#btw if you think this is the last time i made something for these two with this song... think again

[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.”

[jackabbot]

love sketching for stuff i'll never finish yey

[haven-gum-rockrose]

going through it lately. and by it? i mean absolutely nothing actually.

[legalandnotease]

This post.

The thing that aggravates me the most is that people are acting like Thunderbolts was *the* first time that Bucky's arm was treated like a joke, when really this has been happening since Infinity War, but TFatWS was the first time it was actually removed. Honestly that whole scene in TFatWS was painful. Not only does he not seem to think his opponent touching his shoulder is off and like - move... but he also wasn't aware that there was a killswitch on the arm. The situation is rendered absurd by Sam asking "did you know they could do that?" after its removal.

(...and *do not* get me started on the gross rhetoric that scene gave rise to in which people started saying the Wakandans had a right to confiscate Bucky's *weaponized prosthetic* because "they gave it to him therefore they own it". Yes, the Wakandan arm is a weapon.

Yes I do understand why T'Challa gave it to him- and I do understand the fate of the very world was at stake. Bucky would probably have been happy to fight Thanos either way but the fact still remains. That new prosthetic was given to him for the express purpose of *fighting*. Bucky knew that- its why he says "where's the fight?" the instant he sees it.

The implication that the Wakandans had a right to remove it for doing something they didn't like is disturbing in two ways. First because its literally weaponizing part of his body which BTW is exactly what HYDRA did to him.

Second there's the idea that disabled people don't own thier own ability aids and have a right to use them as they see fit. Like, someone gives Matt Murdock new sight stick and they - have the right to take it away if he represents someone they don't approve of?The implication that fully able people have the ultimate control over disabled people's bodies is actually gross.

Last of all, its hardly a shock that Bucky's arm became a running gag when *hours* after he got we had Rocket making that quip and *then* several more jokes about it in TFatWS. One character calls Bucky "the bionic staring machine" (it might've been Sam) and another calls him a "cyborg". You can dismiss both oas a harmless jokes if you want (many do) but to me its part of a pattern. First of defining Bucky as nothing more than his disability, and second of mocking and minimizing both the disability and the tramatic events which resulted in him becoming disabled in the first place. A pattern that started in 2018 and still hasn't ended.

Its no surprise really that we got the vile Nebula giving Rocket his arm as a Christmas present plotline the following year. It bears noting with that as well that whilst fandom today denounce and try to distance themselves from that scene at the time people were actively *asking for* it to happen. They *wanted* Rocket to "get the arm".

At very very least in Thunderbolts we had Ava showing enough consideration to pick up the arm when an incapacitated Bucky couldn't and carrying it for him until he asked for it back. (Then you remember that Ava also has a bodily difference... so it at least read that as one disabled person looking out for another). Last time it was "ripped off him" that didn't happen and the time before that he had to pick it up himself whilst Sam just made a joke at his expense.

You know what the worst thing is though @nrilliree? It isn't the casual ableism of the last 7 years. Its that one of the writers of Civil War actually suggested that Bucky's arm being blown off wasn't intended to be sympathetic. It was intended as a narrative "punishment". He wasn't being treated with respect even in Civil War.

Y’kno, for all of CA:CW’s faults, at least it never treated Bucky’s left arm as a joke.

When Bucky loses his arm in this film, it isn’t because he suddenly forgets how to move away from an opponent that’s suddenly in his space and touching him (TFATWS) or he throws some clearly ineffective punches at an enemy and, for whatever reason, doesn’t think to change his strategy (Thunderbolts), but because he got blasted by Tony Stark’s arc reactor point blank after using an incredible feat of strength to try and stop him. And when his arm is blown off? It’s treated with the appropriate amount of shock and horror. It frames it as a terrifying moment for Bucky and makes him feel incredibly sympathetic. He just lost a part of him in an extremely brutal fashion in the fraction of a second. It wasn’t something he could’ve predicted or easily avoided (unlike future instances where he loses his arm…again 🙄).

But now? Now his arm is used as the butt of stupid jokes. Rocket wants to buy it. Nebula STEALS IT off screen to use it as a Christmas gift. Bucky spills some sauce on it and the only way to wash it is by running it through the dishwasher. He now has to lose it at least one ☝️ time in every new thing he’s in like it’s some quota that has to be filled. Like. The MCU writers seriously can’t think of anything involving Bucky’s arm that doesn’t take away his dignity as a disabled person while also showcasing him as the strong, competent fighter he is?

Literally the only genuinely funny thing involving his arm is when he threw a punch at Peter, leading to the latter catching it and immediately exclaiming how cool it is. And that happened in Civil War!

I don’t know. Civil War definitely could’ve been a much better film, but at least it got that part right.

[polarades]

Can I get some like essential lore on Adel and Eldrie? (if I messed up their names pls forgive me)

HEHE YES :D

ITS A BIT im gonna put it under a readmore.

Adel (Lūshísa, The current incarnation of the soul named Adel) is Kain’s subordinate - he’s been thoroughly convinced of his position as Kain’s weapon, a tool, sort of a substitute son also. Kain has made sure to tell Adel that there is nowhere else in the world for him, no one who would accept him, etc.

Eldri is a vampire who has lived in solitude in a forest since he was 15 - except for a brief period when he worked as an apothecary’s apprentice for Ocisa.

It is unfortunate for Eldri, then, that Ocisa had ties to Kain - being his former right-hand man, even. Adel’s original mission to “kill the vampire in Softeed Forest” was, unbeknownst to Adel, really just a job meant to tie up loose ends.

Adel may have been training to fight people, but animals fight very differently - he was promptly incapacitated by a forest beast and saved by Eldri (who had no clue of Adel’s reason for being there).

Instead of getting his job done, Adel was put in a position where he was unable to do anything but talk to his target.

Eldri could tell there was more to Adel than a normal traveler, and he was a bit suspicious but… he warmed up to Adel pretty quickly - he was happy to have someone to talk to who didn’t judge him for being a vampire. Also he thought Adel was pretty cute, so…

As Adel reached a point where he would need to finish his mission, he couldn’t bring himself to. Eldri was a good person, unlike him! He helped others, he healed them even though he was a vampire. He instead begged Eldri to join him under Kain (crying a lot) because he had no other choices to offer him.

Eldri would have felt betrayed by all of this - the admission that he was supposed to be dead, especially - if he hadn’t already felt that something was strange about Adel. But Adel clearly wasn’t the issue (the tears made that much clear)... who wanted him dead if it wasn’t Adel himself? He really did like Adel and he really didn’t want to be killed - so if this was the best option, he would take it.

Eldri worked under Kain for about two years, sometimes alone and sometimes partnered with Adel. He got… weird vibes. The way that Kain spoke to Adel bothered him and he grew to dislike the man.

In terms of his own, uh, survival, Eldri made two mistakes at this point.

One, choosing to investigate Kain further.

Two, becoming a person who Adel loved and trusted. Kain relies heavily on manipulation to keep Adel following his orders, and having someone around who believed in Adel’s inherent worth as a person was pretty bad for him.

Kain told Adel that Eldri was a traitor who needed to be killed, and he made Adel do it - reasoning that Adel brought the “threat” there in the first place. In reality, he hoped this experience would prevent Adel from trusting anyone but him in the future.

Upon their final battle, Eldri was unable to warn Adel of Kain’s lies - afraid that his words would endanger Adel, who was far more disposable than either of them could have imagined. He didn’t fight back in the battle, and his final message was simple and inconspicuous - “trust yourself”.

Adel didn’t know how exactly to do that, though, as he’d just killed one of the only two people to accept him (Eldri) in order to protect the other (Kain). He became so stressed and conflicted over this that his mind sorta�� blanked.

Adel is no stranger to memory loss. It seems like a side effect of having 100+ lives worth of memories trapped in your soul is that sometimes you get a bit lost in them. In times of stress it wasn’t uncommon for Adel to wake up with no knowledge of who he was, but he would usually return to normal after a few minutes.

This time, his conflict was too much for him. His state declined and his memories escaped him, and remembering again brought so much guilt (and feeling guilty about the fact that he felt guilty at all) that it only made him spiral further… until all that was left of Adel was the most basic pieces of his soul.

This is how the cast first meets him in the story. His uh. His self care… there is none going on, at this point. He has no more ties that prevent him from thinking of himself as a mere tool.

In short. Always watch out. It could happen to you.

[jaeyuniversal]

nonsense - s.jy

pairing: loser shy tutor!sim jaeyun x outgoing tutee fem!reader

synopsis: you're loud, confident, and a little too good at making shy boys squirm. your only issue is you’ve always hated physics—until you meet your painfully shy tutor, jake sim. he’s awkward, brilliant, and blushes every time you call him cute. so naturally, you flirt. hard. at first, he stammers and short-circuits, but as study sessions stack up, jake starts to change. maybe it’s the way you lean a little too close or how he starts to flirt back (badly, but adorably).

featuring: jake sim of enhypen n maki from &team!!

genre: college au fluff!!!

warnings: jake has his first kiss, making-out?? kind of. a bit of jealousy, jake is just a super cute loser. lowercase intended ◡̈

playlist: nonsense by sabrina carpenter & soft spot by keshi

wc: 2.411k

a/n: i fear i will ride the loser jake wave forever! i love nerdy men <3 btw this is not proofread...

you’ve always hated physics.

not because you didn’t get it — okay, maybe a little because of that — but mostly because it was boring. theories and forces and laws. rinse and repeat. you weren’t failing physics. not exactly.

you were, however, spending an uncomfortable amount of time squinting at your textbook wondering how the hell you’d gone from memorizing song lyrics in under a minute to barely remembering newton’s third law. you told yourself it wasn’t that bad. then your lab partner dropped out, and your professor kindly suggested that you “seek out support.”

support came in the form of jake sim.

quiet. polite. a little too handsome for his own good. glasses-wearing, formula-spouting jake, with a habit of ducking his head when people talked too loudly. you’d seen him around campus before — usually alone, sometimes reading while walking (impressive), always in a hoodie two sizes too big, and baggy jeans that he almost steps on. 

you’d think he was popular, but those thick framed glasses always resting on his perfect nose made you think otherwise. 

your meet-cute wasn’t the typical coffee-spill-and-eye-contact thing. it happened last semester, during an elective you were both in: intro to astronomy. you’d been running late one day, flustered and frantic, only one seat left in the lecture hall. next to him. you took it.

he didn’t even glance up.

not until halfway through the class, when you leaned over and whispered, “sorry if i’m invading your orbit.”

he looked at you like he didn’t get the joke. (he didn’t.)

but later that day, you got an anonymous compliment on the university confessions page. “to the girl who sat next to me in astronomy and said something about orbits… you kind of wrecked mine.”

you knew it was him. and you never forgot.

───

“you don’t have to hover,” jake mumbled, eyes focused on the problem set in front of him.

“i’m not hovering. i’m observing… like a particle. you know, in motion.”

“that’s not… how particles work.”

you smiled to yourself. “i was hoping you'd say that.”

he flushed immediately. jake didn’t handle flirting well. hell, he had never even felt the touch of a woman, nevertheless flirted with one. 

you’d learned this by session two. if you got too close, he got tongue tied. if you complimented him, he’d practically glitch. it was fascinating. like a physics experiment, but cuter.

“what happens when you apply an external force to a closed system?” you asked, tapping your pencil.

he looked up slowly, suspicious. “depends on the force.”

you leaned in, gaze playful. “what if it’s me?”

he froze.

“y/n,” he said quietly, “you’re not even trying to learn right now.”

“that’s where you’re wrong, mr. sim.” you leaned back in your chair, spinning your pencil between your fingers. “i’ve been learning a lot.”

he narrowed his eyes, skeptical but intrigued. “like what?”

you met his gaze, serious now. “like how you pretend you didn’t notice me in astronomy last semester. even though you did.”

jake stiffened. his pen slipped from his fingers and rolled across the table.

“i—i didn’t—how did you—”

“i recognized your handwriting,” you said softly. “from the confession post.”

his face went scarlet.

you tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “you called me orbit girl.”

jake looked like he wanted to disappear into the earth’s mantle. “i didn’t think you saw that.”

“i did. i screenshotted it.” you shrugged casually, then added, “still have it.”

he looked like you’d just told him you’d been keeping a shrine in your closet. but beneath the panic, something else flickered — hope, maybe?

“…why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

and there it was. the plot twist.

you dropped your eyes to your notebook, fingers idly brushing a corner.

“i was going to,” you said. “but you never talked to me again. i figured you weren’t interested.”

jake looked stunned. like he’d just missed the punchline to his own joke.

“no! i mean– um…i wasn’t not interested,” he said quickly. “i just didn’t think someone like you would ever…”

“what?” you said, raising a brow. “flirt with their physics tutor?”

jake swallowed hard. “like me back.”

there was a beat of silence. you reached across the table, nudging his pen back toward him.

“you’re cute when you’re nervous, jake” he blushed and wrapped up the tutoring session, brain too flustered to continue talking about his second favorite subject (you’re his favorite). 

───

you asked around for jake’s number which proved to be very difficult. 

no one had it.

so, you did the only thing you could think of. you went to every cafe within a 15 mile radius of your campus, hoping to find the shy boy.

your mission to find him ended up taking longer than anticipated, misjudging how many cafe’s surrounded decelis. you’ve been to 23 and counting, not once finding the fluffy haired boy with glasses way too big for his adorable face. 

as you walk into the twenty-fourth cafe, you think you see him. striped shirt, slightly messy brown hair, around 5’9ish. you walk up to him, tapping on his shoulder when someone behind you calls your name.

“y/n?”

you whip your head around to be met with those big, dark hazel eyes you adored so much.

his plump, heart-shaped lips were wrapped around the straw of his green grape ade, softly biting the plastic. his head was strewn to the side, resembling a golden retriever. 

“i found you!” you happily cheered as you made your way to the little table he was at. 

“f-found me? were you… looking? for me?” he stuttered which made you giggle. 

you fondly smiled at him, “yeah. i was.”

after you ordered an iced mocha, you guys sat in a comfortable silence until you spoke. 

“so,” you said, stirring whipped cream into your drink, “what’s a physics genius like you doing tutoring me when you could be dating someone who understands quantum mechanics?”

jake almost spat out his coffee.

you smiled sweetly. “kidding. kind of.”

“i—i don’t think I’m a genius,” he mumbled. “and I’m not — uh — dating anyone.”

“oh, i know,” you said casually, resting your chin on your hand. “campus gossip moves fast.”

jake’s eyes widened. “wait — what do you mean? what gossip? about me?”

you laughed. “relax, jake. you’re just a bit of a mystery. tall, soft spoken, brainy, never goes to parties. people notice.”

he stared at you like you’d told him he was famous.

you sipped your drink and shrugged. “i noticed.”

the cup trembled in his hand.

“…thanks?” he said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

you leaned forward. “you say that like you don’t believe me.”

jake’s mouth opened, then closed again.

he was still trying to respond when the barista called out your name, signaling your pastries were ready. you winked at him on the way up and when you turned back, he was still watching you, straw halfway to his mouth, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real. 

───

you had your feet up on the seat across from you, swinging gently as you skimmed your notes. jake sat across from you, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, manspreading with his textbook open on his lap.

you knew what you were doing when you stretched, your shirt riding up slightly as you leaned across the table to reach a pencil. you knew jake saw. his eyes darted down and back up so fast it was like a reflex.

“everything okay?” you asked sweetly.

“fine!” he said, voice three octaves too high. “great. normal. yup.”

you laughed, tossing your pen down. “you know, if we were measuring awkward tension in this room, we’d have to switch to the richter scale.”

jake groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “why are you like this?”

“because it’s fun watching you short-circuit.”

he peeked at you through his fingers, a lopsided grin starting to form. “you’re evil.”

“i prefer charming.’”

there was a beat of silence. then, softly—

“you are.”

your smile faltered. just for a second. “what?”

jake met your eyes, cheeks still flushed but voice steady. “charming.”

you blinked. it was the first time he’d said something like that without tripping over his own tongue.

“…jake sim,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “are you flirting with me?”

he shrugged — shrugged — with fake nonchalance. “maybe.”

you stared at him.

he stared back.

and then — his pencil rolled off the table and he smacked his head on the edge trying to catch it.

“still me,” he groaned, face down on the table. “still a loser.”

you couldn’t help it. you laughed so hard you nearly fell out of your chair. he was cute and adorably clumsy. exactly. your type. 

───

the next session, you came in with your usual confidence. playful comments. flirty glances.

but jake didn’t fold this time. (immediately).

in fact, when you were about to lean over to grab his calculator, he reached past you and did it first. smooth. like he was testing you.

“looking for this?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “who are you and what have you done with jake?”

he smiled — cocky, but still nervous. “maybe i’m learning.”

you tilted your head. “is this some physics thing? like, building resistance?”

“more like acceleration,” he said softly. “you keep pushing. i’m picking up speed.”

you stared at him.

he immediately panicked. “i mean — not in a creepy way — i just meant—”

you cut him off with a smirk. “careful, jake. you flirt like you solve equations — painfully accurate.”

he blushed again, but this time, he didn’t back away. instead, he looked at you for a long moment, then leaned in a little, just enough to make your breath catch.

“you said once that you noticed me before,” he murmured.

“yeah,” you said slowly.

he smiled, shy and genuine. “i think i’ve been noticing you for a lot longer.”

you forgot how to breathe for a second.

and then he bumped your knee under the table, awkward as ever. “anyway, we should… probably go over magnetic fields now.”

you grinned, heart racing. “god, you’re such a loser.”

“your loser,” he said quietly.

and somehow, that was the smoothest line of all.

───

the tutoring session was going fine.

that is, until maki showed up.

you were in the library lounge, halfway through a problem on thermodynamics, when a voice interrupted.

“y/n?”

you looked up. riki maus (known as maki). same year, tall, charming, objectively hot in that annoying way that made girls forgive him for talking through labs.

“hey,” you said, blinking. “didn’t know you were on this floor.”

jake went completely still next to you, pen frozen mid-equation.

maki barely glanced at him. “i was just heading out, but i had to say hi. you doing okay with physics? i tutor sometimes too, you know.”

jake’s grip on his pen tightened.

“oh?” you asked, amused. “you tutor now?”

maki shrugged. “not officially. but i could make time. for you.”

you opened your mouth, ready to tease him back, but jake’s voice cut in first.

“she already has a tutor.”

maki blinked, like he’d just noticed him. “right. sim, yeah? you’re in physics lab.”

“yeah,” jake said, still quiet, but there was an edge now. “i’ve got it covered.”

you turned to jake, brows lifting slightly. was he… tense?

maki grinned. “no offense, man, but i’ve heard tutoring y/n is more like surviving her. you sure you can handle it?”

jake stood.

you blinked. jake stood.

he was taller than you remembered. towering over maki, still in his soft hoodie and baggy jeans, but standing like something had clicked. like a switch had flipped.

“i can handle her,” he said, voice even. “better than anyone else.”

maki raised his hands. “okay. chill, bro.”

he gave you one last glance and walked off.

you looked up at jake. he was still standing, chest rising and falling like he was trying to keep it together.

“jake?”

his eyes met yours. there was something in them you hadn’t seen before. something fierce.

“do you like him?” he asked.

you frowned. “maki? god, no.”

he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. stepped closer.

“because i don’t like seeing guys like that flirt with you.”

you tilted your head, heart starting to pick up. “jealousy doesn’t suit you, sim.”

“i know,” he said quietly. “but you do.”

and then he kissed you.

you didn’t expect it. not from him. not like this.

not with his hand cradling your cheek so gently it made your heart ache, not with the way his lips pressed to yours like he’d been waiting for this moment for weeks — months — forever.

your breath caught. he was warm. steady. his lips moved with surprising confidence, slow at first, then deeper, more certain as you kissed him back.

his other hand found your waist, pulled you in, grounded you. like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

your fingers curled in his hoodie, body leaning into his. he tilted his head just slightly and kissed you like a man who had solved the formula for gravity and decided to fall anyway.

wanting to deepen the kiss, you moved your thumb to his jaw, signaling him to open his mouth wider.

he (hopefully) got the hint and slowly but surely slotted his tongue right against yours. he wanted to memorize every part of you and figured he should start with your mouth.

it was as if your lips and tongues moved in perfect synchronization. like puzzle pieces.

when he finally pulled back, it was only enough to rest his forehead against yours.

you both stood there, catching your breath.

“…wow” you said, dazed. “what the hell, sim.”

he stared at you. blinked. once. twice. “w-was it okay? did i — do it wrong?”

silence. 

he spoke again, “that was kinda.. my first — um — my first kiss…” 

you let out a disbelieving laugh. “what do you mean that was your first kiss??? you kissed me like you’ve been rehearsing it in your dreams.”

he looked away. shy. “…maybe i have.”

you narrowed your eyes. “wait. have you?”

he winced. “that was a joke.”

it was silent for a hot minute.

“…mostly. i—i never really get close to pretty girls because i don’t— well i don’t go out. so. um. yeah…” 

you grabbed his hoodie and pulled him closer until your lips were right in front of his plush ones. “stop speaking nonsense and kiss me again, sim.” 

he didn’t hesitate. just smiled at you and slammed your lips on his. he kissed you like he was finally where he belonged.

and maybe he was.

because nerdy physics tutors?

yeah. they might know the laws of motion — but now he knew what it felt like to crash into you.

please reblog if you enjoyed this cute lil fic ! it helps a lot <3

[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250508

[dollgxtz]

Can you write a short somno fic for Sylus but he’s already been doing it for awhile? And he feels so damn guilty about it but genuinely can’t stop because it’s like an addiction to him now? :)

In Somno

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, somno, nonconsensual somnophilia, noncon, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, facials

Summary: Sylus just can't help himself when it comes to your sleeping body <33

Over and over he'd tell himself how wrong this was. How terrible he was for using you like this. All he could think about when he picked you up now was how long it would be before he got to cum on your pretty face again. How could he even think such thoughts? All that guilt would quickly subside as soon as you started yawning though.

Yes, even a simple yawn from you was enough to get him rock hard now.

AN: Sorry anon, I know you said "short" but I got really excited and got carried away. So lets just say this is my version of a short fic LOL. Also thank you thank you thank youuuu for requesting this, I've been itching to write another somno fic hehehe. Btw the title means “In slumber” in Latin!!! :33

He hadn't intended for things to escalate to this point.

Normally, Sylus was a master of self-control, able to reign in his desires with ease. But on that particular day, something had been stirred within him, something that he couldn't quite explain. It had started when he saw you lying in his bed, fast asleep and naked, after a long and exhausting mission. You'd taken a shower and had passed right out. Your fatigue had been palpable, and he had gone to cover you with a blanket, his hand accidentally brushing against the side of your breast.

Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn't meant for this to happen, hadn't meant to touch you like...that. His hand lingered for a moment, a mere whisper of contact, before he moved it away as if it burned. He stared at you, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the turmoil his innocent touch had ignited within him. He had always prided himself on his ability to control himself. Yet here he was, his heart pounding, his body betraying him.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was just a touch, he told himself. A harmless, accidental touch. But his body refused to listen, his mind refusing to let go of the softness of your skin, the warmth that had radiated from you. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to touch you again, to trace the curve of your breast, to feel more of your warmth.

