#I’M FINALLY GETTING THE DELUXE

[miasmora]

SZA NATION RISE UP, THE QUEEN IS DROPPING THE DELUXE 🤞🏽

[fenharel-babe]

Just pre-ordered DATV👍.

Super ready to get my heart broken or healed :))).

[defmaybe]

A Romantic and Incomplete Guide to Tokyo

12 Days of Christmas: Day 8, January 1st, 2025

STAYC’s Yoon Seeun x Male Reader

3.7k words

Christmas Masterlist

The chilly air courses through your body inside Narita—thought it’d be warmer inside the building. You rub your hands, seeking just a tiny amount of warmth. Fuck, how cold is it?

The weather app shows a single digit temperature. Even the three-layer clothing you’re wearing doesn’t help, really.

Fuck.

“So, we’ll match you into pairs. For those who are already in a group–” you can’t quite focus on what the guides are saying. You’ve barely slept on the plane. The cabin croaked and cried all the way. God, it’s going to be another bad first day.

You’re too focused on your predicament to hear the voice of a woman beside you.

“Hey.”

Fuck, this place is cold.

“Hey.” Her voice is finally processed by your mind with a tap on your shoulder. You’re jolted out of your trance. Beside you is a somewhat tall (well, as tall as you), smiling woman. She doesn’t seem to be that much of a talkative person, judging from how she fully buttons her coat. You can handle that. 

Her eyes are gorgeous. It’s a pair that might hypnotize you somewhere along the trip. Her face is more on the wider side. She looks beautiful nonetheless. Fuck, you forgot to say something. Did you just stare at her like that? Good grief, first day and it’s over for you!

“Yeah, I get it. I didn’t sleep last night either,” she says with a chuckle. What a relief.

You blink to refresh yourself from the fatigue. “Y–Yeah, hi!”

You tell her your name. She tells you her name—Seeun. She tells you that people often misread her name as See-un, which is funny because she happens to have a friend named Sieun. Both of you are from the same city, though you two have probably never met each other.

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m in the entertainment industry,” she answers with a shy smile.

With a face like that, yeah, she probably is.

—

“Definitely, Maybe.”

“What, did you watch it at fourteen or something?” Seeun asks with a chuckle. “I thought it was like–a three-star movie.”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

The two of you are treading aimlessly inside Tower Records (the Shibuya one), trying to find a few albums to take back to your homes. You’ve picked up a few. She has picked up a few.

“That feels a bit–condescending,” you say with a forced smile, a little disheartened. Come on, Seeun, you don’t have to be so rude!

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I mean–mine’s not much better either,” she apologizes, guilt looming in her voice.

“What is it?”

“The Last Jedi.”

You halt your movements, shocked by her answer. Sure, The Last Jedi still have a lot of supporters, but you didn’t expect her to be one of them.

“Really?”

She stops walking along with you, doubling down on her answer. “Yeah.”

“That’s brave,” you say.

She chuckles. “What? Are you going to say that I’m tasteless or something?” She walks past your face to pick up Good Riddance. You also have one back at your home from your trip a few years ago, the deluxe one.

“I gave it four and a half stars,” you reply. That’ll definitely impress her.

“That’s cool,” she says, eyes still focused on the album. Her expression seems happier, though. “What do you like about it?”

You lean in closer to Seeun to look at the back of the album with her. It’s the deluxe version, sixteen songs. If she wants to buy one, this should be it. “I love a movie with a vision.”

A smile escapes Seeun’s lips. She’s clearly impressed by your answer. “Says the one who has a two-thousands romance as their favorite,” she playfully teases.

“Fourteen is a crucial age in human development,” you scoff. “What did you watch back then?”

“Award winners,” she says, putting Good Riddance on top of a stack of Souvlaki, Pet Grief, Charm, and a few more albums you’ve never quite heard of. Unlock My World? Titanic Rising? 

“I had a lot of free time during the summer before my ninth–or tenth grade, so I kinda just watched whatever was in the award-winner section on Netflix.”

She counts the stack. It’s at six albums, for now. “But yeah, I particularly love The Last Jedi because Rian did what Jeffrey didn’t, or wasn’t brave enough to. Star Wars can be too safe a lot of times.” She continues walking into the G aisle, and you have to catch up with her.

“I get that,” you say, glancing around for potential candidates for your stack, nothing as of now. “So, just The Last Jedi, or–”

“Steel Magnolias,” she cuts you off sternly, confidently. You’re not surprised (both with the choice and how she cut you off). They really scream her.

“That feels more like you.”

A small laugh escapes her lips. 

“You could’ve just asked for my Letterboxd, you know?”

—

The ramen shop is filled with tour group members. No loud chattering, of course. The tour guide explicitly asked for that. It might disturb the other visitors.

You and Seeun are sitting with two other fellow travelers. The two of you are too shy to say a thing, though, so you just let Yeonjun and Miyeon shoot questions at you for the whole dinner. These two look so damn good. It’s as if they’re idols or something.

You learned about Seeun a little more. She has a younger brother. She was raised in Pyeongtaek. She has two cats at her parents’. You notice the way she keeps scrunching her nose. She looks so cute doing so.

She seems to love Shoyu ramen, but judging from a single order doesn’t seem fair. She eats with her mouth closed; that’s a good sign. Her mannerisms are just too perfect for a person. Her time in the industry probably teaches her a lot of this.

You trade contacts with Yeonjun and Miyeon as you finish the meal. It seems that they really are idols, after all.

“Maybe we can meet again soon? Like–after the trip,” Yeonjun asks.

Miyeon laughs softly, “You’ll have to be a bit conservative with your clothes, though. We don’t want any attention on us.”

“Sure,” you answer, and that’s a date.

—

“So, how about we keep switching every day? Four nights, that should be two for each.”

In front of you is a double bed.

A double bed.

You cannot fathom the idea of sleeping next to a person who you've known barely a day. It’s going to be awkward. You cannot do this!

“Y–You said you work in the entertainment industry, right?” You can’t risk her back just for your own comfort. Don’t be an asshole! Help her!

“Yeah, and?” she makes a slightly puzzled expression.

“Well, I don’t want your back to–”

“Do you know you can just ask them for a cushion?”

“Oh,” you utter. That was embarrassing.

“I’m not going to be a snobby bitch over a bed, you know?” she says with a giggle.

—

You cannot sleep that well last night, even with the cushion. Now, you’re walking along a road in Harajuku, a little fatigued, a little tired.

You take in the atmosphere around you, trying to inhale some clean fresh air. The trees are more than abundant. What an atmosphere. It feels so cozy, so comfortable. God, you just wish you could live here forever.

Seeun seems to notice the exhaustion that’s creeping up on you, though.

“Good sleep?” she asks, trying to gauge your current state. You’re tired, of course, but you can’t let her know that.

“Y–Yeah.” Well, the stutter in your voice is evident. That’s bad.

She chuckles, patting your back softly. Your body shudders at her apparently friendly touch.

“Well, it’s my turn tonight.”

The two of you trod along the streets of Harajuku. You take a few pictures. She takes a few pictures.

—

Well, you’re feeling a little guilty now. The bed is just feeling too comfy. Seeun is probably hurting her back down there.

You keep shifting and turning on your bed, unable to sleep. A lot is going through your head right now.

“Seeun?”

No answer.

“Seeun?”

Still no answer.

You lean your head over the edge, only to find Seeun already in slumber. A small smile is painted on her face. It’s probably a good dream.

You should just let her sleep.

—

“So.”

It’s Yokohama day. You’re sitting at a Starbucks under some tower, while the others seem to be enjoying themselves somewhere else. The chilly wind blows on your face.

“How about we–uh,” you pause, trying to gather the courage to say the next words.

“You’re making it look like it’s something bad,” she says, chuckling. A cup of hot latte rests in her hand idly.

“I’d argue that it’s pretty weird.”

“And I’d argue that I won’t be mad at you, like–how bad can it be?”

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to say the next words.

“Can we–Can we just–sleep on the bed together?” you ask, avoiding her eyes. The last few words come out a bit too fast, but you believe that the message was delivered, nonetheless.

She lets out a smile. “Sure, why not?”

You do a double take. You’re shocked that she’d say yes to it as easily as that. “That was easy.”

“My back fucking hurts.” And you two let out a laugh together.

—

She smells good.

It’s already one in the morning, but you’re still shaking in the dripping anxiety of sleeping next to her. And with that smell. You just can’t sleep.

Fucking hell.

“Seeun.”

“Yeah?” she answers immediately. God, hasn’t she slept yet?

“What perfume do you use?” And you hear a giggle come from your side.

“Dior’s Sakura,” she says.

“Can I–uh–see it?” you ask.

She grabs the bottle. You’re expecting her to hand you that, but suddenly, she sprays it on her wrist.

“Wh–Wha–”

She gives you her wrist, and the smell reaches your nose before you can say a word. You close your eyes. It’s so intense, yet so fresh, like spring.

“O–Oh.”

“How was it?” she asks with a giggle.

“It was–uh–pretty good.”

Seeun bursts out a laugh. “Come on, it’s definitely better than pretty good. Like–look at your face!”

It’s definitely better than pretty good. “Y–Yeah, it’s–heavenly, Seeun.”

“You want some more? C’mon, grab my arm. It’s yours,” she invites you, and to be honest, there has never been any arm you’d want to take in its scent more than Seeun’s.

With your instinct, you pull Seeun’s right arm closer to your nose, before taking a deep breath full of her scent, eyes closed. It wouldn’t be a lie to say that you’re in heaven right now.

You hear Seeun laughing from the left. It’s a bit weird to sniff a woman’s arm like this, really, but you couldn’t care less right now.

“I don’t think you should stop just there, baby,” she suddenly blurts out.

The word spurs you on. You immediately go over Seeun’s body to have her below you, all smiling and blushing. She’s avoiding your gaze. She’s shy, but she wants this. She’s craving for this, and so are you.

“What should I do with you, Miss Yoon?” you tease her, drawing a line in the middle of her chest with your index finger, making her keen softly.

“A–Anything, baby. I need you–right now.”

You immediately latch your lips with hers, invading her mouth aggressively. She tastes like strawberry. The wet sound of kissing rings over your ear.

“So–So good,” she mutters into the blazing kiss. Her hands quickly pull down your pants, revealing your throbbing cock underneath. She then starts jerking you off with her filthy hand. She wants to milk you dry as quickly as possible.

You pull back from the kiss. A string of saliva connecting your lips is evident. That looks so fucking hot. Below, she’s still rubbing your cock up and down, making your whole body shiver in pleasure.

“M–My god, Seeun,” you groan.

She only chuckles, before drawing her hand back, leaving you whining in the absence of her.

“Can’t have you cum outside of me, baby,” she whispers, unbuttoning her top. Her beautiful cleavage comes into view. Her nipples sit just around the edge of her shirt. You quickly swathe her shirt away, revealing her hard, dusky nipples. She’s ready for you.

Immediately, you latch your needy mouth onto her buds. The mixture of the salty taste of her sweat and her scent of spring are mixed into an aphrodisiac. Her raw, unfiltered moans fill your ears.

“Yes, yes, fuck!” she mewls. Her hands pressing your head onto her breasts. God, what a feeling.

You lavish her tits, hands trying to get rid of her shirt. She lifts herself up from the bed slightly to give way, and finally, the obstructing shirt leaves her taut body, exposing her upper body in all glory for you.

Still, it’s not enough. You need more. You need more. Your mouth travels down her toned tummy, making her moan is pure pleasure. Finally, you reach the edge of her pants, and you slowly, so, so slowly, pull them down, exposing her wanton cunt. Fuck, she’s already wet.

“Nghhh~” Seeun groans, a hand reaching down to rub her drenched folds by the sensitive nub. Her body jolts as she touches there. She’s moaning, and you can only watch.

“Goddamn it, Seeun. Thought you need me,” you utter.

Seeun giggles through her moan. “I–I’m waiting. J–Just need something i–inside me.”

Hastily, you unbutton your shirt, making you bare above her wanting body, before throwing the shirt to god knows where. You’re so ready to fuck her with your cock.

“Ah–will you just–ah–p–put it inside me already?” Seeun mewls, hand busy rubbing her cunt.

With sheer force, you flip Seeun so that she’s above you. You’re going to have her ride you until you’re dry.

“M–My god, you’re gonna have me do all the work?” she asks, her hands resting on your chest, almost clawing your skin.

