#i know it’s been since they’re always like

[tonycries]

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”  

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you. 

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.  

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any. 

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears. 

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day. 

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh. 

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting. 

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter. 

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?” 

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question. 

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!” 

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane. 

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is. 

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. 

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click! 

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact. 

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad. 

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.” 

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart. 

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful. 

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod. 

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years. 

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years. 

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way. 

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’. 

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet. 

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him. 

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night. 

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him. 

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you. 

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy. 

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted. 

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole. 

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch. 

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth. 

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now. 

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high. 

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway. 

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss. 

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor. 

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this?  He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls. 

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him. 

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him. 

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass. 

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good. 

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now. 

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours. 

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base. 

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below. 

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now. 

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years. 

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with. 

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken. 

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go. 

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still 

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else? 

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER 

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

[stylesharrys]

special smokes [weedrry]

summary: harry and y/n struggle with their self-control after sharing a joint at niall’s house party. 

word count: 3,774

warnings: mentions and consumption of marijuana (smoking a joint) and alcohol, smut; kissing, teasing, swearing, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, light spanking 

a/n: at first i had no intention of following up on weedrry and y/n but so many requested it and the more i considered it, the more ideas i kept getting hehe. they’re probably one of my favourite couples to write at this point and i have some other ideas in the woodwork for them aswell!! this is technically part two of special brownies but it can also be read as a standalone :) anyway, i hope you enjoy darlings and happy belated 420 hehe <3

//

They promised to never talk about it again. But that didn’t stop either of them lying in bed at night, reminiscing how each other tasted. It didn’t stop Harry from thinking about his roommate as he touched himself in the shower and painted the tiles with his come. Just like it didn’t stop Y/N from pretending her thick dildo was Harry’s cock when she got herself off at three in the morning.

Neither of them was aware of the other's shenanigans. Harry thought Y/N was too embarrassed to think about it and Y/N thought Harry just forgot. Of course, Tom’s none the wiser to anything that’s happened. Even living with the two, he’s yet to notice that slight shift in the atmosphere – that tension that seems to follow wherever they go together.  

And tonight is no different. They’re both slightly turned on at the thought of one another as they sit huddled around the fire in Niall’s garden. He’s one of the few friends who was sensible enough to apply for a house rather than an apartment, and Harry is always sure to reap the benefits of it. 

It’s nearly ten o’clock and the house party Niall threw for his birthday is in full swing. Y/N recognises a few faces, not nearly as many as Harry (who’s known to have been a bit of a serial dater in the past), but it doesn’t change her mood in the slightest. 

She’s been perched on a sun lounger for the past forty-five minutes, five drinks in and slowly starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol. She promised herself she wouldn’t drink too heavily tonight – not when she knows how sleepy she gets with alcohol. She doesn’t want to be found passed out on some random person's bed that Niall houseshares with. 

Harry’s been sporting the same beer for the past half an hour. Much like Y/N, he also wasn’t really in the mood to get shitfaced, despite it being his best friend's birthday. He has a job interview tomorrow afternoon and he cannot deal with cradling a hangover at the same time. 

His eyes have been on her body most of the night. Despite living together, he’s hardly seen Y/N at home in the past two weeks since… well… you know. At first, he thought she was just busy, but now he’s starting to get the idea that she’s avoiding him. 

Harry’s sure it’s down to embarrassment, and as much as he wants his friend back, he promised he wouldn’t bring it up again. He doesn’t want to embarrass Y/N any further. It hurts his ego a little bit if he’s honest. Harry struggles to understand if she’s embarrassed she slept with her friend, or if she’s embarrassed because she slept with him.

If he pulled his head out of his ass, he might realise that it’s the former. Mostly. Because the other half of what she’s feeling is pure lust. Y/N struggles to even look at Harry the same since they hooked up two weeks ago. When she looks at him, all she sees is him naked – so she’s certain he sees the same when he looks at her. 

She takes another swig of her drink in an attempt to drown the groan that tries to escape. God, it’s criminal how even just the thought of him naked manages to get her worked up like this. He’s her friend for crying out loud. She needs to get her thoughts in order.

Harry’s telling himself the same thing. Struggling to think of anything other than kissing up her smooth, exposed thighs and burying his head under her little sundress right there, in front of everyone to see. His cock stiffens slightly in his pants and he shifts a little in his chair – as discretely as he can. 

“Who’s up for a round of spin the bottle!”

The group in the garden chant a groan in unison at Niall’s suggestion. “We’re not fifteen, Ni… nobody wants to play spin the bottle.” Alfie pipes up from his crisscrossed position on the patio floor. 

Niall rolls his eyes and places an empty wine bottle in the middle of the group anyway. Involuntarily, everyone begins to form a circle around it, knees knocking as they do. Y/N remains on the deck chair, pulling the back up so she sits upright like Harry who’s still opposite her.

Niall gets comfortable on the ground, his eyes alight like a kid on Christmas. He’s about to take his turn when he furrows his brows and begins to pat down his pockets like he’s forgotten something. 

“Anybody got a smoke?”

“Nah,” Jessie calls back, “I’ve got a couple of joints, though.” 

Harry and Y/N’s eyes find one another as their bodies grow paralysed at the mention of the one thing that got them in this situation in the first place. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

“Oooh,” Niall grins, “Jessie’s got the special smokes… come on then, lad. Light ‘em up and pass ‘em around.” 

Y/N’s heart begins to thump against her ribcage as she tears her gaze away from Harry’s. There’s no way in Hell this is happening right now. She tells herself to calm down, that she doesn’t have to have a pull of the joint. 

But as it makes its way around the circle until it’s between her fingers, she finds herself taking a long, deep drag of it anyway. It burns the back of her throat, as weed always has, but she holds it for as long as she can before slowly exhaling and passing it back down to Niall who sits in front of her. 

When she lifts her gaze, her eyes lock on Harry’s. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face as he holds the second joint between his fingers – like he knows they’re going to end up in the same situation as last time and he’s more than okay with that. Harry takes a drag just as Y/N had and passes it off to Genevieve next to him. 

Harry manages to hold it in longer than Y/N can and he keeps his eyes locked on hers when he slowly exhales. When the joint makes its way back to Y/N and she’s taking her second pull, she’s giving in to all the dirty thoughts in her head. Her wicked smirk matches Harry’s now and the game of spin the bottle begins. 

Niall starts first, landing on Genevieve who he kisses quite happily. Gen spins and lands on Jessie. Then when Jessie spins, he lands on… Y/N. 

Her eyes are quick to flicker between him and Harry as she registers the situation. There’s a third and fourth joint passing through the group and for a moment, she’s too stoned to realise what’s going on. 

There’s a look on Harry’s face, though – an unamused one. His jaw is set tightly and his brows are gently pinched as he watches Jessie approach Y/N with a lopsided grin. He doesn’t understand why anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. And Y/N doesn’t understand why she feels so weird about being kissed by someone else in front of him. 

But she welcomes Jessie’s lips against hers anyway. It’s soft, gentle. He’s not a bad kisser, but after a few seconds, he pulls away and hands her the joint before returning to his seat. She looks to Harry again with pursed lips and he’s chewing at the inside of his cheek. 

Y/N takes another pull for the joint and reaches for the bottle when Niall’s hand on hers stops her. 

“I have an idea to make this more interesting.” 

She looks at him, eyebrow raised. 

“You have to hook up with the person it lands on.”

Her eyes widen and a laugh rumbles from her chest. “Niall, you can’t make me hook up with anyone. That’s not how this game works. You’re not fucking Cupid.” 

Niall frowns, displeased by her attitude. He crosses his arms over his chest and pinches the joint from her fingers, huffing. “Fine.” 

Y/N spins the bottle, leaning back as she watches it rotate until it lands on Harry. His eyes are on hers, hungry. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat, stepping between people as she approaches him. 

Harry cranes his head up, still not entirely happy that she kissed Jessie, but he welcomes her mouth on his instantly. They’re lustful, almost forgetting their surroundings as Harry swipes his tongue across her bottom lip. She’s about to do the same, to tangle her fingers in his hair when whistling and cheering breaks them apart. 

They’re both incredibly flushed and hot as Y/N moves back to her seat, licking over her bottom lip for another distant taste of him. Harry’s no better, his cock beginning to swell. He clears his throat and leans down to take his turn.

There’s a resounding gasp as it lands on Y/N and they're forced to kiss again, this time Harry approaching Y/N and kissing her a little hungrier. When she spins her turn, it lands back on Harry and the group is growing both tired and a little suspicious of the game. 

It gets harder and harder for them to keep their hands to themselves. The stolen kisses feed the fire in their bellies and Niall is quick to call off the game and suggest some truth or dare instead, like the fifteen-year-old he seems to be. 

Both Y/N and Harry hardly listen to the game unfold. Both are too stoned and lust-filled to pay attention to anything. They’re stealing glances from across the circle, sharing knowing looks that they’re both desperate to escape everyone else and hide away together somewhere. 

It goes on like this for another ten minutes and pinching the joint from Niall’s hand, Harry takes initiative and stands from his chair. “Y/N, shall we go and sort out Ni’s present now?” 

He’s got a brow raised expectantly and her eyes widen at his little fib. They both miss the way Niall looks between them with a beaming smile full of excitement. 

“You’s got me a present?” 

Y/N blinks, finally looking at her friend. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, we completely forgot. Do you mind if we get it sorted? It’s not quite finished yet.” She lies through her teeth. 

Harry’s smirk grows tenfold at the way she plays along with the little game and Niall nods his head. 

“Thanks, Ni,” Harry says kindly, voice a bit condescending but Niall’s too stoned to notice. “Do you mind if I smoke this in the house?” 

Niall waves his hand dismissively. “I don’t care, I do it all the time.” 

Harry looks back to Y/N, tilting his head to the door with a smirk. She follows him inside, giddy with lust and anticipation. He takes her hand in his, guiding her as he weaves through other party-goers until they reach the stairs. It’s a little quieter when they reach the top, Harry opening doors and quickly closing them when he finds they’re already occupied. 

He’s growing frustrated, only one room left that he hasn’t checked – Niall’s room. He tugs them both inside when he realises it’s empty, closing and locking the door behind them. Harry takes a pull of the joint and leaves it hanging between his lips as his fingers work on the buttons at the top of Y/N’s sundress. 

She’s full of adrenaline and arousal, unable to think clearly – her mind far too consumed by lust. Harry pops open just enough buttons to reveal her bare chest, breasts exposed to his hungry eyes and he groans. 

Taking the joint from his lips, he brings it to Y/N’s, encouraging her to take a hit. She does as instructed as Harry’s hands find her tits, kneading softly before he leans down to envelop her left nipple in his warm mouth. 

She exhales the smoke a bit prematurely, taking another pull to make up for it and with her free hand, her fingers tangle into his brown locks. 

“Harry,” she breathes and it’s like crack to him; hearing his name tumble off her lips like that. God, he wants that on repeat in his mind forever. 

He nips at the underswell of her breast, pinching the perk nipple between his fingers. “What do you want?” he mumbles against the fleshy skin.

Y/N tugs at the roots of his hair, forcing his head up until their eyes are level. She places the joint between his lips now and slowly begins to sink to her knees. 

“I want to taste you.” 

Harry’s eyes are blown and bloodshot as she begins to unbutton his pants, shimmying them down his thighs just enough to allow his cock to spring free. He’s bigger than she remembers him to be; thick and full and his ruddy tip begins to leak with arousal.

Y/N laps at his slit, allowing herself a taste. It’s an unholy sight – the way her breasts gently move as she closes her mouth around him. In Harry’s intoxicated state, everything feels so much more heightened. Her mouth feels warmer, wetter… the whole thing feels filthy and he loves it. 

She’s pressing slopping kisses along the length of him, angling her face to take his balls into her hot mouth as she pays them a little more attention. She pulls off him with a gentle kiss, staring up with doe eyes and a devilish grin. 

“Fuck my throat.”

Harry could’ve come there and then, hearing those words fall from her lips. He takes another drag of the joint before pinching it back between his fingers and placing his open palms on the side of her head – the smoke from the joint no doubt clinging to her hair. 

If she was sober, she’d tell him off for it. But she’s not and she doesn’t. 

Instead, she relaxes her jaw as her mouth opens and her tongue lays flat as Harry guides his cock back to the waiting hole. Taking a shaky breath, his hips slowly begin to move, getting her used to his size until he picks up momentum. 

Y/N’s eyes begin to sting, tears welling and his head hits the back of her throat, knocking the air from her lungs. Harry grows faster, eager. His chest is heaving and his lips part as he fucks into her. 

It’s obscene, the noises her throat makes as he shoves himself further down with every snap of his lips. Strings of saliva begin to drip from the corners of Y/N’s mouth as she gags around him, her throat contracting as she splutters on his cock. 

“Taking me so fucking well, baby.”

The praise goes straight to her cunt, wetness seeping through her little panties with every syllable he throws her way. Her eyes are shut tight now, unable to keep them open as Harry uses her for his own pleasure. 

