every race weekend?” Lance asked.

“I do,” you said. “But it’s fun watching people spiral.”

Lance gave you a sideways look. “You mean watching Esteban and Mick follow you around like puppies.”

You gave him a smug smile. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Fernando chuckled under his breath. “It’s something.”

You tilted your head toward him. “You know, you could learn a thing or two from them.”

He raised a brow. “About what?”

“About romance. Softness. Love.”

Lance groaned. “Please stop.”

“Imagine it,” you said, teasing. “Fernando Alonso… cuddling.”

“I am excellent at cuddling,” Fernando said, deadpan. “But I keep that side reserved for national emergencies and post race exhaustion.”

You burst out laughing, and even Lance cracked a smile despite his disgusted older brother persona.

“Go back to Haas,” he muttered. “They’re the only ones who encourage your delusions.”

You leaned over and bumped his shoulder affectionately. “You love me.”

“I tolerate you.”

Fernando looked between the two of you with mock solemnity. “If she wasn’t your sister, I would be convinced she was dating half the grid.”

Lance froze. You choked on your laugh. Fernando just sipped his water and smirked like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I—uh—what?” Lance asked, voice cracking slightly.

“Joking,” Fernando said, though the twinkle in his eye betrayed him. “Mostly.”

You stood, dusting off your Aston shirt. “Okay, that’s my cue. I have to go pretend I’m not in love with two drivers now.”

Lance covered his ears dramatically. “Too much. I’m not listening. Leave.”

Fernando gave you a wink. “Good luck. And tell Mick to stop giving me the suspicious eyes.”

“I make no promises.”

You blew Lance a kiss, saluted Fernando like a soldier, and slipped back out into the heat, your phone already buzzing with a message from Mick

Back to Merc yet?

This life was exhausting. But god, it was fun.

—

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of the bedsheets. The chaos of the race was long behind you — the media, the heat, the cameras. Esteban had changed into a hoodie, and Mick was stretched out across the bed with damp and flushed cheeks, hair still messy from the post-race shower. You were curled between them, legs tangled and head resting on Esteban’s chest, fingers trailing slow shapes over the fabric.

Esteban’s voice was softer now, quieter than usual, like he was finally letting the adrenaline fade. “You know… this was a good weekend.”

You looked up at him. “Even with the pit stop disaster?”

He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Mick laughed from the other side, nudging your knee with his. “You still pulled a P7. That’s not nothing.”

“Could’ve been P5,” Esteban mumbled.

You leaned up and kissed his jaw, gentle and warm. “You were brilliant. I’m proud of you.”

“So proud,” Mick echoed, his hand finding yours across the sheets. “And so tired. I’m not moving until breakfast.”

You and Esteban exchanged a glance — a tiny flash of anticipation that made you sit up just a little straighter.

“Well,” you said carefully, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. “You might want to get some extra sleep.”

“Why?” Esteban asked suspiciously.

You grinned. Mick propped himself up on his elbow, eyes gleaming. “Because tomorrow… we’re taking you to Universal.”

Esteban blinked. “Wait. What?”

“For your birthday,” you added, grinning wider. “We made a plan. Park passes. Early access. Express line. The whole thing.”

“You said you didn’t want to do anything,” Mick said, “so we decided to ignore that.”

“Because you always say that,” you teased, “and then you get pouty when we don’t do anything.”

Esteban stared at both of you, mouth slightly open. “You—actually—?”

“We’re waking you up at 7 a.m.,” Mick said, deadpan. “And I’m making you wear a hat with Mickey ears.”

“That’s the wrong park,” Esteban muttered.

“Details,” Mick shrugged.

Esteban was quiet for a moment, like he didn’t quite know how to process it. Then, softly—“You guys did this for me?”

You leaned in and kissed him, forehead pressed to his. “Of course we did. You’ve been working so hard. You deserve a day off. A real one. With rollercoasters and butterbeer and cheesy photos.”

Esteban let out a shaky breath, pulling both of you into his arms like he didn’t want to let go. “You’re going to make me cry.”

Mick tucked in closer, pressing his face into Esteban’s shoulder. “We’ll allow one tear. Any more and we call you overdramatic and bully you.”

You both laughed, and for a long moment, the room was just full of warmth — tangled limbs, whispered promises, and the kind of love that felt like magic.

“Universal, huh?” Esteban whispered finally, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Yep,” you said. “And I already reserved us a table at the Three Broomsticks.”

Esteban smiled, his cheeks pink. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Mick kissed the side of his neck. “We’re ridiculous about you.”

—

yn_stroll has added two posts to her story!

seen by lance_stroll, lando, mickschumacher and 2,575,00 others.

—

You should have known the second Esteban sprinted toward the entrance of Jurassic Park — with a grin brighter than the Florida sun and zero hesitation — that you were in for chaos.

“He is gonna run over children,” Mick muttered beside you, already trying to keep pace as Esteban skipped toward the River Adventure ride entrance.

“It’s his birthday,” you said through a laugh, clutching your butterbeer in one hand and Esteban’s fallen sunglasses in the other. “Let him live.”

“He might live,” Mick said. “We might not.”

Esteban turned around, walking backwards, arms out like a showman. “YOU GUYS. DINOSAURS. I’VE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS.”

“You literally have a super license and you’re more excited about animatronic dinosaurs,” Mick deadpanned.

Esteban just blew him a kiss and kept walking. Within 20 minutes, the three of you were seated in the second row of the log boat. Esteban had insisted on sitting in front “for maximum splash potential,” Mick was muttering something to himself and you had a bad feeling in your stomach that only got worse as the ride climbed higher and higher.

“Why is it so dark in here?” Mick whispered. “Is that a real drop or—?”

Esteban turned around, eyes wide with manic glee. “GET READY!”

“Oh no,” you muttered.

SPLASH. It was not a gentle drop. Mick screamed like a Victorian child seeing a ghost. You screamed too — mostly from laughing. Esteban had both arms up, completely soaked and thrilled When the ride ended, your tank top was clinging to your skin, Mick looked like a drowned cat, and Esteban? Smug. Absolutely smug.

“That was AMAZING,” he shouted, shaking his wet hair like a golden retriever.

“I hate you,” Mick said, water dripping off his eyelashes.

“You love me,” Esteban said sweetly, draping a soaked arm around him.

You handed Mick a towel from your backpack because someone in this relationship is a planner, and he blinked at you.

“You’re a goddess,” he murmured, wrapping it around his shoulders like a robe.

You giggled, and Esteban tugged you into a hug, still damp, still beaming. “Thank you for this,” he whispered into your hair. “It’s the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You leaned back, kissed the tip of his nose. “It’s not over yet. We still have VelociCoaster.”

Mick audibly groaned. “I didn’t survive a dino ambush just to die on a rollercoaster.”

Esteban grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You might die. But you’ll do it screaming.”

Mick looked at you. “I change my mind. He’s ungrateful. Let’s return him to the wild.”

You smiled, wrapping an arm around each of them as you began to walk. “Too late. You’re both stuck with each other.”

And as Esteban dashed ahead again — soaking wet, smiling like a kid, shouting something about “DINOSAUR COOKIES!” — you and Mick just looked at each other and laughed.

He reached for your hand.

“We’re never topping this, are we?”

You shook your head. “Not a chance.”

—

You weren’t sure when exactly the regret set in. Maybe it was when the restraints locked in with a final clunk that sounded a little too final. Or maybe when Esteban turned to you, completely lit up, and whispered, “I think I’m going to pass out from happiness.”

Meanwhile, Mick looked like he was preparing for war.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered. “You know how many Gs this ride pulls? I looked it up. We’re about to get launched into space.”

You reached over and took his hand — mostly to calm him, partly to keep him from unbuckling himself and sprinting off the ride. “Too late now, astronaut.”

The ride operator gave the thumbs up. The VelociCoaster hissed.

Esteban’s eyes sparkled. “READY?!”

“No,” Mick and you said at the same time.

And then — launch.

Your screams were lost to the wind. The first launch hit 70 mph before your brain caught up. Esteban was laughing, hands up like a maniac, shouting something in French. Mick was next to you with both hands gripping the bar like it might save his soul.

“I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I—WHY IS IT UPSIDE DOWN—”

You were laughing, screaming, possibly crying — everything all at once. There was a brief moment of calm during the stall where everything slowed, weightless, beautiful. Then it dropped again.

“WHO BUILT THIS?!” Mick yelled. “I WANT TO TALK TO THE ENGINEER!”

Esteban, meanwhile, shouted— “I WANT TO KISS THE ENGINEER!”

The ride slowed, the restraints lifted, and the three of you sat there in stunned silence. Mick was pale, his hair wind-blown in every direction, blinking slowly like he’d just come back from battle. Esteban’s face was flushed, radiant, absolutely vibrating with joy. You sat between them, laughing so hard your chest hurt.

“That. Was. INSANE,” Esteban gasped, looking between the two of you. “I think I saw God.”

Mick turned to you with a blank stare. “I peed a little.”

Esteban nearly collapsed laughing. You doubled over with him, tears running down your cheeks.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Mick grumbled.

“I know you do,” Esteban beamed, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “And you just proved it.”

Mick smiled despite himself. You leaned your head against Esteban’s shoulder and reached over for Mick’s hand again, still breathless. And there, in the heart of a fake dinosaur jungle, high off adrenaline and barely holding it together, the three of you laughed until you couldn’t anymore. Just pure, ridiculous, chaotic love.

—

mickschumacher

liked by yn_stroll, estebanocon, olliebearman and 875,009 others.

mickschumacher : miami baybeeeeee

tagged : estebanocon and yn_stroll

—

view 72,552 other comments.

estebanocon : i rate this dump 11/10

liked by yn_stroll and mickschumacher

↳ mickschumacher : i rate you 11/10 for existing

liked by estebanocon

↳ yn_stroll : oh my god

lando : im just going to keep hitting on yn until someone cracks.

↳ lance_stroll : your skull will be cracking if you continue

olliebearman : this is a very boyfriend coded post

↳ mickschumacher : im too old to understand that. what?

↳ olliebearman : forget it

↳ olliebearman : to think you are only 5 years older than me is scary

liked by yn_stroll and estebanocon

—

gridtruthers

liked by lando, olliebearman and 5,001,009 likes.

gridtruthers: For you all I have created a list of examples of why I think Mick, Esteban and YN are dating. Example A): This picture of Mick and Esteban on a trip together that Esteban posted like it was the most casual thing in the world AND THEN tagged YN as photo credits. 

Example B): THE WAY ESTE AND YN LOOK AT EACH OTHER IN THIS PIC. IT IS PURE LOVE. I AM STILL NOT OVER IT. YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. they would die for each other and I would die for them. 

Example C): MICK TOOK THIS PICTURE OF ESTE TAKING A PICTURE OF YN AND LOOK HOW PROUD ESTE LOOKS. OH MY FUCKING GOD. sick to my stomach. 

Example D): The entire photo shoot for Esteban’s merch. Like they are touching and hugging in every picture. I don’t have much more to say. Go look at the pictures.

Example E): Ummmmm not much I can say. They are quite literally holding each other in front of their brother in law WHO IS SMILING FOR ONCE. 

Example F): This tiktok that YN posted where she was doing an outfit of the day and Mick literally hugged her from behind and proceeded to pick her up and then kiss her cheek. SO CUTE. 

Example G): That one time when Mick and YN were in the Merc garage watching the race and the camera turned to them and CAUGHT THEM LIKE THIS. HAND HOLDING AND MICK LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT. obsessed. 

Example H): This picture of them playing padel which really gives off gay lover vibes and YN was the one who posted it to begin with. No other comment necessary. 

Example I): THEM LITERALLY HOLDING EACH OTHER LIKE THIS WALKING IN THE PADDOCK. AND THIS IS NOT THE ONLY TIME THIS HAS HAPPENED. IT HAS HAPPENED MANY TIMES. 

anyways— thank you for listening to my ranting. hope I convinced you 🫶🏻

—

view 272,110 other comments.

username00 : i didn’t even finish the thread before i started SCREAMING. this is a thesis. a dissertation. it deserves a pulitzer.

username0 : “sick to my stomach” is the most accurate summary of my emotional state

username1 : NO BECAUSE ESTEBAN LOOKS AT HER LIKE SHE PUT THE STARS IN THE SKY. and mick looks at both of them like they’re made of gold. i’m sobbing.

username5 : we went from “estie bestie” to “estie boyfriend” real fast. i can’t breathe.

olliebearman : this might be the greatest investigation the internet has ever produced

liked by gridtruther and lando

↳ gridtruther : oliver what do you know?

↳ olliebearman : nothing? yeah i know nothing.

↳ username00 : LIARRRRR

username7 : i saw them in person once and they were glowing. esteban was holding yn’s phone, mick had her bag, she looked like royalty. i haven’t recovered.

yn_stroll : I-. i cannot say much other than i am impressed and you should be a private investigator.

liked by olliebearman and gridtruthers

↳ gridtruthers : omg hello queen. love you and your boyfriends

liked by yn_stroll

—

The morning started with a sleepy 6:15 AM pickup, and Esteban immediately complained.

“We’re too beautiful to be awake at this hour,” he grumbled, dramatically flopping into the backseat beside you, hoodie drawn up like a cloaked villain.

“You’re too dramatic,” Mick muttered, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

You, sandwiched between them with a tote bag full of snacks and a neck pillow Mick would end up using again, just smiled. “You both agreed to this.”

“I agreed under the influence of post race endorphins and love,” Esteban mumbled. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh hush, you’ll be happy once we are there.” You hummed, checking the time on your phone again. 

Within 15 minutes, you three had arrived at the Miami airport. The three of you stuck out like sore thumbs, despite the hoodies and sunglasses. Esteban was sprawled on the couch in the lounge within five minutes, Mick was methodically organizing boarding passes and passports like a dad, and you were feeding them croissants from the snack counter.

“I feel like we’re being watched,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at a family subtly whispering in your direction.

“Because we are,” Mick replied calmly, not looking up from his phone. “And they probably think I’m on a boys’ trip with Esteban and brought my assistant.”