“I–Is that okay?”

“Mmm, only if you cum inside me,” she answers sultrily, biting her finger.

You smile, lining up your cock against her pussy. She slowly sinks down, and–

“Ah!” the two of you moan in unison.

The feeling of Seeun on your cock is unreal. Her walls graze your cock, making you moan erratically. She ever so slowly sinks down on your cock, making you watch yourself disappear into her. Fuck.

She pushes her cunt down until you’re buried up to the hilt. You then languidly draw your cock out of her, before you thrust straight back into her pussy.

“Fuck!” she cries out.

You catch your tempo, starting to move in a steady rhythm into her needy pussy. Both of you groan in pure pleasure. God, this feels so fucking good.

“D–Do you know STAYC?” Seeun asks, trying to catch the rhythm of the debauchery.

STAYC, Star to a Young Culture. You’ve heard of them. A few hits have passed your ear. SO BAD, STEREOTYPE, Bubble. A pretty decent group, you’d say.

“Y–Yeah, have heard a few songs,” you reply, unsure where this conversation would go. She’s still moving up and down on your cock majestically. Her breasts sway with the movement. She’s beautiful. The sight of your cock disappearing into her pussy only brings pleasure to you.

“Well–” she grabs onto your shoulders, leaning in closer “–I’m one of them.”

What the fuck?

You shoot a confused expression towards her, before slowly turning into a laugh. “Ha–r–really?”

“Didn’t g–get this abs and thighs by a miracle,” she answers. Yeah, she does look good.

“Goddamn,” you exclaim, still shocked by the revelation. She’s an idol, a pretty popular one. “Well, it’s an honor to be engaging in a coitus with you, Miss Yoon.”

She bursts out a loud laugh. Her back arches. Coitus is the funniest word you could think of, and that seems to work on her. “Oh my god, coitus? What the fuck was that?”

You cannot help but to laugh along with her. “Ha–sorry, d–didn’t mean to.”

“I–If I can’t cum because of this–I’m gonna be pissed,” she says, chuckling.

You touch her thighs, trying to feel her approaching orgasm, and it’s there. She’s tensing up. “Looks like my words have no effect, Miss Yoon,” you tease.

“You’re lucky today,” she happily replies, poking your nose softly, as she keeps bouncing on your length. 

You keep thrusting your hips up to meet her thighs in the middle. Don’t want her to do all the work, after all. The wet sounds of your fleshes smacking into each other echoes through the room. The smell of your perfumes and sex are mixing into a concoction. It’s an aphrodisiac that only serves to drive you insane.

“G–God, you smell so good, Seeun,” you involuntarily utter, so lost in her scent of spring.

“T–Told ya, Dior’s Sakura f–for a Japan trip,” she says, voice almost moaning.

Your thrusting goes on, but the scent is just too hard to ignore. It’s making you crazy. You need her. You need her smell. Suddenly, you pull Seeun down towards you. She yelps in shock, before you take in the scent of the crook of her neck. Fuck, she smells like spring—so fresh, so clean. It’s so lively.

“Wh–What a freak,” she scoffs, but you’re sure that she’s enjoying this, judging by her moan.

“Guilty as charged,” you reply with a giggle, still inhaling her lively scent, pressing your lips on her neck from time to time. She tastes as good as she smells.

“G–God, you’re making me cum, baby,” she utters, grinding on your cock in an even more frantic motion. Her breathing becomes more erratic and seconds go by.

You pull back from her neck to roam over to her soft breasts above you. They feel so good in your hands. She cries out in the overstimulation you’re giving her—your hands on her chest, your cock digging into her dripping wet pussy. It’s heaven to her.

“Nghhh~ gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cu–ah!”

Her entire body becomes rigid. A stream of her squirt leaks out of her already-drenched cunt. Her eyes flutter in ecstasy. Her walls contract around your cock. Her back arches, showing her nude body in all glory for you. Her moan hits high notes. God, she has a wonderful voice.

You properly fuck her through her seemingly-neverending peak. You keep pounding into her pussy with reckless abandon as her body spasms above you. Her pleasure-infused moan grows shakier at the overstimulation. Her body then falls on top of you, locking you in a tight embrace.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god. Y–Your cock is so f–fucking good!” she shouts, spurring you on even more. Your pace quickens, plowing into her spent cunt erratically, so determined to fill her with your cum.

The familiar tension coils inside your stomach. You’re ready to fill her up. You’re ready to paint her insides white. You’re ready to breed her. You’re ready to reach the precipice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna cum, gonna cum,” you grunt, thrusting into her pussy frantically. Her body limps on top of you, simply without energy to move anymore.

“N–Need you–b–breed me,” she whimpers, eyes barely opening, body getting ragdolled by your motions.

With any remaining energy, you’re so determined to fully breed her with your cum. You pound her pussy with your thrusts, chasing your own orgasm. It’s there. It’s right fucking there.

“Fuck!”

You reach your breaking point. Your entire body shudders at the peak. Your cock shoots cum into her wanton, needy pussy, filling her womb with your nectar. A guttural groan leaves your lips. You’re taking full pleasure in fucking her wanting body. Fuck, it feels so good.

You slowly come down from your orgasm. Your breathing finds its rhythm again, panting for air. Your hands cling to her body tightly, not wanting her to leave you. Both of you are blushing under this Tokyo moon, and you couldn’t be happier with where you are—under her, inside her.

“That–That was f–fucking good, b–baby,” she utters, stuttered. Her hands are caressing your flushing body, feeling every curve and contour.

“Y–You are too, baby,” you say, still trying to catch your breath under the gleaming moonlight. “Fuck.”

Seeun softly chuckles, slowly dragging herself off your cock. Your groan as her walls are grazing your sensitive cock. It almost hurts, but finally, you’re out of her wet cunt.

“I–I’ll go to the b–bathroom,” she whimpers before getting off the bed, limping towards the bathroom to wash your filths out. Your juices can be seen dripping down her meaty thighs, what a lewd sight.

As she enters the bathroom, you lie back down on your bed—tired, spent, waiting for her to come back. You think about what just happened with Yoon Seeun on this bed. You kissed her. You sucked on her breasts. You pounded her pussy with reckless abandon, then shot spurts of cum inside her. God, could tonight get any better?

“Babe!” Seeun shouts from inside the bathroom.

You lazily get up from the bed, thinking of what she could possibly want. You walk towards the door before opening it.

The sight of Yoon Seeun seductively biting her finger greets you. She’s leaning on the sink. Her breasts are resting on her chest gorgeously. Your cum is still dripping down from her used pussy, and you figure it out.

She wants another round.

“S–Seeun,” you say, leaning tiredly against the door. You don’t have the energy to go on anymore. You just want to sleep already.

Seeun giggles before walking towards you. There’s the sway of her hips. There’s the way she bites her finger. There’s the way she puts one leg in front of the other every step. And before you know, your cock is hard again.

You can go for another round.

She pulls her finger out of her mouth, biting her lip sultrily. She then plunges her bitten finger into your mouth, making you suck on it the same way you suck her tits. A chuckle escapes her lips.

“Think you can handle me again, baby?”

With her finger inside your mouth, you can do nothing but nod.

—

[merqki]

boyfriend’s brother (derogatory)

cw: boyfriendsbrother!rin x f!reader, badboyfriend!sae x f!reader — CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP! cheating but make it hot, emotional neglect (and ofc it's sae), rin itoshi is a menace to society, reader has questionable morals and zero self-respect (we love her tho), sibling rivalry deluxe edition™, rage baiting as a love language, phone sex??? kinda, voyeurism if you squint, subtle exhibitionism, dry humping, getting caught, fingernail marks and bruises, non-violent strangling, swearing, really horny people, suggestive content but not full-on NSFW, intentional lowercase

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 🪻 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

boyfriendsbrother!rin has always been quiet.

quietly annoying.

you and sae have been together for a few months now. he is a good boyfriend.

well, sort of.

good enough to hold the door open for you, but not enough to actually acknowledge your presence. he always had something in his mind, and god forbid his girlfriend wanted to spend some quality time with him.

what could be worse than that? being invisible to your own boyfriend?

his brother making fun of you.

rin itoshi was a pain in the ass.

at the dinner table, when sae brought you home to meet his family, rin smirked, that evil grin appeared every time sae — purposely or not — straight up ignored your comments like they didn’t matter. like they didn’t even happen. like you weren’t even there.

his mom noticed, she gave you an understanding look, like she was silently saying “i’m sorry, he’s like this. get used to it.”

and you intended to. hell, you had to.

you’ve had your eyes on sae for the longest time, his teal eyes and stoic demeanor, his otherworldly talent, the ambition that you admired so much. you finally managed to get him, and now what? were you supposed to leave him just because he wasn’t showering you with affection like you’d hoped?

that's childish.

your friends told you, ”get over it. you’ve been wanting for that man for how long?”.

and they were right.

getting over it? somewhat doable. but those looks rin kept giving you? hell, straight up hell.

he was the worst part of the day. never said a word — his eyes did all the talking. laughing at you when sae wasn’t looking. shaking his head in disbelief whenever his brother ignored your flirting as he passed by.

on a random friday at the itoshi household, the rage and embarrassment you had been bottling up for months hit you like a tidal wave. you had to do something.

and of course – you did.

it started as pure rage-bait.

you began purposely leaving sae’s bedroom door open just enough for rin to see you two making out. you'd never been that touchy with sae, but now? now you were overdoing it. hands in his hair. love marks.

it shouldn’t have been abnormal for a couple, but with sae it was.

still — he was a man, so of course he didn’t complain.

the thing is, your back was always facing the door. you couldn’t really tell if your plan was working. the only way to know was to keep doing it until rin gave you a sign.

so you kept going, week after week, until it became a routine.

still, rin gave you nothing but those same judgmental looks whenever you were in the same room.

sae did loosen up a little. he let you hold his hand at the table. but still nothing from rin.

he let you kiss him in front of his family.

rin didn’t flinch.

it pissed you off. the way he’d only acknowledge you when sae did you wrong — ugh.

it had become a challenge, but you weren't winning, not at all.

you kept looking for rin’s gaze, you felt disappointed when he wasn’t at dinner or when his door stayed shut and you couldn’t put on your little act.

it was exhausting.

one night, sae actually tried to be affectionate — kissing you, touching you, his mouth on your jaw, neck, collarbone. but you were still, distracted, frowning. wondering why rin wasn’t reacting like you wanted him to.

you turned your head to face sae, whose mouth was still on your skin.

you just had the best idea ever.

you straddled him. his hands gripped your hips, and you moved slowly, grinding against him. you tugged at his hair and kissed him, tongue desperate, angry. you kept moving on his crotch, waiting for him to do exactly what you were hoping.

he did.

whimpers slipped from his lips, and a grin spread across your face. there was no way you were letting rin miss this. you pulled your phone from your back pocket, turned slightly, and typed in three letters:

r-i-n.

you called his number, the ringtone echoed from the other room for a few seconds. then it stopped. he either picked up or hung up, you were so hoping for the first but you couldn't know yet.

so you kept going, louder and louder.

when you and sae stopped, the room was silent. his hair was messy, your neck bruised, breaths ragged, and the sheets a disaster. you reached for your phone — the call was still on.

he didn’t hang up.

sae got up and left, probably for the bathroom. you didn’t care about his sudden burst of touchiness. all you cared was about rin.

rin, listening.

rin, hearing you and his brother like that for twenty minutes straight.

he didn't say a word, he waited 30 seconds and then hung up. it was a win, right?

but once again, not a single word from him.

so. fucking. infuriating.

the plan didn't work out like you wanted it to, and for the next couple of weeks you started avoiding your boyfriend, making lame excuses every time. he barely reacted, just replied with an ’ok’ when you canceled your plans. three weeks passed like that.

when the fourth rolled around, you finally decided to face him. you went to his place again. the thought of seeing rin made your face heat up instantly. you weren’t ready for his fucking little smirks.

the house was empty. the itoshi parents weren’t home. as usual, sae led you to his room.

you weren’t in the mood, so you put on a movie and chatted a bit. eventually, sae dozed off. the movie ended. the silence was deafening. you were scrolling through your socials when you heard it.

a bed creaking like crazy from across the hallway.

oh.

oh.

that son of a bitch.

you were fuming. forced to listen to rin fuck someone senseless while your boyfriend snored.

but what hit you hardest wasn’t the rage — it was the jealousy.

you were jealous.

god. you wished it was you.

so desperate to get something — anything — out of him, you stormed out of sae’s room and banged on rin’s door. didn’t even care if there was a girl inside.

he opened it with a smug grin on his face.