He knew he should leave, let you rest, should respect your sleep. But he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to tear his eyes away from you. He had seen you naked before, had seen you sleep countless times. But this was different. This time, he felt something stirring within his groin as he watched your naked chest rise with each breath. Your beautiful, peaceful face was messing with his senses. He tried to dismiss it, to attribute it to the fatigue of the long day, the heat of the room, anything but the truth.

The truth was, you two hadn't had much time for each other lately, and even less for anything intimate. The lack of physical connection had left him pent up, achingly so. He couldn't remember the last time you'd both had a moment to yourselves, a moment to explore each other's desires and needs.

As he sat there, looking at you, he couldn't help but feel a surge of longing. He shut his eyes briefly, trying to calm himself down, but it was no use. Better to quell the urge to touch you now, and then forget about this, he figured. He reached back over, his hand gently touching the soft roundness of your breast, giving it a light squeeze. The touch sent a spark of electricity through his body, and he felt his cock harden in his pants.

Shit. He had definitely just made it worse.

You stirred, letting out a soft whine, and he felt his heart skip a beat. The sound of your voice was like music to his ears, a sweet melody that only added to his arousal. He quickly withdrew his hand, however, as you began to shift and turn your body away from him in your sleep.

Your butt was now completely visible to him. His heart dropped into his stomach. You had always been the only one to undo his calm, to make him feel this way. He ran his fingers through his hair, now having an internal battle within himself. It felt wrong...undeniably wrong...and yet…

One thing had led to another, and he found himself carefully pushing his fingers inside your wet folds. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and he was breathless as your cunt sucked in his fingers bit by bit. The feeling of your inner walls clamping down on his fingers sent his mind into a frenzy, and he couldn't help but think about how much he wanted to be inside you.

How wet you'd be.

How tight you'd be.

His cock was rock hard and throbbing in his boxers, pressing against the back of your leg. He pressed himself against your butt lightly, trying to relieve some of the ache that had been building up inside him.

It wasn't enough.

You began to squirm, your body shifting slightly in your sleep, and he froze. He didn't remove his fingers, but ceased his motions...as if pausing could erase what he’d just done. He watched you closely, heart pounding, waiting to see if your eyes would open. If they did, he told himself, he’d just say you two had dozed off like that. Just a sleepy accident.

The lie formed easily in his mind, but the weight of it hit hard. He had never lied to you before...and now, standing on the edge of it, he felt something bitter twist in his gut. Shame crept up his spine, hot and sharp, settling in his face until his skin burned. But he didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. He smothered the guilt with silence, burying it under the oldest excuse in the book: what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

As you pressed your backside against him, unknowingly in your sleep, he felt a surge of desire wash over him, replacing all guilt and shame with a primal, aching need. The pain in his groin became almost unbearable, and he couldn't bring himself to care about anything else except satisfying his craving for you.

Within the next few minutes he had rid himself of his underwear, lifted your leg and slowly began to sink his aching, throbbing cock inside you, only a little bit at first. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and he felt himself plunging into you over and over, his hips moving in a slow, rhythmic motion. His hand gripped the roundness of your ass, holding you in place as he thrust into you, his fingers digging slightly into your skin.

"Ah...fuck. Kitten, Im sorry..."

He bit his lip, trying to suppress a groan as he sunk himself deeper, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. The room filled with the sound of your bodies meeting, the creaking of the bed, and his ragged breaths. He could feel every inch of you, tight and warm around him. He wanted to savor this moment, to imprint it on his memory forever. He reached around, finding your clit with his fingers, rubbing in time with his thrusts. You moaned softly, still deeply asleep, arching your back to meet him.

"Mghn...S-sylus..."

He froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He was worried that you had woken up, that you would discover him inside you, and that everything would be ruined. He lay there, holding his breath, as he frantically thought of excuses, of ways to explain what was happening.

But as the seconds passed in silence, and you didn’t move, he began to ease—just slightly. He glanced over, searching your face for any sign that you were awake, that you knew. But your eyes stayed shut, your expression calm, untouched. Still lost in sleep.

You looked so docile, so innocent and soft with your mouth agape, small snores escaping your lips. He hates that he feels a rush of arousal looking at you in such a vulnerable state, peacefully sleeping in his bed.

He wondered if you were thinking you were having a dream, if your subconscious was responding to his presence inside you. The thought sent a thrill through him, and his cock twitched in your inner walls. Maybe you wanted him too? Even in your dreams?

As he began to thrust again, this time with a bit more force, he could feel the pressure building up inside him. The ache in his groin was becoming almost unbearable, and he knew he was on the verge of cumming. He groaned, the sound choked out of him as he struggled to maintain control.

But as he looked down at you, still asleep and unaware of what was happening, he knew he had to pull out. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't risk finishing inside you. Surely you'd put two and two together when you woke up and he'd be caught.

With a strangled groan, he forced himself to pull out, his cock throbbing with the effort. He gripped the sides of your hip, holding himself up as he shot a hefty, sticky load of his cum all over your inner thighs. The sensation was intense, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him as he finally released the pent-up tension.

As he looked down at the mess he had made, he felt a pang of guilt and anxiety. What would you think if you woke up and found out what had happened? Would you be angry, would you be scared? He didn't know, and the uncertainty was eating away at him.

So he simply cleaned you up as best as he could, and when you awoke the next morning you were none the wiser. You did question the ache between your legs, but fortunately for him you simply chalked it up to pushing yourself too hard during the mission. Besides, your entire body hurt already. What was one more area?

He swore that would be the last time.

Except it wasn't.

You didn’t always spend the night, but when you did, it was usually because you were too tired to head home after a long day. Sylus would swing by and bring you back to Onychinus’s base without complaint. You’d shower, get comfortable, and eat whatever dinner he’d ordered the chef to make you—just like always.

Then the two of you would settle in. Maybe you’d watch a movie, maybe listen to one of his new records. It was an easy routine. Comfortable. Soothing.

Eventually, you’d get too tired to keep your eyes open, and drift off beside him on the couch.

Then he’d carry you to the bedroom—slow, careful, as if you might break in his arms. On the surface, it was about comfort. He wanted you to sleep well. To feel safe.

But underneath that was something more selfish. He wanted to test the limits. To see how close he could get, how much movement he could do before you would stir, how long his hands could linger on your skin.

Most nights, you didn’t even move. You stayed limp and warm in his arms, face tucked against his neck, breath slow and even. It should have calmed him.

Instead, it made things worse.

Guilt curled in his chest like smoke. You trusted him. Implicitly. You let yourself go completely in his care. And he hated how that trust made something coil low in his groin, thick with heat and desire to strip you down and plunge himself in your wet walls.

And that's exactly what he did. Night after night, he'd start carefully moving your underwear to the side, swiftly inserting the head of his hardened cock inside you, and fucking you until a creamy white ring of your juices formed around the base of his shaft. Touching your breasts, butt, and pussy in ways you'd never let him before. And just as he felt himself about to release, he'd quickly pull out, covering your soft skin in his cum. Sometimes it was your thighs, sometimes your back. He'd even gotten bold enough to do your face at one point.

To compensate for the guilt that gnawed at him every time he let himself fall into his dark cravings, Sylus had started buying you more gifts.

At first, it was subtle—a snack you liked, a book you’d mentioned in passing. But it escalated quickly. If you so much as glanced at something in a store window while the two of you were out, or paused a moment too long while scrolling on your phone, it would show up in your hands within days. Sometimes hours.

You noticed, of course. It was hard not to.

“Another one?” you’d ask, brow arched in amused suspicion as you unwrapped a new plushie, or a piece of jewelry that matched your favorite dress, or a gadget you’d casually mentioned needing just once.

When you asked him why he was suddenly giving you so much, he’d just shrug—casual, like it meant nothing.

“You've always been spoiled, why question it now?” he’d chuckle.

As if that explained everything.

And maybe it did. At least, enough to keep you from pressing further.

Because to him, each gift was a way to say I’m sorry I touched you too long, I’m sorry I wanted more than I should, I’m sorry I’m not being honest. I love you so much.

It was his way of trying to be good for you.

Even as the craving got harder to ignore.

Over and over he'd tell himself how wrong this was. How terrible he was for using you like this. All he could think about when he picked you up now was how long it would be before he got to cum on your pretty face again. How could he even think such thoughts? All that guilt would quickly subside as soon as you started yawning though.

Yes, even a simple yawn from you was enough to get him rock hard now.

He found himself unable to stop. Would you really blame him if you found out? You must clearly want it too...the way your body greedily sucked in his cock, squeezing around it like a warm, wet vice. It was as if your body was begging him not to pull out, to keep going, to keep giving you more. Every time he thrust into you, your muscles would contract, holding him in place, and then release, allowing him to slide back out, only to repeat the process again. It was a sensual, intoxicating rhythm, one that threatened to consume him whole.

And the soft little whines you made when he was stretching you out or when he pumped into you a little harder than he meant to drove him absolutely crazy...

He'd promptly cease his movements, gently shushing your little noises while he waited for you to calm.

"Im sorry, baby. I didn't mean it, stay asleep for me," he would coo, his voice a soft, gentle whisper, as he gazed down at your sleeping face. He would pause for a moment, his chest heaving with desire, as he struggled to control his own needs. But then, with a quiet sigh, he would resume his movements, his hips slowly rocking back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of you with a smooth, gentle rhythm.

As he moved, he would continue to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, his words a soothing balm to your sleeping form. "Just need to see you covered in my cum one more time..." His voice was a gentle hum, a vibration that seemed to resonate deep within your body, as he continued to pump into you.

He did this for several weeks, reassuring you whenever you began to grow concerned at the continued ache between your legs. Of course, you'd trust him. Relax after. He'd feel terrible but he'd tell himself it was for your own good. You just felt too good. Too soft, so warm.

Tonight was no different. You both were watching a new movie in his home theater this time, when you promptly yawned. Immediately he felt his breath get shallow, and his pants get tighter.

“Tired, kitten?” Sylus asked, his voice lower than usual—rough around the edges, like he was holding something back. He reached for the remote and shut off the screen, the soft click echoing in the quiet space between you.

You nodded through a sleepy stretch, arms lifting lazily above your head before collapsing into your lap.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, eyes already heavy. “We never finish these movies. I just…I don’t know. I’m always so tired now.”

There was a faint furrow in your brow as you said it—genuine regret, like falling asleep beside him was some kind of failure.

He leaned in without hesitation and kissed your forehead, slow and deliberate. His lips lingered there a moment longer than they needed to, soaking in the warmth of your skin.

“You don’t have to apologize for being sleepy,” he said softly, slipping one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “You’re welcome to come back and finish it any time.”

You didn’t respond.

He was rock hard now.

As he rose to his feet with you cradled in his arms, your body melted into him completely. Your head dropped to rest against his collarbone, lips parted in the beginnings of sleep. He felt the small puff of your breath against his neck—warm, steady.

Halfway down the hallway, he glanced down at you.

Out cold.

He smiled. There was something in your face when you slept—unguarded and soft. Your lashes fluttered faintly, cheek pressed against the curve of his chest like you belonged there.

“They must be working you to the bone,” he muttered to no one, voice barely audible.

Unfortunate for you.

But for him…

You felt incredibly wet and tighter tonight. He'd boldly set you on your back this time, not wanting to miss a single facial expression or noise. Even if it meant being more gentle than usual. He watched greedily as your breasts bounced up and down with his movements. He leaned down, hands on either side of your head, trying with strained effort to quiet his groans.

"How am I ever going to stop doing this to you? You feel so good," he hissed through his teeth, his voice a low, tortured whisper, as he struggled to keep his gentle rhythm. His cock was buried deep inside you, and with each thrust, he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. The sensation of his tip grazing your cervix was almost unbearable, threatening to overwhelm him.

He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched in a fierce effort to hold back, but it was no use. The feeling of being inside you, of being surrounded by your warm, wet flesh, was too intense, too addictive. He couldn't get enough of it, couldn't get enough of you. And as he looked down at your sleeping face, he knew that he was doomed, trapped in a cycle of desire and pleasure that he couldn't escape.

His hips moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent, as he chased the sensation, as he sought to prolong the pleasure. And with each stroke, he felt himself getting closer, closer to the point of no return, closer to the moment when he would finally succumb to his desires and let go. "Hah...gonna cum...," he growled, his voice a low, animalistic snarl as he felt his orgasm building.

"Mmmm..."

As you began to squirm under him, your eyes peering open just a bit, but still not enough to be considered awake, he felt a surge of panic mixed with excitement. Were you waking up? He should stop, he knew he should, but he couldn't. He was too close, too caught up in the moment, too desperate to cum inside you.

He leaned in closer, his large body encasing yours, his warm breath whispering against your ear. "Shh...I'm almost there baby...don't wake up..." He pleaded, his voice a low, husky whisper, as he tried to calm you down, to keep you from waking up and discovering what was happening.

But you whine, sleepily grabbing onto his arms, your hands wrapping around his biceps like a vice. You clearly aren't aware enough to even realize what's happening, and he takes advantage of that, using it to his benefit. He continues to thrust into you, his hips moving faster, his cock pounding into your wet flesh with a relentless rhythm.

As he looks down at your face, he can see the faintest glimmer of awareness in your eyes, but it's not enough to stop him. He's too far gone, and he knows that he's going to cum inside you, no matter what. The thought sends a shiver down his spine, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Fuck..."

As he pushes as far as he can go, his hips stuttered, jerking forward with a mind of their own, as his cock pulsed, throbbing with the intense force of his release. As he came, he felt his cock unleash a torrent of cum, wave after wave of it flooding into your body, filling you to the brim.  A wave of relief crashed over him, drowning out the relentless hunger that had been gnawing at him all night.

As he looked down at you, Sylus noticed you were starting to squirm again, your body shifting slightly under the covers. You were clearly on the verge of waking up. Your brows twitched, your breathing changed, and your fingers gave a small, unconscious twitch.

Thinking quickly, he moved to wrap himself around you, encasing your body in his arms in a way that was both protective and possessive. His chest pressed against your back, one arm curling securely around your waist, hand resting just beneath your ribs.

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering open for a brief moment—glazed, unfocused—before slowly slipping shut again. He felt your body melt against his, the subtle tension in your shoulders and spine easing as sleep reclaimed you. Your breathing evened out. You relaxed fully in his grasp.

Relieved, Sylus allowed himself a quiet breath of his own, feeling the tension in his body begin to dissipate as he gazed down at you. He looked down to see the remnants of his cum slipping down the trails of your thighs, a warm, sticky liquid that glistened in the dim light. 

He would definitely have some explaining to do when you woke up...guess it was time to buy that cart full of items you'd been begging for...

[taifenggg]

hi! 🌷 i love your scenarios so i instantly came to rq here <3

could you write about mc and the brothers having possessive s3x for the first time? their relationship is relatively new and they did it a few times, but for some reason they got jealous and the way they deal with it is by having somewhat angry / possessive s3x with reader (which is very different from what they're used to do

for example: belphie is usually lazy or slow, satan is a gentleman and spends a lot of time on foreplay, reader notices how their usual this time is almost the opposite bc the brother in question is SO jealous

idk if it made sense </3 if writing the 7 of them feels too much for you, then would mammon + satan + barbatos be okay? they're my favorites!

have an amazing day btw i love your content

Content Warning(s): NSFW obviously LMAO, hairpulling(Lucifer, Belphie), semi-public(Mammon, Asmo), overstimulation(Satan), slight degradation(Belphie), not proofread LOL

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie, Barbatos

Authors Notes: hi there! i'm so flattered you love my writing, it means a lot! and dw I saw your other ask, so you're all good no worries about verification. nonnie, I'll do you one better and I ended up writing all the bros plus barbs as a bonus lol. enjoy!

nsfw under the cut! minors dni or i will block you :)

Reminder to abide by my guidelines for NSFW content tysm :]

Guidelines for NSFW Content [ ◇ ]

Lucifer [🦚💙]

Others keep occupying your time.

"Remind me again, who exactly do you belong to?"

Your moans are stifled as you press your face against the pillow. Lucifer's pace is relentless and although he can be rough in general, tonight feels different. There's something far more carnal and possessive in the way Lucifer thrusts into you. His movements are done so with reckless abandon, a stark contrast to how he usually takes you.

"Y-you Lucifer!" you gasp, body shaking from the intense pleasure coursing through your body. You yelp and moan out his name as he runs a hand through your scalp, pulling your face so that you're staring at him, his hands having a firm grip on your hair. "I can't hear you, louder," he commands you, your faces practically centimeters away from each other.

"You Lucifer!" you sob, feeling his large hand pressing into the small of your back, pushing you down against the mattress. Lucifer smirks, his other hand trailing down to your neck, holding you there firmly. "That's right my love, me. Not my brothers and certainly not that shady sorcerer," he practically spits out those last words. Lucifer's head falls back as he continues to thrust roughly into you, feeling himself close to his release.

You can feel yourself tightening around him, and you arch your back, body shaking as your orgasm washes over you. Lucifer lets out a low moan, making a few more shallow thrusts into you before spilling his seed into your hole. Chest heaving, he pulls out, watching with satisfaction as his release trickles out of you. Taking two fingers, he trails them up your inner thighs, causing you to jump from how sensitive you were after your high. Lucifer takes his fingers and takes the excess that spills out, prodding it back in.

"Keep that in there my love, it's proof that you're mine after all, if not, I'll have to punish you a bit more unfortunately. You can do that, can't you?"

Mammon [💰💛]

Someone thought flirting with you at the casino was a good idea.

"Dammit, you drive me crazy y'know?"

Your legs are currently wrapped around Mammon's waist, goosebumps littering your skin as you feel the wall against your back, your shirt long discarded. Your arms are wrapped securely around Mammon's neck for support. Mammon kisses you roughly, hungrily, as if he were scared of you running away or disappearing from right in front of him.

"That damn incubus," he hisses, pushing into you, "Thinking they have anything on the Great Mammon. You're my lucky charm, no one else's." His teeth scrape at your neck as he leaves mark after mark. You're pretty sure your back is rubbed raw from how fast and hard Mammon is thrusting into you, and your legs shake around Mammon's waist, but despite this Mammon holds you securely, his grip on your thighs giving you enough support.

"Mammon!" you whine, your hands tangled in his hair. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and you can hear Mammon gasp, groan, and curse with each thrust he makes. Judging by how loud the two of you were being, you had no doubt that the entire casino knew that you were getting fucked hard by Mammon.

"You're mine alright? Mine, mine, mine, my treasure," he whispers in your ear, and he accentuates each of his words with a slap of his hips against yours. Your moans become louder and you can practically feel yourself on the verge of releasing onto him.

"Mine." And with one last word, Mammon makes one last thrust up into you, hitting your most sensitive spot and you practically go limp in his arms as your orgasm washes over you. Mammon's hips slowly still, and he checks over you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I won't let anyone take you from me alright? Much less some random incubus who thinks they can steal my treasure from me."

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

You showed him your duo in an online game.

"Levi, they're just a friend!" You gasp softly as he pushes you into his bathtub, a pout on his face. Immediately, he presses himself up against you, rubbing his cheek against your exposed collarbone. "I don't care," he grumbles softly, one hand snaking up to pin your hands above your head, his other hand trailing underneath your shirt, caressing your sides. "I should be the only one to carry you, not anyone else. You're my player 2, my Henry," he nips at your shoulder and you shudder, feeling yourself grow aroused from the close proximity and from his touches.

"I don't care if they're ranked number one, I'll prove I'm better than them by beating them!" His pupils are dilated as he looks at you below him, and he can't help the sudden ache and the growing tent in his pants. Gasping softly, he starts grinding up against you, and you can't help but reach up for him, pulling his hips flush against yours, in search of some very much needed friction to relieve the tension you're feeling.

Both of your gasps can be heard, and you're pretty sure that if Levi didn't soundproof his room, anyone walking outside could probably hear just how heated the two of you were getting. You tighten your grasp on him, your hands snaking up to tug at the back of his hair cause Levi to moan against you as he kisses you roughly.

You stare up at him blearily, not even realizing when he shifted into his demon form. Shivering, one of your hands move from the back of his head, down to his abdomen and Levi jerks in your grasp, a flush painting his pale face.

"Do you know how badly I want you? Please don't give your attention to others, just stay focused on me."

Satan [😾💚]

Gets riled up because he sees Lucifer closer to you than he'd like.

Your chest heaves from exertion as Satan brings you to your umpteenth release. Your legs are shaking from overstimulation and you're pretty sure you've lost count of how many times Satan has made you come. His bangs stick to his forehead as he dives back between your legs, sucking marks along your inner thighs, his grip digging into the flesh of your thighs.

Your hands make their way to his hair, tugging on the golden strands and you feel Satan groan, his moans sending vibrations down your core. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. "Satan no more please! I can't take it anymore," you whimper softly, feeling tears prick at the edge of your vision. Satan only laughs looking up at you, using a hand to push his hair out of his eyes. "Nono, we're not finished yet," his voice is dangerously soft as he stares at you, body trembling underneath his gaze. His nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow as he pulls your bottom closer to him, once again positioning himself between your legs. "I can still smell him on you and I intend to erase every trace of Lucifer from you, from your mind, and from your body. Understand?"

You slowly nod, your thighs quivering either from anticipation or overstimulation, you weren't sure at this point anymore.

Satan smiles as he licks a stripe up where you're most sensitive, and your body jerks still sensitive from all your orgasming from earlier. You squirm to get your body away from him but his grip holds tight to you.

"Stay right where you are. I thoroughly intend to take my time with you tonight."

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

Your fans started getting too touchy with you.

Asmo isn't one to get jealous easily....not usually.

However, today was supposed to be about just you and him and it frustrated him to no end seeing your fans flock over to you, occupying all of your time. Asmo's eyes narrow as he watches them practically latch themselves onto you, and you barely pushing them away, laughing it off lightly. You're shocked by his sudden actions, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the crowd and down a secluded alleyway. His silence is rather unsettling, and there's a strange gleam in his eyes.

.....

"A-Asmo slow down!" You gasp out, feeling your back pressed against the wall, and Asmo's gaze trained on you, his hands sliding up your arms, pinning them above your head. You shiver, feeling his breath grace the outer shell of your ear, and you unintentionally tilt your head to the side, giving him more room to slot his face into your neck.

"Do you love me?" His question catches you off guard and you stare at him quizzically. "What? Of course I do." you frown slightly pulling on your hands, but Asmo holds your hands in place firmly. He presses his body against yours, and you gasp slightly, feeling his knee pressing against your crotch. "You sure seemed to be having fun entertaining those fans of yours. While I don't mind everyone fawning over you, today was just supposed to be about me and you was it not?" He has a slight pout on his face, lip jutting out.