“I will throw a pain au chocolat at you,” you warned.

Esteban perked up, mouth full. “Throw it at me instead. I’ll catch it.”

You ended up seated in the middle seat, between Esteban—who had immediately curled up with a blanket and fallen asleep on your shoulder—and Mick, who was flipping through the inflight entertainment catalog with a thoughtful look.

“I’m gonna watch The Grand Budapest Hotel,” he announced.

“That’s cute,” you replied, trying not to move too much so you wouldn’t wake Esteban. “Do you want snacks?”

“Not when I have you,” Mick replied smoothly.

You choked on your own breath. Esteban, eyes still closed, mumbled, “Stop flirting over me. I’m dreaming of goats.”

“…Goats?” you whispered, trying not to laugh.

“He watched that farm documentary last night before bed,” Mick whispered back. “He’s in too deep.”

Esteban, still not fully awake, added, “Oh my GOD! Sebastian has goats.”

By the time you landed, all three of you were in better moods. Esteban was fully awake and bouncing with excitement, Mick had bought overpriced chocolate from duty-free for Sebastian’s kids, and you were trying to wrangle the two of them into not attracting attention at customs.

Mick wheeled the suitcase. Esteban carried your bag. You tried to keep everyone from getting distracted by cows on the drive out.

“Do you think they’ll let us pet one?” Esteban asked dreamily.

“Maybe, if you behave,” you replied, laughing.

The roads curved through quiet hills and small villages, the mountains in the distance still dusted with snow. You could already feel your body relaxing.

The air was crisp. Still. The kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a blanket — a far cry from the usual roar of paddock chaos and back to back flights. The lake glimmered below the mountain, and birdsong drifted through the trees like a lullaby. 

The gravel crunched under the wheels of the rental car as you turned down the winding, tree lined driveway, golden light filtering through the canopy. The forest gave way to a wide clearing, and there it was-Sebastian’s house. Stone walls, ivy climbing over the sides, smoke curling lazily from the chimney.

Esteban immediately rolled down the window and stuck his head out like a dog. “It’s exactly how I pictured it,” he whispered reverently.

Mick parked the car and let out a soft sigh. “I already feel healthier just being near this man’s trees.”

You stretched your arms as you stepped out, the mountain air crisp and full of birdsong and pine. “Do you think he’ll make us do garden chores before we’re allowed to enter?”

“I brought gloves just in case,” Esteban replied, dead serious.

Before you could knock, the front door swung open — and there he was. Sebastian stood barefoot on the stone porch, hair longer than the last time you’d seen him, wearing a forest green flannel and holding a mug of tea.

“About time,” he said, smiling wide. “You brought my favorite chaos.”

“Nice to see you too,” Mick grinned, pulling him into a hug.

Seb looked at Esteban, who was already beaming. “Did you cry when you saw the cows?”

“I teared up, thank you very much,” Esteban replied with full sincerity, handing over a paper wrapped chocolate bar. “For the kids.”

Seb took it with a soft chuckle and turned to you. “And how’s our resident wrangler of F1 men?”

“Tired,” you said, dropping your head against his shoulder dramatically. “But better now.”

He hugged you tightly, swaying a little. “I’m so glad you are here.”

Shoes were left at the door. Backpacks dropped. Within minutes, all four of you were gathered in the warm kitchen, surrounded by drying herbs, mismatched mugs, and the smell of bread fresh from the oven. Mick had taken it upon himself to slice it. Badly. There were crumbs everywhere. Esteban was already at the kitchen window, whispering to a chicken who had wandered too close to the house.

“She’s making eye contact with me,” he whispered. “I think she trusts me.”

“You say that about everyone,” you called from the table, stealing a corner of the bread.

Seb leaned over to you, conspiratorial. “I told the kids they have to wait until after dinner to ambush you.”

“Oh god,” you groaned with a smile. “Are they still obsessed with Esteban’s accent?”

“They think he’s from a Disney movie.”

Mick took a sip of tea and raised a brow. “And me?”

“You’re their soft Uncle Mick that makes good jam.”

Esteban turned dramatically from the window. “And YN?”

Seb grinned. “Their queen.”

Seb had set up your room in the guest loft — a massive window looking out over the hills, soft quilts folded at the foot of the bed, a little vase of wildflowers on the side table.

“Did he pick those himself?” you whispered to Mick.

“Bet he raised them from seed,” Mick whispered back.

Esteban walked in behind you and flopped down dramatically onto the bed. “I’m never leaving.”

You all collapsed beside him, tangled in a mess of limbs and laughter, the sunlight spilling across the hardwood floor. For a while, you just laid there. Quiet. Breathing. Together.

“I missed this,” you said softly.

“We needed this,” Mick agreed.

Esteban just hummed and pulled you both closer. Downstairs, you could hear Sebastian singing softly in German as he stirred something in a pot. The scent of onions and thyme filled the air. A dog barked in the distance. Someone was chopping wood outside. Peace. Real peace. And for the first time in weeks — maybe months — you didn’t feel like you had to be anywhere but here.

Sebastian lured us down to the dining room once dinner was finished. We sat. The table was long, wooden, slightly worn from years of use — exactly as it should be.

Candles flickered in mismatched holders. The scent of rosemary, roasted garlic, and something rich and buttery hung in the air. One of Sebastian’s kids had placed tiny hand-drawn name tags at each setting. Yours had flowers. Mick’s had a little helmet. Esteban’s had a stick figure in a cape.

Sebastian just grinned when Esteban held it up, beaming. “I’ve been knighted.”

“More like knighted in chaos,” you replied, nudging him with your elbow as you took your seat beside him.

Sebastian’s youngest was curled into Mick’s side, holding a toy dinosaur and whispering something about “secret garden paths,” while his eldest very seriously told you about the “composting experiments” they were doing with their dad.

You smiled through it all, eyes flicking occasionally to Esteban, who was already deeply engaged in a debate about whether ladybugs have feelings. Mick kept sneaking pieces of bread to the kids when Sebastian wasn’t looking. It was simple. But perfect.

The sun dipped lower, casting the room in amber. One of the kids fell asleep mid sentence on the couch. The other was curled into a blanket beside the fire, eyes fluttering shut.

The grown-ups had moved outside to the back patio, wine in hand, feet up, soft music playing in the background. The stars were just beginning to peek out over the trees.

Esteban was telling a story from his karting days, hands animated, voice lilting with nostalgia. Mick listened intently, leaning back into your side, thumb tracing lazy circles on your knee beneath the blanket you shared.

You laughed softly when Esteban mimicked someone’s voice, your head dropping to Mick’s shoulder. Sebastian just smiled at the scene.

“You three are good together,” he said quietly.

You looked up, caught off guard.

He took a sip of wine. “You bring each other peace. In a world like that? That’s rare.”

You felt the weight of those words settle into your chest — gentle, grounding. Mick squeezed your hand. Esteban reached across the table and lightly brushed your wrist with his fingers, a silent confirmation.

“Thank you for having us,” you whispered.

“Always,” Sebastian said. “Come home whenever you need to breathe again.”

—

sebastianvettel added a post to his story!

seen by lewishamilton, mickschumacher, yn_stroll and 3,010,007 others.

mickschumacher : seb did you mean to post this?

↳ sebastianvettel : Huh? What did I post?

↳ sebastianvettel : Fuck. No. I meant to favorite it. Taking it down.

↳ mickschumacher : i love you so much old man

—

sebastianvettel has deleted this story!

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : SEBASTIAN VETTEL ACCIDENTALLY HARD LAUNCHED MICK SCHUMACHER & YN STROLL??!?! he posted a picture on his IG story of what looked like mick holding yn tightly—definitely mid-kiss—and deleted it within minutes. we repeat-within. minutes. we are NOT okay. 😭😭

—

You’d arrived at the paddock like you always did — coffee in one hand, team pass around your neck, sunglasses hiding the storm of nerves bubbling beneath your calm exterior. Because no matter how normal you tried to be, everyone was whispering about Sebastian Vettel’s cursed Instagram story that had been posted, screenshotted, and dissected like gospel by the entire fandom. But you? You carried on. You moved between the Mercedes and Haas garages like you always did, checked in on Lance, gave Esteban a forehead kiss for luck, ruffled Ollie’s hair, and sat on Mick’s lap in the hospitality suite.

And then came the call.

A driver was ruled out at the last minute. Medical, something sudden, and before you even had time to blink, Toto was waving Mick over with urgency.

“We need you. Suit up.”

Mick’s eyes flashed wide — stunned, then laser focused. Esteban found you instantly as Mick ran off to get changed, grabbing your hand and tugging you aside.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked, chest tight. “I don’t know.”

He smiled gently, thumb brushing your knuckles. “He’s been waiting for this moment for years. You have to believe in him now.”

And you did. You really, really did.

It was like something out of a movie. Mick, the late substitute, drove like a man on fire — precise, relentless, graceful in every overtake. Esteban held his own, smooth and strategic, the two of them ending the race in P2 and P3, side by side. You watched from the Mercedes pit wall, fists clenched to your chest, tears slipping down your cheeks without permission. The minute the checkered flag dropped, you were already running.

The three drivers lifted their trophies. Champagne flew. And before anyone could stop him, Esteban leaned into Mick, laughing, gripping his shoulder—

“Do it,” he said, eyes glittering.

Mick didn’t hesitate.

He looked straight at you, in your team pass and sunglasses and messy ponytail, standing near the front of the barriers with your hands over your heart—and he jumped down from the podium.

You barely had time to process it before he was grabbing you by the waist, lifting you off the ground, and kissing you full on in front of half the grid and every camera in the world.

Gasps. Shouts. A thousand camera shutters. The roar of fans exploding.

When he pulled back, grinning, Esteban had jumped down too, wrapping his arms around the two of you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Three of you. No more secrets. No more whispering in hotel rooms or deleting posts.

Esteban kissed your cheek, then Mick’s. Mick rested his forehead against yours.

“I guess that’s our launch,” you whispered, breathless.

“You were always worth the headline,” Esteban murmured.

And Mick, beaming with his trophy still in one hand, just nodded.

“Let them talk.”

—

yn_stroll

liked by estebanocon, mickschumacher, lance_stroll and 7,700,000 others.

yn_stroll : secret is out...thanks to my men and sv5 who does not understand how to use an iPhone;)

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[slipstreamborne]

Holy crap, AMAZING AMAZING AMAZING! Thank you!!! And hilariously, I just logged on to share my own just-discovered links because this morning I decided to dig out a box of papers and sketchbooks from middle and high school to see if had done any angsty fic-inspired doodles (as was my wont) that I could glean more clues from, and guess what I apparently printed out IN FULL in 2001 and have had SITTING IN A CLOSET this ENTIRE goddamn time????!!!??!?!

--

"In the Blood" by Benway (aka Dr. Benway)

Originally published in 2001 on the Outside the Lines mailing list, winner of the 2002 Comic Book Fan-Fiction Awards for "Best Gotham" fic. 

Full compiled fic (publishing dates indicate chapter breaks):  [here]

Backup chapter by chapter links (via Wayback Machine):  [Notes] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

CONTENT WARNING: This is a R/M-rated darkfic with mature themes, including drug use, sexual content (characters are 18+), eugenics, and references to off-screen incest. Chapters 7 and 8 also include some homophobic language, and Tim’s narration consistently misgenders and deadnames two genderqueer drag performers (one of whom does explicitly correct him).

--

Having now reread it AT LAST, I’m struck by how different the tone, themes, and characterization are from pretty much every modern Bat-fic I’ve read (no affirming if complicated found family here; this pre-dates Jason Todd's resurrection, for starters, and in-canon Cassandra had only just started to learn to talk and was often treated with mistrust), and just how VERY rooted in the early ‘00s the real-world details of the story are:

There's a plot point that Tim was conceived 5 years after the first successful IVF transfer (1978), making Tim's birth year 1983 (elder millenial Robin!)

Pre-cellphone communication logistics, like having to leave people notes, messages on answering machines, and Tim's identity being discovered because he didn't think Stephanie would have caller ID

The transition from analog to digital media. Older records are on microfiche or hand-written in notebooks, phone directories are physical books kept in libraries, the yellow pages are still an important data source but are now online, Yahoo is Tim's search engine of choice...

Holy opiate crisis Batman, Tim casually keeps oxycodone in his utility belt and takes them for a (grantedly bad) headache.

Queer culture depicted through a VERY 00's-tinted lense. Some fun details (like the reference to the bizarre popularity of monastic chanting), but others that definitely read differently now. It really highlights how much things have changed for the better.

That said if anyone was into the Batman fandom circa 1998-2002 and remembers a drama/mystery/angst fic where Robin found out that his dad was infertile and he was conceived via IVF using donor sperm, began to suspect that he was Bruce's biological son (at the same time wondering if he himself could be the father of Stephanie's baby), and later discovered that his bio-father was actually the JOKER, Bruce had known the entire goddamn time, AND Bruce had been the one to arrange for the sperm donor samples to be swapped in the first place in a fucked up "nature vs nurture" experiment...

Please please please PLEASE pass along any links or other details you recall because I am desperate to read it again.

Writer's pen name may have been Jack something? They had a very direct, Hemmingway-esque writing style that was all simple sentences, that blew baby me away. Didn't use quotation marks for dialogue, and included all these small but grimly practical details that really sold the Gothic realism of the story, like Stephanie wearing a dental bridge because she's had some teeth knocked out in a fight.

[whirling-star]

I have some thoughts on The Roaring Knight, recently revealed in Deltarune Chapters 3+4! I made some sketches and wrote down some vague ideas I got after thinking about it for a bit.

“Did we fight this in Ch. 4??” [Looking at the central titan in the image of chapter 2’s prophecy addition]

“Actually some kinda titan???” NOTE: The titans to either side of the one in the middle do look a LOT, though not exactly the same as, the Knight. They also don’t look much like any lightener seen in the dark worlds so far…

“Looks more like these guys than like the lightners”. [Pointing at some little doodles of the titan spawn shown in the battle with the titan]. I’m thinking that the Knight shares more properties with the titans so far than with the Darkners or Lightners, which could be why they could enter the Light World with Undyne and also carry her all the way to the other end of town without anyone noticing a thing, and without Susie catching up to them.

