#if I ever continue this it'll make sense

[corvus--rex]

another import from the accursèd bird app, and completely unedited, as per usual

-

Lance had always had an odd sense. He just knew sometimes. It had started as soon as he could talk. His family got used to it and believed him every time. His friends didn't, not at first. But eventually they all did, even the more skeptical ones in college. They would all have their "event" that would prove it.

Dragging someone across the playground just before an unattended car rolled through the fence right where his friend would have been, taking a different path to class only to prevent another friend from being pushed down the stairs, and then in high school when he yanked his two best friends back from being crushed by heavy scenery in the school theatre seconds before it fell. Telling a friend in college to take a turn where they wouldn't normally, only to avoid an accident at the next light. He never found an explanation for this sense, he just had it.

One afternoon, Lance was walking toward the subway station after work. That sense tingled, telling him to take the long way around. It was a beautiful early autumn day, and he took a turn down a quiet side street, lined with old brick houses built one on top of the other, maple trees dotting the sidewalk and just beginning to turn red and gold. It wasn't an area for heavy foot traffic, and he wasn't surprised to not meet anyone. He even still early for his train despite the detour.

Lance wouldn't have looked back, except for that feeling telling him he should. Emergency vehicles blocked the street, a snarling man was pinned to the asphalt, bloody knife laying several feet away, while the stabbing victim was loaded into a waiting ambulance. If the attack was random, that would have been him in the ambulance. He felt for the actual victim, he always did, but it was overshadowed by a sense of relief that it wasn't him.

Later, on the train home, he got a feeling of having been watched, but shook it off. There were a lot of people who'd stopped to watch. It was when he was falling asleep on his couch to the drone of the tv that he bolted upright, remembering someone small and unobtrusive, with round glasses and wild honey blond hair. They were across the street from him, facing not the mess of the aftermath, but him. It was unnerving, but hours past, and he decided to ignore it.

Three days later, Lance was out running a few errands when he got the feeling again. He waited beside the shop door instead of stepping out into the parking lot, just missing the elderly driver stomping on the gas instead of the brake and crashing into the potted bushes that separated the shop from the one next door.

He'd always help when he could, and called emergency services while making sure the driver wasn't hurt - she was fine, just shaken - and he waited until they were on their way to the hospital before resuming his day. Several people had stopped to either help or check if they were needed, and Lance hadn't realized that one of those people, a tall, broad guy - the orange headband stood out - hovered at the back of the crowd far longer than anyone else.

After that, Lance started paying more attention to the people around him when his sense went off. The next time was in his office building, he took the stairs down instead of the elevator, the doors stuck on the first floor with the car stuck halfway. This time it was a different guy, taller than the last one, with a white streak in his hair and a prominent scar across his nose, who sat in the reception area, watching as Lance was able to get the single person in the elevator safely to the floor while maintenance was still on the way.

The next incident left him shaken. The days were getting shorter, and it was past dark when he turned down the street his apartment building sat on. Halfway down the block, he felt the familiar tingle, and slowed down accordingly. A muffled shout caught his attention, and he looked down an alley just in time to see the streetlight reflect off the barrel of a gun.

Without thinking, he ran in, disarming the gun's wielder with the kickboxing he hadn't done in years but still remembered. Stunned, the attacker laid on the pavement while their near-victim called for help. There was no crowd this time, and his watcher was far more obvious, despite her trying to look like she was just passing by. Pure white hair sparkled in the yellow light of the streetlamps, bright blue eyes fixed on him and him alone.

The attacker was taken away and the victim refused a trip to the ER, leaving Lance to finally head home in a daze. He was surprised at his own actions, that was a fucking gun for fuck's sake, not to mention the kickboxing he thought he;d forgotten. But that girl wasn't there by accident. None of them had been, he realized. They couldn't be. But why. Why were they watching him, and only turning up when something happened? His sense would go off again, it always did, but this time he'd be ready.

Three days later, it happened again. No one was hurt, but the subway train he usually took was offline that day due to a failure on the rail. Fortunately, there was a metro rail that ran close enough to his office, and he was just in time to catch it.

The trip itself was blissfully uneventful, it was when he got off with dozens of other people that he felt it. Looking up, Lance saw the sparks from the electrical lines that ran some of the city's buses. He yelled, loud enough to get plenty of attention, people startled into listening. He cleared the immediate area just before the line crackled, showering the road with white hot flaming sparks.