You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide. If you were being honest, Asmo was adorable, especially with that little pout on his face. "It's not like you to be this jealous," you laugh a little, your face flushing. You feel him press your body more against the wall, and you have to suppress the urge to let out a moan as he continues grinding his leg against where you're most sensitive. His hand snakes past the waistband of your pants and you nearly keel over from his touch, leaning against him for support.

"I'm only like this for you, and no one else."

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

His Fangol teammates were far friendlier to you than he'd like.

Your throat is sore, but that's a given considering you had spent the good part of the last few hours screaming out Beel's name, cheering him on after he scored point after point. What you certainly didn't forsee was you practically folded over one of the benches in the locker room, Beel holding one of your legs wide open as he thrusts into you roughly. The way you're positioned, if someone were to open the door to the locker room would end up seeing you sprawled out as Beel rammed himself against you.

"S-slow down Beel! It's too much!" Your head falls back, and you feel like you're being split apart by how big he is. Normally, Beel is much more gentle, taking his time with you but it seems that in the heat of the moment, he chose to forgo any sense of moderation.

"I don't like that my teammates got too close to you," he grunts, hips stuttering as he pulls you closer, his chest heaving from exertion. Ah that's right, he's referring to his teammates that immediately crowded around you to thank you for cheering so fervently for them. You remember the way Beel watched you from outside the crowd, his expression unreadable. You can recall conversing with his fellow teammates before feeling a pair of hands loop around your waist, pulling you towards them....which somehow led to the situation that you were currently in.

Beel's grip on your thigh is borderline painful, and you're sure that there'll be marks there come tomorrow from how roughly he's currently manhandling you. You reach up grasping at his arm, momentarily causing his movements to falter as he looks at you, temporarily shaken out of his frenzy. "Beel slow down please, I swear I only have eyes for you," you whimper softly, your legs shaking. His expression softens as he stares down at you, leaning over to press an apologetic kiss to your forehead. His motions are slower now, you notice, and there's a tenderness in the way he holds onto you now, one hand pressed against your waist, the other still holding onto your thigh but much less tight now.

"Sorry, you drive me crazy. I promise I'll make this up to you later."

Belphegor [🐮💜]

Your project partner was getting too buddy-buddy with you.

"Hahh, fuck you're so tight~"

Belphie practically hisses this in your ear as he sinks into you, bent over one of the desks in an empty classroom. The surface is cold against your front, your RAD uniform unbuttoned, and shirt pushed up as Belphie leans entirely against you. Your knuckles are white from how hard they're gripping the desk, meanwhile, Belphie has a good grasp on you from behind, his hand tugging at your scalp.

Your back arches as he thrusts into you, using your head as leverage, and you're pretty sure everyone outside has a pretty good idea of what's going on, based on how loudly the desk is scraping against the floor. Your gasp, shoulders hunched as you hold onto desperately to the desk. Belphie's tail flicks irritably as he watches your expression. "Enjoying this are you? Do you really like everyone outside knowing how I'm using you right now? Let them know how desperate you are for me to fuck you dumb like this. Go on, moan louder why don't you."

Your heart pounds in your chest and you let out shuddering breaths as Belphie's hips snap against you, hitting your most sensitive spots. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "The door's unlocked, and anyone could walk in right now and see the two of us like this. Are you getting off to this? To the idea of others seeing what a mess you are right now? Well, that's too damn bad because no one can have you like I can, and certainly not your project partner....what's their face?" He practically spits out, and you can feel the jealousy practically dripping off of him.

"Thinking they're better than me, too bad they'll never get the chance to see you like this. Oh well, you'll behave for me won't you?"

+ Bonus

Barbatos [⌛🖤]

The Young Master was occupying too much of your time.

"Apologies, I'm afraid I won't be able to restrain myself tonight."

You stare at Barbatos confused, watching as he approaches you at the foot of the bed, smoothly pushing you down in one swift moment with one hand. The other lifted to his mouth as he bites at the finger, and pulls it off just as swiftly. Your mouth is agape as he switches hands, holding you down with ease as he removes his other glove.

"As much as I'd like to thank the young master for consistently inviting you over for tea, I will admit there are times when it was just the two of us without his presence." His hands trail your figure, and you're not quite sure what it is about him tonight but he seems.....different. He's far more forward, taking the initiative rather than waiting for you to take the lead. You gasp as you feel his mouth on you, his teeth scraping along your neck. You gasp, leaning away so he has more room to do as he pleases.

"Barbatos-" He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. There's just something that turns him on so much, seeing you underneath him so helpless and pliant. His nose is wrinkled slightly as he gazes at you. You lay there, back arching as Barbatos has his way with you, cold hands caressing you, but not touching you where you ached for him the most.

"Hush now, let me take care of you, my love."

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[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore (Here) | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits you steal:

Posture (Inherited): You know that scene in every princess movie, where they're in training with books balanced atop their head? Walking in circles over and over to maintain perfect posture? Yeah. Just yeah. It's one of his more annoying habits, for sure.

"Any further and you will kiss the table. Right yourself this instant." <-If you so much as slouch like the gremlin he truly does love - he will straighten you himself.

Social Freedom (Inherited): You are....a wonderfully weird character. Even by Twisted Wonderland's standards. Vil loves bringing out the intricacies in people and blossoming them into perfection. His confidence oozes and bleeds. Which is why being near him makes doing the most spontaneous and crazy things easy. Especially when there's such fondness behind his 'scolding'. You won't be camera shy or just shy in general, that's for certain.

"I never thought fleeting liberty could be portrayed as elegant. Alas, I am still yet to be convinced otherwise - but it is a wonderful look on you. That was a compliment, my dear." <- Others look at Vil as someone without the ability to let loose. They're correct to an extent, yet it does come easier with you. The last person he expected such a thing from.

Healthy Eating (Inherited): Vil follows a strict dietary regimen - he won't subject you to it's itinerary to a T. However, he is going to give the snide eye if you don't get a side salad with that pizza. He'll often order on your behalf at eateries or when the team is taking meal orders on set. Never in an oppressive way, it's always things you like, but he is stubborn when it comes to nutritional gain. There lingers a deep rooted discomfort that you'll one day feel neglected in his absence. Even if Vil isn't home, expect those ready-made meal packages to be sent to the door. Vil is nothing if not attentive - that much is for certain.

Pagers and Beepers (Inherited): A bit old-school, but he carries one. Vil can't always drop everything to check on his phone. He also puts the addictive device away two hours before bed to ensure better sleep - what he does keep on at all times is a functioning pager. This is Vil's preferred communication device and he expects you to have it on your person at all times. Never miss a beep. Especially if he is out for long periods of time, or you're in a state he's fussing over (gods do NOT get sick. He will be an absolute mess).

*Bzz* 'Home Late. 10:00.' *Bzz* 'Come to studio. Wear Mask & Bring Downtime Material' *Bzz* 'Still Sick? Have You Eaten Yet?' *Bzz Bzz Bzz* 'Love you. Miss you.'

Skincare (Inherited): Vil's very pushy when it comes to personal care - Epel can 100% attest to this, and takes every chance to voice his grievances (when Vil is not near, of course. Somehow word always gets back though). While he runs a tight ship, he's very sweet and takes your preferences into consideration when making products.

"Come here. Ah...your cheeks are reddened. Sunburn is a very dangerous opponent this time of year. Tsk. I fault myself for not thinking ahead. You might survive the occasional visit in Scarabia, but the Shaftlands climate is unpredictable." <- Vil will gently graze your cheekbones, already thinking over what potency of sun cream he needs to make. Everyone is different, after all. He already makes your perfume, shampoo, lotions, and cosmetics all from scratch - although he does have a preference for when you wear notes of citrus. Bright scents and soft looks suit your character (and are reflective of the effect you have on him). Beauty is an art, and you are his most precious canvas.

Wet-Wipes (developed): Yes, he owns smudge-proof lipstick. Yes, he could choose to wear said lipstick...Vil does not, and thoroughly enjoys seeing whatever shade he picked out smeared on your cheeks or lips. It's a rare bit of selfishness to waste time re-applying it, but he gets a bit of pleasure watching you scrub frantically at it in the mirror. Especially on days you have somewhere to be.

"Ahaha...oh? That look on your face is worth a bit of extra effort. I cannot expect to be rewarded without putting in the work, after all." <- It's a rare bit of unnecessary selfishness on his end. To waste his carefully crafted products, just to watch you scrub his mark off in the mirror. Not too frantic otherwise it'll earn a scolding...but he gets a brief twisted pleasure from it. Especially on days you have somewhere to be.

Apologies(Developed): You...always have to initiate apologies. He's nothing sour or stubborn. Vil can admit his faults when exposed to constructive criticism, and he will work on them. Do not expect things like silent treatment to work, because he will not give in. He is stubbornly attentive, making sure your pettiness won't bleed into life. Makes sure you still share meals together, etc. He will NOT apologize first though.

Habits he steals:

Junk Food (Inherited): Just like he tries to heal your body, you'll try to heal his heart through soul food. It's a part of bonding, and contractual between partners. Is he really going to sit there empty handed while you gorge on candy hearts after a bad day? He better have at least one, or you won't tell him what's wrong. What about peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches?

"You truly are one stubborn creature. Is your stomach made of impenetrable steel?... *sigh* I will taste this concoction of yours, but never claim that I do not love you. If I break out in a rash then you will have far worse to fear beyond my potions" <- He'll be disgusted, but you insist he has to have at least one bite. Just for the cultural experience. If you drink his convoluted potions, then he needs to try your culinary concoctions. Secretly? It's a bit thrilling. You're so wonderfully novel that he can act out any role without thinking the character weird. He's got the biggest weirdo at home after all.

Paparazzi (Developed): Vil will take the blunt end of the media to keep you hidden. He has a private account for people close to him on all sites, and knows what tricks to use so images can't be reused. Like always wearing the same outfit when accompanying you to the gym. This way pictures can't be reused. As much as he encourages you to blossom from your shell, he's a cautious fellow. Not unfamiliar with how obsessive some fans can be. When you're alone, there's always a body guard. Yet unwilling to make you nervous, he arranges for a more...secretive approach.

" - and how was your outing today? Rook is exceedingly knowledgeable on the tourism in this town. I'm sorry we could not go shopping together, but you bought me a gift surely?...hah! I'm merely teasing. It's good to hear that you both had a fun time exploring" <- It's honestly just Rook. Always Rook until the end of time. He's the only one Vil would trust to either politely follow, or simply hang out with you. You're familiar with him, Vil knows there are no ulterior motives, and he's got a sharper eye than most.

Cuddling (Developed): It's scientifically proven that cuddling improves the quality of one's sleep, did ya know? Get in the bed. Now. Don't you want his affection? Hmph.

"Now, I know fully well that you have no intention to spend the night on the couch. I suggest you join me in the next five minutes, or I will take matters into my own hands."

Video Games (Inherited): Vil isn’t a stranger to them. Enjoys them from time to time but never too much because he’s so busy - but you introduced him to Dress to Impress and now he’s addicted. Not just that but he absolutely loves a good rpg. He does like to play with you - like in a co-op platformer, cozy game, or service - when able because it’s bonding time. Vil gets so invested in story lore and actively starts seeking roles in Live Action Adaptation films. Vil as Astarion when???

Thrifting (Inherited): There’s something magical about not knowing what you’re going to get. At first he was against it. You don't have to do that anymore, y'know. He can buy you new clothes if you need them. That is - until you take him through an upcycling market. Vil is used to his designer brands and high fashion - but when you’re able to see potential in something? Make it sparkle? He’s just a big slut for creativity, and I think he would love upcycling.

"My radiance touches all fronts - including my darling. How bold of you to insinuate anything but - No. How daring of you to suggest that adhering to anyone else's standards is worth my time." == Vil is happy to discuss your relationship if the topic is breeched politely during an interview. He isn't shy, neither does he approach anything with less than his best. That includes romance...but oh, hell hath no fury than a smitten Shoenheit scorned by an uncouth reporter. He can sense their attempts to doctor an interview for petty gossip a mile away. He is PROUD that you are learning from him, and views the changes you've brought to his life as improvements. Not lovelorn imperfections.

Habits You Steal

Locks (Developed): Rook is? Oh...okay, so your love's a bit of a prankster - or perhaps a thrill-seeker is more like it? He doesn't let life get too boring, that's for certain. Rook knows Ramshackle through and through. It's not uncommon to look out the window and see his feathered hat zip by in the woods, or through the garden. He does love playing his own version of 'where's waldo' - flickering about to and fro, weaving between the garden trellis and ducking behind trees. Just waiting for his amour to spot him from afar. He knows the layout too intimately - you fear. His habit of breaking and entering instills an anxiety over how unsecure Ramshackle truly is.

“BOO! Aha - desolé, mon coeur - I didn’t mean to startle you so. Consider this a lesson in spacial awareness! Mon dieu, there is a blatant gap in your dorm’s fencing just near the east! Wild beasts can break through and have you for supper. My poor heart will be shattered!” <- So yeah. He's all to happy to set up padlocks on the weak point windows, your fence, etc. He even encourages you to set up some traps yourself. It'll make those 'where's waldo' games more fun for him with new obstacles hehe.

The Nearest Exit (Inherited): Huntsman through and through - he's trained you well. You always sit by the nearest exit in class, closest to the door wherever you are.

Research (Inherited): While Rook is très passionné about fine arts, he's also fascinated with the unknowns in this world. What better club for the truly curious, than the science club? He adores bringing you in to join experiments, always questioning your perspective and letting you take the lead (when safe). It makes a routine procedure all the more interesting, watching what is familiar to him become novel through your eyes. It's like planting a rare seed for the first time, not knowing what will bloom. Akin to venturing within the barred sections of NRC's greenhouse, a thrilling adventure in the pursuit of knowledge. Alchemy becomes your best subject, you can recite the periodic table without need for mnemonics, and you breech the top five in your academic year. Crewel is thoroughly impressed. Good pup.

“Hm? Ah, how curious…there are 123 elements for study in this world, my dear assistant. Would you like to learn the song we teach young mages to memorize them? I will happily serenade you as we work. <- Yup. Twisted Wonderland has more elements than we do, since they’ve got magic resources. Sadly singing the Periodic Table Song won’t be useful. Well, it’s mostly useful still? Trey will actually kill you for teaching it to Rook though. Their mnemonic is much less fast paced and…less annoying. Yeah.

Fleurien (Inherited) : Is this truly shock to anyone? It's french in our world - so props if you already speak the language. Rook isn't fluent but he'd love to learn more. So ... either you use it more with him, or pick up a phrase or two here and there. It's scary as shit - by the way. Now Epel's got not one head popping up screeching "BONJOUR" but two. Don't get comfy because he's small - Rook might be quick enough to dodge a punch but you're one to many outbursts away from a broken nose.

Talking To Yourself (Developed) : Alright. Ace is officially convinced you're off your rocker and need to go visit the nurse. There's no way you know when Rook's skulking about - and if you did, why the heck are you talking to thin air? Just tell him to come out?...yeah, it's not uncommon to have a conversation with your 'boyfriend' when said man isn't visible to the naked eye. There are rumors you finally snapped, just so y'know. Rook physically had to go clear it up with Kalim before the sunshine child sent you on an all-paid tropical vacation to destress (Dammit Rook we were so close -)

“Mon cherie! You look positively radiant in the afternoon light! - ah. The answer is 27, adieu!” <- Call out any question on your Maths or Science homework to the barren sky, and an answer will sound from proximity unknown. The gods have answered your academic dilemma in the form of fleurian embellishments. No. Grim. You can’t just ask every problem - okay you might want to only do this when alone.

Compliments (Developed// Inherited) : Rook is a sweetheart. Maybe a bit of an acquired taste - but he always has something wonderful to say about everyone. No matter their faults...it's almost instinctual, the way you flip from boxed caution to returning his zeal with a genuine compliment. Each and every one. His reaction remains unique as well, he never grows accustomed to it. People groan at the 'shameless flirting' - only to blanch when Rook compliments them in turn, and you are so quick to back him up.

“Oh…mon amour, you never cease to surprise me.” <- Spoken with the most tender affection. Tips his hat to cover his blushing cheeks.

Habits he steals:

Surprises (Inherited): Rook often leaves little gifts and surprises for you to find - in a way he's testing himself, gauging your reactions and getting a spin of glee when you show him a new expression. A bouquet of fresh flowers (their meanings spelling a love letter), sweets from a far corner in the Shaftlands, poems hidden throughout your home in places he predicts you'll check, polaroids of sites across the Isle (urging you to find where for a surprise) etc. This actually started with you - knowing his love for the unknown, you wooed his heart by making little games for him. Not so much snooping into his affairs, but it was fun being under someone else's watchful eye. A bit clumsy but charming to have someone wanting to get the jump on him. Could he be considered prey, if he wanted to be caught?

Decor (Developed) : We've...we've all seen his bedroom, right? Now it isn't going to be the extent of Neige of Vil. Be this a concern or comfort to you? - it's subjective. He will preserve every little thing in regards to your relationship. That middle space above his bed? Cut a square right down the room's center, taking equal parts away from the Neige and Vil spitdown. Add some shelving, a few boxes under his bed and new linens...yup. Polaroids, mementos, paintings, love letters, mayhaps not a plush but if you consent to him having a tiny crochet doll or tsum of you then he will be thrilled. It's all there, right at the center of his organized chaos. He doesn't harbor the same feelings towards you as he does his idols, but that doesn't mean you're any less important.

Organization (Inherited): On that note, since Vil's your friend and the space can be a bit much? Rook will politely tone it down when you're over - flipping the posters and dolls if he's expecting a visit. It is wonderful that you accept his bonified fanboy behavior, but he concedes this much for your comfort.

“Ah…my limited edition Appleblossom-Vil sheets. I understand your discomfort my love, so I have graciously turned them into the perfect couch-cushion cover! Come and see how magnifique they match the drapes!” <-Again…compromise. You can’t even be put off with that level of creativity and excitement.

Freckles and Gloves (Developed): Stop. Covering. Your. Damn. Freckles !!!! This isn't about the hair. Believe it or not, his hair is cute and anyone who says otherwise can stfu because he likes it. If it's what he likes then it's what he likes. The freckles? You're slapping that damn bottle of concealer out of his hands. He'll wake up early to try and reapply it before you wake up. Nope. Nada. He cannot go preaching about the beauty of imperfections while still covering up what triggers the most extreme cute aggression known to man. You compliment every nick on his hands and forearms and wherever else, praise all the little freckles on his nose and cheeks until this man physically is sent to the moon and back from your passion.

“Aha! I am being assaulted by a ticklish foe! If my face is enough to elicit such sweetness from you, then I will certainly die the happiest man in this lifetime” <- He's never seen you so passionate about anything. it's enough to overwhelm him, in all honesty. Stops wearing the concealer most casual days, but won't concede his gloves. Might wear it on occasion to see if you notice (and get a bit of that fire in your eyes to come back).

Scrap Booking (Developed): Rook documents everything, why not keep a scrap book? You suggest the idea to him as a way to immortalize his findings without always needing some kind of trophy. Now he has a scrap book dedicated to literally everyone. Vil and Neige might have multiple…and at some point you have to wonder when it breeches scrap book criteria and just becomes a full detailing of his observations. It depends on how you feel about candid photos.

Newspaper Club (Inherited) : Oh yeah. Rook becomes an honorary member of the Newspaper club. He finds great thrill in trying to get those candid shots without being spotted by his targets <3. If he can help out his amour on his little escapades, then say no more. He's honored to be the only one allowed to use your ghost camera.

“Oh just look at that sunrise! It is the true embodiment of what our students stand for! To press through the darkness through tireless hours of study and labor - all to emerge in new dawn as promising mages! I must get the perfect shot for my darling’s club…non. A ground view will not do - to the skies!” <- He proceeds to break six rules, pilfer a broom from the Spelldrive team, get the photo and return to class without any evidence

-

“Oh mon dieu - how my heart soars! To be loved is to be seen, no? Ah, I could as for no greater compliment. Merci Beaucoup, mon amie!” == Others might make the comparison with scorn. Most find Rook’s mannerisms to be peculiar, some find him distasteful. He is merely an appreciator of beauty, and you are one of the most marvelous creatures he has ever set eyes on. In body and mind. It is an honor to be mimicked. To be loved is to be changed. If anyone holds a true appreciation for sharing habits, it is Rook Hunt. He detests others prying into his personal affairs…and yet, he finds himself willingly giving hints to you. Oho?

Habits you steal:

Dialect and Slang (Inherited) : The most obvious. You don’t spend hours upon hours with someone and not walk away without some of their lingo. Do you REALLY think he has the energy to maintain that primmed facade all the time? The moment it’s closed doors Epel lets loose like no one else on campus. The personality flip is insane. It’s like when you spend time in a foreign country and pick up a bit of their accent - but that southern drawl.

"I don' sound like that! Wait..." <- Slams his palm over Deuce's mouth when he and Ace were mimicking you who 'apparently' started to sound like a bumpkin. Doesn't help that Epel calls you a 'pumpkin' either....oh yeah, the teasing is relentless.

Survival (Inherited): Epel could get you off a stranded island with just a coconut, three sticks, and a rock. Not even exaggerating, he’s just that resourceful. Navigating through woodlands through any kind of weather, making deliveries across towns and encountering any spectacle the mind can trudge up? Yeah. Teaches a guy somethin’. He makes sure you don’t walk off the farm without a survival pack and even shows you how to tell time using the sky. If only he realized how attractive this sort of thing is.

Apples (Developed) : I sincerely hope you have a taste for apples and everything apple related. Epel will be carving away, picking the dud chunks with toothpicks and handing them off without a second thought. Who eats them? You. Also his family sends a care package at least once a month. Cider, pie, tarts, hell they somehow got apples in kugel? The others in your little possé help polish it off, but Epel’s family is so stoked that he has a partner. That Harveston event was a doozy, let me tell ya. A village full of elderly folks asking after you means you will never go hungry. Well…so long as you can survive on apples.

"You know...you kind of remind me of a McIntosh apple. Pretty sweet but also nice an' refreshing...a-ah? That was romantic? I was just thinking out loud but if you say so..."

Cold Tolerance (Developed) : Speaking of Harveston, did you know you got thirty-minutes? Oh yes, thirty minutes to run my friend. Just kidding. Don’t run. Not unless you want to see a sled coming at you in the distance at breakneck speed. Now that his family has a face to match their Epel’s sweetheart, you will always be expected to join him on trips home. They want pictures, updates, your measurements for new clothes and he better be sending notice so the guest room is made up. Epel will be sent right back to NRC if he ever comes back without you in tow. Congrats, you’ve been adopted. It’s chilly there but you get some hand-knitted mittens out of it. Epel is mortified but also so thankful he has someone to buffer the welcome-wagon with.

"Hey uhh...do you mind if we take a picture together? It's just for my mom's scrapbook. She's been asking for one 'a us together and I don' want to disappoint her....h-huh? What'ddya mean you already sent some?! When?!" <- You're writing to his family. Alright. He's totally not running through every embarrassing story his Meemaw or parents have in their arsenal...ah crap.