“Strangely bird-like… Shapeshifting??” [Pointing at the Knight’s form as they kidnap Undyne]

“NOTE: Clearly not wearing a cloak.” That and the Knight’s mysterious orb form, as well as their screeching animation before their fight, makes me think that they’re actually more amorphous than their sharp-edged look might suggest.

Their form also destabilises when Susie hits it: (I don’t know how to shrink the image on i-pad)

And also when they lose, they flicker between this and the mysterious orb again:

“What’s this? Baseball? “Soul”? Darkness? Dess’s Dust?” [Pointing at the mysterious orb] “Inky darkness wrapped around this?”

“Maybe this is to Dess, as that statue thing was to Gerson?” [Pointing at the Knight holding aloft their very bat-like weapon, which also becomes a sword]

I was thinking that maybe that’s not really Dess, but it is enough to make Carol (and Kris??) think that they might be. We still have no idea what really happened, so I’m going to speculate a bit.

Option 1: Dess is actually dead and Kris was there for it, but Mayor Carol knows about dark worlds and believes she can be brought back with the dark fountains somehow. The player is needed for closing dark fountains. Kris also thinks or thought at the time that the plan could actually work, maybe because the Knight was the result of some attempt at this?? Maybe the Knight is not Dess but wants to be??

Option 2: The Knight is not Dess, but some manifestation of fear relating to her, as the titans are stated to be the fear of the dark, the things that go bump in the night. The Knight knighting Kris and Kris struggling to fight them before Susie and Ralsei go down may have to do with potential guilt about being involved with Dess’s disappearance. This idea also assumes, therefore, that it was Carol talking to Kris on the phone. Maybe the Knight manifested during or after the incident?? Note that Queen only saw them at a distance and that King never actually met them (according to post-ch.3 dialogue in which he talks about Jevil talking about the Knight). Though… Jevil might have met them. Maybe.

Option 3: The Knight resembling the Holidays at all is all one big trick, as their form flickers and shifts. Their weapon is solid (Susie chips a shadow crystal and a weapon-sized shard off of it), but they don’t seem to be fully solid. Maybe the orb is their true form, and the rest of them can look however they please?? It’s a bit of a stretch but maybe. And what if there’s multiple “Knights” in the future? How real is this antagonist..?

Also I have very little idea about what to think of their weapon possibly being made out of shadow crystal. I’m sure that implies something important… Or maybe it just confirms that the Knight is responsible for shadow crystals and therefore the secret bosses receiving/finding them. (Gave one to Jevil? Left a shadow crystal in the NEO suit as a trap for Spamton? Left one lying around for Gerson, who didn’t take the bait?)

Another thing I find odd is that Ralsei has nothing to say about the Knight. While Susie’s doing her epic heroic speech, Ralsei’s kind of just there. He doesn’t seem afraid of the Knight in the same way he was of the titan. Did the prophecy mention the Knight anywhere at all? Titans and the end of the world are, but I don’t think the Knight is.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!! Was Susie right? Or wrong..?” [Pointing at some sketches of the Knight’s goopy-looking laugh, referring to Susie declaring that they’re helpless in the Light World and that without the Dark Fountain they’d be beaten straight away.]

(Also what is “aura farming” and why do some posts about the Knight say this is a thing that they’re doing?)

[lynxgriffin]

You know, in retrospect, the Cattenheimers possibly being important in the future would line up with how the significance of cat-related stuff has increased dramatically now.

Starting with Chapter 2 and the hiatus after it’s release, the Spamton Sweepstakes Q&A had Spamton bring up the elemental pairing of [Puppet/Cat] among other examples. This can be seen in the hidden elemental property system that is sometimes assigned to attacks and armors - which has been more clearly seen with the Shadow Mantle’s effects against attacks from the Titan and some of Gerson’s. In particular, some attacks from Spamton NEO, Tasque Manager, and Tasques all share the same element ID which most likely is [Puppet/Cat].

Alongside that, there is the enigmatic IMAGE_FRIEND/DEVICE_FRIEND:

It initially appeared in Queen’s Basement with a random chance of appearing where the teacups rise up to take you down to the barrier generator. Obviously, it contains the now recurring motif of pink and yellow, which back then we could only connect to Spamton’s glasses. But then in the second round of Spamton Sweepstakes ARG stuff back in May, “FRIEND” was confirmed to explicitly be a cat from the image files of the rarecats game page. And as you have seen, FRIEND became openly prominent in the game as the face of the Endogeny-shaped Darkner during Ralsei’s Ch 3 explanation about the Dark World, as well as the enemies ERAM summons against us during the Sword Route boss fight.

Interestingly, you can even see FRIEND during the first board of the Sword Route. With a maxed out sword, not only can you reach a hidden path to a room with ERAM in it, but you can also cut down the trees to the left and right of the pyramid to find two caves that each have a half of FRIEND’s face appear after moving long enough. And they appear as a pitch black silhouette in the 3rd Sanctuary room with a Waferguard in it, meaning they’re only visible via the sound waves.

The hidden Mike fight and minigames certainly have a lot of cats, with Battat’s minigames directly taking from rarecats and Pluey being based on the fan theory that FRIEND was Mike, but it’s a bit harder to gauge how important this in particular is.

Moving on from FRIEND, I’ve brought up the pink and white cats in the Sword Route, which brings the topic back to the Cattenheimers. And Chapter 4 has a bunch of really odd details surrounding them.

Their cat flap is noted to have a lock that “requires 3 codes” - the flavor text really does have this color - in a clear parallel to the shelter door, but is treated as a joke as ‘useless information.’ Sans’ teleporting shenanigans make an appearance for the first time with him going between his store and the Cattenheimers’ grill between screens. Not only that, he fixes/upgrades the grill to now be capable of also smelling of dogfood, not just catfood, and cooks his “hot dog/cattail” prank on it. And then there’s Catty being the one who is picked to give the sermon about the prophecy behind Deltarune.

A sermon that explicitly confirms one of the heroes to have horns and is he/him - which fits Ralsei AND probably Asriel given Toriel and Asgore’s dark world/prophecy crowns. A sermon that brings up Catti is currently still into summoning/communing with demons. And a sermon that has Catty keep the church guessing about whether or not she’s secretly “actually a Hero” (the capitalization is part of the quote) or that she’s been keeping a secret from everyone - which I presume is in general.

That’s not even bringing up how the dad calls Catty his “genius daughter” in yellow text, which in the church is otherwise reserved for referring to Alphys, Noelle, or Noelle being locked out. Catty acts like she misunderstood what Kris was talking about and points them to Noelle and indirectly to Alphys, but still.

Heck, during Catty’s sermon, it is the only place you can get the Ancient Sweet, which is a bizarre healing item worthy of its own tangent. Really, the most relevant part here is that if you fulfill the conditions required to get it, Kris’ interaction with Susie changes to her finding an undelivered letter in Asriel’s church clothes from Asriel to Catty about their upcoming junior dance together. The same dance that Catty brings up very fondly in Chapter 1 and calls Asriel a “cutie pie” for, not too dissimilar to how much she imagines the horned hero to be “SO cute” for reasons she says she doesn’t know.

Even the other option, the option to pay attention to service, has Susie provide a similar expansion upon another part of Catty’s sermon. Namely, bringing up how Catti and Kris are rumored to have tried to summon demons back when they were kids, which much more openly brings up that plot point about Kris and Catti’s history.

But yeah, there seems to be something really, really weird going down with cats in Deltarune. And more likely than not, the Cattenheimers or at least the sisters will be important to it.

(Not gonna lie, Sans’ modifications to their grill has me lowkey looking suspiciously at the explicitly cattish FRIEND being paired with an Endogeny-like body. That, and also at how it seems to establish some kind of close connection between Sans and the Cattenheimers in general. I mean, he just upgrades and starts using their grill while the family is away without any apparent permission. I hadn’t even realized that last part with the grill until the moment of writing this. )

I'm just gonna stick all of these asks together because...MMMFFGH. I feel like my brain is just absolutely overloaded on cats now and I don't quite know what to make of all of it!

I still don't know what to make of FRIEND, ultimately. The mentions of Friend in the Mike Room honestly almost seem to be teasing players about getting too Pepe Silvia-brained about Friend, but at the same time, there's all these weird little connections with ERAM and Spamton and man it's all a lot. Best I can work out is that, whatever Friend is supposed to be, they're adept at jumping between the layers of reality that the game presents (the game-within-games of the dark world, the dark world itself, the light world, the device layer, etc.)

Catti's got connections with Kris in regards to the demon summoning (which I still maintain could be US all along)

Catti has got serious tension with Susie over Noelle, who are supposed to go to the festival tomorrow together. "Raging inferno of jealousy" could apply to Catti as much as it does Asgore.

Catti's also got tension with an older sibling the same way Kris might have mixed feelings about Asriel. Asriel is likely coming home next chapter for the festival.

There's SOME kind of big cat fight we've got coming in the future but I'll be damned if I can figure out how it will happen or ultimately shake out.

The primary conclusion I draw from this: Undertale is the dog universe, and Deltarune is the cat universe. I don't know how on earth to explain what that means, but it's a conclusion I've got nonetheless.

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2025.06.23

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. allay the heat by @jtimu [E, 3k]

Harry could never make sense of Luna's astronomical observances; the summer solstice, at least, seemed to be a part of standard wizarding celebrations. Any excuse for a party, he supposed. Draco Malfoy was there, flowers in his hair and rings glinting on his fingers.

2. Harry Potter and the Masked Murderer by @wayofthemagicbean [M, 201k]

Harry Potter and the Golden Trio find themselves once again at Hogwarts, this time as eighth year students. Harry sneaks around the castle, gets himself and others caught up in dark magic, becomes an animagus, and once again finds himself in the center of another dark wizard's attention - someone who is perhaps more deadly and terrifying than even Lord Voldemort.

3. I'm in a Better Place, Except for a Thousand Mistakes by @elusiveclownbox [E, 37k]

During Draco's trial following the events of the war, the revelation of him being trans is shared with the wizarding world. Hermione drags Harry and Ron into an initially uncertain alliance with the Slytherins in a show of support in the face of bigotry. Harry and Draco discover a surprising ease in which their relationship develops and grows.

4. Take My Shame to The Grave by queerbonafide [E, 65k]

Muggles suddenly start tattooing the Dark Mark on their forearms. Harry Potter discovers that his ex-nemesis - Draco Malfoy, after disappearing from the wizarding world, is pursuing a career as a singer. When Malfoy unexpectedly asks him to join him on his European tour, Harry knows the decision will affect the rest of his life.

5. This Unholy Notion by togepip [E, 28k]

Harry is a drug addict. Draco is a club promoter. Draco doesn't care, until he does.

---

Fest/Exchange

1. How Hermione Started Shipping Drarry by Anonymous [E, 8k]

Dumped by her boyfriend and needing somewhere to stay, all Hermione wants to do is get comfort from her best friend. But there's just one problem. Harry is incomprehensibly living with that pointy git, Draco Malfoy. ★ We Heart Draco Fest 2025 | @weheartdracofest

[yushi-ni]

could you write just like wishies reactions to walking in on something... indecent? like not the minors ofc but the freaks 😈 thank u! xx

ෆ NCT WISH ෆ 𝗈𝗇𝗋𝗂𝗒𝗎 + 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ masterlist

summary; onriyu and unexpected visitors, another member walking in on you two doing ‘indecent’ things

pairing; onriyu - sion version x you

genre; suggestive, smut

warnings; 18+ contains mature card game elements. mentions of make outs - oral (male + female receiving) face fucking unprotected twister

notes; hiii anon!!!! thanks for requesting 😛😛 ok i changed it up a little but and actually made this an actual fic rather than a headcannons because i felt like writing a whole essay again (hihi) BUT i’m also writing a proper ‘reaction’ version for you!!! i wasn’t sure if you wanted the wishies walking in on ‘you’ doing self care or if you wanted one of the other wishies walking in on ‘you and your bf’ so i opted for the latter!!! hope it’s to your liking but if you did want the other one, please let me know and i’ll try writing one with that scenario too!!!! i decided to make 3 different parts because someone got carried away a little bit.. (i’m someone hihi) so here’s sion’s part; NOT PROOFREAD my brain was so fried i’m sorry!!!!!

──୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──

OH SION

it’s so easy to get lost in your little bubble of love and affection when it’s just you and bf. no care in the world or any sense of the real world outside. it’s been a while since your bf had a night off, no work, no appointments, no other distractions but you. as soon as his manager told him that the team was off the rest of the night, he called you and you quite literally hopped in a taxi and made your way to his dorm. you couldn’t really remember the last time you were able to spend a cozy night in with your bf, he has been so busy with work and yes you knew the downsides of dating an idol, sometimes you couldn’t see your bf for a few days or even get him on a phone call. he’s out of town or locked up in the practice room with his members. you didn’t mind, you support him through thick and thin, yes it gets lonely sometimes, not being able to go see your bf whenever you want to, not being able to just randomly stop by the dorm to have dinner together etc etc but it made the moments shared together a hundred times more memorable and special. it’s those moments that are worth the hours apart. time spent apart only makes you both realise how much you actually missed each other.. how much you actually craved and needed the other;

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ 🌷🫧☁️

he didn’t get home long after he sent you a text, asking if you were free and wanted to come over. you’ve been on his mind non stop the past week. the last time he saw you was before he went overseas for concerts, after returning to korea he was so packed with schedules he didn’t even have the time to go see you. he texted you every free second of his day, saying how much he misses you and how badly he wanted to see you. you being you were very understanding and encouraging about the situation, he knows it’s hard on you but you never really show or express it towards him. not wanting to upset or discourage him. you reminded him you’d be able to see each other soon again and tonight was finally the time.

he hopped in the shower and put on some comfy clothes, he dried his freshly dyed brown hair and couldn’t help but speed clean his room a little bit before you would step foot in there. he walked into the living room where he was met with the two maknaes playing games together. “hyung!!! come!!! quick sit down, i’m winning” saku only glanced up at the sight of sion entering the room; “no you’re not!” ryo bumped his shoulder against the youngest, “you can’t even get to the 2nd floor without getting caught!” sion chuckled to himself as he almost threw himself onto the couch, watching his two young members, who were seated infront of him on the floor, play their current hyper fixated game. he took out his phone and sent jaehee a text, asking him to invite the two youngsters over to their dorm so he can spend some alone time with you. not even 2 minutes later, sakuryo was up and gathering their stuff to make their way over to the other house. a quick bye before the door was shut behind them. he can’t help but giggle at the thought of his younger brothers, you always joke about him being like their dad but no one can argue the fact that the two are just adorable.

he was scrolling through his netflix recommendations when he heard the doorbell ring. he got up so fast you’d almost think he got had places to be. as soon as he opens the door his grin is so wide, not wasting a second longer as he pulls you in and tackles you in a bear hug. you giggle but gladly accept the hug; “hi baby” you chuckle as you felt his arms pull you impossibly closer to him; “shhhh don’t talk pls, i’m having a moment here” you laugh at his words and he mirrors your reaction, his whole body laughing with him. freeing you from his deadly grip on you, he looks at you, his smile reaching the sparkling in his eyes. eyes shifting from your eyes to his lips and back up, grinning from ear to ear as he presses his lips on yours. you kiss him back, your arms coming up and naturally finding their way around his neck. pulling him down a little more. his hands moving up and down your sides, almost desperately trying to feel you under his skin in comparison to the sweet - tender kiss you’re sharing. you can feel him smile in the kiss, teeth clashing as he slowly pulls back. you look up at him, his hands coming up to your shoulders as he takes a tiny step back. lowkey looking you up and down; “yeaah-“ he says, more to himself than to you. followed by an approving nod; “just how i remembered” you gasp, laughing as you hit his chest. he pulls you in another hug, laughing as well, kissing the top of your head before he lets go and pulls you further into the apartment.

you’re sitting on the couch, cuddled up with your back pressed against his chest and your legs tangled up together. you’ve been trying to concentrate on the movie playing but your head is completely trailed off somewhere else. you look around the room, some interesting and bold chosen ‘art’ decorations suddenly made you realise you haven’t seen or heard the two maknaes the whole night yet. “wait, where are the youngsters?” - “mmh?” sion asks as he was processing the words; “oh they’re at the other dorm, playing with jaehee i think” - “ahh nawh i would have loved to see them, it’s been so long” your bf cleared his throat, shifting up a little bit as he sarcastically said; “yeah i’m very happy to finally see you too” you laughed as you sat up straight, turning your body to look at your bf. “oh cmon you get to see them everyday, i barely saw them the past few weeks!!” you couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face; “i’m sorry woman, i don’t think they came as a package deal when you agreed to be with the one and only oh sion” he giggled, mirroring the big smile on your face as you shifted your whole body around, your legs on both side of his body as you straddled his lap. “i should have read the terms of agreement better before making such decisions” your hands dramatically falling to his shoulder as you sighed out loud; “yeah sounds like a whole bunch of losses on your side” sion says, silent giggles falling from his lips, his hands firm on your hips. you look at him, taking in the way he looked back at you, the way his eyes are so bright and full of love, the way his flushed cheeks look so soft and how his hair naturally falls a little over his eyes. “what” he asked, looking you straight in the eyes, trying to make out what you were thinking about. you only smiled, a little teasing; “nothing” he throws his head back to lean against the couch, only humming a; “mhmh” as he can’t help but smile again. his eyes look so soft but you can’t miss the way his hands are gripping your hips a little more tightly. looking at you, raising his eyebrow (pls this video haunts me; video) waiting for your next move which he gladly accepts as you crash your lips onto his.

your hands in his hair, his busy wandering up and down your sides, soft moans filling up the room mixed with the sound of your lips moving against the other as you share a passionate kiss. seconds have passed, minutes have passed, time gets forgotten as you completely lose yourself in the moment. sion’s tongue finds yours as he fights you for dominance, a sweet kiss quickly turning into one of lust and need. you moan as he puts more pressure onto your lips, his body moving a bit forward, pressimg himself more onto you. you pull his head a bit back, he groans now it’s you who welcomes herself in his mouth now, you push him back till his back hits the couch again. his hands are strong against your skin, pressing you down more firmly. your grip in his hair only tightening as you roll your hips into his. he moans in the kiss, pulling his head back as your push your hips down onto his lower abdomen again, repeating the same movement, pulling his head back completely, giving yourself perfect acces to the bare skin on his neck. your lips work their way up his exposed skin, wet kisses as you almost make out with the sweet spot on his neck. soft sighs coming from your boyfriends lips, his hands coming up to your ass, pressing you onto him more. his eyes shut closed, focusing on the feeling of your lips, the pressure’s so strong you’ll for sure leave marks on his skin (but that’s a worry for later) he pulls you back, lips pressed back on yours in a split second, the kiss is more messy and desperate. hungry for more. your hips rolling into his as your almost desperately humping each other.

“mm fuck-“ sion groans; “t-too much yn fuck” his hands still your movements as he lifts you up from his lap. “if you don’t stop i’ll literally burst right here and now” you chuckle; “and that’s a bad thing becaaaause..?” you giggle at the sight infront of you. eyes heavy as he looked up to you. “because i have not survived more than a week without touching you to be finished in less than a minute, now get off” you couldn’t help but laugh as you swing your legs to one side, leaning back against the arm rest as your bf gets himself on his knees to adjust his sweatpants that show a wet stain from your previous position. “uhhuh mr oh sion, the great survivor of a little touch deprivation” you tease as you push him with your foot. he gasped sarcastically, one hand over his heart as the other brushed through his hair; “a little respect here please” he laughs as he positioned himself in between your legs. “mhmh respect is to be earned..” you pulled your bf closer by the strings of his hoodie. he scoffed; “don’t say things you’ll regret later” face inches away from yours; “make me” his eyes switched to a different tone, lips crashing on yours in a split second. hungry - sloppy and more desperate than he ever kissed you before. allowing himself access in your mouth, only grinning as you whine and moan into his.

his hand comes down to your clothed core, stretching your pants so the material tightens around your already soaked core. his fingers pressing down against your clit, you moaned, pulling away from his lips to catch your breath. sion smirked, his thumb now rubbing and working their way on your wet core. you pushed your hips up, thrusting into his hands as you were chasing the feeling of his hands. sion pushed your hips back down, pressing you into the couch as his fingers sped up; “stay still” he nodged his head in the crook of your neck, placing wet open mouthed kisses as he trails up to your jawline. repeatedly sucking and kissing the exposed skin as you throw your head back more. his hands still working their way on your clit. you moaned, a knot forming in your stomach, you throw one of your legs around his body, overwhelmed by the intense feeling of his fingers and lips. you whined; “fuckk- sion- i’m..“ - “i’m what?” his voice low and cocky. his lips were back on yours before you could answer. your hand came up to his hair as you desperately try to steady yourself down, you rolled your hips in his hand again, in need of more friction. almost reading your mind, sion’s hand comes to a halt and in a swing motion find their way in your pants, past the line of your panty. you moan loudly, gasp muffled in the kiss as he enters with two fingers, immediately pulling in and out as his thumb applies pressure on your clit. you try to kiss back, almost impossible as sion’s fingers keep working their way on your lower abdomen. “oh fuck-“ you whined.

the feeling in your stomach only getting more intense, building up as you can feel the heat blooming more and more. “sion-“ you whisper, almost helpless, breathing heavily. his mouth moving to your neck again, greedy, not wanting to miss any part of your exposed skin. his thumb is circling swift motions, pressing down just hard enough for the tension to get more and more intense. his name leaving your mouth in moans in chokes. “fuck yn, i missed the way you sound” you don’t reply, your voice not strong enough to let out any words, you only whimper as the knot gets stronger and stronger.

he lifts his head, he pulls his fingers out but before you can even plead, he pulls down your pants along with your panty in one motion. your legs up in the sudden movement, throwing your clothes somewhere on the floor. his voice low as he admires the view infront of him; “just as beautiful as always” you whine as you hit his arm, almost feeling shy under his strong gaze; “ya, my eyes are up here” sion chuckles; “baby as much as i love your eyes, i think i’ve got mine more focused elsewhere” his eyes are heavy and filled with lust, he drops to the floor, on his knees, crawling between your legs as he locks his eyes with you. your legs spread, your fingers in his hair, anticipating the feeling that’s coming. his mouth is on your thighs, open mouthed kisses dragged along the insides of your legs. his tongue licking his way to your now throbbing core, desperate for his mouth to come in touch with the one place you need him most right now, you can’t help but buck your hips upward, you feel the vibration of his groan into your skin as he presses you back down. arms around your legs, locking you down to keep you from moving. his kisses come to a halt, his eyes flicker to yours, smirking as he dips his head down. his lips are warm and soft, tongue entering you as he sucks and licks his way up and down, in and out.

your breath is stuck in your throat, you can only moan and cry out as his tongue flicks again and again. your grip in his hair tightens, back arged, head thrown back as your eyes roll to the back of your head. you can feel him smirk against your skin, not holding back, your sounds only making him more greedy to taste you. his mouth is moving as if he’s trying to make up for the time you spent apart. he’s sloppy, desperate and eating you out like a starved man. he hums, the vibration sending shivers down your spine, your body aches everywhere. you whine; “aghhh sion- pls- i can’t..” your breath is choking, you whimper as your chest is feeling heavier with every passing moment. your body is on fire, your legs shaking while he is still holding you down with his arms, one of your hands desperately reach for one of the pillows next to you, clenching the fabric as you start trembling, “sion- please” your mind is so high on the feeling. he groans, he feels your legs fighting to stay down. “fuck- don’t stop,” your stomach twists as sion pulls your body almost impossible more down, his face deep into you. he licks and sucks, almost ruthless. “come for me,” he says, his voice so low it you feel it through your whole body; “wanna taste you baby” his fingers are back on your clit. motioning in a way it literally makes you see stars. he presses onto you, the feeling of his mouth and his fingers makes your toe curls and eyes roll back. you can’t control the sounds you make, half sobs - half moans as you uncontrollably breath out in whined. you can feel the tears form in your eyes, your whimpers turning into cries, and only the sound of his name leaving your mouth as your orgasm rushes through you. your breath is stuck in your throat. but he doesn’t stop, he lets you ride out your high, licks up every single part of you, your body goes numb, completely slumps into the couch. your chest still moving from your heavy breathing. only then does he lift his head back up, smirking with his lips completely glossy and wet.

he can’t help the ghosting smile on his face as he’s hovering over you. you’re staring up at him, eyes pleading and fucked out. he moves down so his lips are brushing over yours; “malways taste so good,” his lips are on yours, more sweet and tender this time, slowly moving with yours in an almost perfect rhythm. you can taste yourself on his lips, his body now leaning down on you completely, arms on both sides of you to prevent his weight pressing you down. one of your arms swing around his neck, pulling him almost impossibly closer, you can still feel the high and rush from before. not aware that you’re still holding onto the pillow. his hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers. it’s only then you’re reminded that he’s still fully clothed when he grinds down onto you. again and again until his hips are almost moving on impulse. he’s pressing himself into you harder and harder, moans ruffled in the kiss by the feeling of the fabric on your bare, still sensitive, clit. you can feel the outline of his thickness through his sweatpants, you meet his hips midway, rolling your hips against his. it’s almost shameless, the way you’re grinding against him as if he didn’t make you cum a few minutes ago, but you can’t help it. sion presses himself down on you completely, his growing bulge pressing right against your heat. stopping your movements at the same time, his head drops to your shoulder, panting for breath; “fuck baby- i swear i’m trying to stretch this as long as i can” your hand goes to his hair, scratching his head with your nails, breathing into his ear; “don’t,” you can feel his dick twitch in his pants. he doesn’t let it linger for long, before you know it his pants and boxers are off, thrown into the room, somewhere with yours. his hard on upright, tip wet from the pre-juice. your core is throbbing just by the sight of his size. you bite your lip, mesmerised with the thickness, a soft chuckle coming from your bf; “ya.. my eyes are up here” you glare up to him, rolling your eyes at the amused look on his face. his hands go to the hem of his sweatshirt when you stop him; “just leave it on,” too eager and needy to even bother taking off more clothes than necessary. sion laughs, taking his dick in his hands, pumping it a few times as he steadies himself in between your legs again.

your hand comes up to take his length in your hand, pushing away his own, you stroke him up and down, fingers circling on his tip, spreading his pre-cum around his dick. your eyes look up to him, pleading, batting your eyelashes as you stick out your tongue, your free hand pulling his lower body more towards you by his legs. you slide down the couch a little more making him hover over you more so he has to kneel on one knee. he groans loudy, understanding your intentions, his honey eyes looking down on you as you pull his lower body closer and closer to your face. sion sighs loudly as he feels your kitten licks against his tip. you lick again, and again; “fuck don’t tease baby” you smile and with that, you come up to wrap your whole mouth around his member. sucking in your cheeks as you bob your head up and down. he leans forward, both hands steadying himself on the backrest of the couch. he looks down at you, the sight of him disappearing in your mouth has his dick twitching. you moan against him, the vibration rushing through his whole body. “fuckkkk-“ he hissed, he’s fighting demons to stay still, letting you do your thing and making him feel good. your mouth moving faster, you hum against him, saliva running down his dick. you let your head fall back a little bit, leaning against the couch, as you pull him with you in the same motion. sion repositions a little bit so most of his weight is on his leg that’s up. your hand comes up to stroke the rest of his length that you don’t have in your mouth. taking your time to make sure every inch of his member is ‘used’. he loves the way you feel around him, nothing can ever top the feeling of your mouth on his dick. he can only sigh deeply as he’s trying to fully concentrate on you. you suck him off in a way his head feels light, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, biting his lip, trying to suppress the moans from coming out. he can feel himself hit the back of your throat, your small hands working wonders on the base of his length while you take him as far as you can, from this angle at least.