It’s sloppy and messy and needy. Neither of them have experienced anything so fucking sexy in their lives. The sex was good before, but this time – sneaking around and much higher than previously – it’s even more intense. 

It doesn’t take much for Harry to near his end. And when Y/N cradles his heavy balls in her hand, fingernails ghosting over the divots of skin, Harry’s certain he’s about to meet his maker. 

He pulls out of her mouth harshly, not giving her the chance to tell him she needs his cum drowning her throat. His arousal is too quick to paint her chest, coating her nipples in creamy ecstasy as Y/N struggles to catch her breath. 

He comes, a lot, but his stamina doesn’t falter. She’s barely given chance to admire the artwork he marked her with before he’s tugging her up by the crook of her elbow. Y/N’s shoved against the foot of the bed, legs spread and ass in the air, tummy on the mattress. 

Harry’s hands are hungry on her hips, bunching up the bottom of her sundress until it rests on her lower back. He feels over her subtle asscheeks, offering three spanks to her left and whimpering as the fleshy skin wobbles. 

“Harry, please.”

She’s whining now, eager to be filled again. Harry tugs her little thong to the side, her cunt glistening and puffy from neglect. He wants to taste her, spend an eternity between her soaked thighs but the way Y/N wiggles her hips and backs up against him suggests she needs something more right now. 

“I just wanna taste you for a bit,” he says. 

She’s shaking her head, despite how badly she wants to feel him lapping up her pussy. She’s far too soaked and horny to settle for his tongue right now.

“Next time.”

Harry’s heart races a little at that. Next time? So, she plans for there to be. Not that Harry has a problem with it. He’d be more than fucking happy to make this a regualr thing if she wanted it. 

Listening to her request, he lines his head with her entrance, pushing through her folds to coat himself in her slickness. Her legs are trembling in need, face smushed into the blanket and she knows she’s ruining it with her makeup and the come that covers her tits, but she cannot bring herself to care. 

With the joint still between his fingers, Harry brings it back to his lips for another drag. He lines himself back with her puckering hole and gentle sheaths inside. She’s tight – tighter than he remembers – and her walls are so fucking slick it feels like he’s being swallowed whole. 

A shriek escapes Y/N’s mouth at the familiar intrusion, the way he stretches and fills her to the brim. Her mind feels dizzy, vision dotting with white lights as Harry begins to fuck the soul out of her. 

It’s fast and deep, and she’s quick to soak his pubic bone with arousal. Harry leans over her body, guiding the joint to her lips, allowing her a puff. “Hold onto that for me, gorgeous.” 

She takes it from her lips and stretches her arm above her head, wrist against the blanket and joint pointing in the air. His hands are back on her hips as he grips her tight. 

“Good girl, angel.” 

Smack!

His pace is criminal, balls slapping against her throbbing clit with every hit of his hips that he delivers. She’s struggling to stay coherent, unable to string a sentence together as she begs him for more, more, more. 

Harry grips her hips hard, bringing her cunt to him as he fucks into her. Y/N’s body is limp — lets him use her as a toy for his own pleasure and takes whatever he offers. 

She shouldn’t enjoy this so much, getting fucked by her friend, her roommate. But it’s too good to realise they’re stepping on dangerous territory. With the promise of next time. 

“Tight little cunt was fucking made for me.” 

“It’s yours! I’m yours!” 

Her words are a struggle to speak, heart in her throat as her pussy drips for him. It’s too much for Harry. To see her so bare and willing and done for him. To know the affect he has on her, to be buried so fucking deep in her cunt that she can hardly talk. 

His orgasm creeps up on him quickly, cock twitching within the tight confinements of her walls. She feels it, she feels everything. And it only spurs her release on, too. 

Her cunt clenches around him, legs beginning to tremble and a wanton cry crawls out from her lips. “I’m gonna come!” 

Harry keeps his pace steady, coaxes her through it with deep and precise strokes. The tip of his cock continues to pinch at her cervix, the curve in his length rubbing deliciously against her g-spot. 

Y/N shudders around him, desperate to milk him for all he’s got as she explodes. She’s quick to bury her face into the blanket, muffling her screams as her vision spots black and white kaleidoscopes behind her eyes. 

“Give it to me, baby. Come all over me… that’s it.” 

He’s quick to follow, bursts of hot come painting the walls of her cunt and Harry stills inside of her, knees buckling as he tries to keep himself steady. 

It’s quiet for a moment, save for their heavy breathing and wheezing chests. 

It must be true what they say about post-nut clarity. Because as they come down from their highs, there’s a tension in the room that’s far too suffocating. And it only gets worse when Harry slowly pulls out of her cunt and leaves her bent over Niall’s bed, dripping onto the blanket beneath her. 

Harry clears his throat as he tucks himself back into his pants and watches Y/N wobble to her feet as she stands. They don’t look at each other, at least not face-to-face. 

Her tits are still out and his arousal on her chest has transferred to the blanket. She's quick to fix her dress and her underwear — more than a little uncomfortable with the feeling of Harry’s come dribbling out of her. 

She gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “We should leave separately, so no one suspects anything.” 

Harry’s not given much time to confer before she shimmies out of Niall’s room and down the hall to the closest bathroom. He’s left there, slightly stunned and a little embarrassed. It’s a bit confusing, it didn’t feel like a mistake after the last time. But now, with how quickly she wanted to leave, Harry worries she regrets it. 

He scratches at the back of his head, wincing at the sight of Niall’s blanket. There’s come stains on the green fabric and the joint that Y/N was supposed to hold had been dropped mid-orgasm and burnt a small hole through the blanket. 

Deciding it would be best to just replace it, Harry bunches the blanket up into a ball and shoves it in the trash can in the corner of the room — making a mental note to buy Niall a new one. 

It’s the least of his concerns, though. 

Because despite Harry’s worry about Y/N’s regret, he still craves her touch and her presence. And she’s just the same — cleaning herself up in the bathroom and splashing water in her face to try to calm down. 

All she can think about is how much she needs him and it doesn’t feel just sexual anymore. For either of them. 

What the hell have they gotten themselves into? 

//

let me know what you thought :)

tags: @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever @kissfromadove

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢BUBBLE GUM kang haerin x reader

↳ warnings yn is a member of new jeans, fluff, haerin being confused with her emotions, soon to be girlfriends, black cat and golden retriever

with all the windows open in the house letting the natural light shine, the air hung heavy with humidity, wrapping around every surface like a blanket, yn reclined upside down on the worn out couch, her body glistening with sweat, the sticky warmth clinging to her skin like a second layer.

she wore a delicate tank top adorned with whimsical flowers and trimmed with intricate lace, it was paired with loose cloth shorts draped comfortably over her legs, offering minimal spare from the relentless heat.

with each exhale, she blew a bubble of pink bubblegum, you’d think she’d grow tired of blowing bubble gum since the group has got here to film the music video but boredom got to her this was the only thing she could think of doing as a distraction from the fact that they had no service.

she gazed upwards, she basked in the gentle caress of the fan's oscillating breeze, making eye contact with the cat like girl who sat across from her with a fan in her hand.

haerin immediately broke eye contact and shifted uncomfortably fanning herself faster,she reluctantly acknowledged to herself that she had been fixating on yn for longer than she cared to admit. despite her best efforts to ignore it, she couldn't deny yn’s undeniable beauty,even when they’re tired from filming over these past couple of days in an unexpected heat wave.

it wasn’t that she hated yn, she just wasn’t a big fan of the girl like everyone else is, yn was a late addition, she was added to lineup for the group only a month before they had to start recording and filming, so haerin never got the chance to get close to the girl.

well, she just didn’t allow herself, all the other girls immediately made it their job to get to know yn, so they can all feel like a family, there was something about yn that always threw her off, she could never pin point what emotion she was feeling so she just declared it being dislike for the annoyingly pretty girl.

and unfortunately to haerin’s luck, the rest of the girls went to go see the water and left the two alone for the day and to be honest it was pretty awkward, yn and haerin are barely left alone and when they are most of the time both girls just stay in their rooms, so this was new.

“it’s so hot.” yn whined as she fixed her self from her upside down position and got up from couch making her way to kitchen, the same kitchen that they filmed in yesterday, she grabbed two bottles of juice and made her way back to where her and haerin were lofting.

“here” she said softly passing the cold drink to haerin who looked up at her from her seat and gently took the bottle from her hand their hands touching for a split second, “thank you.”

“no problem.” they sat in silence they drank their drinks, desperately trying to cool down, haerin was waiting for yn to say something since the girl was always to talkative

“I’m bored.” yn said out loud, haerin only gave the talkative girl a nod in agreement, taking another sip from her drink.

haerin flinches when she hears a loud gasp from yn who darted over to the nearby table, her movements quick and purposeful as she retrieved a box and settled herself on the floor. a sense of confusion filled haerin as she observed yn patting the empty space in front of her, a silent invitation that hung heavy in the air.

reluctantly, haerin rose from her seat, her footsteps hesitant as she approached yn. sitting opposite of yn on the floor, she regarded the box with curiosity, unsure of what to expect. yn’s infectious enthusiasm filled the rooms, her eyes sparkling with childlike excitement as she eagerly explained her idea.

“let’s make bracelets!” yn exclaims flashing a cute smile to haerin who gives the girl a puzzled look, her smile was radiant, a stark contrast to haerin’s lingering skepticism. "I forgot Hyein packed this," she continued, gesturing towards the box with a flick of her wrist. "since there's nothing to do, let's make some."

haerin’s initial puzzlement melted away, replaced by a flicker of reluctant amusement as she observed yn’s unwavering enthusiasm. with a sigh, she opened the box, her fingers sifting through the assortment of strings, beads and cute charms yn’s grin widened at haerin’s reluctant participation, a silent victory in her quest to break through the barriers of their strained acquaintance.

“so, filming has been fun right?” yn says as they make their bracelets, if there was one thing about the girl it’s the she could never not not start a conversation, she loved to talk, she loved to break shells of other people and ever since she met kang haerin that has been her ultimate mission to win the girls heart over.

haerin nodded as she focused on the bracelet, “yeah.” she says quietly, as time went on she listens to yn’s rambles about the filming for the music video over the past couple of days, transition to the girl raving about her favourite character in a new show that she started watching and the girl can’t help but feel at ease at yn’s presence and talkative ways.

it was sweet.

haerin laughed quietly at yn who started a rant about the character that was mean to her favourite character, “I don’t mean to be mean, but I wouldn’t be sad if they kill him off.” yn says guilty causing haerin to shake her head in amusement as she adds the finishing clip to her bracelet.

“oh my gosh.” yn gasps looking at the bracelet, “that’s so pretty.” she says reaching over to admire the bracelet that had a flower charm hanging from it.

“I like yours as well.” haerin responds her cheeks heating up slightly as she admires the bracelet yn made with a star charm hanging from it.

a sense of confidence powers over her and she grabs yn’s wrist and clips the bracelet she made on the girls wrist resulting in yn gasping and giving haerin the biggest smile known to man.

yn then grabbed haerin’s wrist and does the same clipping on the bracelet she made to the girls wrist, “now we’re matching.” she says happily.

as haerin’s hesitant fingers grazed over the vibrant array of strings and beads, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, mirroring the infectious enthusiasm radiating from yn. caught off guard by the unexpected warmth of the moment, she couldn't suppress the soft giggle that bubbled up from within her, caused yn to giggle as well.

their gazes lingered, curiosity and vulnerability meeting in a silent exchange of understanding. for a moment, the walls that had stood between them crumbled, replaced by an unspoken connection of their shared laughter.

the sound of the door opening cuts off their soft moment the sounds of the other girl’s voices filling the house.

“we’re back!”

yn gets up from the floor and stretches her hand out to haerin who looks at it before softly placing her hand in yn’s, they smile at each other when yn pulls her up but watch shocks her is that yn doesn’t let go of her hand.

instead the girl interlocks their fingers and drags the girl along with her towards the door way.

“did you guys bring food?!”

“yn we’re in the middle nowhere, what food are we going to bring?”

[qveerthe0ry]

Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect. 

He’s your dream man. 

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place. 

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees. 

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally. 

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit. 

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own. 

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it. 

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too. 

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight. 

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things. 

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him. 

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing. 

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow. 

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore. 

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training. 

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager. 

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated. 

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it. 

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed. 

“What do you want?” 

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in. 

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.” 

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine. 

“You’re lying.” 

You sigh and close your eyes. 

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.” 

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty. 

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers. 

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.” 

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment. 

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?” 

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction. 

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?” 

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little. 

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs. 

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation. 

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not. 

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him. 

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?” 

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead. 

“Everyone?” 

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you. 

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up. 

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at. 

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you? 

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.” 

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze. 

“Really?”

You scoff. 

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth. 

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine. 

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment. 

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back. 

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone. 

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted. 

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again. 

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs. 

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.” 

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth. 

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you. 