Cowboy Hat Rule (Developed) : One-hundred percent true across dimensions. You are NOT allowed to wear anyone else’s hat, ya got that? No one. Especially not no-one from the shaft-lands or the Savannah. Rook once offered you his brimmed-hat on a rainy day and Epel completely lost his mask for a moment. He quite literally yanked his jacket off and smothered your head with it, meeting Rook’s amused mirth with narrowed eyes. He didn’t care if Vil scolded him. That Hunt knew exactly what he was doing, ain’t Epel’s fault. Not this time, no way.

"A-a little water won't kill anyone! Let's just run for it!" <- Shoots a poorly-controlled glare as you both book-it to the nearest shelter. Rook's laughter was as boisterous as ever, always happy to push Epel's buttons.

Cat-Calls (Developed) : Assholes love to hit on Epel. The amount of times other students mistake him for a girl - man. Poor guy. It really peeves him off when it happens in front of you too. We’re talking veins popping out of his neck and red enough to rival Riddle on his worst days. What makes it worse is that you defend him. Ain’t it supposed to be the other way ‘round? On one hand he’s smug because you’re parading him like a prized trophy - hah! Look at that, ain’t he a catch? The high dies down a bit when the pursuer leaves. Then he gets sulky.

Heating Pack (Inherited) : Dear god farmlife is kicking your ass. Epel cackles and jokes at your suffering, but hauling those crates is no joke. Thank god he knows a remedy and lends you his heating pack every night. Some icy-hot on the joints, a foot bath for the ankles, and he might rub your shoulders if you ask nicely. He won’t admit to using the remedies himself, claiming they’re for his parents. He just wants to seem tough but you know better. Seven have mercy on your aching knees…there’s got to be a way to worm out of this.

There isn’t. You don’t work, you don’t eat. Haul ass dimension traveler.

"Howdy pumpkin, how're you holding up? Jeez, I warned you about lifting with your legs...nah, forget about it. Vil must be rubbing off on me with his scolding. Here's some hot chocolate to tide ya over until supper. Meemaw's got some herbal remedies lying around, want to give them a try?"

Habits he steals:

Thievery (Inherited): Goes in-hand with the care packages he's getting from home. Those are suppose to be FOR HIM, but you're sneaking all the good bits and leaving him with the barrels of apples. Get your own mail man...just kidding(-ish). He honestly is so glad to have some of the heat taken off his shoulders. Plus, you writing them means he gets a bit more freedom...but seriously. He has to keep stealing back the stuff you've pilfered. Sure he's getting an allowance, but c'mon. Half the stuff that gets sent are things from his room that he already owns, like clothes and his whittle knives...it was cool showing off his best stuff, until his parents sent over his baby album without saying nothing. He had to pry that out of your mitts and bury it under lock-and-key in his room.

"Son of a- Hey! The heck did I tell ya about stealin' my socks?! I know yous ain't that desperate! Go an' get et yer own already dammit!" <- Doesn't matter if he sends a letter back to his Meemaw, asking her to send some extra pairs of those fluffy slipper-socks. Maybe some stationary and a couple jars of jam that Grim'll just run through in a day. You're always fighting over stuff.

Delinquency (Inherited): You are literally Vil's worst enemy - undoing everything he's sought to instill. When Epel is with you, he reverts back to his most basic form. Aka. hunched over his carvings like a gremlin crescent, doing contortionist moves through the halls, sneaking cup-ramen at 2am just 'cause he's bored (Rook plays Hide 'n' Seek those nights, chasing ya through Pomefiore until you're back in Epel's room. Wanna eat? Gotta work for it) , and really the most unmannered bullshit possible. Spell Drive was his go-to outlet where he could get muddy and talk hot shit. Still is - what? You think the Savanaclaw students (70% of the team) are going to sit there and paint their nails? Nah, he's been initiated and all that. Had to show his muscle...but this is different. Vil's considered banning you from the dorm during important times like exams, parties, assemblies, etc. just to get some grounding. Doesn't work, since Epel will just sneak out. Riddle isn't the only one with crafty first-years looking to couch surf.

Malipulation (Inherited): Epel learns how you've managed to last this long in Twisted Wonderland with nothing but that pretty little brain under your belt. People are so quick to expect nothing from the Ramshackle prefect...and instead of proving them wrong, or getting heated? You let them think that way, because bad press was good press at NRC. Let them think you were a conniving, brown nosed kiss-ass who was getting it in with the dorm leaders. Let them think you were a walking sack of bad karma. Let them think whatever else - because those stereotypes are what's keeping you afloat.

"Ah - pardon me...I'll take that challenge on their behalf, if it's all right with you? Don't hold back on me now!.....ya pea-brained fucknugget." <- Epel twists this in his own way- aka. he starts using his pretty looks to his advantage. Let people think he's a weakling, so that when the time comes to prove himself he'll make a 180 change and give a big ol' can of whoopass. Your 'normie-ness' as Idia puts it, is your biggest weapon. Same for Epel's disarming visage.

Cologne (Developed): In an effort to be seen as more 'manly' in your eyes, Epel went down to the Isle shopping district and bought the most putrid smelling drugstore musk you can imagine. One whiff near-singed your nostril hairs off from how much he packed on...Vil did not approve, and gifted him a higher quality scent with notes of peppercorn and jasmine. You personally went and thanked Vil in secret - unable to tell Epel just how bad he smelled since he did it trying to impress you.

Lint Roller (Developed): Vil runs a tight ship - Epel's needs to get Grim's fur off of his uniform for every inspection or else he'll get his head chewed off. Especially if his dorm uniform gets dirtied.

Confidence (Developed): Stops masking his accent when with friends. Never had anyone cheering for him before. Like, really cheering for him. So you coming to his Spelldrive games is such a boost. Wears Ramshackle colors (bandanna and waist-flags) on his club uniform - Vil not mad bc Rook wouldn’t shut up about it being in the name of love -

"Woooo! Score! Blue must be my lucky color! Hahaha!" <- Epel always looks for you in the crowd. Luck isn't nothin' to do with it, but if wearing blue and white gets him playing better? The team isn't complaining.

Protective (Developed): Part insecurity, part him being a bit old-fashioned, part being sick of stereotypes against the underdog (aka. ya both), and part pure country-boy lovin'. He's not a raised gentleman like Riddle, doesn't know the ins and outs of 'romance' like Rook, honestly bro is fumbling half the time...but ain't no one seen Epel flair up like he does in your defense. No one can talk him down. On the protectiveness scale he would get 15/10, because there ain't many friends to make back at Harveston. Surely not anyone to love. He's got some good examples for how to treat a life-partner, and knows 13 different moves to dislocate different joints across the human body.

"Sure ya want ta go there, huh? Huh? Say that again to mah face. I'll put ya nose to the dirt so fast that filthy mouth'll o' yers will taste nothin' but soil fer weeks!" <- He'll do it too. His Meemaw trained him for more than just the Sledathon...nah, years of hauling crates built muscle. Back when he was still a first-year on the Spelldrive team, he'd get shit from his teammates while they 'tested' him. The worst mistake they made was coming for you though, even if it was a bit. Epel was full on ready to clobber a Cheetah-beastman twice his size, and if Jack hadn't stepped in...he probably would've, no mercy.

-

“That’s….that’s somethin’ else, ain’t it? Heh. Heheheh,” == Epel had to excuse himself to go giggle on his lonesome. Can’t have anyone see how happy that small comment just made him. You really love him that much? You respect him that much? He can’t begin to put two and two together - his heart was pounding like some lovesick ninny…oh. Oh hells. He is a lovesick ninny. Needless to say that Epel is absolutely riding a high for the rest of the day.

[cheftsunoda]

hiiii i’ve got a request for lando + magui!!! i was thinking of a scenario where reader is the best friend of one of magui, but has hooked up with lando! Magui figured out and instead of being mad, she seduces reader and they all three end up together!! i love you work!! i haven’t seen anyone request magui and lando together so i thought it would be a nice little change!!

complicated — ln4 + magui

smau + blurbs

lando norris x reader x magui corceiro

yn was not supposed to see him that night. not in that club. not under those lights. but there he was—lando norris. smiling, golden, drunk off something that looked a lot like heartbreak. yn hadn’t seen him in months, not since the last very public breakup with her best friend, magui. and as far as she knew, it was over. again. so yn danced with him, laughed, let her walls down, let her guard slip. one drink turned into three. his hands found her waist. her lips found his. and somewhere between midnight and regret, yn let herself forget who he was to her. but in the morning—when the makeup smudged and silence settled—she figured it out and the guilt hit like a freight train. yn never meant to hurt her. she was her ride-or-die. her other half. but when yn showed up to confess, to beg for forgiveness, magui didn’t cry. she didn’t yell. she only smiled, slow and sharp. “you could’ve just told me you wanted him,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind yn’s ear. “i would’ve shared.” and just like that, their entire world turned upside down.

fc : lily rowland

(a/n) : as on my kelly post— please no hate. i am simply doing what was requested of me. everyone has their own opinions on magui and they are entitled to those. if she makes lando happy, that is all that matters.

also i suck at writing smut and i attempted to write some slightly in this so do not hate me if it is horrible.

—

f1gossipgirls

2,790,002 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Supermodel YN LN was spotted in a Monaco nightclub in the early hours with none other than F1’s own Lando Norris. The pair were seen getting very close inside before slipping out together through the back entrance. Sources say Lando and longtime on-again, off-again girlfriend Magui Corceiro (who is yn’s bff btw) were recently back on… so this little rendezvous is raising a lot of eyebrows 👀

—

view 175,002 other comments.

username00 : not this man speedrunning his way out of a relationship again 💀💀

username0 : yn??? as in supermodel, cover-of-every-magazine YN??? oh lando won fr

username1 : you lose them how you get them🤷🏻‍♀️

username5 : nah yn and magui have been best friends forever. yn would never just randomly do this to magui. something is up.

username7 : v confused bc after the latest breakup yn was in the press cursing this man’s name

username10 : nah if I was Magui I’d be flipping a table rn.

username11 : someone check if magui unfollowed her rn. I NEED LIVE UPDATES.

—

The bass was so loud I could feel it in my chest, every beat syncing with my pulse like my body couldn’t tell where the music ended and I began. I was two drinks past responsible, three smiles past exhausted, and somewhere between pretending I was fine and actually starting to believe it. And then I saw him.

I didn’t mean to. He just—appeared. Out of nowhere. Like the room shifted and suddenly there was Lando, standing across the club like some kind of glitch in my night. I blinked, thinking maybe it wasn’t him. But no—same curls, same smirk, same way of holding a drink like he couldn’t care less but also wanted to be watched. And his eyes—of course—landed on me.

Of course they did. I froze. For a second, I thought about turning around, disappearing into the crowd, pretending I hadn’t seen him. But then he smiled. And I was fucked.

He made his way toward me like he had all the time in the world. My heart shouldn’t have jumped the way it did. Not for him. Not when he was Magui’s. Or—was he?

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, low and smooth, like we were friends and not two people who definitely shouldn’t be talking.

“Didn’t expect you to still be breathing after what you did to Magui last time,” I shot back, arching a brow.

He laughed—really laughed. That easy, boyish kind of laugh that used to make Magui melt and make me roll my eyes.

“She forgave me,” he said with a shrug. “Or she said she did. It’s… complicated.”

I shouldn’t have cared. But my stomach twisted anyway. Because complicated, to me, always sounded like unfinished. Still, I didn’t walk away. I let him step closer. Close enough to smell that stupid expensive cologne I used to tease him about. Close enough to forget every reason I had to keep my distance.

“Let me get you a drink?” he asked, tilting his head just a little. Like he already knew I’d say yes.

And I did. God help me, I did. Because in that moment—with the lights too low and my brain too soft—I forgot who he was to her. Or maybe I just didn’t want to remember. He handed me the drink — something clear, cold, and expensive — and leaned in just enough to make it look casual. Just enough to make my skin prickle.

“You look different,” he said.

I sipped. “That’s what happens when you don’t see someone for five months. People change.”

He gave me that smug half-smile. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

I didn’t answer. I let the silence stretch between us, heavy with everything unsaid. I could’ve walked away right then. Could’ve rolled my eyes, handed him back the drink, said “Tell Magui I said hi.” But I didn’t. I just… stayed.

“Still modeling?” he asked, like he didn’t already know. Like my face wasn’t plastered on billboards and magazine covers he drove past on the way to every circuit.

I gave him a look. “Still racing?”

He grinned, then took a slow sip of his own drink. “Touché.”

The music shifted — something deeper, smoother, the kind of track that made people lean in and lose their morals. I felt it in my spine.

He stepped a little closer. Too close.

“You and Magui still talk?” he asked. His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp.

I nodded. “We talk every day.”

“Even about me?”

I tilted my head. “Why? Want to know what she says?”

“Only if it’s good,” he murmured, and I laughed despite myself.

He smiled at the sound like he’d won something. Like he knew how dangerous this was and didn’t care.

“You really think this is a good idea?” I asked, finally meeting his gaze head-on.

“I think you look like you needed a good idea tonight,” he said softly. “And I think I did too.”

God. He was trouble. He was Magui’s trouble. But in that moment, under those lights, with the crowd fading into a blur and my brain begging for a break from the pressure—I didn’t feel like the girl who made the right choices.

I felt like the girl who was one wrong move away from doing something she couldn’t take back.

And when he reached out, fingers brushing against my wrist, I didn’t pull away.

I let him.

—

The lights were lower on the dance floor — dim and smoky, pulsing red and violet like the whole room was breathing in sync. The music shifted again, slower now, deeper. A beat made for moving close. For making mistakes.

Lando looked at me like he was waiting for a sign. I didn’t give him one. I just turned and walked toward the crowd.

I didn’t look back to see if he followed.

I didn’t need to.

The moment I stepped onto the floor, the music swallowed me. Arms in the air, eyes closed, hips swaying like I hadn’t been overthinking everything since the second I saw him. And then — there he was. Behind me. A hand lightly grazing my hip, like a question mark.

I didn’t stop him.

We moved like that for a while — not speaking, not looking, just feeling. The heat of his body behind mine, his chest at my back, one of his hands trailing down my arm as if he wasn’t sure where he ended and I began. Every movement, every breath, felt like a warning I didn’t listen to.

And then he leaned in.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear as he said, “Tell me to stop.”

I didn’t.

Maybe I couldn’t.

I turned to face him instead. His eyes were darker now, searching, daring. And before I could think better of it, before I could even breathe—he kissed me.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t polite. It was months of tension. Years of denial. A thousand unspoken what-ifs igniting in one split second. His hand tangled in my hair, mine fisting the front of his shirt. The world blurred around us. People danced, lights flickered, music pounded—and I didn’t care.

I kissed him like he belonged to no one. Like I wasn’t betraying my best friend. Like I didn’t already know this would ruin everything.

Because in that moment?

I just wanted to feel something.

And God, did I.

—

The kiss didn’t end so much as it broke. A breath, a beat, and then we were staring at each other like we didn’t recognize what we’d just done.

His lips were red, mine were tingling, and somewhere between the club lights and common sense, I let the words slip out:

“Let’s go.”

He didn’t ask where. He didn’t need to. We slipped out through the back — the same way all bad ideas leave clubs at 2 a.m. The air outside was cool and sharp against my flushed skin. A car was already waiting. Of course it was. Lando moved like a man who always expected the night to bend to him.

The taxi ride was quiet, except for the way his hand found mine between us. Not grabbing. Not pulling. Just there. Warm. Real. Dangerous.

He looked out the window. I looked at him.

“This is a bad idea,” I whispered.

“I know.”

I should’ve told the driver to turn around. I should’ve texted Magui. I should’ve said something that sounded like loyalty.

But instead, I followed him into the elevator, twenty-something floors up, heart in my throat and guilt already clawing at my ribs. He swiped his key. The doors opened.

The suite was sleek. Cold. Bigger than my apartment.

He shut the door behind us with a quiet click, and we stood there — still, silent — like if we didn’t move, the weight of what we were doing wouldn’t fall on us yet. Then he stepped forward. And so did I. It wasn’t rushed.

It was worse than that — slow. Careful. Reverent. His hands found my face, then my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek like he was trying to memorize the shape of regret.

“You don’t have to—” he started.

“I want to,” I said, before I could lie.

Clothes hit the floor like confessions we didn’t say out loud. Every touch felt wrong and right at the same time. His mouth was everywhere — my neck, my collarbone, the curve of my shoulder — and I let him have it all. Not because I didn’t know better. But because for one night, I didn’t care.

His skin was warm, his voice soft when he whispered my name against my throat, and I let myself fall into the way his hands knew exactly how to undo me.

And in the quiet moments in between — when his forehead pressed to mine, when our breaths synced, when he kissed me like I was something more than a distraction — I tried to forget that this wasn’t mine to have. That I’d crossed a line I couldn’t uncross. And that the person I loved most would never see me the same again.

—

I woke up to sunlight bleeding through floor-to-ceiling windows, sharp and unforgiving. My head was pounding, my mouth dry, and the unfamiliar sheets were tangled around my legs like consequences I couldn’t shake off.

It took me all of three seconds to remember.

Lando. His skin. His hands. His mouth.

Last night.

I bolted upright, heart in my throat. The hotel suite was quiet, eerily so, except for the soft rustle of sheets beside me. I glanced over.

He was still asleep.

Hair a mess. Arm thrown carelessly over the pillow where I’d just been. Peaceful. Innocent-looking. Like he hadn’t just helped me commit emotional treason twelve hours ago.

I stood up, grabbing the first oversized shirt I could find — his, obviously — and stumbled toward my phone on the marble counter. Bad idea. Worst idea.

I had five missed calls, three texts from my agent, and a flood of notifications. Instagram, Twitter, even WhatsApp was lit up like a Christmas tree.

I opened one of the DMs. Then another. Then my stomach sank. There it was. A photo of us. Him. Me. The back exit. His hand on my lower back. My head tipped toward him like I was seconds from kissing him again. Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” I said aloud, louder than I meant to.

Lando stirred behind me. “Mm?” he mumbled, voice hoarse, eyes still closed. “You okay?”

“No,” I snapped, spinning around. “No, Lando, I’m not okay.”

He blinked at me, trying to sit up. “What’s going on?”

I held the phone out like it was evidence in a murder trial. “Are you with her?”

He squinted. “What?”

“Magui. Are you and Magui back together?”

He was silent for a second too long.

That was all the answer I needed.

“Oh my god.” My voice cracked. “I thought you were done. You said it was complicated. You let me think—”

“I didn’t let you think anything,” he said quickly, rubbing a hand down his face. “I said it was complicated. It still is. She and I—we weren’t official, not really—”

“Not really?” I echoed. “Lando, she’s my best friend. I just slept with my best friend’s on-again-off-again boyfriend.”

He sat up fully now, panic creeping into his eyes. “Okay, okay. Breathe. Look—we’ll handle it. I’ll talk to her.”

“No,” I said, stepping back, pulse in my ears. “I have to talk to her. I have to fix this.”

I didn’t know if she’d scream or cry or never speak to me again. But I knew one thing with gut-wrenching certainty. Last night had been a mistake. And no matter how good it felt in the moment, I wasn’t the kind of girl who could sleep with someone and pretend the fallout didn’t matter. Especially not when the person I could lose was the one I never wanted to hurt.

—

I didn’t call. I couldn’t. Because if I heard her voice — if she sounded angry, or hurt, or disappointed — I knew I’d fall apart before I could even apologize. So I just got in the car and went. The ride over was a blur. My stomach twisted the whole way there, hands shaking in my lap. My brain kept replaying the headline. The photo. The kiss. The choice I made.

Her building was too familiar. I’d been here a thousand times — hungover brunches, girls’ nights in, crying on her couch after heartbreaks we swore we’d never repeat. And now I was the one who broke the rules. I didn’t know what to expect when she opened the door. Screaming? Crying? A slap in the face? But instead, Magui just… stared at me.

Hair in a messy bun. No makeup. An oversized hoodie and a mug of coffee in her hand like it was just another Sunday. Her eyes flicked down to my face, then my outfit — still half in last night’s regret — and something in her expression shifted. I swallowed hard.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, the words falling out of my mouth like they were on fire. “I didn’t know you were back together. I never would’ve—Magui, I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought you guys were done. I didn’t—”

“Stop,” she said, gently but firmly.

I froze.

She blinked at me. Then tilted her head. “Are you okay?”

I blinked back. “What?”

Magui stepped aside to let me in, shutting the door behind me like this was any other visit. Like I hadn’t just slept with the one person I was never supposed to touch.

“You look like you haven’t slept,” she added. “Did Lando freak out? Of course he did. Men are always worse at cleaning up messes they help make.”

I just stared at her.

“You’re not… mad?”

She let out a soft laugh. Not bitter. Not sharp. Just amused. “Mad? No. A little surprised you didn’t tell me? Maybe. But mad?” She shrugged. “I mean, I did say it was complicated. You’re not the first girl he’s kissed while we were technically on a break.”

I felt like the floor dropped out beneath me. “Magui, we didn’t just kiss…”

She smiled then — slow, sly, a little too knowing. “I figured.”

I stared at her, speechless. “Why are you being so calm about this?”

She took a sip of her coffee, then leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes locking with mine in a way that made something inside me buzz with nerves.

“Because,” she said simply, “if it had been anyone else, maybe I would’ve been pissed. But you?”

She stepped closer. Close enough to make my heart trip.

“You’re the only girl I’ve ever looked at and thought… maybe I wouldn’t mind sharing with.”

I forgot how to breathe.

“I’m serious,” she added, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You think I didn’t notice the way he looks at you? Or the way you look at me? Come on. I’ve seen the way you stare when you think I’m not looking.”

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

She laughed again, softer this time. “You didn’t betray me, querida. You just… exposed something we’ve all been ignoring.”

She stepped even closer, and my back hit the wall.

“So, now the real question,” she whispered, fingertips lightly grazing my wrist.

“What do you want?”

—

yn_ln

liked by lando, lewishamilton, magui_corceiro and 10,007,002 others.

yn_ln : girls cum first!

tagged : magui_corceiro

—

view 727,014 other comments.

username00 : everyone SHUT UP. mothers r mothering together even after that MAN tried to ruin it.

liked by yn_ln and magui_corceiro

magui_corceiro : as they always should ;)

liked by yn_ln

franciscagomes : my girliesss ily

liked by yn_ln and magui_corceiro

username0 : why is lando in the likes?? get out.

↳ username1 : half the grid are in her likes tbh. don't blame them.

lando : cheeky 👀

liked by yn_ln and magui_corceiro

↳ alex_albon : i am so fucking confused.

liked by yn_ln and lando

↳ lilymhe : me too but yn is so hot that i am distracted

liked by yn_ln, magui_corceiro and lando

lewishamilton : Stunning as always, YN.

liked by yn_ln

↳ yn_ln : charming as always, mr. hamilton.

liked by lewishamilton

—

I left that conversation rather open...I wasn't sure what to say. And naturally, Magui texted me the next morning like nothing had changed.