a loud whimper coming from you when your bf suddenly thrusts into your mouth, his hands gripping the couch as he rolls his lower body into your face. you moan loudly, you let your hands drop to your sides, one grabbing his calves to steady yourself a bit. you can feel him hitting the back of your throat, hard. you hallow your cheeks a little more, creating more tension. you can only mirror the sounds coming from him. his eyes are fluttered shut, trying not to fuck himself into you too hard, but you make him lose his mind completely. totally immersed in the moment itself, he keeps rolling his hips down, the muffled sounds of your breathing and moans steadying his pace.

he pulls back and with a little plop your mouth gets detached from his length. you open your eyes by the sudden emptiness, sion sits back down again, on both knees as his hands come up to lift your legs. he squeezes your thighs as he puts them up to each side of his face. he positions himself in between, with his extremely hard on right at your heat, he strokes the tip over your core, a moan coming from both of you. he inhales deeply; “i can’t promise i can hold out long” a breathy giggle leaving his mouth. you rolled your eyes at your bf; “just fuck me sion” he chuckles- “your wish is my command” and with that, he pushes his tip in, leaning down, pressing your own legs against your body, feet touching the backrest of the couch, pushing himself in completely, stretching you out as you both moan at the feeling. when he’s completely inside, his hand grip the backrest, not giving you any time to adjust to the feeling as he buttoms out and thrusts back into your lower body. he’s quick to set a pace, fucking into you and quickly the whole room fills up with the sound of skin slapping against each other paired with the whiny sounds of moans. his hips snap against yours as he stretches you out with every thrust. he looks down at where his dick disappears in you, he groans as he places the other hand that was holding onto your leg on the couch as well. now snapping his hips in a new angle.

he moans loudly, biting his lip as he slows down his pace a little; “fuck baby, you feel so good” he grunts as he bottoms himself out, slightly pushing himself back in, but just the tip. “don’t tease,” you whined as you almost desperately tried to push him back in by his legs; “please-“ he snickered softly, pulling out, brushing his tip against your clit, rubbing you with his length a couple times before he thrusts back in, so deep your eyes roll back in an instant. he’s stretching you out so hard you cry out his name. he groans, letting go of your legs and places them around his middle, you pull him down, your arms around his neck to feel him closer. his head in the crook of your neck; his moans muffled against your skin as he rolls his hips. a steady pace, as you let him fuck you. you’re both a mess, fully immersed in the moment; body’s tangled in each other’s, moving together in an almost perfect motion.

you’re so caught up in each other’s you didn’t even notice the end credits started playing on the screen, or the fact you didn’t even close the blinds.. or the sound of the door getting unlocked. “hyung!” riku called; “sionnie-hyung, saku and ryo fell asleep so they.. WOW WAH WOAH!!!” both yours and sion’s head snapped out of your own little love bubble as he shot up from his position on top of you. both boys’ eyes widened as they stared at each other, riku completely frozen in the doorway while your bf had a panicked expression on his face, mirroring your own. “oh- i.. hyung- i-“ riku stuttered. “just give us a minute please,” sion says, laughing in embarrassment. still half in shock but he can’t help but giggle mostly out of an attempt to calm himself down. “no, yes, ofc, as many minutes as you need actually” riku says; “i- uh- i just came to tell you that the youngsters are sleeping over at our place” he smiled awkwardly, nodding his head in your direction as a small; ‘hi’. you smiled back, slowly feeling the rush of adrenaline coming down as you realise what is actually happening. “okay yeah great, thanks. you- uh- you can go now” your bf says as he brushes his hand through his hair. riku, clearly lulled out of his shocked state, slightly smirked at the sight infront of him as he backs out through the door.

a yelp coming from sion, like one you never heard before. (video; pls he’s so cute) you cover your face in your hands as you throw you head on the couch; “oh my god-“ you laughed, you hit his shoulder as he looks at you, not being able to hold back his laugh anymore. his hands brush through his hair again, a failed attempt to fix the messy look. “remind me to never have sex in your dorm again” you sighed as you palmed your face. “nooo but no one’s even here!” sion protested, laughing even more now. “no one?!!! was riku a hallucination just now?” you smacked his arm again, whining. he laughs when the sound of a new message on his phone pops up, he grabs his phone, still giggling because of the whole situation.

ʀɪᴋᴜ; 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨? 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩? 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 :)

he only laughed, showing you the screen with riku’s chat. “that was not funny omg,” you breathed; “what if it was actually on of the youngsters coming home!” you looked at your bf in utter disbelief; “but it wasn’t, it was just riku” he laughed at you, typing what you believe is a reply to said boy. “if i wanted an audience i would have asked for one, just riku is just one riku too many” you let out a little laugh, unsure how you were going to face riku again tomorrow. “oh cmon, do you think riku is the holy virgin mary?? the amount of times i’ve heard him and his gf going at it, trust me they need to write a whole new book series called fifty shades of riku for all i know” you laughed, a genuine laugh this time. a deep sigh you didn’t even know you were holding in escaping from your lips. your bf leaned down to you, kissing your head; “mmh are we going to finish what we started tho?” - “oh sion!!” you pushed him away, your bf laughing amused; “i have a lock on my door!” you click your tongue; “you’re actually uncontrollable, yk that?” he nods his head, his eyes fully focused on you now; “mhmh but only for you”

[tinytalkingtina]

Tales of Eddierotica Chapter 1: Argh me matey

Eddie writes the world's worst erotica about characters who are just poorly disguised versions of himself and Steve. One day, Steve finds out exactly what's been going on inside the mind of his roommate all these years.

Rated E | 4.3k words | Ao3 link [Chapter 1] | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 Overall tags: crack treated seriously/porn with a plot, modern/no-UD AU, friends to lovers, bisexual Eddie AND Steve, steddie as roommates, switch Eddie/Steve, vers Steve/Eddie, Eddie has a crush on Steve (and is horny about it), writer Eddie, the prose is so purple it has passed out from a lack of oxygen, friend fiction/erotica, so many bad puns and word play Chapter-specific tags: pirate AU, pirate Eddie, sailor Steve, pegging, rope bondage, non-con bondage, sexual frustration, orgasm denial, edging, and penis sword fighting (mind the tags but the erotica is at all times silly)

Written for the @switcheddieweek event, fulfilling the "art" prompt!

Find the full chapter on Ao3 to read it in all of its comic sans glory, but enjoy a snippet below the cut (as well as tags). Pink is Eddie's writing below.

“Theodore!” Stevenson growled manfully, as a man might. “You’ve gone too far this tiiiiiiimmmoohhhhh, too far this time! I demand you release me at once. Let us settle our differences as men of honor might.” The raven-haired roguish rascal grinned. “Why Commander, are you asking little old me for a duel? Your weapon is certainly impressive, but I promise, my own morning wood is far more dexterous in the afternoon!” Stevenson craned his neck. From where he was bound, he could just make out the captain’s trouser sword, the red tip shining merrily in the half past two o’clock sun. True to the captain’s word, it bobbed and waved in the breeze with quite agile ease. Still, what choice did Stevenson have? This unceasing torment would surely be his undoing. Even if he managed to reach his peak, la petite mort would be far too great for his tired body and overcum soul. “Yes, I do challenge you to a duel, you dastardly fieeeeend!” Anything to ease the ache in his pale twinned coconuts. The more Steve read, the less convinced he was that this was revenge. It was way too silly. Definitely weird and fucked up. But ‘pale twinned coconuts’ was something guys would say in like, a comedy porno. And now that he thought about it, Eddie had left the notebook where Steve could find it by accident. Maybe this was why the two of them got along so well, his roommate would turn his annoyance at whatever Steve had done into stupid porn to laugh at. Which was in fact very Midwestern of him after all. Mercifully the pirate captain holding him captive decided he’d had his fill of watching the commander writhe and groan. His loyal crew mates pulled Stevenson back onto the deck, giving him a much needed reprieve from the peg he’d been impaled upon. Though blood flowed back into Stevenson’s limbs, his body still spared some to hold his mighty spear aloft. For Stevenson’s johnson was truly a weapon to behold and envy. Even under clothes, its size and girth served as a source of distraction for those who shared the room with it. Steve glanced down at his pants and the super obvious outline of his dick. Okay so maybe these sweats were a little too tight to wear in public, but in his defense, Eddie had walked into a wall or tripped over his own feet every day since the two of them had met. How was he supposed to know some of those accidents were dick-related? Once the commander recovered his strength, he stood to his full height. Standing but one inch over his opponent only due to his stupidly attractive voluminous hairTowering over his opponent, he grasped his Not So Lil’ Stevie[son] and prepared to fight.

Read the rest on Ao3!

Tagging folks who have been scarred by wip weekend snippets:

@hbyrde36 @pearynice @eriquin @queenie-ofthe-void @yesdangerpls

@fkinkindagauche @helpimstuckposting @augustjustice @apomaro-mellow

@onirislanding @sidekick-hero @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @stellarspecter

@zombiethingy @wynnyfryd @griefabyss69 @stevesjockstrap @runninriot

@sourw0lfs @dame-zoom-a-latte @pentapoctopus @soaringornithopter

[dakusan]

First Claim II

Vampire!Seo Changbin x Reader | neck-biting, desk-fucking, plushie-bribing menace who accidentally imprints and panics

🔞synopsis: You’re a human research intern at Luxe Health—smart, stubborn, and the daughter of one of Chan’s closest human allies. You wanted field access. Real data. Real vampires. You didn’t expect to be assigned to Seo Changbin. Cold. Ruthless. Director of Hostile Containment. And now—completely obsessed with you. One blood-slick riot drill, a desk-breaking tension spiral, and a bar incident later, you’re covered in bite marks, plushies, and an illegal contract that says you’re his. You didn’t mean to fall in love. But then again, neither did he.

💌a/n: HELLO AGAIN. IT’S ME. FIRST CLAIM II IS HERE. This is the part where I was supposed to cool down. Instead, I gave you: morning sex; blood-sharing; soft Changbin™ panic; a contract. If you’re here from Part I… congratulations. You are now fully claimed. No refunds. Am I updating the warnings? No. This bitch is lazy 🙃. p.s. Quackbin is canon. Plushie population now exceeds apartment legal limit. p.p.s. reblog for hydration, bonding rituals, and desk trauma recovery

⚠️ warnings: 18+ / MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | oral, penetrative (wrap it up people), multiple rounds | breeding kink if you squint | blood-sharing / vampire biting (consensual) | choking (consensual) | marking / possessiveness / claiming | rough sex → soft aftercare | desk sex, couch sex, morning sex | slight somnophilia vibes (you wake him up riding) | jealousy & territorial behavior | Jeongin trauma (comedic)

📌 Please read responsibly. Hydrate. Ride responsibly. Don’t sign anything without checking for plushie clauses.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » Guilty — Taemin « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:10 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

One Week Later

Dating Changbin is…

…unexpected.

Not the biting, not the sex (though Jesus Christ, that alone deserves a docuseries), not even the blood-sharing or the fact that you’ve woken up more than once to him growling in his sleep because he’s dreaming about someone looking at you wrong.

No. It’s everything else.

Like the plushies.

You have sixteen now.

All claw-machine-won. All delivered with some variation of “Tch, I was just bored while waiting for the blood shipment to arrive, shut up.”

Meanwhile he’s standing there with pink dusting his ears, clutching a pastel cat with hearts on its cheeks, refusing to meet your eyes.

Or the fact that every time you yawn, he immediately hands you water, a hoodie, and his lap, grumbling something about “low blood pressure” while pretending he’s not actively nesting.

He still growls at anyone who gets too close. Still does his little eye-glint-glare thing when another vampire so much as breathes in your direction. But then the moment you look tired? Cold? Annoyed?

He’s putting his jacket over your shoulders. Pulling you into his side. Hand on your thigh, thumb brushing lazy circles. Sometimes, when he thinks you’re asleep, he kisses your knuckles and whispers things like:

“Too good for me…” “Mine…” “Won’t let anything touch you. Ever.”

Yeah. Totally normal boyfriend things.

What you don’t know?

Is that he’s been staying up every night after you fall asleep on his chest. Writing. Rewriting. Staring at the draft of a blood doll contract that looks nothing like the court’s usual ones.

No cold clauses. No forced feeding times. No territorial power imbalance.

Just this:

“By mutual bond and willing oath, we acknowledge what already exists: she is mine. And I am hers.”

He hasn’t shown it to anyone. Not even Chan. He’s just… waiting. Waiting for the moment to give it to you. Waiting for you to say yes to forever, without him having to beg. Waiting because even though he fucked you into that couch and bit you like you were already his, the truth is—

You ruined him that day.

And now? Now he’d burn the world just to keep hearing you giggle over another ridiculous plushie.

divider

Somewhere between soft light and sinful moans. Somewhere between domestic bliss and absolute ruin.

You're on top of him—again.

Straddling his hips, thighs snug around him, skin flushed and sticky. His hands grip your waist like you might disappear, like this isn’t the sixth morning this week he’s woken up to you already sinking down on him with a sleepy whimper.

“Baby,” he groans, voice raw, still thick with sleep. “You tryna kill me?”

You just roll your hips, slow and deep, making him curse under his breath.

“Couldn’t help it,” you mumble, dragging your nails down his chest. “You were already hard. Thought I’d help.”

He throws his head back, jaw clenched. “Fuck—you’re not helping.”

You lean forward, pressing kisses along his throat. He shivers when you whisper against his skin: “You love it.”

And he does. He fucking does. He loves waking up to you already warm and wet and wanting him. Loves the way your hair falls in your face as you ride him. Loves the little gasps you try to hold back when he angles his hips up just right.

“Look at you,” he growls, eyes locked on yours, fangs barely peeking out. “So cockdrunk first thing in the morning.”

You moan, fingers gripping his biceps. “You love that too.”

“Damn right I do.”

He thrusts up—once, hard—and you cry out, clutching at him, pulse fluttering under your skin like a prayer.

His hand slides between your bodies, thumb finding your clit like he owns you. Rubbing tight, slow circles that make your thighs tremble.

“Gonna cum on me already, huh?” he murmurs, voice low and reverent. “Just like that? First thing in the morning, and you’re already this needy?”