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction. 

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long. 

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs. 

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt. 

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking. 

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved. 

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice. 

“I think about you, too. All the time.” 

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest. 

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?” 

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter. 

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod. 

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience. 

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt. 

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?” 

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss. 

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head. 

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you. 

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before. 

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers. 

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch. 

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck. 

“It’s just you.” 

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief. 

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans. 

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess. 

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips. 

“That’s all for me?” 

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again. 

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip. 

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” 

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you. 

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes. 

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs. 

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face. 

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control. 

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him. 

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest. 

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels. 

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.” 

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest. 

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure. 

Oh, he’s fucking good at this. 

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else. 

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers. 

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face. 

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side. 

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles. 

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself. 

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together. 

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing. 

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids. 

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours. 

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder. 

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?” 

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs. 

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction. 

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants. 

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.” 

You huff. 

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it. 

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours. 

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe. 

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs. 

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out. 

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation. 

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again. 

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you. 

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold. 

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs. 

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever. 

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.” 

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust. 

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there. 

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake. 

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.” 

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping. 

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue. 

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him. 

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach. 

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers. 

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that. 

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is. 

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him. 

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat. 

“So… How’d it compare?” 

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question. 

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them. 

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?” 

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up. 

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are. 

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs. 

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs. 

“Better,” you whisper. 

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back. 

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver. 

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips. 

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants. 

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension. 

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. 

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little. 

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard. 

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up. 

“Will you let me suck it?” 

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods. 

“Please.” 

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction. 

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough. 

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go. 

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you. 

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel. 

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock. 

His little cock. 

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess. 

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing. 

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this. 

You’ll make him look, one way or another. 

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention. 

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head. 

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth. 

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him. 

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show. 

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to. 

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more. 

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool. 

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere. 

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock. 

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself. 

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds. 

He says your name. 

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls. 

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked. 

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face. 

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face. 

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.” 

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?” 

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question. 

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe. 

“Yeah? You still want it?” 

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. 

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.” 

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away. 

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?” 

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of  amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later. 

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body. 

He’s so hot. 

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed. 

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit. 

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling. 

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time. 

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense. 

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you. 

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him. 

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles. 

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm. 

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out. 

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh. 

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display. 

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up. 

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist. 

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you. 

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them. 

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?” 

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit. 

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight. 

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy. 

There’s screaming. 

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts. 

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene. 

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks. 

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps. 

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair. 

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again. 

“Huh?” 

God, how are you ever going to move again? 

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words? 

“What are you talking about?” 

He clears his throat. 

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly. 

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright. 

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out. 

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?” 

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver. 

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees. 

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you. 

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body. 

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high. 

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part. 

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle. 

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach. 

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do. 

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest. 

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth. 

“When can we go again?”

[erose-this-name]

Kabru is such a brilliantly written character, one of the best in Dungeon Meshi (which is a high bar as it is, most of the main cast are similarly genius). 

His thing is that he is very friendly and nice confident and maxed out his charisma stat, but is also kinda ambitious and manipulative. But not in an overtly malicious way. Which kinda scares me.

The most impressive thing about him, writing wise, is that it’s all show-don’t-tell. He very frequently uses his charm and empathy and understanding of how people think in really clever ways. We’re often walked through his thought process of how he does these social deductions. We’re never told he’s scarily charismatic, besides other characters reacting to him being scarily charismatic.

Kabru is a natural-born leader and social engineer with superlative skills in both, which makes him the perfect foil for Laios, who’s too autistic and unambitious that he’s not even the de facto leader of his own party that he’s the official leader of. He’s so bad at leadership that his party just, sort of, doesn’t have a leader. They just kinda argue and do stuff.

What’s also neat, and perfectly inline with Meshi’s general theme of clever and logical subversions of fantasy tropes, is that Kabru’s character design in no way clues us in on this fundamental character trait of his.

He’s sort of a human fighter / knight archetype, which in the language of fantasy RPGs is a class most would associate with being a white bread jock, chivalrousness optional. (Laios subverts the same trope in the same way. It’s really funny that the walking exposition dump of the group looks like the character creator default preset spec’d as the most generic class available.)

If Kabru was a bard or noble and Laios a wizard, their character traits would be far less interesting

Even better is that we would expect someone who looks like Laios to have Kabru’s personality, and vice versa. Their character designs are flipped; the confident super charismatic leader is a short wide-eyed twink, while the slightly naive and very autistic monster enthusiast is a tall conventionally attractive Aryan lookin’ mf. (see what I mean by Kabru being such a good foil for Laios?? No wonder everyone ships them, they’re perfect for each other!)

Yet, their designs also work for them. Kabru just has a face that’s easy to talk to, his piercing blue eyes and curly hair gives him a false sense of naïveté, while his iconic 👁️👁️ expression hints that there’s actually quite a bit going on inside his head. Meanwhile, Laios believably looks like someone who doesn’t know what hair conditioner is. His armor’s collar gorget thing is also pretty dorky.

You can’t trust people like that (I mean overly charismatic people with a manipulative streak, not blue-eyed twinks) because you can’t know what their real motives are. You can’t know they aren’t pretending, you can’t know they aren’t trying to or haven’t already manipulated you. How could you? When he has so much more social intelligence than you do, average socially awkward Tumblr user? He’s touched all the grass!

In episode 16 (spoilers, btw) Kabru finally meets Laios’s party, who he’s been trying to find and fight for the better part of the season, and he just decides that no confrontation is necessary. Like, immediately upon meeting the guy. Just from how Laios looked at him. He figures that since Laios didn’t seem to recognize him, they either have never met meaning he has the wrong guy, or Laios forgot meaning he didn’t think it’d be a big deal, meaning the treasure was a trap or something. Which is pretty in line with Kabru’s established ability to always roll nat 20s for every charisma and deductive reasoning check, so cool.

But he doesn’t even seem curious about which of those cases is true. (He might be interested to find out some of the treasure wasn’t dangerous, but accidentally got thrown off a bridge). Much to Rin’s dismay, he’d rather just not bring it up because that could upset the leader of the party he might be working with for the foreseeable future.

Actions speak louder than words. So, all we really learn in this scene is that Kabru’s goals and M.O. can change on a dime, and that he values reputation and political capital more than money and vengeance. More than his own party’s desire for those things. Not only is he someone with a silver tongue, but he knows its value and is determined to use it at every opportunity.

Kabru and his party might not be very good at fighting or surviving in the dungeon, in fact their frequent TPKs are a running gag. But, he also doesn’t need to be when he can just manipulate Laios’ and Shuro’s much more proficient parties into helping him.

So far, Kabru seems like the most likely one to become king of the dungeon or whatever the mcguffin is. He is the only protagonist so far who has said that’s an actual goal of his. He’s said that he doesn’t think someone like Laios who isn’t a born leader should get it.

In fact, Kabru seems to have very strong opinions on what kinds of people should be allowed to adventure in the dungeon, evidenced by the fact that he murdered an entire party over it, justified or not. Kabru seems to think that Kabru is such a leader, and he’s probably right about that, but what kind of leader? 

What would Kabru do with that kind of power if he gets it? Because I’m not sure. All I know is that he is the kind of person with the ability to use real political power to its full potential. For good, or for very, very bad.

I’m not saying that Kabru is evil or that he’s secretly gonna be the surprise villain. I dunno, I haven’t read the manga. He could just be a nice guy that’s just, like, is like that. Everything he’s done could be justified by the explanations he’s given. He actually reminds me a lot of one of my IRL friends, and I’d trust him with my life.

But, I can’t help but feel a distinct sense of unease whenever he’s on-screen. I try not to trust confident natural-born leaders like him right out of the gate. I don’t like that our instinct as humans is to blindly follow them without thinking about it.

Tyrants and psychopaths also use confidence and charm and a friendly demeanor to make people think they’re a good guy, while manipulating everyone into thinking their self-serving actions are altruistic. Benevolent, confident, skilled leaders do exist. But there exists many more snakes wearing their skin. Wolves rarely bother with sheep’s clothing, they dress as shepherds and sheepdogs.

Anyway, my point is that I think it’s kinda neat that it’s possible to overthink this much about a character whose probably just a nice guy that is the mirror opposite of an autistic person. Writing that kind of ambiguity is hard, and employing it in this way is inspired.

[tayytayy12]

From the start | LN4 x Reader

Summary - Reader and Lando have been best friends for years, but reader slowly develops feelings for him, and didn’t want to tell him in fear that he wouldn’t feel the same and it would ruin their friendship forever, so she releases a song indirectly telling him everything, not knowing he’d always felt the same.

Warnings - Swearing

Type - SMAU

FaceClaim - Laufey

Requested - yes - no

Yourusername

Liked by - LandoNorris, GracieAbrams and 4,927,290 others - Posted 01.02.24

Yourusername - Studio sesh 😙

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User1 - OMG OMG OMG OMG

User2 - DOES THIS MEAN NEW MUSIC SOON ?!??!?

GracieAbrams - 💛

Yourusername - 🤍

User3 - She’s so adorable

User4 - Y/n I need whatever you made in that studio like right now pls

User5 - Oh Y/n I fear I can already tell you’ve ate

LandoNorris - HELLO WHY DIDNT I KNOW OF THIS ?

User6 - the first time she hasn’t told Lando something

Yourusername

Liked by - LandoNorris, TaylorSwift and 5,100,104 others - Posted 20.02.24

Yourusername - Surprise !!!!!!! My brand new single, ‘from the start’ is out right now! Along with its music video, written and directed by yours truly 😙 this song is unlike anything I’ve ever released before, it’s a complete and true raw reflection of all of my emotions, and I hope you love it like I do. I love you, enjoy 🤍

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User7 - OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

User8 - KNEW Y/N ERA INCOMING

User9 - THIS SONG IS EVERYTHING WHAT

User10 - The music video is so fun and goofy but somehow so deep at the same time, I love it sm 😭

User11 - Y/N WHO IS THIS ABOUT

User12 - FR SAME

User13 - YES LIKE, WHOS GOT OUR GIRL WRITING WHOLE ASS LOVE CONFESSIONS

User14 - Literally my new favourite song

User15 - Okay this is so about Lando

User16 - Girl what ?😭

User17 - I see their point, the lyrics point to all things that they’ve said about their friendship

User18 - Like what? 😭

User19 - Like ‘Listening to you harp on 'bout some new soulmate "She's so perfect, " blah, blah, blah’ Y/n has said so many times that sometimes Lando just sits there and says everything about the new girl he’s talking too and it bores her to death, I’d say that’s good enough proof 😭

Y/n.Nation

Liked by - User20, LandoNorris and 83,290 others - Posted - 23.02.24

Tagged | @/Yourusername

Y/n.Nation - Y/n was the guest on the Jimmy Fallon show last night !!!! She debuted from the start with its first ever live performance, then done her interview where she revealed that her new hit is about someone very very close and personal to her, her words were-

“From the start for me, is like a one of those letters that people write and throw into the fireplace just to get their emotions out there, but instead of writing a letter and throwing it into a fire I wrote a song and gave it to my fans. Which for me is kind of the same thing, they’re incredibly supportive and loving and I couldn’t be more grateful for them, every single one of them I love with my whole heart. This song is about something that I’ve been keeping to myself for maybe ten years now? Since I was still really young. God that makes me sound old, but it’s about someone I’ve known and been extremely close to since I was a child. And I think when you’re so close with someone, feelings like the one I’ve presented in the song can completely ruin a friendship if they’re unrequited, but the other day I decided it was time for me to ‘man up’ as my mum would say, and I went to the studio, I wrote and recorded the song and shot the video, and I just released it and I let my music do the talking. I’ve still not heard anything from the person I’ve aimed it too, so if I don’t get one I suppose that’s my answer to my ‘confession of love’ that I brought up at least seven times in the song.”