«took you long enough,» he said.

huh?

your face must’ve said it all, because he kept going.

«to stop acting like a child.»

«like a child? are you out of your mind? you're the one who–»

«called you while making out with my brother? yeah, no. that was you.»

«no point in denying it, huh?»

you shrugged. he stared straight through you, his teal eyes were darker than usual and you felt so small under his gaze.

«sae’s not good for you.»

now, that took you off guard.

«excuse me?»

you pushed him inside and slammed the door behind you.

«you,» you said, poking his chest, «have. no. say. in. my. relationship.»

each word was a push. he didn’t break eye contact. you pushed until his back hit the closet. he grabbed your finger.

you were dangerously close. your body, your mind — spiraling. you heart thundered in your chest. his gaze made your knees weak. he grabbed your wrist, pulling you in.

«you're so incredibly unhappy,» he whispered, «you made him moan just so i could hear.»

his breath fanned your lips. you tried to pull back, but his grip was too tight. too intoxicating. you leaned in without meaning to, eyes flicking from his to his lips.

he smirked. he noticed.

«you piss me off. so fucking much. i want to strangle you.» you whispered.

«i’d enjoy that.»

that – that was your last straw.

you freed yourself from his hold and grabbed the back of his neck, crashing your lips onto his. he grabbed your thighs and you jumped, legs wrapping around his waist. he kissed you like he was starving, tongue deep, humming into your mouth.

he carried you to his bed, laid you down and caged you underneath him. he paused and took a good look at you.

swollen lips. eyes glassy with desire. perfect. and to think his lukewarm of a brother had denied you affection so long that you started craving his.

him, — so fucking pathetic that he faked having a girl over just to get your attention. so pathetic that he kept baiting you, just to see you chase his gaze instead of sae’s. so pathetic that he stayed on that call, imagining it was him pulling those moans from your pretty mouth.

the sole thought of his brother being responsible of those lewd sounds drove him insane. he let that anger loose on your skin. his hands explored your body like they needed to memorize it. his nails sank into your thighs, and when you whimpered he lost it.

you were so goddamn gorgeous beneath him. loud. desperate. all for him.

his mouth moved to your neck — the same place sae had left his marks. he felt disgusted, he had to fix that.

rin kissed, sucked, bit — determined to erase it all. to show you what it meant to be wanted. to leave proof that it was him making you feel this way.

and you didn’t stop him.

god, did you even care if sae caught you?

«rin…» his name sounded like a sin on your tongue. your moans were music. fucking music.

you grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into another kiss.

«feisty.»

he breathed against your lips.

«you were made for me, not him.»

«shut up.» you tightened your grip on his neck, he moaned into your mouth. fuck, was he driving you insane.

more, more, more. you needed more.

and rin wanted to give it to you.

he stood up and unbuckled his belt, eyes locked with yours until the lights flicked on.

you didn’t even flinch, too far gone. he threw his belt at the door, but when it fell it didn't make a sound.

instead, it... coughed?

«i’ll leave you to it.»

sae, holding rin’s belt and leaning on the doorframe. he closed the door behind him. calm. cold.

you and rin froze, staring at each other in disbelief.

whoops?

© chiara — 2025

[itneverendshere]

Hii i love the bitchy!pogue!reader series and i would love to know how they first hooked up again, like what led them to keep going after their first night together. That's all, thx in a advance if you do it, i love your writing

the way i ran to write this lmao, thank you for the request ❤️ let's just say it wasn't planned at alll....it was fate👀

in spite of myself - drabble

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you swore the first time was the last.

you were simply… curious. you wanted to figure out just how far you could push his buttons without him taking it out on you.

you got your answer. you went to that party with the sole intent of pissing him off, but you hadn’t planned on ending up in his bed—not that you’d ever complain. but that was it.

you’d gotten your taste, of course you weren't expecting to run into him so...soon.

you’d learned to play along for these little trips into kookland. your cheap dress, bought solely to get you through the gates, hugged you a little too close—but that was the point, wasn’t it? you made a show of adjusting the neckline, scanning the room with that perfected boredom.

the moment you spotted him across the room, you nearly snorted, because of course he was here.

rafe, in all his buttoned-up glory. hair slicked back like he’d asked his barber for the "douchebag deluxe," wearing a shirt that probably cost as much as your entire car. he looked so at ease among his kind, you wanted to pat him on the head and give him a treat.

bingo.

he was pretending not to see you, standing there with some stuffy old kook in khakis so aggressively white they probably had a staff meeting dedicated to their upkeep.

but you could spot it: the clench in his jaw, his fingers twitching around his glass.

honestly, it was too easy. you’d barely taken a few steps in his direction, and his grip tightened like he was trying not to crush the glass just at the sight of you.

aww. you hadn’t come here for him, but the opportunity was irresistible, how could you say no to that face?

you took your time, internally giddy at how his stiff he looked the closer you got. you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh as you finally slid up next to him at the bar, taking your time, letting your eyes glide over his shoulders and back down to those broad, broad arms.

god, look at those arms, you thought.

this idiot must curl yachts for fun. absolutely absurd.

his gaze snapped to you, “what the hell are you doing here?” he gritted out, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

poor thing, always so snappy.

you brought a hand to your chest, going for maximum innocence.

“who, me?” you blinked, leaning in with a soft, honey-dripping sigh. “just networking with the local elite. isn’t that what i’m supposed to do if i want to ‘rise above my station’?” you savored the horror flashing across his face.

rafe looked personally offended, like you’d just announced you were taking up golf, while you let your eyes drop to the line of his shoulders, lingering just a little too long on his chest before dropping.

slowly, slowly.

his face twisted like he was in pain, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, protecting himself from the way you were very clearly undressing him with your eyes.

“cut that shit out,” he ground out, “i know what you’re doing.”

you raised an eyebrow, “doing what?” you shot him a wide-eyed, who, me? look, letting your gaze dip again. “i’m not doing anything.”

his face flushed as he hissed, “you’re doing it right now! act normal for once.”

he pulled away from you as if your pogue germs might rub off on him, but you’d seen that look on his face before.

“honestly, if you didn’t want attention cameron, maybe don’t wear that. kind of a slutty choice, don’t you think?”

his neck flushed deep red as he scowled. “excuse me?”

you shrugged, “just saying. last time, you had a lot to say about my outfit, didn’t you?”

“you’re fucking insane. leave me alone.”

you smirked, leaning closer, “oh, baby, i’ve already got what i wanted from you,” you purred. “unless, of course, you’re offering again?”

his jaw tensed, and he looked away as if even looking at you would ruin his day. but he was still here, wasn’t he?

“don’t flatter yourself. i’m done with you,” he muttered.

you shot him a wicked grin, “flatter myself?” you let out an exaggerated laugh, turning heads nearby. “i’m here on a date.”

rafe’s smirk dropped, and he cast a quick, possessive look around the room before moving his attention back to you.

“a date?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

you nodded as you pointed toward the back, where your “date”—some poor kook with a summer tan and daddy’s credit card—stood waiting near the hors d’oeuvres table, oblivious.

“did you think i came here just for you?” you tilted your head, letting the words sting. “i don’t do repeats, country club. got what i wanted, remember?”

he looked like he was about to set the place on fire, blue eyes narrowing as he glared at your so-called date. you could sense the gears turning in his head. god, this was just too easy.

“maybe you should run along, hmm?” you said, your voice light and mocking. “can’t imagine what your country club buddies would think, seeing you all worked up over a pogue.” you flashed him a dazzling smile before tossing a wink, then spun on your heel, leaving him there seething.

you could feel his stare burning into your back as you sashayed over to your “date.” this was way too fun.

lunch was mind-numbing, but free, so you were perfectly okay tolerating the “date”—or, as you preferred to call it, the idiot with a wallet—while he droned on about his family’s fleet of yachts or some bullshit about generational wealth. you nodded along, not listening as he bragged. as if you even gave a fuck.

when he finally paused to shove more overpriced pasta into his mouth, you decided you needed a break from the snooze-fest.

“excuse me, i’ll just pop to the ladies’ room,” you murmured, batting your lashes like the good, sweet little pogue he thought he’d bagged for the afternoon. as soon as you were clear of him, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

the second you got into the quiet of the bathroom, you let out a dramatic sigh of relief, shaking your head.

what a fucking bore.

you’d honestly rather be anywhere else—well, except maybe with rafe, since he’d probably drag you back to the ninth circle of pogue-hating hell.

as you were checking your lipstick in the mirror, the door swung open, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“um, excuse you?” you snapped, eyebrows shooting up. “i know you have a thing for following me around, but the ladies’ room? have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

rafe didn’t answer.

he stalked forward, looking pissed as he backed you up against the sink, boxing you in without so much as a second thought. there was something about the way his forearms flexed when he did that.

ridiculous, he most likely got pumped up just pouring a glass of water.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. oh my god.

you clamped a hand over your mouth, but the sound came anyway, echoing off the fancy-ass tiles. “oh my god, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

he leaned in even closer. “you think this is funny?”

“funny?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “it’s hilarious. i’m here for lunch. you know, food? the stuff people eat? he offered, and i like free shit. it’s that simple.”

“you’re doing this just to piss me off,” he accused.

“oh, get over yourself,” you scoffed. “you think i’m obsessed with you or something? i wasn’t even thinking about you until you came barging in here like a lunatic.” you leaned back, giving him a brazen, challenging look. “can you move, by the way? i was enjoying the break.”

his nostrils flared, but you didn’t even care. if he wanted to lose his shit, fine—he was the one who walked in here. you stared him down, totally unfazed, holding his gaze until he broke it.

“careful,” you added, your voice mocking and low. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were jealous. because, i gotta be honest, you look like you’re about two seconds away from—”

“shut up,” he growled, his face inches from yours, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “you show up here, flaunting yourself like you don’t remember exactly how last week ended, like you weren’t begging me to—”

“oh please,” you interrupted, ignoring the pleasure that traveled up your spine. “let’s not rewrite history.”

his hand gripped your cheeks, blunt nails pressing in from either side as he pulled you close, capturing your jaw to hold you still. the pressure of the squeeze pulled your pouty lips together, forcing you to look up with wide eyes.

“stop talking."

you tried to smirk around his grip, feeling the bite of his fingers, but your words came out muffled.

“what’s wrong, country club? can’t handle a little conversation?”

“just can’t help yourself, can you?”

you could hardly nod, your eyes gleaming with defiance as you let out a small, mocking hum of agreement.

his hands slid down from your cheeks to cradle your jaw, fingers firm as his mouth pushed against yours. you giggled into the kiss, entirely too pleased with yourself as you tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling until he groaned.

“this is the last time,” his voice was ragged against your lips, but the words sounded half-hearted, he was trying to convince himself.

you smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, tilting your head to test him, see if he’d let you go. instead, his hand was already sliding up your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your lips, holding you right there.

“you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “think you can just look at me like that, say whatever you want…”

“who says i can’t?” you purred, lips brushing against his as you taunted, “if you don't want this, maybe you should go.”

his grip tightened, a curse slipping past his pretty lips, streaked with the deep red of your lipstick, glossy with both your spit.

and fuck, did he look good like that—disheveled, unguarded, his face painted with your lipstick like a silent confession of just how far he’d let himself go with you despite his fucked morals.

rafe let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he muttered, “last time, swear to god.”

[daxisyzz]

I keep thinking Diamond Boy by SZA could be the basis for a great Bucky fic, if for no other reason than the lines "You make my thoughts stop/You make being me less hard" are SO Bucky coded

And I'm also obsessed with the Deluxe SOS and listening to it in my car on my commute every day

BUT I feel like you could do something sweet and fluffy with it that I would love to see!

Hope you like it<3 lemme know

Diamond Boy

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You don’t know how to explain it, but around Bucky, everything inside you quiets. At 2 a.m. by the pool, you finally let yourself lean into it.

Word count: 708

Warnings and tags: kinda song fic, comfort, feeling safe with Bucky, fluff, talks about no sleep, he makes you feel yourself.

The compound is quiet at night.