You nod, eyes glassy, mouth parted. “Binnie—please—”

“Go on then, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing yours. “Show me how good it feels to be mine.”

You moan—high, broken—hands clutching at his shoulders as your body spirals into that dizzy, unbearable edge. The pressure builds fast and ruthless, his cock hitting deep with every roll of your hips, his touch sending sparks through your nerves.

“Binnie—” you gasp, “I—”

“I know.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, your jaw. “I’ve got you.”

You shatter.

Your orgasm hits like a wave—full-bodied, trembling, helpless. You cry out his name, voice dissolving into whimpers as your walls pulse tight around him. He groans beneath you, hands gripping your hips, holding you steady through every quake.

“Fuck—look at you—” he pants, watching you unravel like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever seen. “You’re perfect. You were made to ride me, weren’t you?”

You’re still shaking when he flips you—fast, smooth, hands braced under your thighs as he buries himself deep again, still hard, still desperate.

“One more,” he whispers against your throat, breath ragged. “Let me feel you one more time.”

His hips snap up into you, hard, relentless—his name falling from your lips again, again, like it’s the only word you know.

“God, baby,” he groans, watching the way your back arches, the way your lips fall open in that perfect little gasp. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

His hand slides up your body—slow, reverent—until his fingers curl gently around your throat.

Not squeezing. Not yet. Just holding. Claiming. You whimper, pupils blown wide, skin flushed and glistening. Your hands fly to his wrist, not to stop him—but to anchor yourself. His eyes search yours, wild and burning.

He tightens his grip. Just enough to make your breath catch. Just enough to tilt your head back so he can lean in and growl against your throat—

“Fuck, you look so good like this. Getting ruined while you’re choked. My good fucking girl.”

And then he’s fucking up into you again—deep, brutal, perfect. Your body tightens instantly, sparks flaring behind your eyes as the pressure builds once more.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he rasps, thumb stroking lightly over your jaw as his other hand bruises your hip. “You’re gonna cum while I’m inside you like this. While I’ve got my hand on your pretty little throat.”

You can’t even speak. Just a breathy, broken whine as you start to shake again, cunt fluttering helplessly around him.

His grip softens the moment he feels you tip.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “That’s it. Give it to me.”

One Week Later

Dating Changbin is…

…unexpected.

Not the biting, not the sex (though Jesus Christ, that alone deserves a docuseries), not even the blood-sharing or the fact that you’ve woken up more than once to him growling in his sleep because he’s dreaming about someone looking at you wrong.

No. It’s everything else.

Like the plushies.

You have sixteen now.

All claw-machine-won. All delivered with some variation of “Tch, I was just bored while waiting for the blood shipment to arrive, shut up.”

Meanwhile he’s standing there with pink dusting his ears, clutching a pastel cat with hearts on its cheeks, refusing to meet your eyes.

Or the fact that every time you yawn, he immediately hands you water, a hoodie, and his lap, grumbling something about “low blood pressure” while pretending he’s not actively nesting.

He still growls at anyone who gets too close. Still does his little eye-glint-glare thing when another vampire so much as breathes in your direction. But then the moment you look tired? Cold? Annoyed?

He’s putting his jacket over your shoulders. Pulling you into his side. Hand on your thigh, thumb brushing lazy circles. Sometimes, when he thinks you’re asleep, he kisses your knuckles and whispers things like:

“Too good for me…” “Mine…” “Won’t let anything touch you. Ever.”

Yeah. Totally normal boyfriend things.

What you don’t know?

Is that he’s been staying up every night after you fall asleep on his chest. Writing. Rewriting. Staring at the draft of a blood doll contract that looks nothing like the court’s usual ones.

No cold clauses. No forced feeding times. No territorial power imbalance.

Just this:

“By mutual bond and willing oath, we acknowledge what already exists: she is mine. And I am hers.”

He hasn’t shown it to anyone. Not even Chan. He’s just… waiting. Waiting for the moment to give it to you. Waiting for you to say yes to forever, without him having to beg. Waiting because even though he fucked you into that couch and bit you like you were already his, the truth is—

You ruined him that day.

And now? Now he’d burn the world just to keep hearing you giggle over another ridiculous plushie.

divider

Somewhere between soft light and sinful moans. Somewhere between domestic bliss and absolute ruin.

You're on top of him—again.

Straddling his hips, thighs snug around him, skin flushed and sticky. His hands grip your waist like you might disappear, like this isn’t the sixth morning this week he’s woken up to you already sinking down on him with a sleepy whimper.

“Baby,” he groans, voice raw, still thick with sleep. “You tryna kill me?”

You just roll your hips, slow and deep, making him curse under his breath.

“Couldn’t help it,” you mumble, dragging your nails down his chest. “You were already hard. Thought I’d help.”

He throws his head back, jaw clenched. “Fuck—you’re not helping.”

You lean forward, pressing kisses along his throat. He shivers when you whisper against his skin: “You love it.”

And he does. He fucking does. He loves waking up to you already warm and wet and wanting him. Loves the way your hair falls in your face as you ride him. Loves the little gasps you try to hold back when he angles his hips up just right.

“Look at you,” he growls, eyes locked on yours, fangs barely peeking out. “So cockdrunk first thing in the morning.”

You moan, fingers gripping his biceps. “You love that too.”

“Damn right I do.”

He thrusts up—once, hard—and you cry out, clutching at him, pulse fluttering under your skin like a prayer.

His hand slides between your bodies, thumb finding your clit like he owns you. Rubbing tight, slow circles that make your thighs tremble.

“Gonna cum on me already, huh?” he murmurs, voice low and reverent. “Just like that? First thing in the morning, and you’re already this needy?”

You nod, eyes glassy, mouth parted. “Binnie—please—”

“Go on then, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing yours. “Show me how good it feels to be mine.”

You moan—high, broken—hands clutching at his shoulders as your body spirals into that dizzy, unbearable edge. The pressure builds fast and ruthless, his cock hitting deep with every roll of your hips, his touch sending sparks through your nerves.

“Binnie—” you gasp, “I—”

“I know.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, your jaw. “I’ve got you.”

You shatter.

Your orgasm hits like a wave—full-bodied, trembling, helpless. You cry out his name, voice dissolving into whimpers as your walls pulse tight around him. He groans beneath you, hands gripping your hips, holding you steady through every quake.

“Fuck—look at you—” he pants, watching you unravel like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever seen. “You’re perfect. You were made to ride me, weren��t you?”

You’re still shaking when he flips you—fast, smooth, hands braced under your thighs as he buries himself deep again, still hard, still desperate.

“One more,” he whispers against your throat, breath ragged. “Let me feel you one more time.”

His hips snap up into you, hard, relentless—his name falling from your lips again, again, like it’s the only word you know.

“God, baby,” he groans, watching the way your back arches, the way your lips fall open in that perfect little gasp. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

His hand slides up your body—slow, reverent—until his fingers curl gently around your throat.

Not squeezing. Not yet. Just holding. Claiming. You whimper, pupils blown wide, skin flushed and glistening. Your hands fly to his wrist, not to stop him—but to anchor yourself. His eyes search yours, wild and burning.

He tightens his grip. Just enough to make your breath catch. Just enough to tilt your head back so he can lean in and growl against your throat—

“Fuck, you look so good like this. Getting ruined while you’re choked. My good fucking girl.”

And then he’s fucking up into you again—deep, brutal, perfect. Your body tightens instantly, sparks flaring behind your eyes as the pressure builds once more.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he rasps, thumb stroking lightly over your jaw as his other hand bruises your hip. “You’re gonna cum while I’m inside you like this. While I’ve got my hand on your pretty little throat.”

You can’t even speak. Just a breathy, broken whine as you start to shake again, cunt fluttering helplessly around him.

His grip softens the moment he feels you tip.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “That’s it. Give it to me.”

Your body locks up — thighs trembling, head thrown back — and you come with a breathless cry, clutching at him like you’ll fall apart without him to hold you together.

Changbin groans, low and wrecked. His hands grip your waist, grounding you as he fucks up into you, chasing that final push—

“Fuck, baby—just like that—”

You feel him tense beneath you, his jaw clenched, eyes locked on yours like you’re the only thing that exists. And then he’s spilling inside you with a broken moan, pulsing deep as you flutter around him, still riding the aftershocks of your own release.

Your foreheads touch. Breath mingles. Hearts racing.

Neither of you moves at first. It’s like the world stopped, quiet and golden in the haze of morning light.

Then, softly, almost shy:

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing damp strands from your face.

You nod, eyes still heavy-lidded. “More than okay.”

He smiles — small, crooked, and so full of love it makes your chest ache.

“I should probably let you pee,” he mutters, already reaching for your thighs to help you up.

“Probably,” you whisper. “But also… don’t move yet.”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling you down into his chest again. “Okay. We’ve got time.”

He stays inside you for a while. Just holding you. His thumbs trace slow circles into your hips, grounding, soothing. You’re still draped over him, chest to chest, the rise and fall of your breathing syncing back into something steady. Calm.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and sweetness. “You with me?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Might be dead though. Died a little.”

He chuckles, low and warm, and kisses your temple like it’s instinct. “Guess I’ll have to bring you back to life. Pancakes or toast?”

You laugh, breathless. “Your dick game’s ridiculous and your post-sex breakfast plan is pancakes?”

“You say that like it’s not a dream come true.”

You tilt your head to look at him. His hair’s a mess, cheeks still flushed, eyes full of stars—and he’s smiling at you like you just handed him the sun.

Changbin finally shifts carefully to pull out—so slow, so gentle. You wince, just a little, but he’s already reaching down, checking the mess between your legs with the softest fingertips. “Messy girl,” he teases, but it’s tender. He disappears for a moment and returns with a warm cloth, cleaning you up so softly, so gently, so featherlight, not rushing a single touch.

“You always take care of me,” you murmur, voice a little hoarse.

His gaze softens impossibly more. “Of course I do. You’re mine.”

You think you catch it—just for a second—the flicker of nerves behind his words. Because he means it more than you know.

“You’re mine too,” you whisper back.

And just like that, his shoulders relax. His smile breaks wide. He kisses you again—soft, slow, like a thank you in a different language.

But when he pulls back, his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. And his hand, still resting on your hip, twitches—like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t know how.

You tilt your head. “Binnie?”

“Mm?”

“…You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” He kisses your forehead. “More than fine.”

But now you know. That slight delay before he answered. The way he’s not looking directly at you anymore.

You squint at him. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Changbin.”

“Baby—”

“No, no, don’t baby me,” you say, sitting up slightly, ignoring the ache in your thighs. “What is it? What are you not telling me?”

His jaw tenses.

“Tell me.”

He hesitates. His fingers tighten slightly on your waist. His eyes flick to the nightstand—just for a second—but you see it. That quick dart toward the drawer he always keeps locked.

“Binnie…”

He sighs. Deeply.

Then, like it hurts, he mutters: “Don’t freak out.”

“…Why would I freak out?”

“You just might.”

“Try me.”

Another pause. You watch his throat bob as he swallows.

“I want you,” he says quietly. “To be my blood doll.”

Silence.

You blink. “…What?”

He finally meets your eyes. No more smirking. No more distractions. Just raw, vulnerable honesty.

“I want you to be mine. Like—really mine. Not just sex and feeding when you let me. Not just crashing at each other’s places. A bond. A contract. A vow.”

You stare at him. And he keeps going, voice low and rushed like it’s been caged for too long.

“But not like the court ones. Not with the feeding schedule bullshit or dominance clauses. I—I wrote a different one. A new one. It’s just… you and me. No control. Just commitment. Mutual. Real.”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.

He misreads the silence. “Shit, I knew it. Too much, right? I shouldn’t have said anything, fuck, just forget—”

“I want to see it.”

He freezes.

You repeat, softer: “Show me the contract, Binnie.”

He stares at you like you just told him the sky turned violet. And then he practically trips over himself lunging for the drawer.

He pulls out the drawer like it holds the meaning of life.

Because to him, it kind of does.

The folder’s thick. Pages worn at the edges. He’s clearly read and rewritten it more times than he’ll admit.

He comes back to bed without saying anything—just sits beside you, still naked, hair a mess, cheeks flushed with something that isn’t post-sex glow anymore. It’s something closer to fear.

You gently take it from his hands.

The cover page is handwritten.

Blood Doll Contract — Special Version (not like those court bastards. mine is better.)

You snort already. “Binnie—”

“Just read,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

You flip the page.

Clause 1: Bond Acknowledgment This contract serves only to recognize the already existing bond between subject A (Seo Changbin) and subject B (you, aka the hottest human alive).

“We already belong to each other,” he mumbles beside you. “This just makes it official.”

Clause 2: Feeding Rights Subject A is allowed to feed from subject B only: With enthusiastic consent. When subject B is looking especially biteable. Or when it’s Tuesday, because Tuesday is hard. Sub-clause: Subject A promises to be very gentle unless told otherwise, and will always kiss the mark after, no exceptions.

You laugh. “Tuesdays are hard?”

He shrugs. “I’m a Tuesday vampire. Sue me.”

Clause 3: Bed Rights Subject A and B are to sleep in the same bed at least 5 nights a week. Sub-sub clause: Cuddling is non-negotiable. Feet must touch at some point during sleep. Subject A may not hog the blanket (again).

You raise a brow. “So this is revenge for last week?”

“You tried to burrito yourself,” he mutters. “I nearly froze to death.”

Clause 4: Plushie Clause Subject A may continue gifting plushies after successful missions, tantrums, or moments of extreme cuteness from subject B. Sub-clause: If subject B tries to donate or throw away said plushies, subject A reserves the right to “pout until emotionally compensated.”

You giggle so hard you nearly drop the folder. “Is that what that face was?!”

“No comment.”

Clause 5: Eternal Vow (The Real Shit) By signing, subject A and B acknowledge that this bond is not casual, or temporary, or transactional. It is a choice. Made every day. By signing, subject B agrees to let subject A love her in every language he knows—blood, body, soul, and all. And subject A promises to protect, cherish, and honor subject B for as long as the stars remember them.