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User21 - Y/n told me she loves me

User22 - I’m crying this is so cute but a teeny bit sad at the same time

User23 - She actually lets us read her diary 🥲

User24 - Oh it’s so about lando 🥲

User25 - It’s so obvious I’m gonna cry

User26 - LANDO ANSWER HER RN

User27 - ‘Since I was really young’ she really has loved him from the start

User28 - Okay this relationship is a need now please

User29 - same it’s not even a joke anymore

User30 - Lando it’s in your hands now do the right thing

User31 - LANDO LIKED THAT HAS TO BE GOOD

LN.Updates

Liked by - Yourusername, user32 and 89,191 others - Posted - 25.02.24

Tagged | @/LandoNorris

LN.Updates - Lando on a podcast recently!!! He never addresses Y/n by name, but I think we’d be right in assuming that’s who’s he’s talking about

View all comments

User33 - MY LANY/N HEART HAS BEEN GROWING THIS PAST WEEK

User34 - I need someone who looks at me the way Lando looks whenever Y/n is mentioned

User35 - WE ALL DO

User36 - HE FEELS THE SAME HE FEELS THE SAME

User37 - Y/N LIKED OMGGG

User38 - Gonna die

User39 - I need them together right now

User40 - All the Lany/n haters right now are hiding

User41 - As they should be

LandoNorris

Liked by - Yourusername, OscarPiastri and 2,008,99 others - Posted - 22.04.24

Tagged | @/yourusername

LandoNorris - Just thinking of youuuuu 🤍🤍

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User42 - EVERYBODY WAKE UP LANY/N HAS BEEN CONFIRMED

User42 - SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

User43 - RIP ME

User44 - WHY THE FUCK DID IT TAKE YOU TWO MONTHS TO CONFIRM THIS

LandoNorris - We was in a funny mood, we’ve been together since the day after that podcast 🫠

User45 - SHUT THE FUCK UP

User46 - So, before the even confirmed their relationship, they’ve been on a boat trip, she’s been to races, AND they’ve gone to the beach while we all through that they wasn’t together

User47 - The from the start lyrcis 😩

Yourusername - That was a great coffee

LandoNorris - I made a cute hard launch post and you focus on the coffee you had over a month ago?

Yourusername - It was a really good coffee 🥲

LandoNorris - I’ll buy you more

Yourusername - I love youuu 🥲

LandoNorris - I love you more 🤍

User48 - I’m going to sleep on the highway

Yourusername

Liked by - LandoNorris, GracieAbrams and 2,991,295 others - Posted 22.04.24

Tagged | @/LandoNorris

Yourusername - When I say from the start, I really mean it 🤍

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User49 - This is the kind of love I NEED.

LandoNorris - I love you, I always have

Yourusername - Funny, I could say that same thing. I love you so much more

LandoNorris - Impossible

User50 - This is why I wish my mum had a best friend with a son, cause this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

Liked by author

———

[disneyprincemuke]

too young to know it gets better * fem!driver

there has to be someone out there that can snap her out of it, right?

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: HI AFTER THIS THERE's one left and i promise that's not AS angsty as this one and i'm thinking of adding one or two more bonus chapters?? lolsie but idk we'll see!

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

rockster has disconnected.

that’s the notification that had brought logan and oscar together some random afternoon. they stand in the confinements of the elevator in silence, not a single word uttered since they’d met one another in the lobby after sending a simple text out.

but they know what they’re here for.

logan hadn’t moved that fast in concern for her, dating back 3 years ago when mick had supposedly texted him about marrying his crush in vegas. he had sprinted 2 blocks from his apartment building to hers in the span of a couple of minutes.

and oscar had been running errands with lily prior to getting the notification. when she’d noticed her boyfriend staring down at his phone with distress all over his face, she’d immediately pushed him towards the exits to attend to the girl. she’s also a close friend, so she notices.

if you asked oscar, he’s been worried for months. but with her tendency to keep rejecting his initiation for small talk, it’s difficult to try and find the words to try and pry a confession out of her. but this disconnection from an application they’ve had for years raises red flags that they didn’t even know were possible.

“we’re not overreacting, right?” oscar mutters as they step out of the elevator at her floor.

logan nods, lips pressed into a thin line as he counts the steps he takes down the familiar hallway. “she dropped kidnapper off at my apartment like a week and a half ago. i haven’t heard from her since.”

oscar turns to him. “you’ve heard from her?”

“barely,” logan grimaces with a shake of his head, eyes trained on the hallway. “i invited her in for snacks but she declined and left immediately.”

“i haven’t seen or heard from her since the summer break began.”

“she hasn’t been picking up my calls either.” he turns to oscar. “that’s weird, right?”

logan almost wants to laugh at their conversation. if he didn’t consider that their best friend was the person at stake, he would have laughed the loudest he’s ever. they simply sounded like they were answering one another for copium in hopes that their best friend hasn’t lost her mind just yet.

when he unlocks the door to her apartment, they’re taken aback by the sight they’re immediately greeted with. and for logan, it’s whiplash — he’s only ever had fond memories of this apartment. to find it absolutely thrashed almost breaks his heart a little bit.

in his mind, he can hear the girl always scolding him for being messy when they were living together.

the curtains, typically letting the sun seep into the room, are drawn in to block the light out. the floor is littered with her things and there’s a chair toppled over on the ground. a picture frame on the entertainment system beneath the tv is faced down against the counter and if logan can recall perfectly, it’s their picture from when they were kids.

“what happened in here?” oscar mutters, stepping around the items of stray pieces of clothing on the ground. “should we call someone? do you think someone broke into her apartment?”

“let me call her and see if she’s alright,” logan sighs, fishing for his phone in his back pocket.

he hadn’t expected the situation to be so concerning. have they really let her run rampant on her own all this time?

he dials her number, just about to press the call button when a lock clicks and a door opens.

the girl, albeit slightly unrecognisable at first, steps out of her bedroom. she’s still in her pyjamas, cheeks wet and eyes puffy with her hair in a messy ponytail talling apart on her shoulder.

“who- rocky?”

she flinches back at the voice, catching her off-guard. she sighs tiredly as she pushes her hair out of her face, wiping her cheeks dry on the sleeve of her pyjamas. “what are you guys doing here”

“what are we- when did you get back?” logan tilts his head in confusion. he gestures towards the mess around them, “and what happened? have you been crying?”

she sighs again, eyes fluttering as she turns to look away from them. “you guys should really go. it’s not a good time right now,” she says softly, gesturing them towards the front door of her apartment.

“we can stay and help you clean everything up,” oscar mutters, mirror logan’s stare at the ground, “we’re just curious. you don’t typically let your apartment get this messy.”

“mate,” another sigh comes with her pinching the bridge of her nose, “it’s really not a good time right now.”

oscar’s head snaps up. “are you avoiding us?”

she stares at him tiredly. “what? no, it’s just-”

“you are, aren’t you?” oscar cuts her off, feeling an overwhelming wave of frustration takes over him. months of what feels like a one-sided friendship finally catches up to him.

every single rejection of plans reminds him how neglected their friendship has been, every time she’s ‘forgotten’ to look for an ice cream parlour makes his blood boil. it is such a one-sided friendship as of late and it feels like she’s no longer honouring the years of friendship they have.

“but why? did we do something? did we say something to upset you?”

she slouches her shoulders. she takes a deep breath to recompose herself. “please just go,” she croaks out, feeling a knot in her throat at the realisation of where this entire conversation might be heading. “not now.”

“but what is it? is it us?” oscar frowns. “at least tell us before you start ignoring us.”

she clenches her jaw as her patience runs thin. and she tries to hold on to the last string of patience she has. all these past months, she’s tried her damnest not to be this way to anyone that’s involved in racing.

just to save some face, to show that she’s not completely lost her mind. apart from the fact that they’re all practically colleagues, they’re also her friends.

but as oscar continues to edge her on for an explanation for her behaviour, it’s increasingly getting more difficult to keep her outbust at bay.

“rocky,” oscar calls out to grab her attention. “what is it? i’m so tired of you beating around the bush; if we did something to upset you, speak up. it’s not fair — what you’re doing. you’re cancelling plans, you’re bailing, you’re leaving us hanging… we’ve known each other half of our lives. you can’t just do this.”

logan shifts uncomfortable where he stands. “do you hate us?”

she tries to stop herself, really. but she should be allowed one outburst in her life.

“yes, yes, i actually do!” she admits, venom lacing her words as she starts to explain herself. “it sucks. i’m so fucking jealous of all of you right now. i’ve tried to feel happy for you guys but honestly?” a dry laugh passes her lips, tears falling out of her eyes. “i resent all of the success you’ve found this year.

because you’re doing great and i’m not. it’s annoying because i should be doing great too. because between every single one of us, no one’s worked as hard as i have to get to where i am today. you’re my best friends but i can’t get myself to be happy for you and i hate myself even more for it.”

oscar blinks blankly at her. her chest heaves as she finishes speaking, fists clenched by her side as she starts to cry a little harder.

she’s swallowed down every single drop of resentment she feels towards her friends, all doing well while she’d sunk deeper into the trenches of her own demise.

speaking ill of them that one time they achieved a podium without her haunted her for weeks on end. she couldn’t get herself to speak to them like she hadn’t spent 20 minutes speaking behind their backs about how much she hates that they’re on podiums without her.

“it was easier to avoid you than say things i can’t say.”

it was truly one of the last times she spend with them; the guilt of speaking on them ate her up. she’s apologise out of the blue and they’d have no idea what she was talking about.

admitting it now feels like their friendship would truly never be the same. like this is the one fight that’s been waiting to happen after their years of friendship and would lead to her eventual loneliness.

but she doesn’t expect oscar to start laughing. “are you fucking stupid?”

“excuse me, what?” she scoffs, throwing her head back slightly.

logan sighs next to socar. “come on, don’t be like that. she’s clearly having a hard time right now,” he mutters, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

oscar turns to logan, pointing a hand over to where the girl stand by her bedroom door. “really, logan? you don’t think she’s being so mind-numbingly stupid right now?�� he glances at her then immediately looks away. “she’s so insensitive right now. the last thing she should have done is isolate herself but she’s gone ahead and done exactly that.”

oscar huffs and turns back to her with a frown. “you would think that she would fall back on the people who understand her the most. and you still don’t believe she’s being stupid?”

logan sighs again. “oscar.”

“you don’t fucking get it!” she screams.

“we’re the ones who don’t get it? out of everyone you know, we’re the 2 people who understand the most!”

he has a point, she starts to think. but it’s not the same — they’re not the same. their predicaments are different.

they never had to go through and be on the receiving end of words that tried to tear her down as she grew up.

“no, you don’t!” she says with slight amusement. “you’re oscar piastri. everyone’s kissed the ground you’ve walked on; you came into the sport and everyone’s been acting like you’re a prodigy changing the course of the sport. you don’t know what it’s like to be this way!”

“and you thought that pushing away every single person who wants to help you is the solution to your problems?” oscar snorts. then it hits him. “is that why i haven’t seen matt around lately? you drove him away? finally cracked, didn’t he?”

“you don’t know the half of it,” she scoffs. there’s no need for oscar to remind her of the cardinal sin she’d acted upon to drive matt away.

she lives with the repercussions of it every single day: coming back to an empty apartment. just an apartment, a shell of what used to feel like home.

“all of this over a bad couple races?” oscar rolls his eyes and another mean scoff passes his lips. he was unaware how bad it had gotten for her. “how immature. there’s more to fucking life than your position in f1.”

she sucks in a deep breath. “you’ll never understand.”

“oh, i do,” oscar points out with a small grin. “i grew up with you, rocky, i know how you operate. you break down the minute you’re not the best at something. you get scared and hide away when you don’t feel like you’re on the top of your game.”

“what do you know about what i feel?” she tilts her head with a small smile. “that’s so fucking pretentious of you to say so, oscar.”

“you’ve already made it to the top.” he picks his feet up and starts to walk over to her, shoving away logan’s hand that tries to stop him from threading any further. “it’s unnecessary that you’re still this hard on yourself. you’ve proved everyone wrong by making it this far. there are people on your side,” he jabs a finger into her shoulder and she stumbles back, “there are people who miss you- we miss you!

“do you even realise how lucky you have it right now? you’ve got sebastian helping to push your narrative because he believes in you. do you think everyone’s got that luxury?” he points back at logan. “do you think he had that luxury fight for his life in this sport? did that even cross your mind or are you just so far into your head?”

“oscar,” logan repeats. oscar glances back at logan who has his lips pressed into a thin line, unamused by the scenario he’s choosing to bring up. “don’t even go there.”

but oscar ignores him. oscar turns back to the younger girl and grabs her shoulders, squeezing them firmly as he draws a soft sob from her.

“i thought that because you weren’t entirely alone, it was okay that we take a step back and stopped meddling with your life. i thought you were going to be fine; i thought you knew ho to handle yourself and continue to keep your feet on the ground.”

she shakes her head, bottom lip pouted out. “you don’t-”

“i don’t understand?” oscar scoffs. “how far into your head have you gone to push yourself into a corner? do you realise that you’re in the trenches because you put yourself in there? have you looked in the mirror and actually,” oscar shakes her, “looked at yourself?”

and it seems that something finally clicked in her head. she stares blankly up at him, tears finally running down her cheeks. her chest heaves with constant sobs as she no longer can find the words in her head to prove her point.

“okay, that’s enough,” logan mutters, yanking oscar away from the girl. he shoves the younger boy towards the kitchen. “go and get some air and drink some water — you’re scaring her.”

oscar sniffles, wiping his eyes and stumbles towards the kitchen. he spares her one last glare before turning his back on her. “whatever.”

logan can only sigh when he looks down her head. she’s got her head in her hands as she sobs. she lifts her eyes to look up at him and scoffs. “what? do you have something to say to me? about how deranged i’ve gotten?”

“i don’t know what got into you to think we wouldn’t understand how you were feeling,” he says softly, tears flooding his eyes.

it’s difficult to watch someone you think is so strong be half the person you watched her grow into. he pulls her into his arms, squeezing her into a tight hug and rests his chin on her head.