You like it best that way—when the lights dim and the weight of the world slips off your shoulders for just a moment. The chaos fades. Everyone else is asleep, or at least pretending to be. But you… you’re out here again. Barefoot, wearing a comfy hoodie and shorts, legs swinging over the edge of the pool.

The water glows soft blue under the surface lights, and the cool air kisses your skin in a way that makes you feel like maybe, maybe—you’ll be okay.

You close your eyes and lean back on your palms, letting your head tilt up to the sky. The stars are out tonight. Not that you’re really looking.

You don’t hear him at first. Just the shift of weight on concrete. The soft sound of water sloshing.

Then: “You always sit out here this late?”

You don’t startle. You knew he’d come. He always does.

“Only when I can’t sleep,” you say, turning just enough to see him in your periphery.

Bucky. Loose gray sweatpants, black T-shirt clinging to him like it missed his jacket. His metal arm glints faintly in the moonlight. His eyes—not blue like water, but like winter air—land on yours and don’t waver.

He joins you without another word, settling beside you on the edge of the pool with a quiet groan as his muscles stretch.

You like this part. When he doesn’t ask questions. When he just is. The silence that settles between you isn’t heavy. It never is with him. It’s full, somehow. It feels like… being seen without needing to explain anything.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” you ask, after a long minute.

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to be in my head.”

Yeah. You get that.

You glance at him, and even in the low light, you can see it—he’s tired. Not just physically. It’s in his eyes, in his posture, in the way he rolls his shoulders like he’s trying to loosen more than tension. Like he’s trying to breathe a little easier. You know that feeling.

“I like this,” you say softly. “Being here. With you.”

He looks at you again, this time with a flicker of something warmer.

“Feels… real,” you add. “Like the rest of the world shuts up when we’re out here.”

Bucky’s gaze lingers. “I like it too.”

There’s a pause. Then:

“You don’t talk like this with anyone else,” he says.

You chuckle, self-conscious. “You make it easier.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Your throat tightens slightly, but you speak anyway. “You make being me less hard.”

His brow furrows. Not with confusion—with care.

You keep going, barely above a whisper now. “All day, I’m bracing. For the next task, the next reaction, the next expectation. Even when no one’s asking anything, I feel like I’m carrying everything. But when I’m with you…”

You look at him fully now. “You’re the only person I don’t feel like I have to earn peace from.”

Bucky doesn’t speak for a moment. His face softens in a way that makes your chest ache.

“I didn’t know anyone thought of me like that,” he says quietly.

You reach out without thinking, your fingers brushing his metal wrist gently. He doesn’t flinch.

“You don’t have to try so hard either, you know.”

He exhales—like he’s been holding his breath all night—and shifts just enough that your knees bump. He lets his hand slide over yours, linking your fingers, thumb sweeping over your knuckle slowly.

“Whenever I think it’s all too much,” he murmurs, “I end up looking for you.”

Your heart skips. You don’t know what to say to that. But maybe you don’t have to. Maybe sitting here, leaning into each other with the world asleep around you, says everything.

You rest your head on his shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to the top of it.

You don’t say anything else.

You don’t need to ask what this is or where it’s going.

It’s enough—this late-night softness, this shared quiet.

And for the first time in a long time, being you doesn’t feel like a burden.

Because Bucky’s here. And in this after-hours stillness, everything that hurts fades just enough to let you breathe again.

[shirecorn]

The two versions of ornaments I will be making!

THEY ARE HERE

Ornament information post

I'm working with a local shop to make ornaments! Here's some specifications for the basic set:

Should be done and shipped by mid december

Optional add-on of damage-free sticky wall hangers to hang them from instead of needing a tree

1/8th inch clear acrylic

Average size is 5 inches tall, including the plastic

Reindeer drawing printed on one side, facing left

Other side printed with their name, drawn in a special font, with an abstract version of the reindeer cut in a silhouette

8 Adult reindeer

1 sleigh

Rudolph has two options: The version that uses his mobility sleigh and a version that just floats.

I was thinking that the ornament set would only have the floating Rudolph, but then i remembered tumblr loved the sleigh.

So the final lineup is 10 or 11 ornaments

Then there's the deluxe version, which has a LOT of fiddling by hand.

Should be done and shipped by Christmas

Same specs as above, regarding size, double sided print, acrylic, etc

Custom metallic red harnesses for each reindeer, applied by hand

Gold rhinestones applied by hand

Gold eyelets drilled into them

Gold rings hanging from the eyelets

A long red ribbon to connect each one, with a buckle on the end

10 mini bells with wire rings to hang between each reindeer

A brief printed instruction page for assembly

There may be room for a version with just the red/gold harnesses and no drilling/ribbon? If there's significant interest in that. Please let me know!

I will work on getting fullsize comps done and then I can take preorders! Keep an eye on my etsy for the listing

[wolfsclothing6]

I would love to buy a skinsuit. I am a total geek and scrawny in college. I would love a skinsuit that can wear to show off my strength. One with big muscles. Any way you can help me out. Only problem is I have to work outside mowing and other yard work to pay it off. Hope the heat stays low so I don't get stuck. It is supposed to be really hot in a few days.

"Big Man on Campus"

Day 1 – Order Confirmed!

I finally did it. I ordered my first MorphoSkin Deluxe Muscle Form! No more scrawny arms, no more awkward frame—I’m going to be huge. I’ve always been the geeky guy, the one who barely fills out a hoodie, the one people overlook. But with this? I’ll be massive. Broad shoulders, thick chest, arms that stretch out my sleeves—just imagining it makes my heart race.

There’s only one little problem: money.

These things aren’t cheap, and I had to take on extra work mowing lawns and doing yard work to afford it. It’s been hot as hell lately, but I should be okay as long as I don’t overheat. I read somewhere that too much heat can make the suit… stick. Probably just a scare tactic, right?

Day 4 – Delivery Arrived!

It’s here. I opened the package like a kid on Christmas, and there it was: my new body.

The suit is everything I imagined—thick, veiny arms, a massive chest, and abs that look like they were carved out of stone. The inside of the suit feels weirdly cool and smooth, almost alive. I barely skimmed the instructions (who reads those?), then stripped down and stepped in.

The change was instant.

My legs stretched taller, my thighs grew thick and powerful, my stomach hardened into a tight six-pack. Pulling my arms into place, I flexed—veins popped under the surface, biceps bulged, and my hands were huge, rough, strong.

Then came the final piece—the face. I pulled it over, felt a sharp tingle down my spine, and then…

My voice rumbled deep from my chest. My reflection was perfect. I clenched my fists, feeling the sheer power in my arms. My t-shirt stretched tight over my massive shoulders, and my jeans felt one squat away from tearing.

This was insane.

Day 6 – Work Day

I had to work a double shift mowing lawns today, but honestly? I was excited. I wanted to see how this body performed.

And man, did it deliver.

I powered through yard after yard, barely breaking a sweat. My muscles thrived under the work—each push of the mower, each lift of a bag of mulch, it all felt effortless. People actually noticed me for once. The old man next door whistled, impressed. A group of girls jogging by did a double-take.

For the first time in my life, I felt undeniable.

But there was one little problem.

The heat.

The sun was brutal today—beating down for hours, my whole body soaked in sweat. My shirt clung to me, my breath came heavier, my skin felt too tight.

I figured I just needed a break. I sat down, guzzled water, wiped my face—and froze.

My skin wasn’t wiping clean.

I looked down at my arms. The sweat didn’t bead—it sank in. Like my pores had changed. My fingers trembled as I grabbed at my wrist, trying to pinch the suit’s seam.

Nothing.

I reached for my neck, feeling for the edge where the suit met my real skin. It should be there. It should peel.

It didn’t.

My pulse pounded.

I rushed to my truck’s side mirror and stared at myself. Same massive body. Same perfect muscles. Same chiseled jawline.

I pressed my fingers to my face, trying to pull the skin away. It wouldn’t move. It stretched, it flexed, it responded like it belonged.

Because it did.

I swallowed hard, my Adam’s apple bobbing—except now, it wasn’t mine. It was his.

The words from the instructions flashed in my mind—something about heat exposure. About how too much could cause permanent fusion

"Oh fuck..."

I took a slow, shaky breath. My reflection stared back, confident, unshaken.

Maybe this wasn’t the worst thing.

I clenched a massive fist, flexing my arm. I was strong. Powerful. Everything I ever wanted to be.

This was my body now.

And honestly?

I didn’t mind.

[edwardslvrr]

OBSESSED 𐙚 lando norris

౨ৎ lando norris x singer!reader

the one where reader releases her album about her best friend and he finally realises how in love she is with him ( based on this request )

taglist if you'd like to be added to my taglist, message me privately or comment on this post

warning this is all fake and just for fun, no hate to any of the people mentioned. Just a reminder that this is pure for entertainment хохо

main masterlist 𐙚 lando masterlist

౨ৎ yourinstagram no location

liked by landonorris and 2.194.958 others

yourinstagram GUTS (spilled) is out!! and the music video for obsessed too!! the GUTS have been spilled 🫀💋🧣

view all 7.194 comments

username holy shit-

username umm i fully believe this is about lando..

username the whole album fr is😭

username man is so clueless it’s actually frustrating

username every single song is about lando fr, i have no prove i can just feel it

username i’m speechless fr

username lando you better watch out babe

username came from the twitter thread.. i’m in SHOCK

౨ৎ f1fan twitter

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

viewed by landonorris and 4.107.793 others

replies to your story

username you are so bold to release that and i support it 100%

username tell that man you love him, please woman

landonorris look @ you gooo!! congrats on the 50 mil streams on Obsessed! 🤩 yourinstagram thanks lannn!!

username absolutely deserved, smashed that album!!

username obsessed might’ve been fucking psychotic and i’m so here for it

౨ৎ messages yourbestfriend/yn

౨ৎ yourinstagram no location

liked by francisca.cgomes and 3.553.791 others

yourinstagram you guys are absolutely crazy! the support has been so overwhelming, thank you thank you thank you! am so speechless atm, don’t even know how to thank you all. It’s been a long road to this album and it feels unreal to have been able to finally share this with you. a thousand times thanks! 🍀💘💋

view all 7.958 comments

username might’ve just dropped album of the decade

username lando someone out there debating his life choices

landonorris wow big fan, can I have your autograph?!!

username bro wife her up i’m sick of you looking the other way

username BRO THE ALBUM IS ABOUT YOU OPEN YOUR EYES

username he can’t be that clueless right?

username obsessed is such a banger!

username my opinion on Obsessed is honestly I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs.

౨ৎ landonorris posted on their stories

viewed by maxfewtrell, carlossainz55 and 2.195.783 others

replies to your story

username her deluxe album about me**

username next post better be “my girlfriend just released..”

yourinstagram thanks for the support Lan, appreciate you sm!!🤍 landonorris gotta support talent right ;)

username bro the album is about you🥱

౨ৎ messages carlos/lando

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

viewed by maxfewtrell, yourbestfriend and 4.184.782 others

replies to your story

username get some sleeep

username the cup is very relatable

username real tbh

username and you still look good.. 😔

౨ৎ messages lando/yn

౨ৎ landonorris melbourne, victoria, australia

liked by mclaren and 2.184.792 others

landonorris Gonna go get my appendix removed. Apparently you do it and you win a race sooooo… congratis Carlitos 🌶️

view all 10.682 comments

username carlando!!!!

username live laugh live carlando

yourinstagram look at you holding onto your promise 😊

landonorris never breaking promises!

username DATE

username please tell me you’re finally dating

username does bro still not know her album is about him

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

viewed by landonorris, yourbestfriend and 4.626.781 others

replies to your story

username omg finally!!

username girly wbk wbk babes

maxfewtrell took you guys long enough

username i’ve been waiting for this for years omg

౨ৎ landonorris posted on their stories

viewed by maxfewtrell, carlossainz55 and 2.859.792 others

replies to your story

username nah i’m sobbing

username bro finally opened his eyes YAAA

carlossainz55 he really did it!!

username screaming crying and throwing up

taglist - @louvrepool @italyrryx @buendiabebeta @janeholt3 @lightdragonrayne @namgification @aquangxl @sammyam @americanbluebirdrb @poppyflower-22 @c-losur3 @nxrrislando @haikyuen @evie-119 @raevyng

[dakusan]

I feel like I have written you way too many times, and I feel bad because I know you get so many requests! So I'll just dump the rest of my prompts in this one. Feel free to pick one, none, or all! Of course, at your own pace!!