You blink down at the final page. Your name is printed beside a blank line. You don’t say anything right away. Just look up at him.

He’s silent—nervous, chewing his lip like he expects you to run.

Instead, you whisper, “Do you have a pen?”

His head jerks up.

You hold the folder closer. “I want to sign.”

His eyes widen.

You gently touch the page. “Binnie. Of course I want to be yours. I already am.”

Changbin looks around for a pen, from the same drawer, and hands it to you. You take hold of it, hand moving carefully as you sign your name, right beneath his—the ink still fresh from however many nights ago he first wrote it. You even add a little heart after you write your name.

“You did not just doodle a heart on a legal vampiric contract.”

“Binnie, please, this thing mentions plushies and Tuesdays. You started unserious.”

He groans. “It’s symbolic! It’s a declaration of eternal—”

“Snuggling rights?”

He grabs a pillow and throws it at your face.

You burst out laughing, half-snarled under the cotton fluff, “Assault?! On your legal blood doll?! I will be calling the Court.”

“Go ahead. I’ll just seduce the judge.”

“You are the judge—!”

“Exactly. And I find you in contempt.”

You shriek with laughter as he tackles you back into the mattress, both of you rolling, limbs tangled, laughter punching out of your chests like you’re drunk on something stronger than wine.

Eventually you settle—limbs heavy, hearts loud.

He kisses your temple.

Then your cheek.

Then the corner of your mouth, whispering, “You really signed it.”

You nod, nuzzling into him. “I meant every word. Even the plushie clause.”

“…I knew you’d cave.”

“Cave?” You snort. “I’m riding the plushie train straight into hell. Make me a throne. Out of frogs.”

He kisses you again, full on the mouth this time, smile against your lips. “You’re insane.”

“You’re in love with me.”

“And you just signed a blood contract for me.”

“…Touche.”

You fall into each other’s warmth after that. No pressure, no fangs just yet. Just limbs and laughter and the feel of being wanted so thoroughly that even the paperwork is romantic.

Until you feel his hand drift lower.

And he hums, like he’s thinking something through.

“…You know,” he murmurs, lips brushing your throat. “Now that it’s official…”

You shiver. “Yeah?”

He nips gently—not biting, just teasing. “Wouldn’t mind doing the whole claiming thing properly.”

“Like…”

He grins against your skin. “You. Me. My fangs. This mattress. No interruptions. Eternal consequences.”

You blink. Then grin.

“Well, Judge,” you whisper. “I plead so guilty.”

Suddenly, you're on your back beneath him, already pulsing. Changbin hovers over you, hips rolling against yours. His fangs are out.

But he hasn’t bitten you yet. He’s waiting. Shaking. Worshipping you with every inch of his body.

“You sure?” he rasps.

You reach up, curling your fingers around the back of his neck. “Binnie. I signed the contract. I said yes a hundred ways. Make it a thousand.”

His jaw clenches. His cock slides against your entrance—hot, heavy, deliberate.

Then—his voice, hoarse: “I love you.”

And then he pushes in. You gasp—legs wrapping tight around his waist, hands clawing down his back. He fucks you slow at first, breathless, careful, like you’re breakable.

But you’re not. Not now. Not with him.

“Binnie—faster—please—”

He obeys. Hips snapping. Sweat dripping. His name tumbling out of your mouth like a mantra.

And when he leans in—lips brushing your neck—your whole body tenses.

You want this.

“Do it,” you whisper.

“You’re sure?”

“Do it, Binnie—mark me—make me yours—”

He growls. And then he bites. You cry out, the pain white-hot and fleeting—then replaced by pleasure so sharp, so overwhelming it makes your vision blur. He drinks slow, hips grinding into you deeper, harder, more possessive with every pulse of your blood into his mouth.

He moans into your neck as he drinks, his thrusts becoming ragged, desperate. “So fucking sweet,” he groans. “So fucking mine—”

You clench around him, overstimulated, whimpering, “Binnie—fuck—I’m—”

“Cum for me, baby,” he pants. “Wanna feel you when I fill you—”

And fuck, you do.

You shatter around him, crying out his name as he growls and fucks you through it—his own orgasm hitting seconds later, fangs still sunk into your skin as he spills inside you, claiming you in every possible way.

You both collapse together, sweaty and ruined, his cock still inside, your blood still on his tongue.

He lifts his head, eyes wide with awe, blood on his lips.

“You’re mine,” he whispers.

You brush his hair back, kiss him soft and open-mouthed.

“And you’re mine.”

[blossomcola]

omg pt2 of risky lara with u two catching manon being pervy and lara letting her join in please

i accidentally turned this into ot5 katseye and free use with the reader... i hope you like it!

pairing. ot5 katseye x fem reader

content warnings. degradation, fingering, gropping, hair pulling, humiliation, toys, overstimulation, scissoring.

we all know that lara is a loving and charming woman who would clearly be the sweetest and most romantic girlfriend in the world, but what happens when her group mates have a certain weakness for her girlfriend and she has no problem sharing her girl?

manon being the one who enjoys this the most because for months she’s been dying to get her hands on you... of course she wouldn’t try to make a move because you’re dating her friend, but if the opportunity arises she wouldn’t let it pass! her excitement is more than evident and you realize it when manon takes her toy box out of her closet... yes, she is the type of girl who loves toys. no matter what your preferences are because she doesn’t let you say anything about it, just by making you lie on her bed with your legs open for her and at her complete disposal, having no choice but to stay here and accept whatever she gives you regardless of whether you can take it or not :( manon is a bit naughty and doesn’t care if she’s being too hard for you or if you feel like you can’t cum again, she will not miss the opportunity to do whatever she wants with you and she doesn’t care if that means playing with your sanity, you’re just her doll.

sophia can be at the same level of cruelty depending on her mood, just as she can be heartless with you, she can also be super gentle and fuck you as much as you like or prefer, but she decides what mood to have with you! she prefers to start slowly and increase the intensity slowly, so sophia would first make out with you while she desires you to the point that your juices soak her hand and slowly run down her wrist, but she doesn’t care! sophia would go a little crazy for your taste so she would proceed to bury her face between her thighs and eat you out until her jaw hurts, regardless of whether you are very sore and feeling overwhelmed <3 and of course she also loves toys, but unlike manon, she has a big adoration for her strap, which is so big and thick that with just a glance you know it will be hard to take... and well, you know you were right the moment she’s fucking you missionary in her bed, legs shaking on her shoulders because the head of the silicone cock is hitting that spongy and sensitive spot inside you but she seems to understand that every whimper from you means you want her to push her cock deeper and deeper into you.

i fear that daniela is a girl who loves scissoring but in a way where everything is messy and sweaty, basically it means she can fuck until the bed breaks but it’s not a problem because you can continue on the floor! it is evident that she would choose to be on top because she needs to be in control of things for several reasons; first of all, it’s because daniela, being a dancer with years of experience, knows how to move her hips and that means she would use her dancing techniques to fuck — and secondly it’s because she knows that you’d probably get whiny soon after you two started getting wild and would probably have a hard time keeping a steady pace that doesn’t lose consistency... it doesn’t matter much what the reason is because daniela ends up on top of you anyway! maybe she’ll even hold your wrists above your head so you just have to lie under her and worry about making cute noises while she does all the work because pretty girls like you deserve to get laid and be cared for and looked after.

my dear megan... girl recently out of the closet so she doesn’t have the luxury of saying or showing off her experience or bragging about at least something, which is a fairly good thing because she would be somewhat afraid to act and her actions would be clumsy most of the time. among all the girls she would be the most “normal” because she is not yet a depraved freak, she may be kinky but she hasn’t developed that part of having a big confidence yet. even though lara has authorized them to do whatever they want with you, megan keeps asking every five seconds if you are sure and if what she is doing is okay, regardless of whether she’s doing something as simple as taking off your shirt or something more serious like about to touch you.

[bigshotautos]

how'd you feel about tenna?

I love TV Tenna!! He's a compelling character, funny, and he's added so much flavor to the broth of the Dark World and Light World. Chapters 3 + 4 were everything I could hope for and more, I'm gonna end up replaying them a bunch of times for sure LOL. I'll admit initially I wasn't thrilled that he's a TV Head, I was thinking: he has to be perfect to make up for it, and then He Was.

In relation to our HonestMan, I think it's kind of fascinating that he's exactly what some people in the fanbase wanted out of/projected onto Spamton. He's charismatic, charming, knows how to command an audience, tall and attractive, and if he's malicious it's for a good cause. I can completely understand why Spamton would mald at his existence, especially considering that he projects wrongdoing and jealousy on anyone he sees in a social position "higher" than his. Although Tenna has his abandonment issues that he shares with Spamton, it manifests in a completely different way because his relationships with other people weren't driven by a desperate urge to be not only an equal, but superior. Not to say Tenna doesn't have problems, but within the narrative giving him to the ghost house is pretty satisfying of an outcome, since he gets to have a new audience and form a worldview outside out of the Dreemurr household.

A doodle for your ask, might color this more later!

[faggotbeloved]

Hi!! May I request for a small flashback from S.T.A.R.S. days (according to your 3SA story)? Reader being an absolute sweetheart to Wesker and taking care of him even before their official relationship, making him start to develop his obsession with reader perhaps? I don’t know, I’m dying for some cute little background flashbacks of them two and how sweet and naive reader might have been back then😭😭

Anon,,, I am So. So Sorry. I intended to follow this correctly, but it turned into angst... there's some cute reader scenes in it though trust (the first 3)

Three Steps Ahead | Yandere!Albert Wesker x GN!Reader

5: Hindsight Glasses (20/20) (~3.5k words)

Cw: religious imagery, christianic metaphors, child abuse (wesker children), flashbacks, annoying ass extended metaphors, accidental domestic abuse, mental breakdown, hallucinations (of a sort), body horror, glass shards in palms, blood, stitches, angst, albert is Going Through It

This work does not contain smut but is 18+.

└───────────────────────┘

Albert sat alone in his study, nursing a glass of fine whiskey and flipping through an old book. He’d been doing that more often now. Being around you was a double edged sword: he loved you more than life itself—everything he did was for you since the moment you first met—but now it was tainted. By his own hand.

Albert recalled what you’d said just last week. ‘Is it bad to be happy if you're happy with a bad person?’

No, he wanted to scream, he’s not bad. He’s not remotely bad. Was God bad when he sent the flood? What was he, but a man reaching godhood and sending his own? Damn the promise of the rainbow; this Earth was vile, and you… you were the only creature worthy of making it aboard the Ark.

The rest of the survivors of his plans could find their way above the water and join his perfect world, but you? You would be kept safe and sound where he could watch over you. How was that bad? He was protecting you! Damnnit, you risked your life every day, and now that he pulled you to safety he was ‘bad?’

The book he held snapped shut as he stood, downing four or so ounces of whiskey in one drink. The buzz as it traveled down his throat was grounding, he decided, but not strong enough to focus him elsewhere.

His thoughts stayed on you. They should be on his project, he recognized that, but his mind never seemed to tire of your face. He wondered how much rewriting of your brain it would take in order to get even close to the affection you naturally shared back before he left S.T.A.R.S..

S.T.A.R.S.. Life was so much easier then. Well, perhaps the double life he led was tedious, but he had you completely. Now, you were a shell. You had sex a couple times since he brought you here; they made him feel closer, like he was making progress with you, sure, but so many stinging reminders plagued his head.

First and foremost, you had fallen for someone else while he was gone—you still loved Chris, from what he could tell. Second, you were here against your will; no amount of cuddling and home cooked meals and tiny personal freedoms would change that. Third, you thought he and his plans were inherently evil.

Before, he had your entire personality. Your highs and lows, your utmost confidence, your jokes, your vulnerability… your trust. That was who he fell in love with. Not the version of you that stared at the ceiling and searched for hidden security cameras to ease your unrelenting boredom.

Albert was usually thankful for his impressive memory and strong imagination. It was what got him through separation; replaying every interaction like a comforting movie and imagining what could have been what could be.

Now, it seemed like a curse.

──────────────────────

“Hey, Captain,” your voice called out as you smiled at him. “I made two thermoses of coffee. Want any?”

“Tea is preferred,” he said coldly, but when he saw your deflating shoulders he backtracked, “but I appreciate the sentiment. Very much. I'll drink it.”

“I-It’s alright, Captain, I could give it to—”

“I’d like the coffee, please,” he replied, standing up to take it. It was hot still, too hot, but he swallowed the mouthful regardless and nodded. “It's very good. Thank you.”

Was he lying? Maybe. He never cared for the taste and caffeine was only useful as an addition to painkillers, in his opinion. But he liked hot drinks and could gladly sip a morning tea on some occasions.

Somehow, the coffee you gave him—oh, he hoped that you made it entirely yourself—tasted more tolerable than the usual garbage that comes out of the machine in the break room.

“You're welcome,” you chuckled softly before you left to clock in. He savored the lingering affection in your glance and stowed it away to admire another time.

──────────────────────

The memory was engraved in Albert's mind, a mundane plaque in the vast shrine he'd mentally accumulated. In his brain was a museum; a nature trail with hundreds of instances like that; some were in the form of sticky notes you'd leave on his monitor when he left the room, some were monoliths with your essence engraved on every surface as tiny as it could be.

This specific memory was golden from where the bronze wore down. He found himself going back to it often. It wasn't when he first noticed you, that honor had its place as the very earth he built on. With every step he took down memory lane, he was reminded of that. No, it was when he realized how much he wanted to be the first.

The first person you thought of when wondering who to bring a cup of coffee; the first pair of eyes you see when you come in for work; the first man to marry you; the first in all your lists.

Back then, he cruelly deprived himself of the recognition that he loved you, but he knew what he felt wasn’t sustainable unless he acted on it.

As he walked deeper into the recesses of his mind, he landed on another. Somehow, Jill discovered his birthday. He hated the holiday; it was more a reminder of the decades of abuse by the hands of Umbrella than anything for merriment.

When Albert thought about his birthday, he pictured practicing piano until his fingers locked up, being sent to bed with no food in his growling stomach, and the dull ache that came with being utterly alone in a room full of children your age. He supposed all the Wesker children felt the same in their misery.