Lunch? My treat. You owe me a story.

A winky face. A heart. And I guess… I went. Maybe because I owed her more than just a story. Or maybe because a part of me still hadn’t processed the night before — the way she looked at me, the way her hand grazed my wrist, how her words wrapped around my neck like a silk ribbon I didn’t know what to do with.

You’re the only girl I’d ever share with.

I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. So I met her at this rooftop café she loved — the kind with overpriced salads, glittering glassware, and the best view of the city. She was already there when I arrived, tucked into a corner booth like a summer goddess in a tiny white dress and gold hoops that caught the sunlight like they had a grudge against everyone else trying to look good.

She looked up, smiled, and waved me over. “You’re late.”

I sat down, suddenly self-conscious in my little black tank and messy bun. “You’re insufferably early. What’s new?”

She laughed — this soft, lazy sound that made my skin buzz. “You look tired.”

“You look smug.”

“I slept better than you, apparently.”

I didn’t reply. She knew exactly why I hadn’t slept. And the fact that she was smiling about it made me dizzy. We ordered — iced coffees, ridiculous truffle fries, something green we wouldn’t finish — and the conversation drifted. Travel. Work. A red carpet she was skipping. A shoot I had next week in Milan. But then she leaned in, chin resting in her hand, eyes fixed on me like she was trying to peel me open.

“Are you still overthinking everything?” she asked, voice low.

I blinked. “I’m not overthinking.”

“You’re literally chewing your straw, meu amor.”

I dropped it instantly. She smiled, then slid her foot against mine under the table — gentle, deliberate.

“You do that thing when you’re nervous. Your shoulders get tight.” Her fingers brushed the top of my arm. “Like this.”

I swallowed. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re spiraling. And for what?” she said, sitting back, picking up a fry like we were talking about the weather. “You made one bad decision.”

“You mean sleeping with your boyfriend?”

Her brows lifted. “Ex-ish. On-again-off-again. Technicality territory. And don’t forget the part where I’m not mad about it.”

“Yeah, I still don’t get that part.”

She tilted her head, eyes glittering. “That’s because you keep thinking in black and white. But people… we’re messy. And maybe I like messy.”

Her voice was soft, but her meaning hit sharp. She reached for my hand — just like that, like it was natural — and started tracing lazy circles over my knuckles with her thumb. It was… grounding and electric all at once. I stared at her, a thousand questions racing through me, none of them landing.

“I like you,” she said. “You know that, right?”

I nodded, because my voice had stopped working.

“And maybe this whole thing isn’t about me and Lando,” she added, eyes locked with mine. “Maybe it’s always been about you.”

I exhaled, shaky. She smiled again — that slow, dangerous kind of smile that made it very clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Come out with me tonight,” she said, casually, like it wasn’t a dare. “Just us. No cameras. No pressure. Just… me and you.”

And the way she looked at me — confident, knowing, patient — it made something inside me unravel.

“Okay,” I said, barely above a whisper.

She squeezed my hand. “Good girl.”

And just like that, I was spiraling again — but for an entirely different reason.

—

By the time I made it to the bar, my heart was already pounding. She was waiting for me near the back, in some dimly lit corner of the rooftop lounge. Black dress. Slicked-back hair. That familiar smile like she’d been watching me from the second I walked in.

“Hi, pretty girl,” she said as I slid into the seat next to her.

“Hi.”

She handed me a drink — something pink, bubbly, a little too sweet.

“Drink. Relax. You’ve been thinking too hard since Wednesday.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

We clinked glasses. She kept looking at me over the rim of hers like she could see every nerve firing inside my brain. And somehow, that didn’t scare me as much as it should’ve. We talked. Laughed. Shared fries and made fun of people’s shoes. It felt good. Too good, almost — too easy, too safe, like forgetting how complicated this all really was. But every time our knees brushed under the table, or our fingers touched reaching for the same thing, something tugged at me. Something warm. Something dangerous.

“Do you remember Milan?” she asked suddenly, swirling her straw in her drink.

I blinked. “Which part?”

“That night we stayed in, ordered pizza, and danced around in that ugly hotel robe you stole?”

I laughed. “It wasn’t ugly. It was iconic.”

“You wore it like a runway piece. Of course you did.” Her gaze dropped to my lips for just a second. “I wanted to kiss you that night.”

The air left my lungs. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, because I didn’t know what I was about to say — or whether I should say anything at all.

She leaned closer, her voice low. “Did you want me to?”

I couldn’t lie. Not to her. Not now.

“…Yeah,” I whispered. “I think I did.”

Her eyes softened. She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, her fingers brushing along my cheek. The city lights flickered around us, but everything else faded. She didn’t rush. She gave me space — the kind that feels like a question. And when I didn’t pull back… she kissed me. Soft at first. Intentional. Her lips warm, familiar, curious. Like she was asking permission even now — and I gave it to her without hesitation. The kiss deepened, just enough to make my fingers curl into the fabric of her dress. Just enough to feel it — not lust, not confusion, but something slower. Heavier. Real. When she pulled away, her forehead rested gently against mine.

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up,” she whispered.

“I think I just did.”

She smiled, her thumb stroking my jaw. “Good. Because I’m not sharing you tonight.”

And for once — for the first time in days — my heart didn’t panic. It fluttered.

—

third person pov

Magui was already in his kitchen when he walked out, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, his hoodie hanging off one shoulder, and she was drinking his almond milk straight from the carton like she owned the place. She did that sometimes. Acted like the apartment was hers. Acted like he was.

"Morning," he mumbled.

"You’re out of coffee pods. Again."

He blinked at her. “Did you break in?”

“Spare key,” she said sweetly, setting the carton down. “And a very compelling reason.”

He raised a brow, stepping around her to pour a glass of water. “Let me guess. This has something to do with YN.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just gave him a look — the kind that meant yes, obviously and don’t play dumb, Norris.

Lando leaned back against the counter, glass in hand. “You kissed her, didn’t you?”

Magui tilted her head. “She kissed me back.”

That made his chest tighten. Not with jealousy — something softer. Something almost excited.

“Is she freaking out?” he asked.

“A little,” Magui admitted, walking toward him. “But not in a bad way. She’s thinking. Feeling. I can see it on her. She’s not confused about what she wants, just scared to admit she wants both.”

Lando smirked. “She’s not the only one who should be scared.”

Magui leaned against the counter beside him, shoulder brushing his. “We’re not dangerous, Lando. We’re just honest. For once.”

He looked down at her. “You think she’d go for it? Us. Together.”

Magui nodded without hesitation. “I think she already is. She just doesn’t know how to name it yet.”

He was quiet for a moment, replaying every second of that night with YN. The way she kissed like she didn’t know how to stop. The way she looked at him like she wanted something more, even if she didn’t dare ask for it. And now… she was looking at Magui the same way.

“We can’t push her,” he said carefully. “She’ll bolt.”

Magui smiled, slow and sharp. “Who said anything about pushing?”

Lando looked at her — her confidence, her calm, her certainty. The way she always made chaos feel like a controlled burn. He exhaled slowly.

“So what’s the plan then?”

She grinned. “We love her. Loudly. Softly. Patiently.”

“And if she runs?”

Magui shrugged. “We follow.”

She picked up her phone, tapping out a message with a knowing glint in her eye. “Let her think she’s in control.”

Lando raised a brow. “You’re scary.”

Magui winked. “You love it.”

Magui was already typing out a text to YN.

Drinks tonight? Our place? Bring your pretty mouth and better excuses this time. x

YN’s name lit up below it, typing. Lando didn’t have to read the reply to know she’d say yes. And this time, they wouldn’t let her slip away.

—

your pov

I wasn’t sure why I said yes. Maybe because I didn’t know how to say no. Maybe because a part of me wanted to test what the hell this even was. Or maybe… because deep down, I wanted it. Them. Both of them. I told myself it was just drinks. A casual hang. Something chill. But nothing about stepping into that apartment felt casual.

Lando opened the door with a smirk that was entirely too smug for someone wearing sweatpants and a tight black tee that should’ve been illegal.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, eyes doing a slow sweep of me like I was already undone. “You came.”

“Yeah, well… free alcohol is hard to turn down.”

He chuckled and stepped aside to let me in. The place smelled like something warm and expensive — wood, vanilla, him. The lights were low, music playing faintly from the speakers. Nothing too loud. Nothing that could distract from the fact that he was the only one here.

I glanced around. “Magui not here yet?”

“She’s… around,” he said cryptically. “She’ll be out soon.”

I frowned, but before I could question it, he handed me a glass. Something chilled. Bubbly. Of course.

He gestured toward the couch. “Sit with me.”

So I did. We sat close — not touching, but too near to pretend the tension wasn’t already thick in the air. His knee brushed mine when he shifted. His gaze kept dropping to my lips every time I sipped from my glass.

“You look good,” he said after a beat.

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything. Just telling the truth.”

I looked away, suddenly very aware of how warm my skin felt.

“You’ve been different lately,” he added, softer now. “Since… that night.”

“You mean the night we shouldn’t talk about?”

He tilted his head. “You regret it?”

I hesitated. Too long.

“I regret not knowing what it meant,” I admitted.

His eyes darkened, but there was something gentle behind it. “What if it didn’t have to mean one thing? What if it could mean something new?”

I swallowed, unsure what to say — and then I heard her voice.

“Stop hogging her, baby.”

I turned. Magui leaned against the hallway doorframe in a short silk robe and nothing underneath if my eyes were telling the truth. Her hair was loose, her makeup soft, but her smile was all bite. My heart skipped. She walked toward us slowly, like she had all the time in the world. Like this was normal. Like I was hers.

She dropped onto the couch on my other side, tucking herself in close so her thigh pressed against mine. Lando was already on the other side of me, his arm draped along the back of the couch. I was boxed in — not by force. By gravity. Magui reached for my hand, traced my knuckles like she had at lunch, and looked at me like she already knew how this ended.

“We want you,” she said simply. “No games. No secrets. No ‘what are we.’ Just truth.”

Lando leaned in closer, lips ghosting the curve of my shoulder. “Only if you want us too.”

The air felt electric. Like I’d been caught in the eye of a storm I didn’t even realize I walked into. Their hands were soft. Their eyes held no pressure — only promise. And for the first time since all of this started, I didn’t feel guilty. I felt wanted. I set my glass down slowly, heart racing.

And whispered, “Then show me.”

I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t need to.

Magui’s lips were on mine before I could take another breath — soft and certain, like she’d been waiting for that moment since the very first time we locked eyes. Her fingers slid up my neck, threading into my hair, pulling me closer like she wanted to taste every part of my hesitation and replace it with her own rhythm.

Lando’s hand brushed my thigh, grounding me. The contrast between them was dizzying — her kiss was honey and heat, while his touch was fire and restraint. He leaned in behind me, his mouth at my ear.

“Tell us if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “We’ll stop whenever you want.”

But I didn’t want to stop. I wanted more. I turned, catching Lando’s mouth with mine, my fingers clutching the front of his shirt. His kiss was hungrier — less patient than Magui’s, like he’d already had me once and had been thinking about it every night since. When Magui’s lips found the edge of my jaw, trailing kisses down to my throat, I let out a quiet sound I couldn’t hold back.

Their hands moved in tandem — hers on my waist, sliding beneath my top, and his slipping under the hem of my skirt, fingertips tracing just enough to make me shiver. I was caught between them, quite literally — all breath and skin and want. Every shift brought a new sensation: Lando’s lips hot on my collarbone, Magui’s nails grazing down my side, the press of their bodies against mine like they were rewriting me together.

“You’re a little excited,” Magui whispered, but she was smiling — not teasing, not cruel. “You feel everything, don’t you?”

I nodded, eyes fluttering shut as her hand slipped beneath my bra, cupping me in a way that made my breath hitch. Lando was behind me now, kissing the curve of my shoulder, sliding the straps of my top down with maddening control.

“Let us take care of you,” he said against my skin. “Let us have you.”

And I let them. They undressed me like they’d done it before — like they’d thought about this, dreamed about it. Every layer peeled away carefully. No rush. No shame. Just reverence. Magui laid me back on the couch, her mouth returning to mine while Lando’s hands parted my thighs, slow and sure. He kissed up the inside, murmuring things I couldn’t quite catch — words that vibrated against my skin and made my stomach clench. And when Magui trailed kisses down my chest, Lando’s mouth replaced her lips on mine, and I felt the rhythm of both of them, their energy folding over me, touching everywhere at once — I gave in.

To the sensation. To the safety. To them.

Hands and mouths, warmth and wetness, soft gasps and low groans — it all blurred together in a haze of pleasure and trust. Every time I cried out, Magui kissed it from my lips. Every time I arched, Lando held me steady. I wasn’t just wanted — I was worshipped. And when they finally brought me over the edge, both of them watching, touching, kissing, whispering my name like it was something holy — I realized this wasn’t about chaos or confusion anymore. It was about belonging. They didn’t just seduce me. They claimed me. Together.

—

I woke up warm. Not just from the sunlight slipping through half-drawn curtains or the lingering heat between my thighs, but from the weight of them — Magui curled against my back, Lando draped over my front, his arm looped around my waist like he wasn’t letting go anytime soon. For a moment, I didn’t move.

I just breathed. Let myself exist in the stillness of it. The calm after the storm. My skin still tingled, my lips were swollen, and my body ached in that delicious, heavy way that only came after being touched exactly how you needed.

Magui stirred behind me first, her nose brushing against the back of my neck.

“Mmm… you’re awake,” she murmured, her voice husky and warm with sleep.

I smiled into the pillow. “Barely.”

Lando made a soft sound of protest from the other side of me and nuzzled closer, his arm tightening around my waist. “Too early,” he mumbled. “Five more years.”

Magui giggled, her hand slipping up to rest gently over my heart. “You’re such a baby.”

“You wore me out,” he shot back, voice still heavy with sleep, but amused.

“You’re welcome,” I muttered, which earned a soft hum of approval from both of them.

We laid there for a while, tangled together in a silence that wasn’t awkward. It was… easy. Like we were exactly where we were supposed to be. It should’ve felt confusing. Maybe even wrong. Instead, it felt like peace.

Eventually, I turned onto my back, both of them shifting with me like we were connected by something invisible. Magui propped her head on her hand, looking down at me with that slow, unreadable smile of hers.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

I nodded, eyes flicking between them. “Yeah. Actually… I think I am.”

Lando stretched, looking far too pleased with himself for someone whose curls were a complete mess. “Told you we’d take care of you.”

“You also told me you wouldn’t fall asleep immediately after,” I teased.

“That’s slander.”

Magui laughed and leaned down, pressing the gentlest kiss to my shoulder. “We’re serious, you know.”

I looked up at her. “About…?”

“You,” she said. “Us.”

Lando’s fingers found mine beneath the sheets. “Only if you want it.”

I swallowed, staring at the ceiling for a moment — then at them. Their eyes, still soft. Their hands, still on me like I was something worth holding onto.

“I don’t know what this is,” I said honestly. “Or what it means yet.”

Magui nodded, unbothered. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Lando pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. “We’re not going anywhere.”

—

yn_ln

liked by magui_corceiro, lando, alexandrasaintmleux and 11,007,007 others.

yn_ln : no comment. just my recent chaos.

tagged : lando and magui_corceiro

—

view 777,213 other comments.

username00 : um are we ignoring the literal kiss with her and magui???

↳ username0 : i feel like they r just close like that. what we really are ignoring is lando making the dump and the last photo...that is clearly A MANS hand.

carlossainz55 : no entiendo nada pero me encanta

liked by yn_ln

↳ carlossainz55 : also choosing to ignore the fact that you are a barcelona fan 🤮

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↳ yn_ln : visca el barçaaaaaaaaaa baybeeeeeee

liked by carlossainz55

username1 : this post has LORE and I’m here to decode it 🔍

magui_corceiro : your chaos is my favorite kind. 💋

liked by yn_ln

↳ yn_ln : need another kiss rn

liked by magui_corceiro

↳ magui_corceiro : on my way babes

↳ lando : ME TOOOOO WAIT FOR ME

liked by magui_corceiro and yn_ln

↳ username5 : officially so fucking confused

↳ alex_albon : get on the train. i've been confused for weeks and i know these people.

liked by lando, yn_ln and magui_corceiro

—

Magui and I boarded first, sunglasses on, coffee cups in hand, sliding into the plush cream leather seats like we did every time. She claimed the window seat immediately, like always. I stretched out beside her, barefoot already, and pulled a blanket over both our laps.

Lando arrived five minutes late, hoodie up, sleep in his eyes, and dragging a backpack he hadn’t even bothered to zip. He dropped into the seat across from us with a groan and zero grace.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered, muffled into the seat cushion.

“You begged to come with us,” Magui said, sipping her drink. “Don’t act like a hostage.”

“You’re both insufferable,” he mumbled.

“You’re lucky we let you sit near us,” I added sweetly.

He cracked one eye open and gave me a lazy smile. “You wouldn’t survive five minutes without me.”

“Is that a challenge?” Magui quipped, raising a brow.

Lando rolled his eyes, but didn’t move — just kicked his feet up, stretched his legs across the aisle, and left one hand lazily draped over the armrest… which “just happened” to brush against my leg.

The hum of the engines and soft clink of glassware blended into that peaceful kind of silence only private flights could give you — no strangers, no press, no noise except the occasional comment from Magui when she found something ridiculous on Pinterest.

“You two are freakishly coordinated,” Lando said at one point, glancing at our matching claw clips and identical socks. “It’s like watching a cult.”

“They’re bows,” Magui said without looking up. “And you’re just mad you can’t pull them off.”

“You’re terrifying,” he replied, sipping his orange juice. “Both of you.”

Magui reached across me to tug on his hoodie string. “Jealous you weren’t invited to the slumber party.”

“I was invited,” he said, smirking now. “I’m the emotional support.”

I grinned. “You’re just here for the snacks.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who ate three croissants before takeoff.”

“Self-care,” I said. “Don’t be a hater.”

Magui leaned her head on my shoulder and whispered, “He’s pouting. It’s kind of hot.”

Lando groaned. “I swear, one day I’m gonna walk off this jet mid-air.”

“Do a flip,” I whispered back.

We all fell asleep eventually — the kind of hazy, luxurious nap only a jet could grant you. Magui had her head in my lap, her hand loosely around my wrist. Lando had stretched out across two seats, one leg hanging off, one hand still brushing my ankle like even in his sleep he couldn’t help it. I woke up first. The cabin was warm and quiet, lit only by the afternoon sun pouring through the windows. I reached for my phone and opened my camera roll — scrolled through blurry selfies, Magui’s bare shoulder under hotel sheets, Lando kissing my cheek in a moment I didn’t even remember capturing. One photo stopped me: the three of us tangled on the bed, laughing, undone, us. I saved it to my favorites.

Lando stirred across from me, eyes half-lidded, voice thick with sleep. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “Just thinking.”

He smiled, slow and sleepy. “Still weird?”

I looked down at Magui’s face, peaceful in sleep, curled into me like she belonged there. My fingers grazed the side of her arm.

“No,” I said. “Not weird at all.”

He nodded like he already knew.

Then he muttered, “Still want snacks though.”

And just like that, we were back to normal — whatever our version of that was now.

—

The room was quiet, warm, filled with the kind of stillness that only happens when you’ve run out of words — not because there’s nothing to say, but because nothing needs to be said. Magui sat at the edge of the bed, brushing out her damp hair in one of Lando’s oversized t-shirts, legs bare, skin glowing from her evening skincare routine. Lando was on the couch by the window, hoodie pulled over his curls, legs stretched out, staring out over the lights of the city below like he was trying to slow the world down before race day hit him full force. I stood somewhere in the middle — between them, between sleep and thought, between this is happening and this is mine.

“You’re pacing,” Magui said softly, not looking up.

“I’m thinking,” I replied.

Lando didn’t move from the window, but I saw his smirk in the reflection. “Same thing, if you’re her.”

I rolled my eyes, finally making my way toward the bed. Magui reached for me instantly, like she was waiting. Her fingers curled around my wrist, pulling me down beside her, one leg draping lazily over mine.

“You’re allowed to just be,” she murmured.

“Hard habit to break.”

Lando joined us a minute later, dropping beside me with a sigh that sounded more like relief than exhaustion. He leaned his head on my shoulder, his hand reaching for Magui’s without a word. She laced her fingers through his, like they’d done it a thousand times. Like this had always been the plan.

“Big day tomorrow,” I said, even though none of us really needed to hear it aloud.

He hummed. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got my good luck charm.”

I raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

He looked up at me. Then at Magui. “Both of them.”

Something soft cracked open in my chest. Magui leaned in first, pressing a gentle kiss to my shoulder. Lando followed, brushing his lips just under my jaw — not rushed, not heated, just there. Warm and steady. Real. The three of us shifted until we were lying back on the bed, limbs overlapping, tangled in sheets and skin and something too new to name but too certain to ignore. Magui’s head rested over my heart. Lando’s arm wrapped around my waist, thumb tracing lazy patterns into my ribs. I stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of them both and the strange lightness they brought with them.

“I still don’t know what this is,” I whispered.

Lando kissed my collarbone. “It’s whatever we want it to be.”

“No rules,” Magui added sleepily, “just honesty.”

“And lots of kisses,” Lando said. “That’s non-negotiable.”

I laughed — a small, genuine sound that only came out when I felt safe.

Magui looked up at me, her lashes fluttering. “You feel safe now?”

I nodded, threading my fingers through her hair. “I think I’ve never felt safer.”

Lando kissed the top of my head. “Then we’re doing something right.”

We fell asleep like that — wrapped up in each other, quiet and full and whole in a way I hadn’t known I was missing until they gave it to me. And for the first time before a race weekend… I didn’t feel like I was waiting for something to fall apart. I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

—

f1gossipgirls

4,001,005 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Double Trouble? YN and Magui Corceiro Seen in the Paddock — Together — Supporting Lando Norris. If you thought one blonde beauty in the paddock was enough to raise eyebrows, try two. Spanish Supermodel YN and Portuguese starlet Magui Corceiro were both spotted at the Grand Prix this weekend — and let’s just say, the energy was not subtle. Fans captured photos of the two women chatting and laughing with Lando Norris’ mum, hinting at a comfort level that goes way beyond casual friends or supportive exes.

Even more interesting? Sources say YN was seen sharing a quick kiss with Norris just before he stepped into the garage — while Magui stood nearby, smiling like she was in on the secret. The trio haven’t commented on the growing speculation about their relationship dynamic, but between matching outfits, late-night Instagram stories, and now a cozy chat with Lando’s mother, the rumors practically write themselves. No confirmation yet — but the paddock tension? It’s giving poly-coded. Stay tuned.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

It started with a hand on my back. Light. Barely there. But unmistakably his. Lando didn’t say anything at first. Just stood behind me while I talked to one of the PR girls I’d met a few races ago, his hand grazing my lower back like a casual habit. Like he’d done it a hundred times. Like it didn’t make my entire body burn. Magui was a few feet away, talking animatedly to one of the McLaren engineers like she owned the place — laughing, gesturing, a vision in low-rise jeans and a vintage racing jacket that I swore she stole from Lando’s closet. She caught my eye mid-sentence. Winked. I nearly choked on my water.