1. you're in the studio with 3racha. What happens when you're being a little too friendly/flirty with his members? You've never really paid attention before, but suddenly you want to know what this button does on the sound board? Which skz would lose their cool the fastest?

2. you're a dancer on tour and also in a secret relationship with skz. what happens when you get hurt at practice but they have to play it cool but inside they're dying. same question, which skz is losing their cool first?

3. what would skz reaction be when you forget to breathe or use your safeword/color and temporary blackout from the overwhelming pleasure?

That's all I have. Sorry for another long message. I tend to always take it to the next level. But this will be it!!! As always, thank you for being so welcoming and always giving the fans what they want! You're an amazing writer, and I appreciate you! ❤️

OH. OH YOU CAME WITH A MISSION. you didn’t just drop prompts—you delivered a buffet of brainrot, a thunderstorm of feelings, and then had the audacity to be sweet and apologetic at the end?? Girl I am screaming in seventeen dimensions. Buckle up, here comes THE CHAOS RESPONSE: DELUXE EDITION.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

THE THUNDERSTORM BED PROMPT

You’re mad. He’s on the couch. Storm’s outside, but the real one is in your chest.

Chan cracks first. Of course. Man’s been fake coughing, sighing dramatically, flipping over every 12 seconds hoping you’ll call for him. When thunder hits? He’s at your door whispering, “...I know you’re still awake.” Crawls under the blanket like he belongs there. Spoiler: he does.

Minho is stubborn AF, arms crossed, eyes closed—but he’s not sleeping. The moment he hears thunder and your soft inhale? He’s stealth activated. No words. Just his arm sliding under your waist like, “Don’t make this a big deal.”

Changbin lies on the couch like he’s being punished by god himself. Every thunderclap makes him flinch, not because he’s scared—but because he knows you are. Finally, he mutters, “Screw this,” stomps down the hall, scoops you clean off the bed, and just goes, “You mad? Be mad. But I’m not letting you sleep alone like that.”

Hyunjin tries to hold out. Really. But he starts panicking thinking you’re crying and he can’t take it. Tiptoes in with those giant eyes, climbs into bed like a shamed cat, then wraps you up and mutters, “I hate when you’re scared… I hate when I’m not near you more.”

Jisung sneaks in like it’s a heist. He thinks you’re asleep, so he just lays down next to you and freezes. You roll over? He whispers, “It’s just thunder… but like... not just thunder if you’re scared… but like not that I came in ‘cause I missed you or—ok maybe I did.”

Felix is already halfway to your bed before the thunder even hits. He can’t bear the cold distance. He’ll poke his head in with a soft, “D’you wanna cuddle?” and you’re like YES. YES I DO. He glows under the covers.

Seungmin waits the longest, but when he hears a tiny sniffle? Game over. He comes in, flops beside you, mumbles “You’re so stubborn,” and tugs you to his chest. You fall asleep to his steady heartbeat.

Jeongin has a whole internal monologue about respecting your space but then absolutely cracks the second thunder shakes the window. He literally books it down the hall, flops on your bed, and wraps around you like a koala. No regrets.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

STUDIO FLIRTING WITH 3RACHA

You touch the wrong dial and Chan visibly twitches. You laugh at something Changbin says and Jisung leans a little closer than necessary. You say “what does this do?” and suddenly every man in that room is sweating.

Chan loses it first. His jaw is locked. He’s spinning in his chair like it’ll help. “That’s the compressor,” he growls, except he’s staring at your hand like it just offended his bloodline. He’s the quiet possessive—subtle tension, twitching vein, snapping pencil.

Changbin goes second. He’s trying to keep it cool, but his responses start getting shorter, gruffer. “No, that’s not what it does,” he mutters and yanks your hand just a little too fast. His face is red.

Jisung looks the calmest until he suddenly blurts, “DID YOU JUST FLIRT WITH BIN?” and then knocks over a water bottle. Whispers to you later, “I’m the only one who gets to make you giggle like that.” Unhinged.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

SECRET RELATIONSHIP + YOU GET HURT ON TOUR

You fall. It’s not major. But it looks bad.

Chan immediately freezes. Tries to be professional. “She’s fine,” he says to staff—but he’s white as a sheet. He wraps your ankle way too tight because his hands are shaking. Spends the night whispering, “I should’ve been watching.”

Minho puts on a masterclass in acting unfazed. “She's tough,” he shrugs. But backstage? He corners you, drops to his knees, cups your ankle, and mutters, “If something happened to you and I couldn’t show it—I think I’d lose my mind.”

Changbin doesn’t even blink at first—because he knows if he reacts, someone will notice. But his fists clench. Jaw locks. He’s staring so hard the staff tells him to move. Instead, he drops to one knee like he’s proposing and gently checks your injury himself. "She needs ice. Now. And clear space—why are you all still standing here?"

Hyunjin is full meltdown in slow motion. Doesn’t cry, but you can see it in his eyes. He covers his mouth when you wince. Later, he cradles your foot in his lap like a relic and won’t stop brushing your hair back whispering, “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay…”

Jisung starts joking instantly. “Wow, someone just had to be dramatic huh?” But the moment you’re alone he grabs your face, stares at you for five whole seconds, and says, “I was gonna puke. No joke. Don’t do that again.”

Felix cries immediately. Everyone’s like “is he okay??” but it’s for you. He clutches your hand the whole ride home and says, “You’re the most important thing. I don’t care about the tour. I care about you.”

Seungmin forces logic. “It’s a mild sprain,” he tells staff. But his voice is way too clipped. That night, he makes you sit on the counter so he can rewrap your ankle properly, his way. Kisses your temple and says, “I was scared. Don’t scare me like that again.”

Jeongin is pure panic. Keeps glancing at you even while dancing. Almost trips himself. Once he gets to you, he’s like “ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE OKAY?” every 3 minutes until you threaten to duct tape his mouth.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

BLACKOUT FROM PLEASURE? OH YOU MEAN ARMAGEDDON MODE?

Chan stops immediately. He’s already pulling you into his lap, hand on your neck, forehead pressed to yours. “Baby… colour. You back?” Kisses your shoulders until your breathing evens. “You scare me when you go too far. But fuck, I love wrecking you.”

Minho has already noticed your tells. He stops the second you miss a breath. “Colour?” he murmurs. Once you whisper it out, he rests you against him, tucks the blanket around you and wraps you in his arms.

Changbin was already watching you too closely. And the moment your safe word stutters out? He moves fast. He gets you upright against his chest, one hand pressed to your heart, the other stroking down your back. “Colour. Baby, come back to me. You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

Hyunjin is devastated. He didn’t even realize you were that far gone. “Oh my god—baby???” He’s literally arguing with himself as he brings you water, kissing your wrists. “You have to tell me. Please. I love you more than the high.”

Jisung goes from demon to panic-puppy in 0.2 seconds. “OH SHIT—ohfuckohfuck—are you okay??” Once you’re grounded, he’s burying his face in your neck. “That was the hottest thing ever and also I’m never letting it get that far again unless you promise me you’ll tell me first.”

Felix freaks out but holds you like a warm blanket. “Shhh, shhh, baby you’re back, you’re safe, I’ve got you.” Puts on soft music, hums into your skin. Won’t even think about sex again until you’re smiling and poking his cheeks.

Seungmin is calm but firm. He’s all business while grounding you: pulse check, deep breaths, soft voice. After? He cups your chin and says, “You scared the hell out of me.” But then he kisses your hand and whispers, “You did so good, I’m proud of you.”

Jeongin is shaken. “Colour?? Safe word??? Baby??” His hands are all over you—checking, soothing, holding. When you come back fully, he’s nuzzling into you, voice breaking just a bit: “I thought I hurt you.”"

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

LASTLY—CHERRYOATCHAI… GIRL. You don’t write too much. You don’t take it too far.

You bring the ✨prompts, the 💥drama, and the 🩶LOVE. Never apologize again.

Thank you for trusting me with your chaos. Your ideas are a gift. YOU are a gift 🩷

[ledgends-of-the-stars]

Ok so this is like, lots of time in the making! Anyone remember the Sexiest Kirby Character Tournament? PFFFF And Meta Knight won?! LMAO I made a reaction doodle of my Meta responding to the outcome at the time (Maybe might redraw it)!

As you can see, he took it well! Lol And I teased a Ginjinka of DDD! But I never made him because I’m a Meta Simp.

So this was all of him I had made at the time. But now that changes today! ^^

Say hello to your Hunk of a King!! I even gave him a fancy name like I did with Meta; Devinus Denintello Dee!

“Dee”vinus “Dee”nintello “Dee”

Some notes of characterization: I grew up with Anime DDD, so he’s got that Southern Accent. He’s silly, loud, proud, and gluttonous, but he cares for his people and wants to prove he is a Great King! So I also mix in what is canon about him in the games!

I feel like DDD has that charm of easily getting people to open up and express themselves. Like, being really honest. He can be just as blunt and even point out some things others may not notice or want to notice. I feel like DDD is smart, not a genius, but he’s able to pilot Mechs and wield crazy contraptions! DDD is definitely naturally funny, so much so he even got Martin to laugh at one point!

When it comes to the King and his Knight, they are very professional with each other, though DDD can be a bit more open about his friendship with the Dark Knight. I’m making some Friendship Content about them and even adding some lore as to how their relationship formed. Just know they are close and mutual in my AU!

Bonus Bandana Dee Ginjinka! He took in Bandana, who I’ll call Bana, as his little one! This basically makes Bana the Prince, though he doesn’t consider himself such. He wants to fight for the King, stand by his side and repay him for his kindness of not only taking him in, but also taking in his Clan! Of course, he is aware of Meta Knight being King DDD’s Strongest and closest. He would like to challenge Sir Martinez for that position one day.

Finally here’s the Kirby Krew all together! I have not got to play Return to Dreamland completely, but I do plan to purchase the Deluxe Version for the Switch at some point! Hated how the jumping felt delayed in that one Winter Area, jumping over those Damn f*cking spikes. Made me so mad.

ANYWAY!!! ENJOY!!! I loved designing these two!!

[cevansbrat0007]

Sweet Tooth Deluxe

Summary: Ari teaches you a much needed lesson about ignoring him. Takes place directly after the events in Sweet Tooth.

Warnings: Smut, Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Pussy Spanking, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @daykrisr999 and @curls-and-eyeliner. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Jesus, God you’d been at this for hours.

“Omigodfuck!” You sob, shoving your face into your lavender comforter. When Ari had promised to make your “pussy cry”, you hadn’t imagined he meant it like this. “Goddamn, Daddy. Please!” 

Well, fuck. While you’d also never called a man Daddy before, that name had already slipped from your lips several times tonight.

“That’s right, sweet Bird.” Ari snarls as he fucks you, his hips snapping wildly second after second. “You do need a Sir. You do need a Daddy. It’s about time you fuckin’ realize.”

“Uh huh!” 

“I should spank this juicy ass every day.” His hand comes down hard, making you cry out. It wasn’t the first time either. You were gonna be so sore come tomorrow morning.  

“Yes! Omigod, you should!” You bite the comforter, loving the way your man is so easily mastering your body. You’d earned this. You’d deserved this. 

Yes, Sir. Yes, Daddy. More, please.

You feel a large hand gently grasp your throat, forcing you to pull away from the blankets. “Wake the fuck up, sweet Bird. Watch how good I’m fuckin’ you. Tell me how good it feels.” A soft whine escapes when he licks the side of your face. 

He was marking you in this moment. Reminding you that you belonged to him. 

“I’m sorry!” You wail, loving the sound of wet flesh slapping against your own. You were so turned on, your body so needy. Shit, you could hardly stand it.

“We ain’t done, greedy girl.” Ari repositions you then, fisting a hand in your hair so that you can finally get a good look at yourself in your brand new floor length mirror. The same one he’d purchased for you for moments like these.

You look so well fucked that you hardly recognize yourself. Ari flashes a feral grin at the sight of your reflection, loving the way you moan for him when he adjusts the angle of his hips.

How dare you withhold your affection? Your attention? All because he’d accidentally eaten the wrong pie? Well, he’d show you.

“”Today.” He grunts, nibbling at your neck as he reaches around to lightly strum your clit. “You’re gonna learn how to talk to your man when he makes a mistake.” His palm slaps your wet cunt for good measure, the sound echoing throughout the room.