Regardless, the image of his birthday in 1997 faded into his mind.

──────────────────────

“Hey, Captain,” you murmured as you rapped on his open door gently. “How’re you feeling?”

Without looking up from his desk where he glared at a couple wrapped presents, he growled out a reply. “Just fine, Agent.”

“You're burning a hole through your desk. That’s good oak, you know,” you teased softly. You grinned triumphantly, as hidden as you could be from Albert’s eyes, as Albert smiled.

After a moment of silence, you continued. “I didn’t wanna ambush you like the others did. I guess I failed, since I'm cornering you in your office. They didn’t mean any harm, Cap. Just wanted to show their appreciation.”

Albert swallowed and motioned for you to sit down. He still didn’t speak.

“I cleaned and polished your gun for you… and I got you this. Birthdays aren’t always a cause for celebration, I know, but… I’m at least a little happy. If not for today, 37 years ago, I would still be a rookie cop doing fuck all to make a real change. You’re a good Captain, Albert. And a good man.”

Albert glanced up, eyes as steely as possible. Unfortunately, you had a knack for getting under his defenses, and you spot the sorrow in his eyes with ease. As you set the wrapped box down on his desk atop the other presents, you decided to say one more thing.

“...We care about you. All of us. Especially me,” you said firmly. “Happy birthday, Albert,” you added as you stood up.

Albert. You said his name. Not Captain, not Wesker, Albert. He wasn't a prodigy with a name heavy enough to turn coal to diamonds, he wasn't the leader of an elite force or even a heading scientist for bioterrorists in his free time. He was Albert.

Suddenly, his hand reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Ah—I’m sorry,” he muttered as he dropped it like hot coal. “I was going to ask if you’d… keep me company. It’s no fun to open presents alone,” he requested weakly, head down in shame.

Brightly, you nodded and moved your chair beside him. “We can open mine last. I’m actually curious as to what those idiots got you.”

──────────────────────

That was the first time you'd dropped all formality and just said his name. He recalled the shape of your lips as you said it, unsure but aware of your power. He didn't want to open presents, truth be told, he wanted to pull you into a hug and bury his face into your chest and hold and be held. It was humiliating.

Albert huffed. He missed you from then right now. You were so precious. He still loved you, of course, but he’d trade anything to go back and bask in the simplicity of your romance for just a bit longer.

He tried to get back to work, idly rotating the whiskey glass in his fingers to occupy his hands, but you crept in and soon his head was in his hands as he contemplated going through another evocation for a brief respite from the gnarled feeling in the pit of his stomach. He settled on a safe one; among his favorites, more frequently visited than others, he noted the first time you said it.

I love you.

You sat with him in the medical bay, bandaging his wounds from his most recent assault. It wasn’t a pleasant fight, nor was it honorable, especially if you knew what he was fighting for. He murdered a man without a weapon, then beat him into the concrete for good measure.

The man in question wanted to ask you out to dinner, but you didn't need to know that. You just needed to know what Albert told you, that he boasted about unspecified abhorrent plans. To Albert, he was telling the truth; infringing on his right to have you was abhorrent.

──────────────────────

“Albert Wesker, how the hell do you find yourself in these situations?” You sighed playfully. “Who was it this time? Actually, don't tell me, I think I see skin cells under your nails. I could try to DNA match.”

“It doesn’t matter. Ah! Careful around my arm,” he requested, referring to the bicep that was slashed open in a careless mistake while guarding against the man's knife. You happened to page him, wondering where he disappeared to after you went to the bathroom.

“It's lucky that you overheard terrorist plans in the same bar the team headed to,” you hummed. “I'm glad you put a stop to it.”

Albert gazed down at your focused face like he was memorizing it (which, he was). “As am I. Thank you, dear, for helping me.”

“Dear?” You echoed playfully. You glanced up briefly, then flushed at his own engrossed expression and bent your head back down to the task. “Well… anything I can do for you, Captain, consider it done.”

A warm silence filled the room. His arm was wrapped and stitched up just fine and the bleeding was minimal, so you turned to his split and bruised knuckles. You cleaned and wrapped them, then put ice on both hands.

“You've got to stop getting hurt like this, Cap,” you directed.

Albert smiled. “Why should I, if it means I have you tending to my wounds?”

After an eye roll and gentle shove (on his uninjured arm), you replied. “Well, we’re burning through a lot of supplies, for one. And for two, I love you too much to meet you here day after day. The smell of antiseptic makes my stomach drop with dread.”

Albert’s mouth fell agape in shock as he had to remind himself to breathe. And you? You just kept working, like you didn’t just skyrocket his blood pressure and heart rate and yet make his entire brain go silent.

“S-Say again?” He asked to confirm your words.

“You're wasting supplies and I love you too much to see you in pain,” you summarized.

After another few moments of stunned silence, he whispered, “You love me?”

You suddenly realized what you'd said. “Ah! I-I mean, in an appropriate way. I care for you. I—”

“I love you, too.”

You froze. The hug you pulled him into moments later strained his stitches on his arm, but he decided not to tell you.

──────────────────────

He took a sweet satisfaction in that memory, knowing that he'd gotten away with murder and you'd confessed to him while you dressed the weapon.

The recollection was a statue; frequently revisited, with a bench in front and a beautiful view of the surrounding environs. Cast in the same bronze as the kind on every plaque was the hug you brought him into.

As he continued down the road, single-mindedly driven by the pleasantry of the last experience, he paid no mind to the sky dimming and the trail growing gnarled and claustrophobic.

He found another favorite, one he didn't recall why he locked away. It was short, much shorter than every other one, but he loved basking in its feeling.

You'd just come off an… endeavor in the S.T.A.R.S. break room on a day everyone was off, and he was more than content to stare at and admire your face and listen to your voice carry on while he was blissfully checked out of cognizant thought.

He could picture you clearly, face close to his and bathed in afternoon sun. Your eyelashes framed your mesmerizing eyes, your lips kiss-bruised and turned up in a contented smile.

Your body was pliant and littered with hickeys that you mandated had to be covered by your uniform. His was faring no better; he'd actually requested a couple bruises to be placed where they'd show above the neck of his shirt.

If Albert could have frozen time, he would have waited an eternity in that moment and still lamented once eternity ended.

Albert was so engrossed in reliving this perfect moment a thousand times over, he didn't notice his mind growing darker, falling down, down, down, and landing with a splash at the bottom of a well so deep he could see the stars in the middle of the day.

No, the warmth of your image overtook the chill that came with the foreboding feeling of a mind slipping; he ignored it simply because he wanted to feel you more.

──────────────────────

“Bee?” you spoke softly.

“Yes, my love?” Albert turned to you, noting your messy hair from your tryst and yet deciding you looked beautiful. He set a hand on your cheek, stroking the contour of your face almost as a form of worship.

Perhaps you were more God than he was. Perhaps you deserved temples built in your name and more people killed for your favor. Perhaps he would find true purpose as your most loyal disciple. Perhaps he could only be happy if he was worshipping you.

He realized you’d been talking.

“—and I’d never want to leave Raccoon City of my own volition, but they kind of need me back home. It wouldn't be for too long; maybe a few years at most.”

What? The memory usually cut off there.

─────── ─── ─── ── ─ ─

No. Stop. Stop, he didn’t want to remember this.

─── ──── ──── ── ─

“Pardon me?” he croaked, sitting up rigidly.

“I’m going to go, I think. I worry that without me—”

“You’re not leaving me,” Albert stated shakily. “That’s what you’re trying to do, isn’t it?”

He felt his breath shorten. “You can’t. You… you’re everything, you can’t leave me,” he said weakly, grabbing your shoulder harshly while tears threatened to pool. "I've never had... you can't deprive me of yourself without warning!"

───── ── ─── ─

He didn’t feel good about this part! He just wanted to—he wanted to remember you! Stop fucking thinking, Albert!

──── ─── ── ─

“What? Al, I’m not trying to leave you. I just need to go home for a while,” you defended, anxiety raised at his volatile response. Why were you scared of him? You had no reason to be! He fucked up, so badly. You—the only person in the world he cared for—were scared of him.

“No! I am your home!” He argued hoarsely, eyes wide with instability. “I’m first, right? I come before them, don’t I?” He should be your home! You were his!

─ ─ ── ─

Albert slammed his fist down on the table beside him—or was it a nightstand? He heard glass shatter. Was it his memory or was it real? It was all real to him.

Stop! Will you stop? I don’t want to relive this!

─ ──

“What the hell is with you, Albert? Get off of me!” You screamed, scrambling up from the bed. As you hurried to dress yourself, he got up too and grabbed your arm.

“Nothing’s ‘with me’! Perhaps I don’t want my partner to leave me for a bullshit reason! You don't appreciate my love like I do yours, is that it?"

─

Why are you doing this, Albert? They won’t love you if you don’t get a handle on yourself. Let them go!

“Fine! Fuck, I won’t go! I’ll stay here,” you cried, wrenching your forearm from his grasp and inspecting the bruise. He hurt you—not as manipulation, just out of panic and anger. He hurt you.

“...oh, no. No, no, no. Darling, I-I’m so sorry. Please. I’m not sure what came over me, I just—”

You looked up at him with fear and betrayal in your eyes.

“No,” he choked out, “No, I'm sorry. Forgive me,” he whispered, finding himself on his knees before you, palms bleeding from the whiskey glass he shattered in his hands.

“I hate you, Wesker,” you growled coldly, peering down at him from your pedestal. “Everything we had is gone.” When were you on a pedestal?

“No, no, no… that's not right. This isn't real. You never said that, darling,” he sobbed. “This must be a—a waking nightmare. You never said that. You never said that.”

“But it is true, isn't it? I hate you. Nothing you do will bring back the version of me that you miss. They're dead,” you said coolly, a sadistic smile as you watched his groveling.

“That's wrong!” He insisted hysterically, running his hands through his hair and slicing his palms further on the follicles. Blood stained his pristine light hair, dripped down his temples, and repelled from his lab coat, ending up in droplets on the floor.

“It's not true, you don't hate me, you don't hate me, you don't hate me,” he repeated over and over, like he was convincing himself. “...right?”

“What do you think, Wesker? Would I be here if I was given the chance? Would I kiss you when you walk through the door if not for the shocks? Would I feel any semblance of guilt if I managed to kill you back at the Estate?” You—no, your image reflecting his insecurities—questioned cruelly.

“You… would,” Albert shook his head, hugging himself to make the bleeding stop. All it did was apply pressure and make rivulets of crimson streak down his biceps. He pulled his knees to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, but his damned imagination.

Luckily, he managed to steer it back into the memory from before and finished the mental scene.

“It’s—Bee, it's alright. You didn't mean to. Just don't do that again, okay? It hurt,” you said softly, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, darling. So, so much.”

You were the first good thing in his life. Why did he react like that to you leaving?

Abruptly, an alert on his computer snapped him out of his breakdown. An alert from you—the real you, not the one his tortured mind devised as a self-destructive punishment. He checked the time. 16:53. He was nearly three hours late for lunch with you. Fuck.

Considering you refused breakfast this morning because you couldn't watch him cook it, you must have been hungry enough to actually alert him.

Without any of the grace he was known for, he grabbed your now-room-temperature food and hurried down corridors into his apartment. He burst in, desperation overtaking him. “My love! I’m so sorry, I got—I was caught up. I’m done for the rest of the day. I need you to hold me.”

You flashed a quizzical glance at him and sat up from where you laid on the couch. “Noted. Are you alright, Al?”

Al. That comforted him, if slightly. “I will be. Hurry and eat, I’ll be in bed.”

─────── ─── ─── ── ─ ─

You slunk into bed a few minutes later, and the moment he felt your weight shift the bed he cuddled into your chest and forced back tears.

To soothe himself, he shifted from the crook of your neck to inhale your scent to your sternum to be surrounded by your chest on all sides. It didn't matter how broad or narrow your body was, he didn't want to lift his face from his body until he was sure he wouldn't cry.

You were all he had. All he wanted, all he needs. How could he live with himself if you didn't want him?

“You'll forgive me, won't you?” He wondered timidly.

You shushed him, suddenly aware of how dire a state his mental health was at. “Forgive you for what, Bee?”

Swallowing thickly, he lifted his head to meet your eyes. “You don't hate me?”

“No, sweetheart, I don't.”

“You said—no, I imagined it, didn't I? You're real. You don't… you don't have to wear any of the collars or bracelets anymore. I'm taking it off, can I have your hand?” He asked urgently, taking off the bracelet like it was poisoning you.

“Albert, you're burning up—oh my god, your hands! Are those open wounds? Why is your hair wet? Is that blood? You—you tried to wash it off?”

“I heal fast,” he muttered, unintentionally tearing the scabs open as he crushed the bracelet in his bloodied palms. “There. No more of that. You can be trained in other ways.”

“Albert! Come to the bathroom, let me clean your hands,” you chastised. “Infection could do bad things to the viruses in your body.”

──────────────────────

As he was led to the bathroom, the memory from earlier of you doctoring his hands returned. He smiled softly and watched you unblinkingly. “I love you,” he murmured, trying hard to feel loved againt, just for his own comfort.

“...I love you too.” It was hesitant, like you were worried it was the truth. And it was. You loved him once more, even after everything. But you resolved to keep your grip on yourself; you wouldn’t aid him in any plans or harm any of your former coworkers.

This time, it was stitches on his hands that ripped as he brought you into a needy hug.

┌───────────────────────┐

Gonna start using this as a little ending ramble lol

This whole chapter was just me experimenting with a lot of things 💔 again anon I'm so sorry i kinda monkeys pawed it... Fluff but at what cost

Anyways this chapter is a little confusing and for that I'm sorry! I was inspired by encephalitis hannigram fics for the reality blurring, the scene in Django with the wine glass shattering for the whiskey glass breaking, Hannibal Lecter's mind palace for the shrine/collection of memories, there's a coraline reference somewhere in there... blehh idk

Maybe this whole chapter is ooc but it's because ummm ummmm let me live my life!!!

Read my other Wesker works?