“i’m sorry,” she cries in staggered breaths into his chest. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know. i didn’t-”

“it’s okay,” he mutters, squeezing her tighter. “we’re here.” he pulls away slightly and cups her cheeks, wiping her tears away with a small grin. “we’ve got you, okay? we’re here now.”

she nods through her tears, “okay.”

“we’ve got you, i promise,” logan hums, pulling her in again. he sways gently as he feels her sobs slowly dying out. “you’ll be okay.”

logan turns around at the sound of things shuffling about. oscar has a trash bag in his hand, picking up empty bottles on the ground and throwing them into the bag silently. she pulls her head back and watches oscar slowly navigate her littered apartment.

sensing their stares, oscar glances over his shoulder. “are you going to help me or are you just going to let me do this by myself?”

she glances up at logan with eyebrows raised and in return, he shrugs with a small smile.

for the next 2 hours, they clean up her apartment in silence. no music, not an utter of another word, just a heavy silence pushing down on their shoulders as they shift about her apartment like a well-oiled machine.

oscar throws his dirty piece of tissue into the bin right by the coffee table and sighs, leaning back into the couch he’s sat on. he’s in a single seater while logan and her share the bigger couch.

her apartment finally looks the way they all remember it. pristine with all her things neatly slotted into their respective slots.

oscar hasn’t spoken to her much since he’d gotten the bright idea to start helping her clean the apartment for her. he’d briefly asked her if she wanted pizza for dinner, to which she simply shrugged and said okay, then asked which toppings she wanted. then they returned to their silence.

he picks up her can of pepsi, popping it open before extending his hand over to her. she turns stiffly and looks at his offer with a blank stare. “oh, thank you.”

she takes it into her hands and glances over at oscar who turns away from her immediately to grab logan’s drink next. “i’m sorry,” she says first, just barely above a whisper. her head is dropped slightly, eyes trained on the slicer of pizza in her hands.

truthfully, she’s not very sure how to apologise for her behaviour. while she’s broken down over things said about her and her progress is a sport that barely had a spot for her, it’s never gotten this bad.

she hadn’t even realised that they still cared with their own lives now.

“no, i’m sorry,” logan says immediately, turning his head to her. “that we didn’t foster an environment where you felt like you could come to use and be honest about how you’re really feeling. you did it for me all the time when we first started out and i’m sorry i couldn’t do the same for you.”

“it’s not even your fault,” she sighs shakily. “i pushed away everyone who tried to extend their hands out to me to help. oscar’s right.”

oscar sighs audibly, sinking into his seat. he turns his head to look at her and purses is lips. “i’m sorry i called you stupid,” oscar says, “we grew up together… i just thought that if you didn’t feel right, we’d still be the people you know you don’t have to put up a facade with. be brutally, disgustingly and painfully honest with.”

“i really didn’t wanna worry anybody,” she frowns. “you have your own lives now, you know? i thought i could handle it on my own.”

“don’t even say that,” oscar turns to her with furrowed eyebrows, “you’re practically my little sister — i’ve driven you to the hospital after you writhed in pain from dislocating your shoulder playing volleyball. i’ve beaten up guys from school for you so of course you’ll always have a place in our lives.”

“i didn’t want you to know that i was a sore loser,” she shrugs with a small grin. she gestures towards logan. “he took our first 2 years in the sport so gracefully. it was embarrassing that i couldn’t do the same when it was my turn.”

“what?” logan scoffs. “you seriously think i wasn’t jealous seeing you guys being glorified by everyone? i felt like shit watching you guys get accepted in the sport with open arms and make new friends without me.”

he gives her a knowing stare when she turns her head to look at him. “i lvoe you, but i seriously despised you so much for being better than me at everything. i felt like the smallest man who’s ever lived when i was next to you. and dude… we were always together.”

she chews on the inside of her cheek. “i didn’t know that… i’m sorry…”

“but at the end of the day, you were always there for me,” logan frowns, poking her arm gently. “i’m sorry i couldn’t give you the same level of comfort to not spiral this bad. the only reason i hadn’t was because you were there for me all the time.”

“well i’m sorry that i was so mean to you,” oscar sighs. “but you know you needed it, right?”

“i know,” she shrugs, “thanks.”

“i don’t wanna be the one to bring it up, though,” logan hums as he reaches forward for another slice, “but what happened with matt?”

she chuckles with a soft snort. she lifts her head and puffs her cheeks out. “i wasn’t very nice to him when everything was falling apart,” tears flood her eyes, “he called for a break. but honestly, i think he wants to break up with me.”

logan raises an eyebrow. “he asked for a break, didn’t he? that’s not a breakup, mate.”

“you weren’t there. i wouldn’t want to be with me either if i had to endure what he went through with me,” she admits with a sigh. she wipes her tears away from her eyes and smiles slightly. “i think he’s just trying to soften the blow.”

oscar laughs. he laughs the loudest and heartiest he’s ever since he’d bolted from lily while they were running errands together. “do you seriously think that?”

she blinks at oscar. “i thought we were done being mean to me, mate.”

“we are!” oscar beams, forcing himself to falter with his laughter. “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to make you feel worse. but do you seriously think that matt — the guy who’s in your garage every single weekend, literally comes into the paddocks with ice cream for your entire team, texts logan and i to ask about things to surprise you with — wants to seriously break up with you?”

“well, you weren’t there,” she explains with a frown. “well, you were, once when i was crying in the paddocks. but i was so mean to him.”

“but a break isn’t a breakup,” oscar explains as he points at her knowingly. “you were arguably at your worst, i doubt that he wants to leave you when your mental was that bad. it happens, you know?”

“if he didn’t want to be with you, he would have broken up with you instead of asking for a break,” logan sighs, patting her on the shoulder. “just approach him.”

“i don’t know how to,” she admits, sliding down the couch to lie down slightly. “there’s no gesture big enough to makeup for the things i said… the way i treated him…”

“say you’re sorry,” oscar says with a small grin and a nod. “start there and i’m sure you guys can work it out from there, you know?”

“i’ll try.”

“okay, enough with this,” logan throws his head back with a grunt. “let’s go karting!” he stands up and smiles at her widely. “you sound like you need your edge back. i’ll even let you win this time.”

she scoffs, “as if i’d ever lose to you in equal machinery!”

“aw, she’s back! she’s fighting back now!” oscar cheers, hopping up as he claps his hands. “come on! then let’s get ice cream where we always get it! i haven’t been there in forever.”

“okay, okay!” she laughs, watching the 2 of them jump to their feet and start to clear out her table. she feels a warmth in her chest watching them in her living room. “just let me shower, okay? we kinda cleaned a lot tonight. i won’t take less than 15 minutes, i promise!”

there’s a chorus of heavy sighs and arms thrown in the air. “we might as well cancel karting.”

“but you take forever to get ready!” oscar jokes with a frown. “if you pass 15 minutes, you’re paying for ice cream.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @c-losur3 @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @tinyhrry @iwilleatyourgod @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[technicallyr43]

How about a fic where the Fenton portal was opened in like the 90s and so Phantom was the literal First Known Hero. Which is why he was hunted and there wasn’t any law to stop the Anti-ecto acts. And when Phantom Planet happened, he just disappeared, or retired. He went to Gotham U for uni and meets Bruce Wayne there and they hit it off as good friends and later wild romance partners who slept around. And when they graduated they separated to do their own thing but Danny returns once in awhile to visit Bruce.

They also meet randomly when Bruce goes on work trips in random countries and cities. They never mention the kids and Danny doesn’t know about Batman. Bruce doesn’t know about Phantom. He just thinks Danny is an engineer that travels for work. Which he is, but he’s also mainly the Ling of the Infinite Realms and appears in other countries and cities bc that’s conveniently where natural portals are spawning.

What Danny doesn’t know is that since he’s taken up the mantle of king, the zone has changed to match him. So it’s much more welcoming and natural portals spawn where Bruce is bc he lowkey is in love with him and just doesn’t realize it. And vice versa, Bruce is lowkey in love with Danny and they fawn over each other when they meet up without realizing that’s what’s happening. But Alfred knows, he’s known for awhile. And so does Jazz.

So when one day, Alfred brings up that Danny is in town in Gotham and Bruce says to set a time for them to meet, one of the kids hear this and they wonder who this Danny is, bc they’ve never heard his name. It becomes a Wayne Mystery when that week, Bruce is out most nights and portions of the day and comes back looking happy and soft. Which freaks everyone out and they stalk Danny and realize they’re meeting each other and this man is someone Bruce cares about a lot. So they bring him up at dinner one day and Bruce is like, oh yea he’s an old friend of mine. And when pressed on why they haven’t heard or met him, Bruce just says that they’ve never brought it up and since Danny isn’t around a lot, and Bruce is a little self aware of himself at this point, doesn’t want this relationship to affect the kids since they aren’t exclusive or together really.

So the kids plot and get Danny to come to the Manor for dinner. They then realize during dinner, watching Bruce and Danny interact, that holy shit, this is their other dad. They’re so in sync that they don’t realize it and he’s so good with the kids too and Bruce is so happy when he’s around…

Cue the batfamily kids Parent Trapping the two, with the help of Alfred who is all for it bc he likes Danny.

In the end, Danny decides to stay at the Manor and the kids can now call him other dad, or pops, or some variation. But they all collectively don’t mention the vigilante side they have, since they all figured it out themselves. Their new dad can do so too. Which then spirals when all of the kids Omar’s out on Patrol, Alfred is on Vacay, and Danny is alone in the house when Talia comes a knocking, bc she knows that Danny has always had Bruce’s heart and wants him gone. She’s always been jealous of their relationship so she tries to kill him. The family realize what’s happened when Damian sees some League members watching them on patrol and they race back home to see Danny decimating the assassins and Talia. He sees the family in their costumes and thinks, oh wow this makes all the sense now.

And they see Danny as a ghost, which Bruce recognizes as Phantom, the first hero!!!! And they all sit down and talk about it.

There’s probs more too but that’s all I have rn.

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Heated training | Steve Rogers

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 -> Avenger!Steve Rogers x Avenger!Female!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> You’re training with Steve but when he is distracted and you push him down once again things become heated.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2.364

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) 18+, Minors DNI, smut, dry humping, semi public sex, tiny bit angst, fluff

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 -> Hiiii! Could you write a Steve x reader where they’re training and she’s like having to tackle him and straddle him and he gets a boner and things get heated and ya know some smut and maybe the reader is Tony’s daughter and somehow word gets out that something happened and there’s some angst in there. Hope you’re okay writing this, thank you !!❤️ @myersmaniac

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for the request and hope you like what I made with it.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 -> Fandom-Free Bingo: Book Night | N1 | semi private sex | @fandom-free-bingo | MCU Kink Bingo | N3 | Free Square | @mcukinkbingo

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

It’s nothing new that the tall and muscular super soldier has a huge crush on you. He always takes care that his hair looks good and that he is shaved, loving the moments you look at him with a smile on your lips. The way you talk to him, when you need to look up because you’re so small compared to him. It’s at least nothing new to him that he is in love with you; he can’t even remember for how long he has already been in love with you, but he doesn’t dare tell you or anybody else something about it. Not only because you’re Tony Stark's daughter, but also because he doesn’t want to ruin things the two of you have — the wonderful friendship he appreciates.

Steve loves to work with you, spend time with you, or just be close to you. Also, when he can’t touch you in the way he would like to do it, even when he can’t feel your lips all over his body or just cuddle with you in the way he would like, he still enjoys when the two of you laugh and spend time together. Whenever you look at him with those shining eyes and the most adorable and sweet smile on your lips, he loves to hear you laugh, especially when he is the reason for it. He could look at you for hours, admiring you.

“Rogers! Concentration! Otherwise, she tackles you down immediately, again.”

He rolls his eyes over Nat’s comment, even though she is right. You have tackled him down in just a short time since he seems too deep in his thoughts today. He doesn’t really train; it’s more staring at you, trying to grip your wrists before you throw him down, but he often fails to grip your wrists and lands on the ground in no time. Steve’s cheeks are red, and sweat runs all over his face and along his neck. His broad chest and defined abs are covered in sweat as well, his skin softly glistening in the light of the training room.

“Yeah- yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes before he grips your fist and tries to push you down.

But Steve gets distracted by your lips — your beautiful plumb lips, which are slightly parted — and your eyes, which shine like the stars at night. He gets lost in your eyes, and a moment later he feels the mattress underneath his back. You’re sitting on top of him with a big smirk on your lips. You don’t miss the way he looks at you — the way his eyes are focused on your lips and his eyes are slightly darkened. You feel a tingle on your skin when he touches you, but you try not to focus on it during training; otherwise, you both would just stare at one another.

“Sorry guys, Clint is calling. You both don’t mind me picking up?” Natasha asks, already walking out of the door.