“Please!” 

"Say the words, brat! Before I bruise that ass!"

He bears down, increasing the already brutal pace. Fucking you harder. Oh God, this man was gonna be the death of you.

"Ohshit! Ungh!" You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. "Daddy please fuck me!"

Ari adjusts his rhythm, purposely slowing himself down. He had a lesson to teach, after all. And if he was meant to learn a lesson, then so were you. 

One shattering orgasm at a time.

END

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[y3ager]

STORYTIME I (26 F) FUCKED MY SUPERSTAR CLIENT (24 M) AFTER MONTHS OF SEXUAL TENSION!

— ‘i’m a manager for a pretty big music label and my client is the biggest dickhead in the world but i fear i fucked him after one of our usual arguments.. 😵‍💫’

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, smut, porn not much plot, hate(?)sex, cunnilingus, cowgirl, reader gets called ‘mama’ and ‘boss’, unprotected sex, mild choking, musician!eren, manager!reader. minors do not interact.

my first collab entry MAKE SOME NOISE YALL WTF!!! but no seriously thanks so much to @k9nto for letting me join your event i had a blast writing this! hope you all enjoy! 🤭

YOU’VE ENCOUNTERED SOME annoying people in your life. in kindergarten, a boy taunted you by picking up one your fallen hot pink knocker-balls and refusing to give it back to you. in high school, some chick named tiffany ripped down all of your junior class president posters that you spent weeks designing and printing out on the highest quality paper. your college advisor had been completely useless, you’d still be dragging yourself through your bachelor’s degree if you didn’t stay on your toes and realize the classes you were dropped in were a waste of time. but all of these people, and many more that have slipped your mind, shaped and molded you into the woman you were today. strong, tenacious, independent, a go-getter who never gave up and thus was able to reap her hard work, in the form of three nice crisp degrees and a never pitiful bank account.

but eren yeager, grammy award winning singer, songwriter and musician, with multiple weeks spent at the top of the billboard hot 100 and 200 charts, millions of units sold worldwide, and stadiums packed to the brim, took the fucking cake.

you were warned he’d be difficult. every manager he’s assigned quits before one of them ends up in a body bag. none of them have a single nice thing to say about him, and he finds that hilarious.

for better or for worse, you took the challenge because you’re a sucker for them. nothing in life comes easy, and you figured that the managers before just didn’t come hard enough. maybe eren’s fame and status made them falter, but such a fate wouldn’t befall you.

you dragged him to his magazine shoots, you kept his mouth in line during interviews, you kept his socials clean. he was never a second late to rehearsals and recordings. he was a reflection of you, and if you were perfect goddammit he was going to be too.

until today.

“i’m not putting in another extension, eren. the label is starting to get really irritable. we need to go to the studio now.” you furiously swiping along your ipad, pacing around the singer’s deluxe hotel room. while you’re dressed for the day in clean crisp clothes, sharp stilettos, and jet black lace front expertly melted and laid, eren’s still in the bed. the covers are everywhere, his shirt is next to a couple pillows on the floor, and he’s laying on his back eating a croissant from room service, paying you absolutely no mind. it takes everything in you to not chuck your device at his big head. “i’m serious. get. up.”

“and i said i’m not,” he mocks your assertive tone, voice oozing in sarcasm. “going.” he coughs, obviously faking. “my voice hurts. can’t make those greedy bastards money if my vocal chords ache. they’ll live.”

“you are on a strict deadline this era. if you want to catch award season, this album needs to be finished and dropped in the next month. amidst the press tour, your window of recording time is dwindling fast.” dates in your digital calendar glare at you, red and angry. every time you check something off your to do, ten new things pop up. you feel your jaw clenching, teeth gritting together uncomfortably.

“i’ve won enough awards. i don’t care. i’m not getting up.” eren finally raises up from the bed, narrowed green eyes meeting yours. it’s fire against fire, an unstoppable force that is a manager determined to do her job versus an immovable object, a musician who’s not budging from his spot. “it’s my album. it’s my music. i finish it when the fuck i get ready. that label will burn before they drop me.”

“if you don’t follow contract, they will drop you. they put a lot of money into you-”

“money i made back for those dumbasses-!”

“they are your bosses, without them-”

“they need me way more than i need them-!”

“get,” you toss your ipad over to a small couch, storming over to the bed. you snatch the edge of the covers and yank hard. enough is enough. if he won’t get up, you’ll make him get up. “the fuck out of this bed, eren, now!”

“you need,” the cover is yanked back, tugging you forward along with it. you lurch momentarily before righting yourself upwards, leaning back to give yourself more leverage in this childish tug of war you find yourself in. “to calm the fuck down, ___. i’m not going and that’s fucking it.” eren may be lean, but he’s toned like a MMA fighter, muscles rippling under tan skin when he calls upon them. another tug and you topple onto the california king bed, one expensive heel sliding off your foot and falling across the room.

your heads snaps up from the covers, brow furrowed deep in anger. “stop being so fucking difficult, you moron!” emotions welling, you grab one of his arms, preparing to drag him out of this bed. your to do list is a nagging itch on your brain that by the grace of god you are going to scratch. you’re not about to let this bad-with-authority dickhead best you when all he has to do is record a fucking vocal.

“oh, we’re doing this?” easily, too easily, so easily that you register your back hitting the soft bed before you realized he even grabbed you back. he pins you down easily, slightly calloused hands grip your upper arms firmly, pushing them down. he places his legs other either side of your hips so yours are forced in between them, but doesn’t keep you from writhing to free yourself. “whatever fucking—stop doing that—chip you have on your shoulder, you need to fucking solve it because shit’s not going your way today. i’m not going and that is final.”

the tussle leaves you two of you panting, eyes boring into each other’s. eren’s long chocolate brown hair is disheveled not only from a night’s sleep but from this impromptu wrestle. small beads up sweat trickle down his naked chest. your writhe again, and he presses down against you, a synonymous hiss sliding through both of your mouths.

“i hate you, eren.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night, ___. looks like you wanted an excuse to feel up on me.”

“oh, like you wanted an excuse to hump me like a mutt?”

there’s another beat of silence as you two watch each other. eren’s hands tighten their hold just a tad before he presses his hardening length hard against your clothed cunt. against your better judgement, your head tilts back and a small moan fights against your bitten bottom lip.

eren hums lowly, his dick bulging against the constraint of his boxers. “hate me too much to actually fuck me, huh? i’m only worth a dry hump.”

oh how eren frustrates you. how he makes even the simplest things in life painstakingly difficult. how he makes you want to smoke ten packs of cigarettes after a day of dealing with him. but oh, how handsome he looks under the lights at photo shoots. how his deep, smooth voice reverbs in your ears. how his fingers move so deftly on his guitar, as if it’s merely an extension of his body. who wouldn’t fantasize about that late at night, him bending you over and snatching down your pants to fuck the stress out of you, or yourself knocking him down a peg and making him beg to let you cum inside.

“shut-” another roll of his hips makes you gasp. “up..”

“i want you, ___,” eren confesses. his hips don’t falter, his cock becoming hungry for release. “i want that pussy. i wanna fuck that little attitude out of you, can i? i see how you look at me and i stare right back.”

you shiver, hand rushing to undo your dress pants and feel more of eren’s dick against your dampening cunt. his hands work with your perfectly, yanking your pants down. it’s a whirlwind of clothes, your sweater, bra, your other shoe.

eren reaches up to grab your breasts, rolling them in his palms, squeezing the supple flesh, pushing them together. “oh, pretty girl. pretty fuckin’ tits.” leaning down, he kisses down your sternum, stomach, inching closer and closer to your center. he wastes no time grabbing your thighs and licking a nice, long stripe against your drooling cunt and sucking on your clit.

your back immediately arches up and your hands fly to grip eren’s hair, tugging at the locks and pulling him in closer so you can feel everything. “oh my god, eren.” the singer’s not shy at all, audibly sucking at you and reaching up to twist and pinch your pebbled nipples.

with another languid lick eren pulls himself away. he pulls his boxers down on and off, freeing his dick from the constraint. he rubs the thick, weeping tip up and down your slit, staring hungrily at the juices leaking out. the feeling of it makes you shiver in anticipation.

“mmm, mm-mm.” you push yourself up. “let me get ‘n top..” there’s a greedy look in your low eyes as you place your hand on eren’s solid chest and lay him down on the bed.

“take charge here too, huh?” your forwardness makes him chuckle as he watches you straddle his waist. “okay then. ride me.”

you brace yourself on your toes as his hand and yours grasp his shaft, directing it to your pulsing hole. you slide down gingerly onto him, his size quickly stretching you out. “ahh, fuck, eren. fuck…”

“you got it,” he assures you, one hand on your thigh as you sink lower and lower, taking him in inch by inch. he bites his lip at the wet tightness of your walls, squeezing and sucking him in. it makes him throw his head back, a couple of small pants escaping his mouth. “mmhm, fuck that pussy feels so good. take that dick, boss.” his hand raises only to land on your ass check with a sharp slap.

you start out slow at first, letting yourself adjust to the wideness of his dick but that quickly gets old. you’re soon addicted to the feeling of him fitting inside so perfectly. gripping his free hand in yours, you swivel and raise your hips faster and faster, effortlessly, desperate for that feeling of him pounding that oh so sweet spot. your juices slide down his length, the slap slap slap of your ass against his muscled thighs filling the room. “‘s so big, feels so good,” your voice slurs.

eren hisses from his spot under you, eyes trained on where you two connect. mouth slightly agape, he watches your cunt swallow him up and the fluid that leaks out. “yes, mama. keep fucking me just like that. feels.. f-fuckin’ amazin’…” his hands grab your plump ass cheeks, fingers digging in hard as he thrusts his hips up, driving the tip of his cock even deeper inside you and pulling a loud moan from you. “keep goin, mama, ‘m almost there, don’t stop, please..”

his pleading make you clench even tighter around him, and that feeling deep inside your tummy aches for release. you place a hand around his throat to better balance yourself, relishing in his low groan. your thighs quake and tremble, your hips meeting his eager thrust perfectly. “oh, my god; oh my god. i’m— shit!” you throw your head back in ecstasy, cumming hard enough on your client’s dick to leave you numb.

“aw, fuck, boss.” eren thrusts up to push his cum deep inside, holding you against himself to ensure a single drop doesn’t leak. “take it, take it..”

the two of you are left panting hard, bodies sweaty and gleaming with the afterglow of sex. you gingerly pull away, cunt left sore and spent from a round of sex months in the making. eren reaches over to caress your ebon lips, admiring the smooth, wet feeling once you roll onto your back. “no more attitude from you, yeah?”

“no more attitude from the man reduced to calling me ‘mama’ and begging to cum either, i’d assume.” your teasing laughter is cut off by him purposefully sinking three fingers deep inside you. “mmh…”

“mhm, sure.” roles reversed, eren climbs on top of you and stares down with green eyes aflame with lust through his tousled brown hair. “now i want to see what i can make you call me.”

[monstertreden]

「RUFUS'S EXPENSIVE CAKE ORDER 」

-Reader: Written with a female reader in mind -TW: none -Character: Reno (Final Fantasy 7) -Summary: Rufus decided to purchase a unique tower cake to celebrate his successful new board meeting, leaving Reno with the task of safely retrieving it. -Word count : 774 -A/N: This is my first time writing, thus forgive me for some grammatical errors or if I didn’t exactly nail Reno’s character🧍‍♀️I'm open to any feedback! I need to get back on my FF7 old hypetrain

It’s another lazy afternoon at the Turks’ headquarters in Midgar. Everyone else had been dismissed hours ago and, since then, you’ve been texting Elena about the new shop you recently visited. Just now everything seemed so peaceful— oh so peaceful—until Reno bursts through the door, stumbling over his own feet and nearly crashing into the meeting table. His signature red hair is messier than usual... was that sour cream on his goggles..?

 As soon as he stumbled, he quickly recomposed himself and adjusted the stray strands of hair that had fallen in front of his face, trying to look cool despite his grand entrance. "Alright-, listen- up pretty! We... got abitofasituationonourhands." He catches his breath and sits up beside you on the comfortable leather sofa, his arm draped over the backrest as he crosses his legs.