People didn’t really question why I was here anymore. I was “friends with the team.” A face they’d gotten used to. But there was something different now. The way I moved between them — between him and her. The way Lando didn’t flinch when his hand slipped around my waist in front of the crew. The way Magui tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear while we waited by the garage, like it was just something she did. It all felt natural. Dangerous. Beautiful.

I stood next to Magui during quali, both of us in sunglasses and team colors, and didn’t miss the subtle glances from the photographers — the way lenses lingered, not quite sure what they were catching. Lando walked past at one point, suit half on, helmet in hand. He slowed just enough to tap my waist and press a kiss to my temple.

“You good?” he murmured.

“Always,” I whispered back.

He smiled, then turned to Magui. “You behaving?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, grinning.

He jogged off and left us both standing there, half-laughing and trying not to look too pleased with ourselves. Later, we found ourselves in hospitality, tucked in a quiet corner. Magui sat with her legs thrown over mine, her fingers brushing patterns into my knee while I scrolled through photos from the day. Lando slid into the booth beside us like he’d been summoned.

“Tired?” he asked, nudging his thigh against mine.

I nodded. “You race. I survive the chaos you cause.”

He smirked. “Same thing.”

Someone across the room was definitely taking pictures. I could feel it. But neither of them seemed to care. And somehow, for once, neither did I. Because this was ours. And whether the world knew or not…I did.

—

It was too hot to be drinking tea, but Lando’s mum had insisted — and honestly, when Cisca offered something, you didn’t say no. We were at the back of the McLaren hospitality unit, tucked away in a little lounge area with floral mugs, little lemon biscuits, and an aggressive air conditioning unit humming above us.

Magui was cross-legged beside me, one arm draped lazily over the back of the cushioned bench, her head tilted to watch Cisca with that familiar, amused fondness she reserved for only a handful of people. I stirred my tea, more for something to do with my hands than anything.

Cisca smiled at us both over the rim of her cup. “You girls travel more than he does. It’s impressive.”

Magui grinned. “We’re emotional support. Jet-lagged, over-caffeinated support.”

Cisca laughed — that kind of low, knowing laugh that made you feel like you were in on something.

“He’s been different,” she said, not looking at either of us directly. “Happier.”

My heart flipped. Magui reached for a biscuit, broke it in half, and offered me the bigger piece without thinking. “He’s got a lot to be happy about.”

Cisca gave us both a look — not suspicious, not surprised. Just observant. The way mothers are. And then, after a quiet beat: “I don’t need to ask questions,” she said, taking another sip. “I’ve been around long enough to know love when I see it.”

I blinked. My fingers tightened around the mug. Magui, as always, recovered first. “Is this the part where you say you’ll kill us if we break his heart?”

Cisca shook her head, smiling. “No, darling. This is the part where I say thank you — for looking after him. And each other.”

Something cracked open in my chest. All the nerves, all the quiet what-ifs I hadn’t even let myself voice, slipped a little further away. Because it wasn’t just approval. It was acceptance. Magui bumped her knee against mine under the table, and I felt her fingers brush mine softly, like she was checking if I was okay. I didn’t say anything. But I smiled — and squeezed back. And maybe for the first time in this whole strange, beautiful mess of a relationship… I let myself believe it was real.

—

lando

liked by yn_ln, magui_corceiro, carlossainz55 and 15,001,004 others.

lando : B-O-A-F. BOAF? BOAF.

love my girls

tagged : yn_ln and magui_corceiro

—

view 778,004 other comments.

username00 : we need a lando masterclass bc how did he pull them both????

↳ lando : my big d-

↳ yn_ln : what can i say? he is a charmer.

liked by lando and magui_corceiro

carlossainz55 : this is quite literally the most lando way to hard launch.

liked by lando, yn_ln and magui_corceiro

danielricciardo : i leave and suddenly you know how to talk to girls.

liked by lando, yn_ln and magui_corceiro

↳ lando : i know how to do more than talk

liked by danielricciardo

↳ yn_ln : lando.

liked by lando and danielricciardo

↳ lando : sorry mom- mommy.

liked by yn_ln and magui_corceiro

oscarpiastri : the math still is not mathing on how you got even one of them let alone the both of them but i am...happy for you. slightly impressed even.

liked by lando, yn_ln and magui_corceiro

—

[doinkbunny]

✧₊⁺ THE RED MEANS I LOVE YOU 𝜗𝜚

𑁯 Yandere ENA admiring reader.

ᵎᵎ.˖ꪆ𖠵꒷ Pst! Cherry says: In which you ramble like a kid to ena but she's too distracted admiring to pay attention. This fic was fueled by my absolute adoration with this silly girl, i need her so baddd so i might make another fic like this if this gets enough attention. (There's mlp reference in this btw.)

.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ Warnings: Obsession (duh), possessiveness, Meanie is almost cracking while salesman is on her last thread.

𝜗𝜚 Type: Fluff, romantic, one shot.

｡𖦹°‧ Song: Lovers rock.

"Beautiful, so beautiful," she felt so fuzzy anytime she looked or talked to you.

That's one of the many, many things you were doing to her, and there are so many reasons why. She loved the way your lips moved, the way you'd subtly increase the intensity of your gesticulation whenever you got too excited talking, and even when you would accidentally choke over your own words.

She was head over heels for you. It was quite the exquisite scenario, even: someone making the unforgivable and chaotic ENA grow a feeling or two. And obliviously.

You were sat with ENA near the lake, your hands moving random circles and squares in the air, your feet touching the water subtly with some of your hand movements while you intensely ranted to her, your excited tone never wavering.

And so did Ena's continuous admiration.

As you kept going with your explanation of some type of pony cartoon, Ena couldn't help but admire the way you looked so excited to talk to her, of all people. Most people would have distanced themselves once they heard the rumors about Ena, but you? No, you were different.

And maybe that's why she's so hooked, because you treated her like a human, something visible and with feelings—the bare minimum.

And only God knows how that made her feel good.

You made her feel something she'd never felt before so spontaneously, it was almost soul-bonding, and that's when she immediately knew you two needed to stay close.

To her luck, you actually enjoyed her presence and would often seek it more than she wished for, consequently making her need to see you satiated. That was good.

What was bad, though, were the times she'd have to stay away from you—unwillingly, making her miss you almost immediately.

These times would come so suddenly, and not only because of her stupid jobs from her deplorable job. Sometimes duty calls for you, and then, she'd be forced to just let you go.

While her salesman side was good at hiding her frustration, Meanie was almost combusting from the inside out, forcing Salesman to take control in order to avoid any... mistakes, letting you go so easily but hesitantly.

And once you're gone? That disgusting sensation of longing to feel you once again would fill her quite quickly; that would make any hidden frustration pop out like a balloon under any slight pressure.

Ena can't handle it—she wants you so badly. Your detailed and well-rendered polygons against her badly loaded ones makes her feel so less nauseous.

Gosh, she wishes she could just—

"Ena?" A voice calls out, her name catching the desired attention; hers, shutting down the continuation of her previous thought quickly, her head jerking slightly from on top of her palm that was supporting it before, her eyes landing on the source that called her name.

You.

Her signature smile popped on her face rapidly as once her attention was back to the world outside her thoughts, erasing any trace of possible tension.

"I'm sorry, my dear, I've gotten quite distracted by my own brain. What was the topic of the conversation, again?"

"Oh, nothing, just a silly show about ponies and friendship... What were you thinking about, anyways? You looked pretty deep in thought."

You curiously and somewhat worriedly asked, gaining a different type of endearing smile, a little short laugh, and a light pat on your head from Ena, her eyes closing ever so slightly with the smiling.

"I can assure you it's nothing but some silly reflections. Don't worry your pretty little head."

Word Count: 382

[softtdaisy]

do they know about us / Aaron Hotchner

summary. The five times the team almost learned about Hotch dating the babysitter, the one time they did.

words count. 6 027

what to expect. honestly pure fluff, hotch is a teen in love with his girlfriend, a little angst at the end but nothing too serious

a/n. this is officially the longest fic I have ever written here and I'm really happy about sharing it with you, I couldn't say goodbye to hotch and the babysitter so here it is 🥹 and here is the first one about them in case you want to read it

criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

1. The message

After Hotch started dating you, he realized how hard it was to keep something private with the team. Every single thing seemed suspicious to him.

Speaking about the babysitter felt weird now. He had to think about the words he used to talk about you. To not say too much but not speak less either, so the team won’t ask questions. He also realized he used a different tone to speak about you now. So he tried to be more careful when you were in the conversation.

But sometimes, he couldn’t avoid the signs that something different was going on.

Emily was the first one to notice it. They were coming back from a case, still on the jet, when he got a text from you. More exactly, pictures of you and Jack.

You brought him to a Mardi Gras event at the local library. And if Hotch remembered that Jack had to be dressed up, his son never wanted to tell him the costume. He kept saying it would be a surprise. Sadly, Hotch couldn’t be there to see it, but you promised to send pictures through the day. And so he did receive them during the flight. Pictures of Jack and you dressed as FBI agents. 

“Jack said we only miss our chief to be the greatest team.”

“You’re the chief, btw.”

“But I told him we did a great job together without you; we don’t need a chief.”

He laughed at your pun, which made Emily look up in confusion. Most of the team was sleeping or doing something else; she was the only one that noticed the change in Hotch's behavior. Emily knew her chief wasn’t the type to watch silly videos on his phone. “So what is making you so happy?” he asked.

And for a second, Hotch considered lying. He loved the idea of keeping this moment for himself. Like a kind of bubble only he could enjoy. 

Yet, his phone was already in Emily’s hand to see the picture before he could change his mind and find an excuse. 

He wasn’t surprised to see a smile grow on her face; you two looked absolutely adorable. If you tried to keep a straight face, Jack was all smiles, too proud to dress as his dad. Hotch didn’t know how since he couldn’t remember showing you his badge, but you even managed to create one similar for Jack. The time you were taking to make everything for his son was warming his heart. 

But then he noticed a sudden change in her expression. And heard her laugh. “Lucky you,” she teased him, handing him back his phone. Right away, he started questioning the meaning of it. He guessed it has something to do with you—but what? Was it because you were taking care of Jack so dearly? Because you were a very great babysitter? Was it about your look, your nice behavior?

There were so many things to be lucky for about you, and he couldn’t put his finger on the specific one Emily saw. So Hotch stayed confused. At least, until he saw the last text you sent him a few seconds ago.

“It’s a joke; please come home to us safely; we miss you xx.”

He could feel the heat in his cheeks, blushing. And nothing could have prevented the smile growing on his lips when he read it. This lasted for a second before he built his stoic figure back. 

But it was too late. Emily saw his reaction. Out of respect, she moved and closed her eyes to give him privacy. She still heard the way his fingers were tapping a text quickly, like a teenager trying to hide something from his parents.

“I miss you too.”

2. The blunder

“He looks happier.” Hotch heard JJ say next to him.

Rossi had invited everyone to his mansion after another rough case. They all clearly needed a moment to put work aside and enjoy each other's company. Rossi had insisted on making it a family moment, so they all brought their partners and kids. Well, Hotch brought Jack with him. 

He considered inviting you too; he even talked about it with you after he came back from Indiana with the offer. 

“It’s not that I don’t want Aaron; let’s agree on that.” you started your argument with. You were still in bed, your hand running through his chest with tenderness. You might have added more to make sure he knew it wasn’t a question of feelings or shame about your relationship. “But it might be confusing for them that you brought the babysitter, but she’s not the babysitter, she’s your girlfriend, see what I mean? They have all seen me taking care of Jack and might expect me to do the same that night. And I would probably feel obligated to do it too, because I’m not part of your team.”

When you looked up, you saw that Hotch was looking at you, concentrating on your words. But the way his hand was still brushing your hair softly, you knew he wasn’t mad about what you were saying.

“And you would probably feel a little lost on how to act with me, with them, and I don’t want that for you.” you added. You moved a little so you could rest against him, your chin on his chest. “You’re not mad?”

“Never,” he replied with the softest smile.

And at the dinner, Hotch was impressed by how you perfectly pointed out the situation. It was obvious now that everything you said would have happened, even if he tried to work against it. There was always someone playing with Jack and Henry—this time being Spencer—and it would have been you most of the time if you were here.

He didn’t realize immediately that JJ had joined him in the contemplation of the two kids playing. Not until now. He turned around, asking for precision by simply frowning. “Jack,” she said. “He looks happier these days.”

Hotch couldn’t deny it. If Jack had always been a happy kid, a pure sunshine in his life, he noticed a change in his behavior these past months. He seemed even more open, his laugh always echoing in the house. 

The years following Haley’s disappearance haven’t been easy, neither for Hotch nor for Jack. And with the amount of effort he was putting in to make his son feel better, he knew he didn’t have all the cards to fulfill his mom’s absence. 

And not that Hotch ever thought you could replace Haley. It had never been the topic, either before or even now that you started dating. Haley would always be his only mother, and Hotch would make sure to keep her memory alive as long as he was on Earth.

Yet, he wouldn’t be honest if he said you didn’t have a great effect on Jack. You were treating Jack as a friend and taking care of him like he was your own child. He could never be thankful enough for your presence in their life.

Hotch bit his tongue, almost calling you by your name. “His babysitter does a very great job with him.” 

“I should consider hiring her too.” JJ said, which made Hotch choke on his drink. Hopefully, the boys running to them made that moment go unnoticed.

“What are you talking about, Mommy?” Henry asked when JJ took him in her arms. Hotch loved the way she said it was about you, like you were some magical creature. He felt that way about you too.

He went straight back to reality when he heard Jack ask, “Is she sleeping at home tonight? I love when she does!” He sounded genuinely happy and excited at the idea of having you around. Which was reassuring, in some way. But Hotch noticed JJ's reaction in the corner of his eyes. How she was pinching her lips to not laugh or make any remark. 

He kneeled in front of his son, putting a hand on his shoulder nicely. “I don’t think so, buddy.” When Jack pouted, Hotch looked around even if it was already too late to change what JJ had heard. “But we can call her tomorrow if you want.” More than the idea of asking for the babysitter when he wasn’t working, tomorrow was Sunday. You weren’t supposed to be working. JJ wasn’t an idiot; she knew that too.

The implication being that it was too big to be ignored. Yet, she still decided to act like nothing happened to not embarrass Hotch even more. Soon, the subject changed, and you weren’t part of any conversation.

But when they arrived at Hotch’s place after the dinner, Jack’s wish happened. You were sitting in the corridor, beside the door. Waiting with your phone in hand. 

“You realized you could have waited inside?” He asked in a low voice once he moved closer to you.

You looked up to him and melted at the view of him carrying Jack in his arms so easily. The boy was asleep against him, his little face buried in Hotch’s neck. You couldn’t resist taking his little hand and squeezing it softly once you got up. There was something so familiar in being welcomed by this view. By these men. Your men.

“I didn’t want to show up uninvited,” you whispered, still brushing Jack’s hand while looking up at your boyfriend.

Hotch gave you a kiss on the forehead. Something he got used to doing with you, especially when Jack was around. Even if the boy was sleeping, none of you felt comfortable kissing in front of him. “You’re always welcome.”

You followed him inside and were left alone while he went to Jack’s bedroom to put him in bed. You just got the time to get comfortable and sat on the couch when he came back. He put another kiss on your hair before sitting next to you. You didn’t waste another second before cuddling against him. You loved the way his cologne was still captivating after hours. You could stay with your nose buried in his neck all night.

“Jack told JJ that you often sleep here,” he said, running his hand on your lower back. You looked up with confusion and a playful smile. He then told you how much he wanted you to be here and how happy he would be tomorrow morning to see you.

“I’m glad to be there with you too.” your smile never left your lips, not when you moved to kiss Hotch.

A kiss he used to show you how happy he was that you were.

3. The stains

The whole morning has been just a big race against time for Hotch.

You went on a date last night in a very classy restaurant. One of the few real dates you got to do since you started dating. Not that any of you minded; spending time with each other was already a perfect date. 

This one was really special. It reminded you that sure, Hotch was older than you, but he had the manners and the ways that no other men ever had with you. Holding every door for you, pulling the chair at the restaurant, showing affection without being too possessive, and always making sure you were the only thing in his mind the whole night.

If he had to bring you home after it, you had classes very early the next morning; things got hot in his car. It had been a long time since Hotch let his desire speak for him outside his very private apartment. But locked in the car with you looking this beautiful, he couldn’t resist it. 

When he went to sleep, you were still all he could think about. The way your hand went down his chest to his crotch, making him feel good while your lips couldn’t leave his neck. He couldn’t even remember if he did much for you; all he knew was that you put him first. And he couldn’t thank you enough for that.

But it was only 5 am when his phone rang, a new case for the team. 

Hotch had too much to think about. Getting dressed. Taking his travel bag. Calling Jessica to ask her to keep Jack while he was away and preparing stuff she could grab for his son during the day. Making sure everything was safe at his place. Telling you that he was leaving and you didn’t have to take care of Jack. Driving safely, too. 

When he arrived in the office, everybody but Derek was there. “So what do we have?” Hotch asked, as he sat in the same chair; he felt like he left only hours ago.

But nobody answered. Actually, they were all looking at him with a mix of surprised and amused expressions. Something he didn’t understand until the missing member entered the room.

“Sorry, I had a hard time leaving my girl behind.” Derek with a flirty tone, which made Emily roll her eyes. But before he sat, he landed his eyes on Hotch and let out a laugh. “Apparently I’m not the only one,” he added, pointing to his chief.

Hotch looked down, trying to understand the private joke he was the center of. And then he saw it. 

The red lipstick stains on his very white collar.

In the haste, he grabbed the shirt he had last night with you. And he for sure missed the marks you let on him. Not that he was surprised about them; he could perfectly remember how you couldn’t stop kissing him in the car. 

Actually, he even started blushing at the thought of the little biting mark he probably still had on his neck. He had to fight hard against the need to put a hand on his skin to feel it. He couldn’t even remember having a hickey when he was younger, and certainly not that type of mark. But apparently there was no age to have a first time. 

He cleared his throat and put both his hands on the table, acting like this was just a normal thing to see. “So what do we have?” he repeated, once again.

He saw the different expressions on each member of the team: the pride on Rossi’s face, Emily and Derek being amused, Spencer trying to follow the whole conversation, and the understanding smile on JJ, who probably understood what happened. 

And during the whole brief, all Hotch could think about was changing his shirt before he got on the plane.

And sending you a text to tell you all about it.

4. The phone call

Passing your test successfully was the first sunray of this beautiful day.

Having Hotch come to pick you up at university was the whole sunshine.

You wished there was a way to memorize forever the image of him, standing against his car, in his casual dark blue polo and dark blue jeans, wearing his sunglasses and being on his phone, patiently waiting for you. He looked like some movie star. And proud was a euphemism when you heard some of your classmates wondering who the hot dad was waiting for.

You quickly ran to him, just at the right pace to see the smile growing on his face when he saw you. Once you were close, his hands were soon on your hips to keep you against him. “We did it?” he asked with a proud voice. 

“We fucking nailed it,” you replied, crossing your arms around his neck.

The “good girl” he whispered before kissing you with so much tenderness gave you chills that you didn’t even know could be this big. But mostly prepared you for what was coming.

You spend the whole ride telling him about your day and your exam with his hand firmly on your thigh. Sometimes his fingers would brush it softly; per moment, he would squeeze it, already thinking about all the things he wanted to do to you.

So there was no surprise when you arrived at his place that Hotch would take things in hand. And the only thing on his mind is you. 

He moved to your side of the car to open the door and offered his hand to help you. But soon, the gentleman was out of view.

“Aaron!” you laughed when he put his hands under your thighs to lift you up and held you against him. He made you feel like you were as light as a feather by carrying you around so easily. You loved the cheeky smile on his face when he put a kiss on your lips before walking to his house.

“What if the neighbors see us?” you said, playing with the short in his neck. If you barely see anyone when you come here, and you spend a lot of time in this building, most people still know that you were the babysitter. And that you were clearly younger than Hotch. Not that you cared about people’s opinions, but the man looking at you like his favorite dessert was more concerned about that from what you knew.

“What would they say?” he asked, calling the elevator. Once inside, he started kissing your skin, his face buried in your neck. You loved the feeling of his soft but a little dry lips against your skin; it was a feeling only he could give you. 

“I don’t know that you’re fucking the babysitter?” You replied, but you were containing your moans so hard that you weren’t even sure you spoke clearly. 

Not until he stopped kissing you to look up at you. “Would they be wrong?”

“Aaron Hotchner, I didn’t know you were that type of man,” you replied with a fake shocked look on your face. But the laugh you caused him made you break, because at the end that was all you wanted to see. He is happy and carefree.

The whole journey from the elevator to his place was a distant memory. All you knew was that soon you were sitting on his counter, your legs around his waist. His hands were all over you. 

It amazed you how composed this man was. Because Hotch was losing his mind kissing you again and again but still managed to take off your shirt without missing a single button. And the moment he took to appreciate the view of you, just in your bra, all ready for him. The aroused look he gave you, like you were the most beautiful gift he had ever seen, was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

Yet, the moment soon came to an end. Because of one thing.

His phone rang.

You noticed the hesitation on his face. You even felt it in his kiss, the way he was still tracing down your chest with his lips but was doing it more slowly. And for a second, with your hand still grabbing his hair, you considered letting him continue. F

But you weren’t like that. And neither was he.

This was why you brought yourself closer against him only to grab his phone in his back pocket. “Answer, Aaron,” you whispered, putting a kiss right on the little piece of skin his polo collar was showing.

He ran his tongue through his lips, thinking about it again. It was supposed to be your moment, just you two together at least for the night. But you didn’t give him the choice, finally answering in the last ring before it was too late.

“Someone’s waiting for you,” you said with a soft laugh, to which he gave you a fake mad look but mostly a smirk.

“Aaron?” You heard Rossi say before Hotch brought his phone to his ear. 

His hand was still on your waist, brushing your skin slowly and listening to Rossi’s speech. You maybe had a little too much fun playing with him while he was on the phone. Your foot was brushing along his leg, coming closer and closer to his crotch. He suddenly grabbed your ankle with a warning look. “Stop it,” he whispered. He meant to mouth, but when he heard Rossi asking if he was disturbing something, he realized he hadn’t been so smooth.

You looked at him, fluttering your eyelashes to wait for his answer. You didn’t expect him to say that he was indeed trying to get the babysitter in his bed. But you clearly didn’t expect his answer. 

“No, it’s fine, I… I’m home. Alone. Jack isn’t here; I can come.” His tone was harsh, and you had no idea if he was trying to convince his colleague or punishing you for almost letting him know about you.