Steve, and you look after her. When the door shuts, Steve tries to wiggle you off of him, trying to turn the two of you around, but you grip his fists and press them above his head into the mattress. Moving a bit on top of him to have a better position to hold him in place.

“What stole your concentration today, huh?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“N—nothing,” he replies breathlessly, trying to free his hand out of your tight grasp.

You narrow even more and cause your nose to slightly scrunch. Steve chuckles, using the moment of your confusion to free his hands, and tries once again to turn the two of you around. Steve thrusts his hips up, his hands finding their way to your hips. His fingers dig into the fabric of your pants, holding it tightly before he lifts you up. But he hasn’t thought you would jump and let yourself fall down back on him, landing perfectly on his growing bulge in his pants and causing both of you to moan.

Steve's eyes widen immediately, and thoughts run through his mind to find an excuse why his dick is hard. When you look into his wide eyes, you’re just as big as his, gasping about the sudden feeling between your thighs.

“F— Sorry,” he mumbles, blushing slightly.

“Why do you have your phone? No, your keys are in your pocket?” You ask, confused, why he thought of putting it out of his pocket before you two started the training.

“I— That’s not my phone nor my key,” he admits quietly.

You narrow, tilting your head slightly to the side, until you realize what’s pressing against your soaked pussy. It doesn’t feel bad at all, but you didn’t know he felt that way for you, or at least he wouldn’t get a hard on during training. But you straddle him for a few minutes already, so it’s understandable that he gets hard when he is attracted to you and when you move in his cock.

You slowly move your hips, feeling his length rubbing against you. Maybe you should get off of him, but it feels too good to do so, so you’re moving slowly, looking deep into his eyes while you wait for Steve to stop you from grinding against him when he doesn’t like it. But he gasps and digs his finger more into your covered skin, helping you grind on his cock.

“Princess, we—we can’t.”

“Why not? Don’t you like it?” You ask, pouting while you stop your movements on his growing dick.

“I love it— I—I love you, but—“

His eyes widen even more when he realizes what he just said. His cheeks heat up, and he opens his mouth to form an apology, but there is nothing he has in mind to say. He’s adorable when he is shy and slightly embarrassed — not that you like seeing him embarrassed around you, just that his lips are slightly parted, his blue eyes look so lovely but at the same time unsure, and his red cheeks — just hot and cute at the same time. First he got hard while training, and now he told you he loves you; he would face palm himself when his hands wouldn’t be clued to your waist, not wanting to let go of you because you could move away from his cock.

Your smirk grows when you lean closer, your lips just an inch away from his, and you can feel his warm breath on your sweaty skin. Steve closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, before he lifts his head and breaks the distance between your lips. His soft, pink lips move perfectly against yours, and he licks over your lips to ask for access. You’re parting your lips, and you're deepening the kiss until both of you need to pull away to breathe deeply.

“I love you too. Please— I need you, Stevie,” you mumble, moving your hips harder on his covered cock.

Steve groans, throwing his head back and giving you more space to kiss and bite into the soft skin of his neck. You lick a strap along his neck, chasing him to close his eyes and thrust his hips up. His bulge presses more against your covered pussy, and you moan softly.

“Everyone could see us!” He breathes heavily, looking through his lashes at you.

You sit up and smirk when your hands slide over his broad chest, and you start moving your hips at a fast but steady pace over his dick. He is panting underneath you; with his hands, he helps you to move on top of him, pushing you further down to cause more friction.

“S—Steve, I’m so close,” you whimper.

The tip of his cock is hitting your clit with every thrust, and you push both of you closer to your edge. He didn’t know it could feel that good without being inside of you, but it does, and he is just as close as you.

“Tell me we’re going to get in your room and do it again; tell me you’re mine,” Steve says, slowing your hips down.

Pre-cum is soaking his pants, and he just wants to push you more on his cock and guide you over it to make both of you come, but he wants to hear that you’re his.

“So possessive, huh?” You ask, teasingly.”

His answer is just a harsh movement of his hips. You moan and throw your head back, trying to move faster, but he stops you with his grasp.

“S— Stevie. We can do it as often as you want; I’m yours— I’m all yours, but please let me come,” you whine.

Steve grins, moving your hips faster on his dick and bringing you closer to the edge. It doesn’t take long for the two of you until you’re coming, clenching around nothing while Steve is soaking his pants with his cum. You’re both breathing heavily and calming down from your high when you hear someone coming back into the room.

“G— What are you two doing, sitting like that and doing nothing?” Tony asks, narrowing.

Steve chuckles, nodding his head. Tony just wants to inform you that you are going to have a meeting, but seeing you on top of Steve, straddling him, wasn’t something he expected to see when he came into the training room. Actually, the two of you are always trying to tackle one another.

“Oke—“ he pauses, nodding his head and inhaling. “Meeting.”

With that, he leaves the room, and you laugh. Your brother’s expression was just too funny. You lean down, capture Steve’s lips, and kiss him softly.

“After the meeting, I’m all yours.”

“You’re already mine, but then we repeat that here without clothes.”

You then get off of Steve. The blond-haired man looks at the wet spot on his pants and smirks when he sees you staring at his covered cock. You both take a shower because you get ready for the meeting Tony told you about — next mission, which isn’t really interesting for you since you only have your eyes on one another.

Steve and you have been secretly dating for a few weeks now. You often spend time together, which isn’t new to see for the others. Even when you smile in another way, your gazes are different — happier — but no one really asks about it. They are just happy that Steve and you are happy — still thinking you’re best friends.

When Tony asks you to come into his office because he wants to talk with you, you have a huge smile on your face. When you knock at the door and swing it open, you freeze immediately. Steve is sitting there in front of your father, who looks angry, and you swallow hard. The smile fades away, and you look slightly confused.

“Come in and close the door.”

You do as you’re told; you close the door behind you and walk toward the men, letting yourself fall down next to Steve on a chair. Tony looks at you before he moves to face Steve; he then points at the monitor on the desk in front of you.

When your father turns on the video, you gasp, your eyes widen, and your hands get sweaty. You hear Steve inhaling deeply next to you. He swallows hard and slides down in his chair. The video that Tony is showing of the two of you shows Steve and you making out on the floor before you pull him with you into your room.

You know Tony isn’t a friend of the men around you; he is protective and doesn’t want someone to hurt you. He already made your ex-boyfriend run away because he was afraid of Tony’s Iron Man suit walking without him inside the suit.

“D—Dad, I would say i—it’s not what it looks like what Steve and I did, but it is. B—“

“Rogers!” Tony says, his jaw clenching when he looks at your boyfriend.

“Tony, I—I don’t want to hurt her. I—I love her,” Steve says, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, afraid of what your father could say.

Steve sighs, looking down and inhaling deeply. He rubs his hands over his pants and sighs once again before he continues to speak.

“I would never do anything she didn’t want to. Tony, I love her.”

You smile softly, but your body is still tensed, and you don’t dare look at Steve. Tony nods, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk.

“Do you love him?” He asks, looking at you, and you nod, then he turns his face back to Steve. “When you hurt her, I will cut your balls off!”

Steve doesn’t know if he wants to smile or swallow hard, but he smiles, nodding and turning toward you. He places his hand in front of you, waiting until you place yours in his big one before he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your soft skin. Tony rolls playfully with his eyes, watching the two of you when you lean in to press your lips against Steve’s, soft and sweet.

"First, the gentleman an— Get a room!” Tony shouts, and you burst out laughing about the way he raises his eyebrows and grasps the surface of the table.

“We will,” you tell him, smirking when you get up and pull Steve with you.

With a wink at Tony, you make your way to the door of his office, leaving it. Before you can walk further through the floor, Steve pushes you against the wall behind you, attacking your lips with his.

“I love you so much, princess.”

“I love you too, Stevie.”

With that, he lifts you up and carries you into your bedroom, continuing what you have seen in the video Tony shows the two of you. And you’re glad he accepts what you have with Steve, because it’s special, and you’re happier than you ever have been since you've been with Steve. He treats you like a princess, like his perfect and sweet princess.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @felicitylemon @cjand10 @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77@bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @pono-pura-vida @princesscore-angel

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Zealous Movement

John hates it, Sherlock loves it. 

“Too many people. Crowded. Hateful,” John grumbles.

“Yes, to the amount, no to latter. It’s fascinating,” Sherlock tells him.

John huffs and holds on to the sleeve of Sherlock’s coat when the train comes rushing into the Embankment station.

“Don’t even try to get rid of me,” John hisses when Sherlock tries to wrestle his arm free from John’s iron grip.

Sherlock looks at John and realises that perspiration is coating John’s forehead, and his eyes have something reminiscent of panic about them. He moves closer to John, interlacing their fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock murmurs in John’s ear. 

John relaxes and exhales shakily when they walk through the doors to the carriage. Ever since Sherlock came back from the dead, John’s been dreading being apart from him, particularly when they’re taking the tube. In a flash, Sherlock may vanish again, deliberately or not, but John has a hard time coping. He tries, but today is not a good day for it.

“Come here,” Sherlock says, manhandling John to stand beside the opposite doors.

He crowds in on John, shielding him from the other passengers with the Belstaff, creating a cocoon for the two of them. John holds on to the lapels of the great coat and takes steadying breaths to calm himself. Sherlock’s low murmurings help too.

“I’m here, John. Safe. Home. With you. Always. I love you.”

John’s on the brink of tears and leans his forehead against Sherlock’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeats.

“Alive. Safe. Home,” John whispers to himself.

The train is loud and fast, racing through the tunnels of London’s underground. Steady, like heartbeats. Reliable when there’s no strikes or other obstacles. 

John understands why Sherlock loves it. After all, he’s always on the move himself. Even when he’s lying on the sofa at Baker Street, his brain is running the halls of his mind palace. 

Before the Fall, John thought nothing of taking the tube. He did it all the time, though he did prefer a proper train. The speed felt slower, and there wasn’t a rush to get off and change lines. And you were mostly overground. Things to look at. Less crowded.

Screeching brakes bring John back from his reverie. He’s still enveloped in Sherlock’s embrace, his smell, his even breathing, his reassuring heartbeats.

“This is our stop,” Sherlock says softly. “Ready?”

John looks up into cerulean eyes that are concerned, worried. He cradles Sherlock’s cheek and nods.

“Let’s do this,” John says confidently. “How hard can it be?”

“Well, if anyone would know, it’d be you, John. You did after all invade Afghanistan,” Sherlock quips and kisses John’s palm.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @safedistancefrombeingsmart @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @raina-at @gregorovitch-adler @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @7-percent @ninasnakie @peanitbear

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi , miss Raven

Their is something has been on my mind for while ;

In rook suitor suit vignette he Compose a flattering poem about Crowley

While Ace and Epel was talking about how rook would compliment anyone , rook insisted that he mean every word he say .

And there's this specific weird line

"if it weren't for your presence , I wouldn't be here"

Like what do you mean?????!!

Do you think this line is hinting at the fact that rook didn't join NRC via traditional way or he wasn't chosen by the dark mirror , since he is one of the light trio

Or To the fact that he transferred to another dorm smoothly without any problem?

For some reason I started suspecting rook recently 😭

The fact he was one of the reason vil overbloted by convincing him to watch neige performance and also he is the one who convinced vil to add Ace and deuce as part of VDC team while I thought lilia and cater was a better option

I would like to hear your opinion about it 👀

Ah, so if I'm understanding you correctly... You're theorizing that Rook might be an outside agent of some kind? One that Crowley intentionally brought into NRC to facilitate triggering overblots??

I’ll try to respond to one question at a time; hopefully this will make it easier to follow along! The post got quite long, so it's all below the cut~

Beginning with Rook’s poem, and, more specifically, “If it weren’t for your presence, I wouldn’t be here”. It’s funny that you mention this line, because when the vignette first came out (in JP; the terminology used is similar to “I would not exist/be here”), people interpreted it VERY literally. As in… “Rook is Crowley’s son because he literally could not be conceived without a father! They’re even both named after birds! They have to at least be blood related somehow!” Strange how in 2020, Crowley was suspected of being Rook’s father but now in 2024 Crowley’s being suspected of being Malleus’s father. The poor headmaster just can’t catch a break 😂

Personally, I don’t think that line is implying anything strange about Rook’s enrollment. As far as we know, he did not join NRC though any abnormal means, and nor did Silver. Of the “light trio” (a label that I must stress exists within the fandom but is not endorsed by TWST), only Kalim fits the bill. Kalim was originally homeschooled, but received an acceptance letter to NRC a month into the school year. Another month later, he transferred in. As far as we know, all students at NRC (save for Yuu and Grim) were chosen by the Mirror of Darkness, even the light trio. Again, I want to emphasize that TWST does not use “light trio” or a similar term to refer to or to characterize Kalim, Silverc and Rook. We’ve gotten no formal in-universe explanation as to why those three in particular have light cosmic magic instead of everyone else’s dark cosmic magic. (This is entirely separate from meta theories, which are out-of-universe explanations for why the “light trio” exists. The popular meta explanation is that it’s because Silver, Kalim, and Rook are not twisted from Disney villains but rather “good” characters like Aurora, the Sultan, and the Huntsman.)