The gears in your head take a moment to process his words, then it hits you. You glance at him “Reno… shouldn’t you be working, instead of—whatever this is?” You gesture to his dishevelled appearance, plucking a strawberry from his hair. “Did you crash a wedding?”

“Pssh, nahh, plus I’m always workin’, no time for weddings...Heyy, listenn, hear me out, 'cause this is extremely serious” He leans in closer, a very exaggerated, overly dramatic, stare painted on his face, hands inching closer to the sides of your head, before impulsively shaking it.

“It’s the cake!”

“The hell are you talking about-“

"-A cake emergency!” Reno cuts you off “Rufus ordered this, like, super deluxe, tower cake from that fancy bakery in Sector 1, right? It’s that kind of cake that costs more than our week's pay combined! But here’s the thing—Tseng’s definitely gonna kill me if I bring this to him."

"Wait, you’re delivering cakes now? Did Tseng promote you to be Rufus’s personal Uber driver?"

“It’s not ‘delivering,’ alright? It’s more like escorting— see, it’s a top-priority mission.”

He says it with an air of importance, puffing out his chest, but then quickly deflates as he realizes the state of the cake box he put on the table, the bakery label on it is so faded it’s unreadable.

"But I... kinda...smashed it..."

Reno sulks, holding the slightly crumpled cake box like it’s a priceless treasure, while you burst into laughter.

“You’re kidding, right? Ohhh, he’s going to be soooo mad.”

“Look, it’s still edible!” He taps the wrinkled package “It’s just, you know... restructured.”

He opens the box, revealing the once-perfect cake in a state of complete chaos. Macarons and strawberries are scattered everywhere, and the longer you stare at it, the more it resembles an abstract art piece than a cake.

"Yeah, good luck explaining that to Tseng—let alone Rufus.”

Reno, completely unfazed, grins at you as if he has a brilliant plan.

“That’s where you come in! You’re good at talking to people, aren't you? My favorite schemer! You just gotta, you know, help me spin this whole thing. Maybe we can blame Rude or something. He won’t mind. We could smash the cake on his bald head..."

He says it with a casual wave of his hand, as if throwing his partner under the bus is no big deal.

“Yeahh, no thanks. This one’s all yours, buddy. Have fun with that. I’m not taking the blame for your mess if we get caught.”

The redhead groans and slumps back on the sofa. "Man, I was hoping you’d go along with me. How can you not agree to this?”

Just then, your phone buzzes. Expecting another text from Elena, you glance down, only to see a message from Rude pop up instead:

Rude: "That idiot dropped the cake, didn’t he? Rufus is getting impatient with each passing minute"

"Rude’s onto you."

"Of course he is..."

With a sigh and a big cat stretch, Reno stands up, grabbing the cake box with a determined look, despite its sorry state.

"Alright, alright, I’ll fix this. Maybe if I just... slap it back together? Yeah, yeah, that’ll do. Thanks for the pep talk. You can keep whatever fell out of my hair! …Maybee give me a call if I don’t make it back in, let’s say... 40 minutes, m’kay?"

And with that, Reno rushes out of Tusk's headquarters, shouting back as the cake box nearly slips from his hands. “But if this works, you owe me a nice, expensive dinner!”.

.

.

.

.

His plan was bound to fail, regardless of what he attempted.

[jerzwriter]

It's Christmastime - and Ethan is thoroughly unimpressed. Luckily, he has Kaycee to turn that around - but can she make it happen?

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee MacClennan (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,411 Summary: See above.

A/N: Participating in @choicesholidays winter event - New Traditions - they have a few in here! :) Also, @choicesdecember2024, I think Miracle is the best match! lol

The line felt like it stretched the entire length of the mall, accompanied by all the annoyances that came with it: frazzled parents, sugared-up kids, and the occasional beleaguered adult questioning their life choices. It didn’t take long to determine what group a tall, scowling doctor with his arms crossed in front of his chest belonged to. Ethan Ramsey was firmly in the last group, and Kaycee couldn’t have been more amused.

He should have expected this, she thought; after all, this was their second Christmas together, and he had already survived year one at her side. She smiled at him, the picture of holiday cheer in her red sweater adorned with tiny reindeer. That sweater wasn’t a split-second decision. No, Kaycee had taken months to find the perfect design and purchased two, one for each of them. Ethan was wearing his, too. It would be visible if he took off his leather jacket, but he had made it clear before they left his condo... he was NOT taking off his leather jacket.

Kaycee’s eyes were full of mischief as she gently nudged him with her elbow. “You’re awfully quiet today,” she said with a slight smile.

Ethan let out an exasperated sigh. “You dragged me here against my will. Can’t you just enjoy my silent suffering?”

Chuckling, she stepped closer and leaned into his side. “Stop it, grumpy! You enjoy this, too! You’re just too much of a curmudgeonly old man to admit it!”

He arched an eyebrow, looking at her with a frown. “Negative,” he deadpanned.

“Yes, you absolutely are!” Kaycee insisted. “You’re so lucky to have me here to fix all this bah-humbug of yours! Besides... remember what I promised you later... if  you’re a good sport.”

His demeanor seemed to change on a dime, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. He leaned in close and whispered so only she could hear him. “I seem to remember a promise that involved scanty red lingerie and mistletoe. Can you remind me of the other details again? It might make this whole experience a little more bearable?”

“Sorry, babe,” she answered with amusement. “There will be no reward until we finish the task at hand, and your chances are better if you do it with a smile on your face.”

The line continued to shuffle forward at an excruciatingly slow pace, and though he tried to contain it, Ethan’s grumbling continued. “This is ridiculous.” “You realize we’re adults, Kaycee.” “We really don’t belong here.”

She bit her lip to refrain from laughing, her amusement growing with each mumbled complaint. She peeked ahead and saw it wouldn’t be much longer; the jolly man in red was getting closer with every step. “Stop it, Ethan! You know I’m right about this.”

“Right? Right about what?”

“That this is going to be fun. Admit it—deep down, you’re excited.”

Ethan snorted. “The only thing I’m excited about is how you’ll be repaying me later.”

She looked up at him with a smirk and playfully punched his arm. “If you keep torturing me here, I may just renege on my promise!”

Ethan looked stricken. “You wouldn’t!”

Kaycee didn’t get a chance to answer as they finally reached the front of the line, where an overly excited elf dressed in green and red tights greeted them with an almost eerie smile. “Hi there! Are we going for the basic photo package or the deluxe? The deluxe comes with extra prints, digital downloads, and even a festive frame!”

Before Ethan could say a word, Kaycee jumped in. “Deluxe, please. I want as many prints as possible to send to all our friends and family.”

Ethan’s eyes went wide. “That was not part of the deal,” he protested.

Kaycee remained the picture of holiday bliss when she smiled at his side. “Ethan, but it’s Santa!”

How had he ended up here? He was almost forty. He should be home with a glass of spiked eggnog by the fireplace. He ran a hand down his face and grumbled. “This is absolutely absurd.”

He was about to complain more when a tiny voice from behind interrupted him. Ethan felt the little hand tugging at his jacket just before the words hit his ear. “Mister, are you saying you don’t believe in Santa Claus?”

Ethan froze, turning to find a little boy of no more than six staring up at him. His wide eyes were filled with innocence, almost begging Ethan to offer a reassuring response. Ethan glanced at the boy and then at his parents, standing behind him. They watched with an amused expression as they waited for his reply.

Ethan hadn’t asked for it, but in that moment, memories from his own childhood rose to the surface. When he was about this boy’s age, he would spend his whole year compiling lists for Santa, three to be exact. One was a compilation of all the good things he had done, and the second was confessions of the not-so-good stuff. That one had an attachment with explanations and how he attempted to atone.   Then, there was his Christmas wish list. Each year, when he wrote it, he was sure he wouldn’t receive most of the things he asked for. He might have been young, but he was smart enough to know his family was struggling. He could tell when his Mom put an extra sweater on him instead of turning up the heat, when his dad insisted on taking extra shifts even though he was tired, and when his parents would put a few items back before they checked out at the grocery store. He was young but bright, and he knew.

Yet, every Christmas morning, it seemed like a miracle took place. He had no idea how it happened, but most, if not all, that he wished for would be wrapped beautifully under the family Christmas tree. Back then, he took that as proof positive that Santa was real. There was no other way. He hadn’t thought about that for years, but standing before this little boy, he could feel the emotion welling inside.

There was magic during the holiday season. It didn’t come from mythical creatures in red suits or tiny reindeer – but from the people who loved us the most. It came from parents who worked hard to create that magic, including his own parents, who did without themselves just to see the look in his eyes on Christmas day.

It came in the form of the beautiful woman beaming at his side. The one who knew him better than he knew himself and was not about to let him spend the rest of his days thinking wonder and hope were something that had died long ago. She insisted they had a place in his grown-up life, and looking at her now, it was apparent, the message was received.

He knelt down to the child’s level, his voice soft and tender, his eyes warm. “Of course I believe in Santa Claus. Santa is all about the magic of the holiday season. And you know what? That magic is real. One hundred percent real.”

The boy’s eyes sparkled with his reply. “Really? You mean it!”

Ethan nodded, wrapping his arm around Kaycee, who was beaming up at him with so much affection it made his chest tighten. “Really. It’s all around us – it’s surrounding you and me.”

The boy grinned as he turned and hugged his parent’s knees, and Ethan met the gaze of the woman he loved. “YOU are all the magic I need,” he murmured placing a kiss atop her head. “Thank you for reminding me of who I used to be.”

Kaycee’s eyes filled with tears as she held him tight, he didn’t know it, but he had just given her the greatest gift of all.

“Uhm, so... the pictures?” The now irritated elf asked.

“You heard the lady,” Ethan stated. “The deluxe package, in fact, make it two!”

Before they stepped into the winter wonderland that served as a backdrop to Santa’s throne, Ethan turned to Kaycee once more. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he said with a smile she’d cherish for all time.

“Merry Christmas, Ethan,” she whispered back.

Ethan took her hand and led her down the candy cane-trimmed path toward Santa, knowing precisely what he’d say when the jolly man asked him what he wanted for Christmas. He already had his gift, and she was standing by his side.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[your-local-bi-panic]

Part 2: Sculpt This, Griff

Final Part

Description: You’re peacefully sculpting in your dorm when you get swarmed by notifications on a TikTok live. Is the UConn team actually talking about your artistic abilities?

Warnings: none

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Your screen goes black as the live ends, leaving you staring at your reflection in the camera — flushed cheeks, clay-streaked fingers, and a slightly dumbfounded look on your face.

“…what just happened,” you mutter to yourself, tossing your phone down and flopping back on the floor.

One second you were sculpting in peace, the next you were going toe-to-toe with Aubrey Griffin on a live in front of thousands of people — and not just arguing. Flirting. Hard.

Your phone buzzes again.

A text. Unknown number.

[Unknown Number]

You’re a menace. But I’m kinda obsessed. 😌

You blink, heart skipping. Then another message comes in.

[Unknown Number]

It’s Aubrey btw. Don’t block me. Unless it’s part of your sculpting process or whatever.

You sit up, snort-laughing. Before you can even respond, she sends a third.

[Aubrey Griffin]

Seriously though. That was fun. We should actually do something. You, me, some clay… we can see whose “art has more depth.”

You type, pause, then delete. Then type again:

[You]

Only if you promise not to bring crayons this time.

A beat. Then:

[Aubrey Griffin]

No promises. I like to express myself in vibrant primary colors.

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are already aching from grinning.

Then a final message pops in.

[Aubrey Griffin]

Saturday? You teach me how to not embarrass myself artistically. I’ll bring snacks.

[You]

Deal. But I take payment in coffee and humility.

[Aubrey Griffin]

Humility? That sounds fake. But I’ll try for you.

Saturday afternoon.

You hear the knock before you even finish tying up your apron. You wipe your hands on a towel and open the door to find Aubrey leaning against the frame, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair in a bun, and a cocky little grin on her face.

“You ready to lose?” she says.

You raise an eyebrow. “You brought the crayons, didn’t you.”

She pulls a jumbo pack out of her hoodie pocket like she’s presenting a rare artifact. “The deluxe set. With glitter.”

You snatch them, toss them onto your desk. “Disqualified.”

She laughs and steps inside, eyes widening as she takes it all in. Your dorm’s been transformed — shelves full of ceramic bowls, handmade mugs, a corner stacked with sketches, a massive canvas-in-progress propped against the wall. Half a dozen half-finished clay pieces sit on a table near the window, bathed in soft light.