You looked away so he couldn’t see the little pain in your face hearing him still not acknowledging you. But his hand moved to your cheek so you would look at him again. You still cuddled against him. But he stayed silent while he agreed to be at the bureau in less than thirty minutes. 

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, putting a kiss on your forehead. You knew what he was doing. Hotch wasn’t pushing you away. He was simply trying to avoid the truth that he disappointed yet another woman in his life because of his job. 

But you grabbed his hand before he went away. “Don’t. I’m not mad you’re leaving.” You said with a little sad smile on your lips. You put his hand back on your thigh so you could button your shirt up again. Hotch tilted his head with a confused look. “It’s just…your neighbors can learn about us, but not your team.”

“That’s not…” he started, having a hard time finding his words. Because he could easily understand why it was upsetting you. He felt a little relieved knowing his job wasn’t the issue, something he couldn’t have changed if it was. But still feel bad that he made you sad for something he was indeed responsible for. He felt like he couldn’t do anything right when it came to relationships.

You were quick at putting a hand on top of his and squeezing his fingers gently. “It’s ok, Aaron, I get it.” You leaned to give him a small kiss. A promise that things were still good between the two of you.

When he arrived at the bureau, Rossi asked him again if he was sure he was alone when he called him. But Hotch denied everything. Just before sending you a text to apologize and promise you he would make it up to you the next time.

5. The ice cream

“Jack-Jack, be careful, please!” you screamed at the boy, who was running after a squirrel in the park. You were soon stopped in your walking by a big hand landing on your stomach. A hand that you knew pretty damn well since it was on your shoulder minutes ago and pretty much everywhere else a few nights ago.

“Wait a minute.” Hotch started, putting himself in front of you. “Are you the reason my son thinks he’s a child with superpowers?” 

There was something funny in the view of Hotch being in his inspector mode yet looking so casual.

It was one of the few days off he had, and he proposed to spend it together, the three of you. He was still trying to make things go easy for Jack, so you didn’t meet them until lunch. His son loved you; this was undeniable. But he could easily guess that it wasn’t easy for his little head to understand why the babysitter suddenly spent all her time at his home, even when Hotch was here to take care of him.

Even if Jack was far from an idiot. He noticed the way his dad was looking at you and the little acts of tenderness he had for you. He still hasn't shown his dad the drawing he did of you three, happily standing together. Like a family.

At this point, the two Hotchner boys were pretending the other didn’t know what they knew. 

After lunch, you decided to go to the park to enjoy the sunny weather. Hotch clearly stole your heart with his look, with a simple navy blue short that was fitting his biceps so nicely or the sunglasses that were lying on his nose so perfectly. Not to mention the chocolate ice cream you had bought and that looked so tiny in his hands compared to yours. 

“Well, for what it takes,” you started replying after taking a lick of your ice cream. “I think your son has superpowers.”

You loved the smile that grew on his lips. An amused one that portrayed how he felt about you. “Imagine if we had two Jacks!” you said, hitting his chest to prove your point. 

He grabbed your hand softly, his fingers circling your wrist and his thumb brushing your skin. “Would you want to take care of two Jacks?” he asked with a little laugh. But your answer took him by surprise.

“Well, two Jacks is more of him. More of him means more of you, and that’s an idea I love.”

You stayed like that, looking at each other. This question had more levels than just the idea of Jack being capable of duplicating himself. It was a consideration of what the future might look like for the two of you.

It wasn’t about having another Jack. It was about having another child. Your child. 

Even if it was not happening today, nor tomorrow or the following year, it was just a kind of agreement that you both wanted the same thing at some point. 

You could tell from the way his smile softened that this went straight to his heart. It meant more than Hotch wanted to tell that you saw your relationship with him being long-lasting.

He leaned closer to you, giving you a very short kiss before you both pulled away at the feeling of the ice cream melting in your hands.

“I’ll go grab some napkins.” You laughed at this disgusted face before walking away. And Hotch couldn’t stop looking at you, thinking how lucky he felt that you chose him, out of anybody. But his thought was soon interrupted when Jack ran straight to his legs. “Daddy, look who’s here!” he almost screamed, too excited for the man walking behind him.

“I didn’t remember Jack could be this persuasive; he refused to let me go.” Spencer said with a sweet laugh, ruffling the boy’s hair. That man was great with children, so it didn’t surprise Hotch that not only did Jack see him in the middle of the big park, but he also managed to convince him to come say hi.

For a moment, Hotch wondered if Spencer saw you before you went away. He knew for a fact that he wouldn’t make any remarks about it if he did; Spencer wasn’t the type to discuss each other’s private lives. But then he said something that proved to Hotch that he had no idea about your presence here.

“It’s great that you’re having a father and son day.” Hotch could tell from his tone that he was indeed very pleased that his boss took the time to have this kind of day after everything they went through. 

And so they talked for a minute or two about each other’s day—that was how he learned that Spencer had spent his whole afternoon reading in the park. They didn’t chat for too long. Actually, long enough that you didn’t come back until Spencer had left. 

“Can you believe I was stuck behind people just for some napkins?” you sighed, handing him one. But before he grabbed it, he put his arm around your waist to bring you closer and kiss you on the forehead. 

For the first time, Hotch realized he wasn’t as relieved that fate postponed the team learning about you. Maybe it was time that you finally found a way to be happy together and not hidden anymore.

+1

In the rankings of the worst day of your life, that day was clearly in the top 3. And it probably wasn’t the third.

Neither was it for Hotch.

You were stressed about him going on a case most of the time. You found out that treating it as any other job was easier for you. Sure, you always invited him to talk about what was on his mind when he came home from a difficult one. And you naturally had treated some wounds he got. But apart from this, you had to put that away when he wasn’t around so you didn’t spend your whole day stressing about it.

When Jessica called you right when you got in your car, you knew that something wasn’t right. Hotch left two days ago, and like he always does when it happens, Jack is staying with his aunt. It’s easier for everyone. Now that Jessica knew that you and Hotch were a real thing, you agreed that you could still spend some time with the boy. 

Usually, you would pick him up after school, spend the rest of the afternoon with him, and then bring him to Jessica for dinner at least once while his dad was away.

“Do you…do you think you could bring Jack here when you pick him up?” She asked right when you answered. Your silence spoke for your confusion, so she added. “Something happened; I don’t want to talk about it on the phone. I’m sorry.” 

She repeated these three words multiple times. Explaining that it had nothing to do with your skills to take care of Jack or that she didn’t trust you. Far from that. The situation was just bigger than you.

So you agreed. You went to school and took Jack with you. You pretended everything was fine when he told you about his day and asked about yours—when you actually couldn’t remember anything you did before the phone call. And when you arrived at Jessica’s place, you noticed how pale she looked. For a moment, you imagined the worst.

And you weren’t far from it.

“Aaron has been taken hostage,” she finally told you once Jack went to his bedroom, the one she made for him since he spent a lot of time here. “From what I know, it started around noon, but I don't have much news.” 

The following hours were the hardest, waiting to have just the slightest news about the man you love. And if it was hard to lie to Jack about his dad, you were still glad he was around to keep you entertained. You tried your hardest not to cry at the idea that the boy could lose his other parent. In your heart, you have all the faith in Hotch to go back home safely. Even if this time, everything wasn’t in his hands.

It was around 8 p.m. when Jessica got another call from the bureau saying that the hostage was over, Hotch was saved, and the team was already on the flight back to Quantico. And you didn’t realize you were hugging her after she told you this until you felt her hands caressing your back softly.

“Thank you,” you whispered. For telling you, for inviting you here, for making you part of this family without a judgment.

You chose not to stay any longer. But if you first thought about going home to your place, you soon were driving to the BAU to see Hotch as soon as he landed. You remember that in your first weeks working here, he put your name on the list in case something happened with Jack and you needed to come. 

You always felt guilty about taking that advantage and only used it once. Jack had been crying the whole afternoon about missing his mom and being scared for his dad, and so Hotch allowed you to come.

Yet, in front of the reception desk, you didn’t know how to introduce yourself. The same issue was repeated again and again. 

That was until you felt a hand on your shoulder, a movement that could be heard from the numerous bracelets on the woman’s arms. 

“She can come with me,” you heard Penelope say to the receptionist. “She’s with me. We’ll just wait on the team.” 

You found it funny how the day you finally put a foot in Hotch’s world, you were only met by people willing to help you feel at your place. You had every right to be scared or to feel the need to see him after such a disastrous moment. You had every right to love him the way you did.

And so you waited with Penelope for a good hour, chatting about everything there is to talk about: your classes, your life, the necklace you wore that she absolutely loved. “You know you just fulfilled a lot of people’s fantasies?” she asked you when she came back from grabbing some tea for the both of you.

You frowned, not sure to understand what she meant. “The babysitter dating her boss? That’s probably in the top 5 of people’s dreams!” You choked on your drink, which made her laugh even harder. You felt yourself blushing and a little proud of this being true.

But you didn’t get to think a lot about your feelings. Soon the team was entering the office. And soon, they all stopped at your view.

JJ was the first to notice you with Penelope. “Oh my god, I knew it,” she said to Emily, who looked around before finally landing her eyes on you. 

“Isn’t that…” she started but was cut off by Derek’s whistling.

“The babysitter!” he finished with a proud tone.

Spencer was the last one to complete the trio and looked at them with confusion. “She’s the babysitter? I saw her with Hotch at the park the other day; I thought she was just his girlfriend.” 

Emily laughed at the idea that this was in front of them the whole time, but none of them thought about sharing. 

“And you didn’t think about telling us, kiddo?” Derek asked, putting his arm around Spencer, who just shrugged.

And then came Hotch, talking with Rossi. Right from the first step he made in the office, he felt your presence. So did you, turning around to see your boyfriend standing still. You feared for a second that he might be angry that you came. That you chose for him to make this official in front of his colleagues. 

But the smile that grew on him when he realized that he wasn’t dreaming proved you different. 

You didn’t hesitate a single second before walking straight to him. The closer you got to him, the more you noticed the wounds from the day. The physical one, like the black eye growing on his left eye or the bruises on his hands. The psychological one too, how tired and empty he looked. Yet, there was still this subtle light on his face: the smile that kept on growing as you reached him.

“You’re here.” Hotch said in a low and tired voice. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he sighed, cupping your face with his hands. He needed that. To look at you after spending the day thinking he wouldn’t ever get the chance too. 

He couldn’t care less about everyone looking at you, because he knew his team, and he knew they wouldn’t look away from such a big love demonstration from the man that always kept everything for himself. Hotch realized how much he shouldn’t have kept you a secret for this long.

There was nothing to hide when it came to you.

Especially not the love he had for you.

So when he kissed you in the softest way, he felt a big relief in his heart. Knowing he made the right choice. By loving you and by showing the world you were his. 

And deep down, he knew he was ready to hear all the team jokes about him dating the babysitter.

[twlgholts]

always kind of was, j. black

chapter one, second nature

— jacob black x f. reader

a/n: written from a washingtonian i am tired of the misrepresentation so it is my goal to accurately portray my state… but first chapter a lil nervy havent written in a year but!! had fun writing

series masterlist! next.

The road to Forks is a familiar one, even after two years. Evergreen trees blur past your window, their towering forms casting long shadows over the asphalt as your car hums along the highway. You didn’t realize how much you missed this stretch of Highway 101 till now—how the trees leaned in like close friends, how the air smelled like rain (because of course it does), how the damp air curled in through the cracked window and made everything smell like pine needles. Your fingers tap against the steering wheel following the beat of the radio, restless.

Your phone buzzes in the passenger seat.

Jake: You close yet?

A smile tugs on your lips. You can practically hear the impatience in his text.

You: Like 20 min out. Chill

Jake: Chill?? I’m literally pacing right now

You roll your eyes but a smile tugs on your lips. Jacob Black has always been like this—all energy, no patience. Some things never change.

Jacob Black. Your best friend since before you could spell your own name. You had shared everything with him growing up—scraped knees, projects in his garage, secret forts built from moss and driftwood down by First Beach. And as you drive past The City of Forks Welcomes You sign, your chest warms.

The last time you were here, you were fourteen, saying goodbye with a promise of a visit. Your dad’s job pulled your family to the buzz of Kirkland, where everything was cleaner, faster, and more modern. But life got in the way, as it does—school, your dad’s new job, the four-hour distance between Kirkland and Forks. Still, you and Jake kept in touch. Late-night calls, stupid texts, the occasional letters (because Jake thought it was funny to mail you doodles of his terrible car sketches and self-portraits). Still, Forks was yours in the way it mattered and now, thanks to your parents’ sudden, nostalgic purchase of a cozy summer house on the edge of town, it could be again.

You weren’t the same girl who had left, and from his photos, he wasn’t the same Jacob, either. He’d grown taller, broader. His baby face and chubby cheeks you used to pinch sharpened into somethin old, something you didn’t quite know how to name. And still—he was Jacob. Your best friend.

But now, you’re back.

Your parents arrived yesterday to get the house ready and you had stayed behind to finish packing, insisting on driving yourself. You needed the time to think and to tame your nerves.

Because Jake is… Jake.

When you were kids, it was simple. He was the little boy who taught you how to skip rocks, who let you steal bites of his fry bread at the rez cookouts he would invite you to, who tried to feign annoyance but eventually grin when you called him Jakey just to annoy him.

But now? You’re not sure who he is. What you guys are.

Your phone buzzes again.

Jake: I’m at your house btw

Jake: Tick-tock you better not be bailing on me

You scoff.

You: ?????

Jake: Your mom said I could wait for you so hurry up

Of course he was. You groan, but your pulse kicks up anyway.

You could see your parents were already inside the house by the time you pulled up—a modest, moss-draped place tucked between pines, just off a gravel road. Your parents’ car is parked out front. Right next to it is a black motorcycle.

Your stomach flips.

Slowly, you pull into the driveway right behind the already car park, take a deep breath, and step out. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles. The front door is slightly ajar and you push it open.

“Mom? Dad?” No answer. You drop your bags in the foyer and head up the stairs, looking for your room at the end of the hall—

And then you see him.

Jake is leaning against your bedroom door frame, arms crossed, impatiently tapping his foot. He’s taller. A lot taller. His shoulders are broader, his frame more solid than the lanky boy you remember, and his hair was shorter now, shaggier, like he hadn’t bothered with it much. And when you made eye contact, his face looked at you like he’d forgotten how to breathe and something passed between you in the silence.

“Hey,” you said. Your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

“Took you long enough,” his face twitches slightly and he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, now grinning like he’s just won something.

“Shut up,” you reply, but you’re smiling.

He pushes off the doorframe and closes the distance between you in two strides. He pulled you into a hug that wrapped around your whole body. His warmth is immediate and almost startling, like standing in front of a bonfire. His hand lingered at your back a moment longer than necessary, but you don’t mind. You missed him. A lot.

“I missed you,” he murmured into your hair.

You smile against his chest. “Missed you too, Jakey.”

He exhales sharply and chuckles, like the words punched the air out of him. Then, slowly, his arms tighten around you.

“You still gonna call me that?” his voice is low, but there’s that familiar teasing lilt in it.

You pull away from him and look up to meet his eyes, smirking. “Mhm. Deal with it.”

He snorts. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Please,” you say, stepping back with a grin. “You’d cry if I stopped, just like how you always did.”

“Only a little,” he shoots back, and there’s a spark in his eyes now, brighter than you remember. You’re not sure what it is—relief, maybe, or him just being awkward and shy.

Before you can reply, the sound of the front door creaking wider makes both of you glance down the stairs.

“Sweetie?” your mom calls up. “Is Jake still here?”

He winces slightly, already backing toward the stairs. “I should probably—”

“You’re staying for dinner!” she shouts before he can finish.

You blink. “Wow, ambushed.”

“I’ve been here ten minutes, she’s already planning the menu,” Jake mutters under his breath, then louder: “Uh—I mean, I don’t want to intrude—”

“Nonsense! You’re basically family.” your mom responds brightly.

He glances back at you, eyebrows raised, lips twitching like he’s holding back a smile. “You set me up.”

“I did not. She just knows you too well. Besides, you’re the one that came her before I even got to Forks.” Jake just shakes his head and shoots you a glare, muttering something under his breath as he follows you down the stairs. You can feel the energy buzzing off him—slightly nervous, but trying not to show it. He’s still smirking like an idiot, but it’s more to himself now, like he can’t quite believe he’s here again either. With you, in person, not over text or call.

The house smells like Mrs. Meyers lemon cleaner and whatever your mom is preparing in the kitchen. Jake hesitates in the foyer, glancing toward the kitchen like he's debating a quick escape, but your mom appears before he can make a move. She wraps him in a hug like no time has passed and Jake stiffens for just a second before relaxing into it, careful and gentle in a way that makes you smile softly.

“You grew up on us,” she says, pulling back to look him over. “Look at you!”

Jake rubs the back of his neck, cheeks flushed but smiling. “Still the same guy. Just a bit taller.”

“A bit? You always did shoot up like a weed,” she laughs, already turning back toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. We’ve got enough to feed a whole pack.”

He blinks at her words and nods. “Yeah. Starving.”

And then your dad strolls in from the backyard, wiping his hands on a rag, the scent of grass and sprinkler water trailing behind him. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the only kid in this town I trust near a sprinkler system. Bet you could fix ours without even looking at it.”

“I’m your guy.” he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck again. It was always a small habit you noticed he did when he felt awkward, shy, or nervous.

Your dad claps him on the shoulders as he passes. “Glad to see you again, kid.”

And just like that, he is. Wrapped into the space like he’s always belonged, fitting in the rhythm of it, even if the walls are different. Even if everything is different.

You watch him as he sinks into the chair next to yours, still buzzing a little like he doesn’t know where to put all the energy. He’s quiet now, but not in a bad way—more like he’s soaking it in, anchoring himself to something familiar. You slide a glass of water toward him and he takes it without looking, but his fingers brush yours for half a second too long.

And while he’s still Jake, it’s not exactly the same. But neither are you.

[mdsbabygirl]

Hello! I love your work, I just read “Being their fuckbuddy,” and I’m hooked. I was wondering if you would make a part 2 where the reader/you call things off and they realize that they’ve actually caught some feelings? It’s alright if you don’t want to! I’m a total sucker for angst lol.

Ofc my lovely anon!! I'll be more than glad to do that! Here's part two of "being their fuckbuddy". btw don't be shy to make requests, they make me really happy and I'm more than willing to write them!

Please baby.. don't let go of me yet...

PART TWO OF "Being their fuckbuddy"

Pairing: Otoya Eita/ Itoshi Sae/ Bachira Meguru/ Shidou Ryusei/ Chigiri Hyoma/ Barou Shoei x FEM! reader

Synopsis: when you end up walking out of your "relationship", these men feel empty inside, finally realizing that their lust has indeed turned into something much deeper.

Genre: smut, angst

Wc: 3,3k

Cw: dark themes, MDNI, mentions of makeup sex, very depressed men, semi-public sex(Otoya, Barou), crying messes(Bachira, Chigiri), nonchalant fuckers(Sae, Barou), black mail/threatening/ humiliation (Shidou), stalking(meguru), womanizer(otoya), these men are very much Inlove with you, etc..

Otoya Eita:

•"yeah, I'm fine with it" he said, his tone as casual as possible. He knew your relationship wasn't going to last long, and it was part of the thrill he felt when he was with you. But when the parting time finally came, he didn't feel right. He thought he could just move on, quickly forgetting you and your shared moments to focus on the next girl he was going to pull.. but no, not this time. Otoya was very confused, why was he suddenly getting emotional? Why was he starting to feel uneasy, a surging pain in his stomach made him feel awful, as if he got repeatedly punched in the abdomen, all while he was looking at you in the far distance.  You, the one who made him feel like he could've reached heaven with how much pleasure he felt; you, the girl he always enjoyed spending time with because you were fun and interesting, you the one who got his heart.

•Eita was mad at first, why the fuck did it hurt so much? It's not like it was the first time he got a heartbreak, he'd usually just bury the pain with sex, fucking around with multiple women, until he forgot about everything, the pain eventually subsiding. And he tried, like, he tried really hard, going every night to nightclubs and having one nightstands with every woman he found somewhat hot.. the thing is, the sex was awful..it didn't feel right, it was dull and boring, as if all the feelings in his body were dead, making him unable to feel the slightest sparkle of excitement. He'd often ask himself, why was he like this? Why couldn't he just bounce back like before, going back to being the  destrous ninja of seduction he once was.. even all the women he had picked were somewhat of a close replica to you, all sharing common attributes that you had.. I guess you are really unreplaceable..

•that, was his situation for a while, being the slave of a non ending vicious circle of sex, alcohol and depression. That was, until he finally saw you at one of the clubs he frequented. It's like his world lit up, transforming from a dark nightmare to the sweetest of dreams. His eyes widened in surprise, not expecting to meet you at all, but there you were, looking ever so stunning, wearing your prettiest dress, and hypnotizing everyone with your looks. At first he froze, not knowing what to do. But then he decided that it was time to put an end to his misery, deciding it would be best to just confess to you, and tell you how much he had been yearning for you for the past weeks. You were quite stunned too, not only not expecting this sudden encounter, but also not even imagining that this womanizer would be pouring his heart out to you.. you smiled subtly, thinking his actions were cute, yet you were still indecisive, you didn't trust him enough, thinking he'd break your heart if you let him in, which was indeed why you left him. You started catching feelings, all this intimacy between the two of you sparking a growing love for the man. Eita, ever so happy, was quick to hug you, pressing soft kisses on your lips until they became more and more heated, leading the both of you to make out heatedly in the middle of the club. Then.. well let's just say you were way too needy for each other to wait to go home so instead you fucked in one of the bathroom stalls... His hand was pushing you onto the door, your tube top pushed down to reveal your tits that were squished against the cold surface, as Eita was behind you, rumming his rock hard cock relentlessly, like he'd always do..

Itoshi Sae:

•he had that cold, expressionless face he always had when it happened. You had invited him to talk, insisting it was best if it happened in person. He looked so stunning, his teal eyes, an amalgamation of the most serene blue sky and most captivating green seas, were a pool of alluring coolness. No matter how hard the news might've been, he never budged.. he just nodded, agreeing with your request for ending things. And that's how, you both just walked away, forgetting all the moments of your shared passion, as if you finished the last chapter of a boring book. But.. did he really find your fling boring? Was he really willing to just move on, as if nothing had happened?

•Sae was used to the solitude, he was a reservated person, not allowing anyone in his circle, and the fact that you managed to get in that close to him, must've meant something right?.. it couldn't have been just purely a give and receive link, it must've been much more than that. He was human after all, meaning that he must've felt the smallest shred of something, anything really, even if it was lust, hate or love. Sae was confused, not knowing how to act or what to feel. He just went back to being to his usual self, an egoist who only cares about his sacred soccer.. but if that's what he thought he did, then why couldn't he sleep at night? Why was his bed so empty all of a sudden? Why was he flipping through the pics you post on your socials? Did you really manage to plague his mind? Turning him from a cold hearted egoista, to a yearning lover, a man that needed your presence as much as he needed oxygen to survive.