On the subject of transferring dorms, the option is always on the table. We see mob students talk about transferring dorms as early as 1-14:

In 6-67 (part 20 with the Pomefiore group), Vil describes the transfer process as being tedious and involving a lot of “complicated paperwork and ceremonies”. Crowley also says the process is “burdensome” in 1-20, but this phrasing is quite vague and could mean any number of things. (Burdensome to whom, the staff or the students? Why exactly is it burdensome?) Overall, it seems like transferring dorms would take a long time and require various formalities, but not necessarily be full of problems.

As long as you’re dedicated and consistently complete what is asked of you to complete the process, transferring should be no issue. I don’t think it’s a given that you’d normally experience troubles in trying to transfer. It should be smooth by default (unless the student backs out, is uncooperative, and/or fails to complete the required steps). So following that logic, I don’t think the poem line is saying anything about Rook’s dorm transfer either.

While it’s true that Rook encourages Vil to watch Neige’s performance and advises that Vil pick Ace and Deuce for the VDC/SDC Tribe, I do not believe there was malicious intent behind these actions. It’s hinted throughout book 5 that Rook’s reasoning for doing these things was to help Vil recognize the value of his “beauty” is something he gains from himself, not from the approval of others.

This is most likely Rook’s motivation for suggesting Vil observe the competition or to consider freshmen for the team. It’s exposing Vil to the contentedness that can come with imperfection or not being at the very top, something Vil fails to recognize in himself until the end of book 5. Being as perceptive as he is, Rook would have realized that outright telling Vil the moral of the week would not sway his strong-willed friend’s mind. Thus, Rook devised a more roundabout plan and involved Yuu (who, at this point, has a reputation for settling dorm-wide disputes) and co. (unpolished and clumsy underclassmen that Vil could shape as well as potentially also learn from in a reciprocal manner). Maybe Lilia and Cater would have been more technically skilled, being members of a club band and all, but they wouldn’t have provided the same opportunity for growth that Yuu and Adeuce did.

Rook is someone who has always been portrayed as a supporter of Vil’s, a good friend and a trusted confidant. He does have a nefarious side and is 100% capable of deception (like the time in Endless Halloween Night when he quickened his heartbeat to convince Sebek he was also scared and therefore was not a traitor). However, I don’t think Rook would want to betray his friends by actively harming them and putting their lives in danger (both during book 5’s overblot and immediately after in book 6’s rescue mission); he truly cares for them and wants to see them happy and healthy. (One could argue he should have voted for NRC instead of RSA to help Vil achieve his dream instead of betraying him, but that’s another discussion entirely.)

There’s no reason why Rook would go out of his way to do innocuous things like helping Epel with his UM or imparting wisdom to Deuce unless he actually cared and wanted to see them develop. Beyond the scope of book 5, why would Rook do even more innocuous things like trying to make Epel feel welcome and assisting him with learning table manners? Why wouldn’t he go out of his way to provoke Vil more often? Did Crowley hypothetically have even all of these little details down and instruct Rook to do (or not do) these things??? It sounds too far-fetched to attach a hidden motive behind everything Rook says or does. It could be as simple as “he wants to be there to support his friends”.

Before we wrap up, I’d like to quickly touch on the suggestion that Silver and Kalim too were catalysts for Malleus and Jamil’s OBs, respectively. It’s true that they were, but I doubt Silver or Kalim were aware and did so intentionally. Both seemed genuinely ignorant as to the true stress that Malleus and Jamil were under, and Silver + Kalim do not present as toxic people who would want to inflame their friends’ negativity. Of course, there’s always the possibility that Puppet Master Crowley (™) is orchestrating everything from the shadows (but I’m not going to get into the “time loop to gather all the necessary information and learn what the correct choices are” theory here www). I just don’t think Rook is Crowley’s accomplice in all of this if the time loop + intention overblots theories overlap.

This is one of those instances where I see Rook as being very honest with his intentions and because of his… generally strange character (?), his peers and players alike still suspect there is a deeper meaning to his words. I interpret his poem as nothing more than waxing poetic to expressing gratitude to the one man that makes it possible for him to be at NRC as a student: Crowley. Rook states that he wanted to give an exemplary poem using a subject that both Ace and Epel were already familiar with, so he went with the headmaster. Furthermore, we know that Rook is able to witness many wonderful and beautiful things at NRC, as well as make meaningful relationships with interesting people like Vil. He would not be able to do any of these things were he not extended an invitation to NRC—and it is for this reason that it would make sense for him to genuinely be appreciative of Crowley.

Those are all my thoughts on this matter all for now ^^ Hope it was an interesting read!

[chaskaknits]

This event has always been so good to me T_T!!! To get SSR Deuce on both JP and Eng servers is amazing with my bad luck! I started working on this when the event dropped on the Eng server. I adore the White Rabbit Festival Event for its wholesomeness and pretty pastels. This is my favorite event so far.

Meet Yukina and Fubuki, who both act as Yuu. They’re twins, with Fubuki being the older twin and Yukina being the younger one.

When summoned : “Rabbits and clocks galore, how can I not enjoy this festival to the fullest!” - Yukina

“Not my usual thing, but I’m pretty sure I’m the coolest rabbit here!” -Fubuki

The rabbit costumes for the twins use similar color palette, but Yukina’s leans toward yellow and blue, while Fubuki’s is red and yellow. They typically don’t enjoy looking like a matched set, but they didn’t mind since Deuce’s mom chose the costumes.

Yukina who’s is usually more reserved , but she was unusually enthusiastic for the White Rabbit Festival. This is because when she was younger, she loved reading “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, she especially adored the White Rabbit. She would fumble on her words to avoid talking about the book and movie. Fubuki was a little embarrassed to being wearing costumed, but quickly got more into the festival in response to Grim and Yukina’s excitement.

During the bugle contest, the best ones was Yukina and Fubuki, being pretty good at music. However, Yukina beat Fubuki due to being more experienced with wind instruments, opposed to his experience with string instruments.

They act as the twin prefects of Ramshackle, often switching duties when the situation called for it. Sharing the responsibility of looking after Grim, Yukina typically handles studies, While Fubuki is on Grim wrangling duty.

Yukina is typically a polite and studious person, getting teased for being a “Teacher’s Pet”, but since coming to Twisted Wonderland, her hidden side that is blunt and hates to lose comes out more often now.

On the other side, Fubuki has an immature and carefree attitude, often getting mistaken as the younger twin. He is impulsive and use to be sort of delinquent for getting into fights against bullies (Yukina believes NRC, is not the best place for him for this reason, not that she thinks she belongs there either.)

The twins do their best to survive NRC together, working together to cover each other weaknesses. They’re generally often get mixed up with something or another in NRC due to unable to leave others alone. Knowing how things work in Twisted Wonderland, they try to talk things over before making a decision.

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Tonya/Vladimir Petrov, Thomas/Anton; castle in the clouds

Another of the Kickstarter fills, for the prompt: always happy for a Vinny/Tony update, especially if Tonya is involved

Even as a child, at her most idealistic, Tonya certainly never expected to live in a mansion like this. A castle, maybe. She liked castles, though she’s not sure where she expected to find one in Brooklyn. Though, it’s not like mansions were any more realistic, growing up in New York City.

And they wouldn’t live in one if they lived in New York, but in Hartford, it was barely even a splurge. And Vladimir had dreamed of castles too as a boy, wanted Antosha to live in one, or the nearest thing they could get for him. It’s massive, and impractical, and Tonya loves it.

They don’t take advantage of the benefits of it very often, however. Once, they let a production crew film the exterior while they were on vacation in Italy anyway — unfortunately, the film was terrible, so Tonya can’t rewatch it for the thrill of seeing it on screen. Or, she could, but she has to get through the melodrama and the bad acting first, and that’s a chore.

It’s the perfect place to host a party, specifically a party with gravitas — a gala, a ball. But with the exception of Vladimir’s induction in the Hall of Fame, they haven’t had any parties worth talking about, because Vladimir is…territorial, Tonya thinks the best word is. His house is his house — she’s still amazed he allowed the film crew, and is sure he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been out of the country — and he’d prefer they didn’t have guests at all, with the exception of close friends, family. Even then, it’s only Anton who doesn’t get his hackles up after a few hours, and that might just be because he still considers it Antosha’s house too, even after all these years. Which, of course, it is.

But they’ve been married for thirty years now, and Tonya thinks that’s worth celebrating, and Vladimir agrees. He didn’t agree it merited a party on the scale of the one they’re throwing today, but he caved once Tonya assured him all he had to do was show up, and that the only guests staying overnight would be blood-related to them.

Well, and Thomas, but Vladimir’s fine with that. It seems like the exception for Anton applies to him as well. She doesn’t know if that’s because Vladimir considers him an extension of Anton, welcome wherever he is, or if he’s become family in his own right. She likes to think it’s a bit of both.

With an hour to go the place reminds her the castles she dreamt of, lit up and glittering, even if they're nothing alike. The catering staff have assured her they have everything they need, and after two minor wardrobe emergencies she’s finally finished getting ready. Or, she hasn’t, but the final touches must be done right before the guests arrive.

Vladimir’s ready, he’s assured her repeatedly, which she’s sure isn’t true, but he’s his own man. She hasn’t seen Anton since breakfast, which she finds ominous, though she doesn’t think he’d go far without Thomas, and he arrives in front of her almost as soon as she thinks of him. Such a good boy that she merely needs to think of him for him to arrive, offering help.

“Can I help with anything?” he asks, hands twisting fretfully, like it’s hurting him not to assist, and Tonya takes a moment to wonder if she's developed psychic abilities. Perhaps, but it's more likely that Thomas is just unfailingly helpful.

Tonya takes his hands between hers, stills them. They’re cold, and she wants to chafe them, warm him up. What was that saying, cold hands, warm heart? If anyone fits that it’s Thomas. “I’ve hired professionals to do everything,” she says. “We’ll just get in their way.”

She knows this because she has, at every other event with catering staff, gotten in the way. She’s finally learned her lesson — no meddling this time. So far she's stayed strong, but she's not sure she'll last the night.

“Right,” Thomas says, nodding, hands still between hers. “That makes sense. Our equipment managers say the same thing.”

She bets they do. Vladimir in particular was a menace about his equipment — she’s sure they popped a bottle of champagne the day he retired.

“I know what you can do for me,” she says, and Thomas brightens right up. He really is too good a boy for his own good. She imagines people take advantage of it all the time. Look at her, doing it right now.

“Can you find Anton for me?” she says. “I worry he’s hiding.”

She doesn’t worry he’s hiding, exactly — she knows he’s hiding — she only worries he’ll continue hiding after all the guests have arrived, leaving poor Thomas to muddle his way through a room of people he doesn’t know. Not that Antosha knows everyone, and many of the people he does know haven’t seen him since he was a little boy, so it’s really more them knowing him — she’s sure he’ll be delighted to hear ‘you were just this high when last I saw you’ over and over again.

Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised he’s hiding. And she isn’t. But Thomas is a guest, though a particularly helpful, considerate one, and Anton may not be hosting the party, but he is hosting Thomas. And Tonya did not raise a bad host. Or, unfortunately she did, she thinks, but he certainly didn’t learn it from her. Thankfully Thomas is very easily pleased, and loyal enough that he’d likely tell her Anton was being an excellent host if she asked.

Thomas nods again, like a little bobblehead. She’s slightly disappointed the Canadiens haven’t done one for him, at least to her knowledge — she thinks Vladimir would be delighted to put it by the ones of him and Antosha in his show-off room. He loves them. Never tires of bobbing their heads. “Can I have my—“

“Your hands, of course,” Tonya says, letting them go. “Do you know the saying? About cold hands?”

“I do,” Thomas says, with a broad smile. She bets he does. Bets people quote it all the time. “Don’t worry, I’ll drag Anton out of wherever he’s hiding.”

“By the hair if you need to,” Tonya says, and smiles at the laugh that trails Thomas up the stairwell.

He doesn’t deserve that boy, Tonya thinks, then goes to bother Vladimir one last time. She hopes that, this time, he’ll actually get ready instead of just saying he already is. Perhaps that’s optimistic. But she thinks everyone needs a little optimism to make it to three decades.

“Tony,” she hears Thomas crooning as she walks down the hall, sounding a little like he’s trying to lure a feral cat, and she smiles wider. Perhaps he’s exactly what Antosha deserves after all.