“Whoa,” Aubrey says softly, turning in a slow circle. “This is… like, an actual artist’s studio. I thought I was stepping into a dorm.”

You smirk. “Yeah, well, some of us have hobbies that don’t include trash-talking on TikTok lives.”

“Bold of you to call yourself humble,” she teases, then nods toward the small easel you’ve set up. “Alright, let’s get this over with. Portrait time?”

You hand her a pencil and paper. “Try to capture the essence of my soul.”

She squints at you, dramatically. “Mmm… chaos. And maybe caffeine.”

Twenty minutes later, you're holding in laughter as Aubrey reveals what looks suspiciously like a stick figure wearing hoop earrings.

You hold yours up beside it — her, drawn in soft graphite lines, detailed and focused, somehow both casual and intimate. She stares at it for a long moment. “...Okay, rude. That’s actually good.”

You shrug. “Told you I’d win.”

She’s still looking at the drawing when she says, quieter, “How do you do that?”

You glance up. “Do what?”

“Make it look like someone’s… real. Like they exist on the paper.”

You pause. Then shrug your shoulders as a light blush makes its way up your neck.

Aubrey takes one more lap around your room, pausing in front of a painting with thick brushstrokes and colors that blend like storm clouds and sunlight. “You did all of this?”

You nod, a little sheepish despite the pride in your chest. “Yeah. I mean… I didn’t sleep much last semester.”

She crouches by a shelf of small sculptures — little bowls, abstract figures, a few animals mid-motion. Her fingers ghost the edge of a lopsided mug. “Okay, you weren’t kidding. You are the best artist at UConn.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that an apology?”

She grins. “It’s a surrender.”

Then she turns toward you, head tilted just slightly. “Teach me?”

You blink. “Wait, seriously?”

Aubrey shrugs, suddenly bashful. “I mean… yeah. If you want. I’m not promising a masterpiece, but—”

“I didn’t think you could ask for help.”

Her mouth drops open in mock offense. “Wow. Clay to the face.”

You laugh and gesture to the little workstation by the window. “Come on then, art girl.”

She takes the seat beside you, knees bumping yours, her leg warm against yours even through jeans. You hand her a chunk of clay and she holds it like it might explode. You try not to smile too much.

“We’ll start simple,” you say, reaching for your own piece. “We’ll make a dinosaur.”

She blinks. “A what?”

You’re already shaping the base. “Everyone’s first clay animal ends up looking like a dinosaur anyway. Might as well lean into it.”

She laughs. “That’s fair.”

A few minutes in, she’s pressing too hard, fingers smushing the shape into something… vaguely tragic. You scoot closer, shifting behind her a bit.

“Here,” you say softly, slipping your hands around hers, “let me show you.”

She stills. Her breath catches just slightly when your fingers close over hers, guiding them gently over the clay.

“Less pressure,” you murmur, “just enough to shape it.”

Your voice is right by her ear now, and you feel her relax into the motion, shoulders unwinding under your touch. You keep your hands there for a few more moments, pressing your thumbs over hers to smooth the ridge of what might become the dino’s back.

Then you slowly let go.

“Okay,” you say, leaning back, “your turn.”

She keeps going, more focused now, tongue caught between her teeth. “I think he’s coming together.”

You nod approvingly. “He’s got character.”

“Wait—damn.” One of the legs starts tilting to the side, making the whole thing slouch. “Okay, rude. He’s trying to die.”

You lean in again, nudging the base gently. “Not on my watch.”

Aubrey’s hand bumps yours as you both try to fix it, your fingers brushing, clay smearing across her knuckle. She glances at you, something flickering in her eyes.

You raise a brow. “You’re messy.”

She swipes a streak of clay across your cheek without missing a beat. “So are you.”

“Ohhh. That’s how it is?”

The next thing you know, you’ve got a smear of clay-water on her jaw, and she’s laughing as she retaliates, a bit of clay landing right on your shoulder.

And just like that, it’s chaos.

Water drips across your apron, clay smudges in places clay should not be, and you’re both trying to sculpt and sabotage at the same time. But somehow — somehow — the little dinosaur makes it through.

He’s a little uneven, a little droopy, but adorable in the way only a battle-hardened clay creature could be.

Aubrey looks down at it, then over at you, grinning. “Not bad for our first kid.”

You laugh, the words slipping out before you can catch them. “We’ll put him on the fridge.”

She leans in, just slightly, eyes still on you. “You’d let me near your fridge?”

You meet her gaze, a little breathless. “Maybe.”

She doesn’t say anything right away, but she doesn’t pull back either. Your knees are still touching. Her hair’s falling slightly in her face, and there’s a streak of clay on her jaw you could definitely wipe away — if you weren’t afraid touching her would undo you.

The air between you shifts, thick with something unspoken.

And yet… she just smiles. Picks up the dinosaur gently and sets it on your desk like it’s sacred.

“Same time next week?” she asks casually, like she didn’t almost make your heart stop.

You nod. “Yeah. For sure.”

She starts to stand, but not before brushing her fingers over your wrist, feather-light.

Then she’s gone.

And you’re left staring at the door, breath stuck somewhere in your throat, with clay on your cheek and a little dinosaur on your desk who saw everything.

Next Saturday, late afternoon.

You’ve barely set your brushes down when there’s a knock at the door. You already know who it is — your stomach’s been doing that thing all day. You open the door, and there she is: Aubrey, paint-stained hoodie, curls loose today, holding an iced coffee in one hand and a tiny plastic bag in the other.

“For our son,” she says, wiggling the bag.

Inside? A mini paint set and a tiny foam brush.

You blink. “You got him his own supplies?”

“Excuse me,” she says, stepping inside, “but if he’s going on display, he needs to pop. I thought we agreed he was gonna be a star.”

You close the door behind her, already grinning. “What did you name him?”

Aubrey sets down the supplies and shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Blorbo.”

You stare. “Blorbo?”

“It’s his vibe.”

You lose it, leaning on your desk as you laugh. “Our child is doomed.”

But before long, you’re both seated side by side again, paint pots open, paper towels laid out (not that you’ll use them), and Blorbo the Dinosaur front and center like a king about to get his royal paint job.

“He’s going blue,” Aubrey announces, dipping the brush into the paint. “Because he’s cool under pressure.”

You snort. “That’s your reasoning?”

“Also it’s the only color I know how to use without making a mess.”

Five minutes in, you’re already laughing because Blorbo looks like he’s mid-makeover and panicking about it. Aubrey’s trying to do clean edges but keeps overdoing it.

“Careful—you're giving him a racing stripe,” you tease, reaching out to smooth the paint with your brush. Your hand brushes hers again. She doesn’t move away.

You both freeze for half a second, eyes flicking up to meet. Then—

“I meant to do that,” she says, too fast.

“Sure you did.”

She dabs a light blue dot on Blorbo’s back, smug. “Highlight. Boom. Natural talent.”

You tilt your head. “That’s actually not bad.”

“Say it louder.”

You roll your eyes and reach for the spot she missed. She moves closer to see better, and now her shoulder’s pressed against yours. You don’t say anything about it. Neither does she.

“I’m just saying,” she murmurs as she watches you work, “if this whole sculpting prodigy thing doesn’t work out, you could always start a custom dinosaur business.”

You raise an eyebrow. “With you as my business partner?”

“Obviously. I’m the branding.”

You lean back, inspecting Blorbo. “Okay. He’s kind of adorable.”

“He’s thriving,” Aubrey says. Then she dips her brush in water, looks at you mischievously, and flicks it—just barely—so a drop hits your cheek.

You gasp. “You did not.”

Her grin is dangerous. “You looked too clean.”

Without thinking, you swipe your brush across her forearm — a streak of blue, bright and bold.

She blinks. “Okay. War.”

The next few minutes are a blur of laughter and chaos — water splashes, streaks of paint, and somehow a dab ends up on the tip of your nose. Aubrey’s laughing so hard she nearly knocks over the water cup, and you end up both trying to catch it, your hands colliding.

You’re both breathless now, flushed, still too close. Paint clings to your skin, your clothes, your shared little world of brushes and ceramic dinosaurs and unspoken tension.

She looks at you — really looks — and something shifts again.

“You’ve got…” She reaches up slowly, fingers brushing your cheek. “Paint. Right here.”

Her touch lingers just a second too long.

You swallow. “So do you.”

You press your thumb gently to her jawline, wiping away a smear of pale blue. Neither of you move.

You could kiss her.

You could.

But instead—

“Blorbo’s judging us,” you say, voice soft and teasing.

She grins, leaning in a little closer. “He’ll get over it.”

And then… maybe she doesn’t kiss you.

But it’s damn close

——

Blorbo is officially complete.

He’s a little shiny from the sealant, his ocean-blue body dotted with careful light blue spots, and he looks like the proud, paint-covered child of two artists who had way too much fun arguing over how many dots was “too many.”

You both sit back, admiring him from across the desk.

“He’s a masterpiece,” Aubrey says, brushing dried paint from her wrist. “A little lopsided still, but that’s personality.”

You nod solemnly. “Like his mom.”

She throws a paint-stained napkin at you. “Rude. I’m the artistic one.”

You snort. “Right. You painted the left eye crooked.”

“He was blinking!”

Still grinning, Aubrey leans forward, resting her chin in her hand as she looks at Blorbo. “Okay, real talk… can I take him back with me?”

You glance at her, surprised. “Seriously?”

She nods. “Joint custody. But he should stay at my place first. First artistic child and all.”

You pretend to consider. “Only if you promise visitation rights.”

“Obviously. You can see him weekends and holidays.”

“Mm. Every other Wednesday too.”

“Deal.”

Back in Aubrey’s dorm.

She carefully places Blorbo on her dresser, centered like he’s royalty. She even adjusts a lamp slightly to give him better lighting.

“Look at him,” she whispers to herself. “Our perfect son.”

Before she can revel too long, the dorm door opens and in come a few of the basketball girls — KK, Nika, and Aaliyah, loud and laughing already.

“Aubreeeyyy,” KK sings. “Where’s the masterpiece?”

“I brought him back,” Aubrey says proudly, stepping aside.

They crowd around the dresser.

“Wait,” Nika says, squinting at Blorbo. “You made this?”

Aubrey shrugs casually. “Yeah. With help.”

“With a lot of help,” Aaliyah adds, eyeing her.

KK squints. “No way you did those details. You can barely draw a stick figure.”

“Excuse me?!”

They don’t buy it — and before long, KK’s already pulling out her phone. “We’re going live. People need to see this.”

Live on TikTok.

The comments explode instantly. People remember the last live. The teasing. The tension. The energy.

KK turns the camera toward the dino. “Everyone, meet Blorbo. Aubrey’s son. Also maybe the real star of the show.”

Nika leans in. “He’s like… actually cute. Which is sus.”

“Suspicious because there’s no way Aubrey made something this good,” KK laughs.

“Okay,” Aubrey defends herself, stealing the phone, “first of all, rude. Second of all…”

She turns toward the screen with a smirk and hits accept.

The screen splits. Your face pops up.

The comments go feral.

There’s no greeting. Aubrey just holds up Blorbo dramatically. “Say hi to your other parent.”

You blink. “Is this a custody check-in?”

KK howls off-camera. “YES! We’re trying to figure out which one of you actually made him!”

You shrug innocently. “He has my brushstroke genes.”

Aubrey gasps. “He got your chaos. That was your light blue splatter!”

“He thrives in that environment.”

“Hmm,” she smirks. “Well, just so you know, he’s sleeping on my side of the dresser. You get him next weekend.”

“Oh, we’re doing weekends now? What about mid-week playdates?”

Aubrey grins. “We’ll set up a calendar.”

The team in the background is living for it — loud, dramatic reactions, fake sobs, KK pretending to officiate a custody hearing. And the fans? They’re already clipping the live, comments pouring in faster than anyone can read.

“BLOBRO FAMILY SUPREMACY”

“just kiss already omg”

“when’s the custody swap vlog??”

“@UConnWBB pls give them a reality show”

“this isn’t about a dinosaur anymore is it 👀”

Aubrey looks back at the camera, her smile soft now. “Okay, but like… for real. He turned out so cute.”

You nod. “We did good.”

She catches your gaze through the screen, just a little longer than needed. “We really did.”

“I think he'll need a sister though”.

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