•The nights felt long, unending hours of long lasting boredom and solitude, weighted down on Sae's mind. He wanted it to stop, needing this feeling of hollowness to be over. He tossed and turned in bed, unable to rest.. he took his phone, 2 AM.. great you might be sleeping he thought.. he looked intensely at your contact info on his screen, contemplating if calling you would be the right choice.. it was his first time being indecisive, he was always a confident man, always sure of himself and his actions; but this time he wasn't.. his hands trembling as he held the phone. In the end he said fuck It, deciding that going to your house was the best option.. once he arrived, he ringed the bell, waiting for you. When you came out, wearing your comfy pj's, and asking why he was here while yawning, he just grabbed your face and kissed you, not even wasting time on words. He led you inside, huffing out how much he missed you and how he can't be apart from you.. you couldn't give him a straight answer yet, but you still didn't deny him, inviting him in, keeping him all close and cozy, so warm and feeling heavenly as his big cock is buried deep inside your hot cunny.

Bachira Meguru:

•things between the two of you started getting a bit rocky, his possessiveness was too overwhelming. He was always by your side, his presence so suffocating that it left you drained both emotionally and physically. It was after one of your encounters that you decided to call things off. Bachira was panting heavily, his chest heaving as he came down from his high. He still was on top of you, looking down at you with his lovestruck look.. you kinda felt bad about what you were about to do, knowing how sad he'll be once you leave him. Meguru, tiredly laid beside you, looking at you before wrapping an arm around your naked figure..you were kinda starting to rethink your actions, thinking that maybe you could get used to his.. well, quirkiness? But you didn't, once Bachira announced something about wanting you to be fully his, you finally snapped. You quickly got up, getting your scattered up clothes and putting them on without saying a word.. you didn't wanna get even more mad, nor upset him with the bullshit you knew you were about to say if u really snapped. The man behind you, looking ever so struck by your sudden change in behavior grabbed you by the forearm, asking what happened.. oh man, you did snap at that time.. you started throwing insults at him,  telling him how suffocated you felt, before you gathered your stuff and left him alone in his apartment.

•To say that Bachira was shocked was an understatement. He couldn't believe what he heard.. he.. was suffocating? Was he really so frustrating and maddening like you just said? He didn't wanna believe this, thinking that maybe you just had a bad day, maybe you were mad at everyone and he just so happened to be the unlucky one to have to undergo such a shitty experience. But deep down he knew the truth. He knew that you entirely meant what you said, all those words hitting him like a poisonous dagger to the heart. He did everything for you, treated you like a princess, gave you constant attention, never once did he let you out of his sight.. he swore he was the best you could've ever had, the one and only who would worship you and treat you like the goddess you are.. yet, you left him. Like everybody else did. He should've been used to it by now, but fuck It hurt.. I guess that's why he felt hot globs of tears streaming down his face, his sobbing filling up the room. He really didn't deserve all this pain that you so hurtfully inflicted on him.

•after crying his heart out, he concluded that this wasn't the solution, deciding that if you weren't going to be willingly his , he was going to do it forcefully. Bachiras is known to have a dark side in him, a so-called monster that whispers the filthiest, most evil ideas in his mind. It was time to hear his alter-ego, using this demonic quirk of his to finally show you who you belong to, finally convincing you that he's your one and only. That's why, late at night he sneaked into your house..(he might've made a copy of your key without you noticing but Shhh) waiting for your arrival. As for you, you were getting home from work, unable to shake away the thought of how badly you treated Bachira. You wanted to apologize, but you were way too tired, so u decided that tomorrow you'll go to his place and make up with him. You unlocked your door, finally entering your home, when you saw Bachira laying all comfy on your sofa.. you were very much surprised, thinking that maybe it was because you were tired. Noticing you, meguru quickly went up to you, hugging you so tightly you could've swore you stopped breathing for a sec, before caressing your face, looking at you with a devilish gaze as he whispered in your ear, "you'll always be mine sweet thing!" Before pressing a wet kiss to your neck, "we're going to have so much fun tonight my love." He chuckled, his hands quickly finding your sides as he pressed his body flush against yours, the feeling of his hard-on on your lower abdomen.

Shidou Ryusei:

•ok..ummm, did I mention that this man is pure evil? Like he won't leave you so easily, never letting you slip from his grip without any consequences–this is if he ever let you go, because let's be honest, shidou would never ever let you dissapear from his life, letting your shared memories transforming into a mirage that would forever haunt him. He'd first laugh at you, thinking you weren't serious about calling things off. He'd wrap his arms around your frame, squeezing the plump skin of your butt, a nasty habit of his, telling you that it was a nice joke. But when you slapped him, telling him how much of a maniac he is and walking away, he was surprised. He didn't expect his ever obliging fwb, would have some personality.

•at first he'd let you go, still a bit startled from that whole ordeal, but then he'd start manically laughing, delving so deep down in his psychopathy that he might've become even more insane just from that.. He HAD to make you his, one way or another. He was totally convinced that you were just playing hard to get, or maybe into some kind of cat and mouse chasing thing.. maybe he could even use this dynamic for your next sexy sesh.. but that's for another time to discuss..

•shidou, just walked up to you, hugging you from behind, as if you were a lovey-dovey couple, just casually nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and pressing wet kisses on the skin. You were startled for sure, not wanting any sort of contact with this devilish monster; yet, you couldn't deny his effect on you, a small pool of wetness forming between your legs, but you'll never let him know of course. Somehow, managing to push him off of you, you told him to go away, refusing any form of link to him. Chuckling, Ryusei pulled his phone, his large hands scrolling through his gallery until he found them... All your sex tapes, ready to be sent to everyone who knew you. Grinning devilishly, shidou blackmailed you, you got two choices, you were either to be completely humiliated or to come back to that psycho ... He pressed you, forcing you to choose quickly, otherwise he'd do what you dreaded most. In either way you'd lose your dignity, since being with such a freak had its downsides.. I guess you had no choice, but to forcefully get back with him.

"Mm yeah, that's more like it, my little cockwhore!" He grinned, as he was spreading your ass cheek, looking down at how his big cock was sinking deeply in your soaked folds, all while you were a moaning mess under him.. he's so demonic fr..

Chigiri Hyoma:

•chigiri knew he loved you, he knew for a long time now, always thinking about how he could change your mind, how to make you his gf.. he could've done so much for you, treating you like the queen you are, showing you unyielding affection... anything, he would've done anything for you.. yet, you rejected him. It stung like hell, the loneliness was catching up to him, and that mixed up with the sickening sadness and sorrow he felt was the most potent of poisons.

•He was alone on his bed, looking up at the ceiling as he was sobbing, warm tears streaming down his pretty face. Handsome faces shouldn't cry, you told him before you left, caressing his face one last time before you disappeared from his life. The mere thought of that agonizing moment sent Hyoma into another hysterical crying.. he couldn't believe he got so hypnotized by you that was reduced to this state. He knew you wanted nothing more than sex, he knew that what you had was ephemeral; yet he still couldn't accept the fact that he had lost you. The worst being the way you rejected him, smiling so reassuringly, so softly and so prettily, your face was imprinted in his mind. No matter how much he exhausted himself in training or drowned himself in alcohol, he couldn't forget you. How dare you break his heart in such a nonchalant way, reassuring him he'll find the one for him, even if you knew he had eyes only for you? You were so cruel, he thought.

•days passed since your splitting, and shit started weighing down on your consciousness.. I mean, you did realize that you broke his heart. With a sigh, you decided to stop thinking about him, recalling that all men were the same, all horny and unmannered, always making sexual jokes and treating you like some kind of fucktoy. That was the male treatment you were used to, so when you started frequenting Chigiri, it felt.. different. Sure he was still a man with his own needs and stupidity, yet he was the most caring and gentle one of them all. Slowly you started to realize the huge mistake you made. With tears threatening to fall on your face, you got out of your house, running as fast as you could to apologize to the sweetest, most handsome man you've ever met.. the man you loved. Ringing his bell repeatedly, he opened the door and saw you. Another surge of tears came out, making him sob uncontrollably. So you quickly hugged him, pressing kisses on his head, apologizing for the catastrophic mistake you've made.. in the end, let's just say that he accepted your apology, letting you ride all the sadness out of him, as you're tenderly making out.. make up sex with Chigiri was truly the best.

Barou Shoei :

•barou didn't need you anyway, you were such a nuisance to him, he thought. Not only were you so neglecting of his feelings, but you also had the guts to dump him, discarding him like a used toy that you didn't need anymore. Wasn't he your king? The only man that made you feel intense ecstasy? Well you were in the wrong, like you've always been, he thought once again. Barou could live perfectly without you, it's not like his existence depended on yours, and also it's not like he wanted the presence of someone who didn't want him back. Yet, why did he feel a tinge of sadness? Why was it that when he saw happy couples on the street, he felt like he had a hole in his chest that couldn't be filled no matter what? He didn't know why for sure, and he never even wanted to know.

•What a stubborn king, suppressing all his feelings until they burst like an atomic bomb. And indeed that's what happened, he denied the fact that he still loves you, he hates it. It makes him feel weak, transforming him from a glorious king to a heartbroken slave.. Barou wanted nothing more than his feelings for you to disappear, wanting to put his constant yearning for you to a halt, but he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, you wouldn't get out of his mind, for a moment he thought that you had cast a spell on him, one so potent that left him entrances, as if he was hypnotized by a siren's voice..

•Barou wanted so badly to come back to you, to just be in your arms, to be able to love you without any restrictions.. but you deprived him of this happiness, condemning him to a life of sorrow and desperation.. As for you, well, you weren't doing so good either. You tried everything to forget him too, but your king had already left his imprint on you, forever changing your life, making it so that he was the only man you'd ever think about. You did send him countless messages, apologizing to him, asking him to meet up to set things straight yet he never responded, he was such a proud mf. So that's why you just went up to him during one of his training, it was the only choice as he couldn't ignore you there. But since Barou didn't wanna cause a scene, he just dragged you to the locker room, opting that finishing your conversation there would provide some more privacy. Well.. let's just say that your conversation was cut short, and the locker room was now filled with both of your moans, as Shoei was kinda busy making sure you'll never leave him, thrusting in you from behind, marking you, biting sucking and kissing your neck and shoulders so that way next time you'll know better than to leave your king.

© mdsbabygirl do not copy or translate my work without my permission.

[jjungk00ok]

When the Past Knocks | JJK

What if you never got over your ex? What if, just as you’re trying to move on with someone new, he shows up—right there in front of you?

Pairing — Jungkook x reader | exes to lovers?

genre — romance · reunion · drama · second chance · lingering feelings · unspoken tension

A / N — Hey! It’s my first time posting here so I have no idea how things work lol. But I really hope you like what I wrote! If you do, feel free to drop a like—or a heart? Is that how it works? lol. I’m Hannah btw, nice to meet you :)

࿐*:･ﾟ

“Did you make it home safe?”

That was the text you received just as you were placing your keys on the table, your bag still hanging from your shoulder. You were coming back from dinner with friends, but that message wasn’t from just anyone. It was from the guy you’d been seeing for the past few weeks. You weren’t a couple yet, but you were building something. A connection that grew with each date, with every conversation. And who knows… maybe, someday, it could become something more.

You looked at the screen and sat on the edge of the couch with a sigh. Your fingers began typing quickly.

“Yeah, all good. And… I’m sorry. I never imagined we’d run into him, I had no idea he was back in Busan. Just… forgive me :(”

Everything had been normal at the restaurant. You were laughing, chatting, holding a glass of wine as the relaxed atmosphere wrapped around you. The table was close to the entrance, so you had a clear view of who came in and out. And then you saw him. Two guys walked through the door. One of them you didn’t recognize. The other… didn’t even need to remove his mask for you to know.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your ex-boyfriend.

That ex-boyfriend.

You hadn’t seen him in a long time… since, what, his last tour maybe? Because yes, Jungkook is a singer. And not just any singer. His face was everywhere: on social media, interviews, campaigns, songs. Even now, fans still tagged you in old photos of the two of you, commenting how much they missed you together.

“Don’t worry. None of us knew we’d see him. We can’t predict the future. So it’s all good.”

That was his reply. The guy you were seeing now. The one who had — unintentionally — witnessed that unexpected appearance. And even though his message reassured you, you only replied with a couple of kiss emojis. You liked him, sure… but you still weren’t sure how you felt. You’d been alone a long time after Jungkook.

It had been a years-long relationship.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, seeing him again shook you. You tried to distract yourself, to not think… but when you closed your eyes, it became clear:

You were about to break your promise.

The one where you wouldn’t look him up.

The one you’d kept for days.

Weeks.

Months.

You hadn’t watched interviews, stalked his profile, or listened to his new songs. Nothing.

But tonight… — Just this once, you told yourself.

You stretched to the other side of the couch, reaching for your laptop. You turned it on, guilt crawling in, opened the browser and searched for that interview. The one everyone kept talking about. It had only been out for a few weeks… but you had avoided it. Until now.

࿐*:･ﾟ

The interview began.

God… he looked good.

It was well known among fans, it had gone viral, but you hadn’t lived it until that moment. You bit your thumbnail as the laptop rested on your stomach, nestled between the cushions. That stupid feeling of knowing what’s coming… and still needing to see it.

— “So tell us, young singer…” — the interviewer wore a professional smile, holding cue cards in her hands—, “Is there anyone on your mind lately?”

The silence that followed made you swallow hard. The audience clapped with excitement. The camera zoomed in on his face. Jungkook smiled —that bunny-toothed smile, the one you’d had the privilege of seeing up close so many times—. He shook his head.

— “No one? Really?” — she insisted, laughing.

He looked down for a moment before answering, calm:

— “It’s just… I don’t feel like I’m in love with someone new.”

The camera caught it perfectly: sparkling eyes, a soft smile, an outfit perfectly aligned with his album aesthetic. He was in his era, shining as always. And even though you pretended to be clueless about his career… of course you knew a few things.

Even though you told yourself “I never look him up.”

— “The boys always say I’m still in love…” — Jungkook chuckled softly, almost wistfully —, “but not with someone I’m getting to know.”

— “Who could it be?” — they asked.

But he didn’t answer.

He didn’t look away.

He didn’t deny it.

He just… stayed silent.

You paused it right there.

The screen froze on his smile. The one you knew by heart. Your eyes scanned every feature like you didn’t remember them. Like you hadn’t spent years kissing that mouth, caressing that jaw, sleeping next to that face.

And then…

Knock, knock.

The sound at the door pulled you back to reality.

You got up thinking it was a neighbor. You weren’t expecting visitors this late. You set the laptop aside and walked toward the door. — Just a second! — you called out, pulling your hair up into a ponytail.

Just as you were about to tie it, you opened the door… and there he was. A tattooed guy, leaning casually against the frame, staring straight into your eyes.

— I wasn’t planning to come — he said.

You let your hair fall back down your shoulders. Your heart pounded so loud you could barely stand still.

There he was.

Tattoos visible.

Messy hair.

And that look of his that you always, always liked.

— Are you with him? — he asked bluntly—. I saw… I know you saw me. I noticed you’re seeing that guy who was beside you. Today. Earlier. — He looked down, choosing his words carefully.

— You left your friend to come here? — you asked, serious.

He shook his head, raised his gaze with conviction, and pulled a beanie from his jacket. Put it on, covering himself.

Cautious. In case someone recognized him.

— We just had dinner. Everyone was going home after that — he explained —. My plan was to do a live… in fact, they’re probably wondering why I haven’t shown up on Weverse yet. — He sighed, burying his hands in his pockets —. But I preferred to look for my ex-girlfriend.

— Look for me? You broke up with me, Jeon. I don’t get why someone who ended everything would show up at my place.

He held your gaze and slowly shook his head.

— You know I didn’t want to break up. But my schedule was packed, I had no time for a relationship… I didn’t want to drag you into that — he rubbed his forehead, frustrated —. Ah… can I come in?

You shook your head.

He crossed his arms.

— Fine — he accepted —. Then we’ll talk here. Even if it’s not ideal. Not for me… not for you.

You frowned, silent. Hesitated. And in the end… you stepped aside, letting him in.

— You have five minutes.

— That’s enough. — He stepped in just as you shut the door behind him —. Five minutes are enough to win you back. — You froze in place. You were barefoot, wearing the socks he had —coincidentally— given you for your birthday. He was always the taller one.— I never wanted to lose you. Let alone see you with someone else.

— What? You came to my place… to win me back? —you asked, shocked —. Seriously…?

— I never wanted to break up. It was never part of the plan —he replied, looking down before locking eyes with you again —. I just got overwhelmed. Drowned in work, I had no structure. Everything was about my career, and in the end, I couldn’t give you the attention you deserved. But I didn’t want to lose what we had. That essence.

— But you did — you said softly —. You broke up with me.

— I had no choice! — he exclaimed with a tight smile, like it was obvious and you just didn’t get it.

— And your only choice was to leave Busan?

— I was gone for months — he nodded —. Because an opportunity came up. To build my album from scratch. I met important people. Key connections. And yes… it helped my career.

Silence filled the space. A chill ran through you.

— I’m seeing someone — you said, not sure if to him or to yourself —. He might become my boyfriend soon.

He just laughed.

— I saw. I saw you two. And you didn’t look thrilled with him — he swallowed —. In fact… —his gaze darkened, making you nervous. You wanted to run— I feel — he pointed at you — that you’re more thrilled now… than you were with him at that restaurant.

— No.

— Yes.

— No…

— Yes.

He was getting dangerously close.

And he had you. His hands cupped your face, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. — If it’s true, look me in the eye… and tell me you’re with someone else.

You frowned. Looked at him.

And said nothing.

You both knew in that moment.

You were still in love with your ex-boyfriend.

— I’ll tell you my truth… and the only truth is, it’s always been you. Just you. That’s it — he said.

࿐*:･ﾟ

Everything is fictitious!⭐️

[gf2bellamy]

Hiii

I was wondering if you could do established post prison spencer and shy reader, where he unintentionally calls her a pet name (preferably angel but anything sweet is fine!) and she gets all flustered and her brain short circuits, but he doesn’t notice. And then he does it again, but notices this time and decides to tease her about it. Thankyouuuu <3 (No pressure at all btw!)

angel — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship , use of nickname "angel" a/n: hi hi hi !! hope you like this <3 also this gif makes me weak in the knees

“Spencer, I’m home,” you called out. The scent of fresh pastries clung to the air, warm and sweet, as you held a paper bag. You had left early this morning, well before the sun had fully risen, slipping out of bed carefully so as not to wake the man still tangled in the sheets. Even then, Spencer had stirred, his fingers instinctively tightening around your waist in half-conscious protest.

“Be careful,” he had mumbled against the pillow, voice heavy with sleep, before finally, reluctantly, letting go.

Now, you heard the familiar sound of shuffling footsteps, followed by the soft creak of the bathroom door opening. Moments later, Spencer appeared in the living room, still slightly disheveled, his damp curls sticking up in odd directions from his shower.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice still sounding slightly sleepy.He stepped closer, taking the bag from your hands before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“What did you get?” he asked, settling onto the couch and peeking inside the bag with curiosity.You sat down beside him, tucking your legs underneath yourself as you watched him rifle through the contents.

“Your favorites,” you answered simply, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Spencer hummed, pleased, but before he could reach inside, you beat him to it, pulling out the chocolate donut you had specifically gotten for him.

You held it out to him.“Here. This was the last one, so you got lucky.”

His lips twitched in amusement as he took it from you, wasting no time before taking a bite. As he chewed, he leaned back against the couch, and with a familiarity that had long since become second nature, he reached for you, his fingers curling around your leg, pulling you closer. Content, you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as he continued eating.

Then, Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head, murmuring against your hair, “Thank you, angel.”

Your body froze.Your brain short-circuited, replaying the word over and over again as if trying to make sure you had actually heard it.

Angel. It was soft, affectionate, intimate in a way that made your heart stumble over itself.

Spencer, completely unaware of your inner turmoil, took another bite of his donut, his attention drifting elsewhere as if he hadn’t just turned your brain into static noise.

Meanwhile, you sat there, wide-eyed, practically vibrating. You swallowed, forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath. Your face was on fire.

Spencer still didn’t seem to notice.

You weren’t sure if you should say something, should acknowledge it, or if you should just sit there, pretending that your heart wasn’t currently attempting to break the sound barrier. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead against his shoulder in an attempt to steady yourself.

Spencer glanced down at you. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, though you weren’t entirely sure if that was true.

He simply wrapped an arm around you, tucking you closer against his side, and went back to eating as if he hadn’t just shattered your entire world with one simple word.And despite the lingering flustered feeling in your chest, you couldn’t help but think that maybe you wouldn’t mind hearing it again.

A week had passed since that morning, and Spencer had been away on a case for the past two days. You missed him terribly. Lazily, you curled up on his couch, wrapped in your favorite sweater of his, the soft, oversized one that still smelled like him. A book rested in your lap, though you had read the same sentence at least three times now, too distracted to focus. You absentmindedly popped a blueberry into your mouth, sighing.

Then, you heard the familiar jingle of keys at the door. Your heart leaped into your throat, and before you could even process it, you were already up on your feet.

“Hi!” you blurted out the moment Spencer stepped inside.

He barely had time to shut the door before you were in front of him, eyes shining with excitement. He let out a surprised chuckle, dropping his bags carelessly to the floor before immediately wrapping his arms around you.

The hug was bone-crushing, his grip tight as if he was trying to mold you into him, make up for every second he had been away. His lips pressed into the top of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. You melted.

“I missed you,” you murmured into his curls, rubbing slow circles against his back.

Spencer let out the softest sigh, like the tension of the last few days had completely unraveled just from having you in his arms. His voice was muffled against your skin when he mumbled, “Missed you too, angel.”

Your entire body stiffened.It was like your brain hit a glitch, your hands freezing mid-movement as your breath caught in your throat.

Angel. Again.

For the second time, the simple endearment sent your mind into overdrive. Spencer felt you tense and slowly pulled back, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied your face.

“What?” he asked, his expression shifting into one of confusion.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again, but nothing came out. He tilted his head, clearly confused, before realization flickered across his face. His lips curled into the beginnings of a knowing smirk.

“Oh,” he said, drawing out the syllable.

Your face immediately burned.

Spencer’s smirk deepened. “Wait a second.” His voice took on a teasing lilt, and suddenly, you knew you were doomed.

You turned away, ready to escape the conversation entirely, but Spencer was faster. He caught your wrist with ease, gently tugging you back toward him. “Hold on, hold on,” he chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Spencer,” you warned, refusing to meet his gaze.

“What is it about me calling you angel that makes you completely malfunction?” he mused aloud, his tone far too pleased with himself.

You huffed, attempting to wriggle free, but he only pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur.

“Angel.”

You swore your brain turned to static.Spencer laughed softly as you buried your face in his chest, too flustered to function properly. “That’s cute,” he said, resting his chin atop your head. “I’m definitely calling you that more often.”

You groaned in protest, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you.

Maybe you didn’t mind so much after all.