[s-4pphics]

can i request making ellie choke on readers strap.. I’m talking gargling gagging drooling.. THEE SLOPPIEST head ever

I FORGOT HOW TO WRITE REQS IM SORRYDJDJD ITS BEEN SO LONG…. but ellie’s a finger sucker. a subtle invite to fuck her throat 🩷

ellie’s a fiddler, and it becomes more and more evident the more comfortable she gets. whenever she’s home and has down time, she’s messing with something; a pencil, balled-up pieces of paper that she didn’t have the heart to toss, a guitar pic. anything that fits in her hand… will stay there. she can’t help it. call it nerves or muscle memory or a tic; she doesn’t care. give her something to hold. 

and it’s the same whenever you’re present. on the couch, on her bed, in your bed, her hands are always somewhere on you. i don’t know why, but i feel like she’s one of those people that need to have a part of her body touching someone else’s while she’s sleeping… like her leg wrapped around her partner’s or something like that. she’s always cold and that's her way of staying warm… also uses it as an extra layer of security. wants to make sure you’re still there. <3

but when she’s horny… attached at the hip. grabs at your clothes, nuzzles her face in your shoulder and chest, pinches your legs. a literal pinchy-bug… she’ll be staring with your hand in her lap, hers enclosed around your wrist so you don’t pull away (and when you try to, her hold tightens). 

then she’ll start just mindlessly playing with your fingers. you’re used to her pattern at that point: she counts them over and over again in her head, massages them because they’re stiff… lightly kisses your knuckles. nothing crazy… just feather-like brushes of her lips with your thumb pinched between hers and index. her eyes bat in your direction when her lips smack on your skin. sadly, you never catch the beginning signs that she needs something urgently; she has to force herself not to bite your palm… (she’s a hand admirer… i could write a whole novel on that). it’s only when you feel a light nibble on your middle finger that your forearm flexes… so she does it again. it’s so soft, you’d barely catch it if you didn’t know your fucking girlfriend. 

pops the tip of it between her lips with the lightest suction, and your stomach flips. you attempt to mask the hitch in your breath, but you can’t, and she has the audacity to laugh… all while slowly glazing the tip in saliva before doing that to all your fingers (gives your pinky some extra lovin’). time blurs after that. next thing you know, she’s on her back with three of your fingers hitting the back of her tongue and slobber dripping down to her cheeks. you lay beside her while your other hand gets used like a squeeze toy; her hands just randomly clench around yours whenever she gags because she’s cute like that. 

when you finally get the hint and she’s done choking on your fingers, you whip it out (of the top drawer). she loves when you straddle her chest and fuck her throat like that. you never notice since you’re facing the opposite direction most times, but whenever you slide a tad too deep, her toes curl in delight. you’re always there to encourage the mess she's making. always call her a sweetheart when she gags on you; it gets her gears going! sometimes she wants her esophagus bruised. sometimes she wants you to scratch her scalp while she sucks the tip. sometimes she just wants to fucking play with it like a stick shift. 

if you own a strap, fuck your partner's throat! save a life and whatnot...

[wintfleur]

🍂 ͡ ꒱ JULIETTES RELATIONSHIP WITH HER BROTHERS

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

𐙚 LORENZO!

Lorenzo . . . ‘Enzo’ is the best big brother, he’s such a role model for her, and she’s always looked up to him.

He’s always been her voice of reason and encouragement, helping her calm down her emotions and not do anything rash, to help her understand what she’s feeling and to listen to what she says and, to always be there to cheer her up and help her out of those dark feelings.

Enzo was the first person she told when she realized she also wanted to kart.

Enzo helped teach her how to drive with there father, Arthur and Charles to scared to get in the car, claiming that she’s ‘going to kill them and drive into a store’ Julie did end up threatening to kill them in a more private and painful way because of all there teasing. Neither of them got in a car with her for months.

Julie gets sister privileges !!!

They have there weekly calls, checking in and making sure everything is good.

Enzo is the best advice giver! And she knows she can talk to him about anything

She loves just curling up in his side.

Just the sweetest big brother ever.

Has have had to pick Julie up at parties when she’s gotten too drunk . . . many times.

They both definitely laugh and tease the other two when they are being dramatic

He loves his little sister very much and will do anything for her!

𐙚 CHARLES!

Out of all her siblings, she’s definitely the closest to Charles, ever since they were kids.

Yes they had their fair share of arguments and fights, but they have always stuck up for each other no matter what, they can only mess with each other . . . no one else!

They’re each other’s safe place, they both understand the pressure they are both under, and they really help each other out.

Charles was the first person Julie told when she realized that she liked girls as well. And he was the one who helped her gain the courage to come out.

Charles is always the first person to defend her, from the media, interviewers, from anyone. He will not have his sister disrespected.

They both absolutely love their family, planning outings and get togethers for all of them!

They see each other the most

They had a tree house! And would always tease Arthur about not being cool enough to come up and hang with them.

He’s the most nosey brother, wanting to know everything going on in her life . . . but he means well !

They have had some moments where their career has put some strain on their relationship, but it doesn’t last long. It’s just because Julie hates talking about her feelings, and Charles loves talking about hers . . . aka avoidance from Julie.

He loves having sleepovers at her homes!

Sassy duo fr!

They are always messing with each other! And the media absolutely loves it.

You know that tiktok sound ‘this is bob, bob loves his personal space. This is Larry, Larry also loves bob’s personal space’ that’s them, bob is Julie and Larry is Charles.

Sees Julie’s soft side the most

𐙚 ARTHUR!

That’s her baby . . . no one messes with her baby (yes she’s only a year older . . . but still, he’s her baby)

Julie is Arthur’s favorite sibling and he’s very open about it, Arthur was quite the emotional kid and despite his outburst or over reactions, Julie was always there for him, to help him out, calm him down and, to let him know that he’s not crazy about his feelings

Julie has always been there for Arthur to listen to his worry’s about driving and what his future is in the sport, he trusts her opinion and thoughts more than anyone else.

Arthur hates how every single one of his friends are in love with Julie, and Julie just loves teasing him about it, always giving them a sweet smile and wave.

Arthur is quite clingy towards Julie, physically and emotionally.

Always wanting to sit next to her, get her attention, all of it. I mean, she’s the cool older sister.

He loves practicing his English with her!

He’s also like her biggest fan

He can get a little petty and upset if things don’t go his way with her . . . aka he’s super dramatic.

Arthur loves all of her cooking and baking, like he could eat it all.

First time he got really drunk, he called up Julie and cried, only crying harder when she giggled and tried to reassure him.

He’s always the last one to warm up to Julie’s significant others.

They love watching movies!

Arthur is quite attached to julie, has a fear that she will leave them.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( this is pretty short, but I hope it gives you a good idea of Julie’s relationship with her brothers !! She’s a family woman definitely !! Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist )

°. — taglist ( @lovings4turn @toasttt11 @cixrosie @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @theopenlocker @lavisenri @callsignwidow )

[cerise-on-top]

hi :D if you do character x character (with possibly x reader, too) headcanons, may i request nikprice hcs? aghh.. i love them so much, but there's (in my opinion) little content of them compared to other ships.. if you do have to add reader into it too thats okay :) i don't mind poly (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

but besides that how are you doing? i hope youre doing good :]

Hey there! I'm doing well, thank you! I've actually got five days off next week, which I'm really looking forward to! Plus I get to go to my regular department again too soon enough! But unfortunately, the other apprentice left me with so much work ^^;

NikPrice and NikPrice x Reader

NikPrice:

Although the two of them may be a bit older than some of their peers, they can still be considered idiots, especially when they’re with one another. Sometimes they get weirdly competitive with each other, which can result in either of them getting hurt. Nikolai leads Chimera and Price leads the TF141, both of them sometimes need to show off just how good they are at some things. Nikolai is usually a pretty calm guy, but he does get a bit cocky with Price, so he’ll instigate some competitions. Who can carry the most groceries. Who can find the most dogs and take pictures with them. Who will be favored the most for the week among their boys. It’s just dumb things, and Nikolai does try to cheat his way through most of them, but Price knows him well enough by now to know how he will try to weasel his way into victory. Price usually plays fair and forces Nikolai to do the same. The winner gets bragging rights and that’s about it. Sometimes they poker on who pays for dinner, but they don’t really mess around too much when it comes to more serious stuff. However, they both also compete with each other to show off just how good of a partner they are, even if there’s no need to do that anymore. They can both be proud as peacocks and always need to outdo one another.

Although it may sound stupid, the two of them do spar with each other from time to time. Since they’re about equal in strength it’s actually quite interesting to watch the two of them fight, both have a pretty good technique as well. However, Nikolai has more experience under his belt since he’s quite a bit older than Price. Again, he’s also not above cheating by trying to entice Price with just about anything he can think of. They’re adults, they’re leaders, but they are still morons with each other. Sometimes they fight over the TV remote when Price wants to watch his football game and Nikolai wants to tease him. Price gets mad every time he misses the football game just because he lost to his stupid lover. Nikolai gets a good laugh out of it every time. Although he may love Price more than anyone else, he can be a playful and cocky bastard at times. He makes up for it by taking Price to a real football game in a stadium, though. Can’t enrage the boyfriend too much all the time. Price is usually overjoyed when he does since he gets really into it. There’s nothing better than enjoying some football with Nikolai. Unless Nikolai teases Price about his team losing. In that case the two of them won’t be talking more than necessary for an hour. However, Price goes back to normal after the initial anger of his team losing has worn off.

Nikolai is actually a chef of the master class. He can cook just about anything and make it well at that too. Since he’s been pretty much everywhere at this point he’s learned quite a few recipes from all around the world. He also knows how to use his spices well. Though, his favorite recipes to make are still Russian ones. The two of them cook together often, it relaxes them. Besides, Price gets the privilege of eating Nikolai’s pirozhki before anyone else does. It’s an honor to him since he’s never had anything better in his life. Loves being Nikolai’s taste tester as well. Price isn’t as good a cook as Nikolai, but he does like showing his appreciation for all the good food by cooking something in return. However, his food is kind of bland. It could be worse, but it could also use a lot more spices. Nikolai used to tease Price about that before, but he’s stopped since as Price really does put a lot of effort into cooking for Nikolai. The latter really isn’t so mean to genuinely hurt his boyfriend like that. He does give Price some constructive criticism, though. Offers to help with cooking next time, but both of them know that Nikolai will just take the lead. But in the end, they both really do enjoy cooking with each other, regardless of who makes the main dish. They also get really chatty during it.

NikPrice x Reader

Considering how long they’ve been with each other, they've gotten used to it, but you genuinely cannot cuddle them during summer. You’ll become a sweaty mess and won’t be able to sleep at all since they’re both very warm. Nikolai more so than Price. However, the two of them can cuddle each other just fine since they’re used to warmer nights because of all the missions they’ve gone on. However, it’s pretty nice in winter. They’re two big, burly and warm men who love to make you feel toasty. Price is actually a pretty cuddly guy and Nikolai can be too with the right people. If you’re not on the cuddly side then they’ll settle for giving you a pat on the back every once in a while or just holding your hand. But Price loves touching you and Nikolai. He doesn’t need to do it every single waking moment, but it’s nice to hold your loved ones. Nikolai can go either way, but he’s pretty cuddly with Price. Sometimes the two of them fight over who gets to be the big spoon, other times they’ll just plop into each other’s arms. If you’re shorter than them then you’ll likely get sandwiched between them. If you’re as tall or taller than them then they might ask you to take on the role of big spoon. Sure, they won’t mind it when you’re shorter than them, but they’ll chuckle since you’re just a little backpack.

Both of them will try to teach you how to fight and defend yourself. Even if you’re capable of that already, they’ll teach you something anyway. They’re both military men, they know what they’re talking about. Besides, it’s not as unlikely as one might think that you might get hurt because of them. You need to be able to defend yourself. They’ll take turns teaching you, improving your form and all. They’ll sometimes even deliberately spar in front of you so you could learn something from them fighting with each other. They won’t be as rough with you as they are with each other, especially not if you’re not part of the military, but they’ll be diligent in teaching you either way. If you’re part of the military then they’ll be rougher with you, but not as rough as with each other. Nikolai and Price have known each other for so long, they know where each other’s limits are. You’re the newest addition, so there’s still things they need to get to know. But I can assure you they will take good care of you. They’ll also reward you if you’re doing especially well during your little training lessons. Nikolai tries to bribe you into doing well by offering to cook your favorite meal if you do so.

The two of them actually spoil you rotten, especially if you don’t earn as much money as they do. Nikolai earns even more money than Price, so he has quite a lot to spend. Loves buying you and him all kinds of things. These can range from something useful to just something he saw and thought you might like. Price doesn’t like being indebted to people, so he always tries to buy Nikolai something back, even insisting that he shouldn’t buy him as many things. Nikolai never listens to him in that regard. And since Price buys Nikolai things he has to buy something for you as well. Sometimes it’s just your favorite kind of cake, sometimes it’s some nice and expensive jewelry. It’s always a mystery with Price. You don’t have to feel obligated to buy them something either. You’re more than welcome to if you have the finances to do so, but if you usually barely get by then you really shouldn’t have to. In fact, if you don’t have a lot of money then the two of them will pay for just about anything you need. Clothes, food, other necessities. It doesn’t matter. Together they have more money than they know what to do with anyway. It’s nice to spend it on someone you love and make them happy anyway. Don’t pay them back, they’ll find your bank account and return the money. They love you, let them pamper you like the little royalty you are.