The road was shut down, transit maintenance arriving to investigate the cause and make notes for repairs, all of which took enough time for the crowds to disperse. But Lance stayed, knowing that someone would be watching him from a distance.

He scanned the area, spotting that day's person. Roughly his height, maybe a bit shorter, black hair, pale skin, startling violet eyes that stared right at him. Lance waited until this latest person saw him staring right back. The new guy smiled to himself, and walked over.

"There you are," he said.

"You've been watching me," Lance answered, "Why?"

"Because. You belong with us."

Lance knew it was true. Whoever these people were, his place was with them.

"We can help. Gift like yours isn't all that rare, but the way you feel it, that is unusual. Come with us, we'll show you what you can really do."

That was a very tempting offer, but… "What about work? I think my office will notice I'm missing?"

"Already taken care of. Nothing bad, don't worry, but you're free to join us without worrying about anything."

Oddly, Lance wasn't worried. But he was curious. "Who are you guys anyway?"

He smiled. "The Witches of Voltron."

Lance immediately felt safer than he ever had. The tingle flared, but instead of a warning, it was an odd sense of familiarity. He knew this was where he belonged. Without question. He nodded, stepping closer to wherever this witch would lead him.

"I'm Keith, by the way."

Lance nodded. "I think I already knew that."

Keith laughed, shaking his head. "Of course you did."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll find out."

[dylanconrique]

once tim meets lucy’s parents it's all gonna click for him why she got so defensive about his belief in her taking the detectives exam.

[myimaginationplain]

once house Bolton is obliterated from the face of the Earth & the Starks take that land for themselves, I think Arya should become the Lady of The Dreadfort. Burn every last effigy to flayed skin & fill it with wolves.

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

I know it's too soon, but I hope Chapter 430 will be 50+ pages, not even to try and tie things up, but because maybe then we won't get a leak night and can actually sleep instead of being awake/work without worries, stuck for over the usual two ungodly hours because of FOMO and floating spoilers not everyone will tag.

Just cut the flower bud on the nip and read it on Sunday/Monday like intended instead of immediate, biased, shit translations- it's the one thing I will not miss from this fandom, fuck leak nights.

(I know it's not the only fandom that does it, but Jesus Fucking Christ hope those leakers lose the money they gained from this, fast)

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[cherryredstars]

Ok so i have this fic idea where reader and mig are from different universes and reader is a scientist and one time mig and her get drunk and start talking about the multiverse and suddenly they are on the topic of what would happen if people from different universes had a baby together. (You see where i am going with this...) they end up drunkenly fucking and saying it's for "research" because they can't admit to themselves that they are in love. If this request is too complicated feel free to ignore. Thank you in advance cherry!! I hope u have a marvelous new year!! 💕

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Mentions of Oral Sex, Mentions of Animal Testing (for science), Breeding Kink

A/N: Thank you, love! I hope you're well!!!

You know there is a process.

And you know this isn't it.

There are supposed to be hypotheses and written out procedures. Dependent and independent variables, a control group. Fucking hell, you should be experimenting on fucking mice. You should be limiting the margins of error, should be going with the most direct, straightforward pursuit for results.

And yet...

You don't stop Miguel when he pushes you back onto the couch. You don't pause or even really think when he's pushing your pants down your legs, placing kisses along the skin as he goes. You lift your hips to aid him when his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, shivering when his warm breath fans over your exposed sex. If this experiment was in any sense proper, you would get straight into it. Cut out all the unneeded steps. But you can't help but pull his head closer to your aching core, craving the way his warm tongue laps at you. If you weren't already drunk, you would be drunk on this feeling alone.

But god, nothing has even been more satisfying than doing the work. You know the data would be void in a real experiment. The trials bleeding into each other hardly make for adequate data, but the way you beg him for more is involuntary. It feels too good, to have him desperately thrusting into you. It makes your mind numb, and everything you know about your life's passion is erased. The only thing that fills your head is the words Miguel grunts into you ears, promises of fucking a baby into you. Vows to make you bloated with load after load of his cum. That all it'll take is one of his orgasms to make it happen.

You guess that is a hypothesis in itself: Miguel O'Hara can get you pregnant with just one orgasm.

Too bad he's too desperate to find out if that hypothesis is correct. Because he doesn't stop at one. No, he keeps going. One after the other with no breaks in-between. But you guess that's to be expected, he is a man of science himself. A passionate one at that.

He's almost crazed in the way he overstimulates himself. Sweat beading in his hairline as he grunts down at you, watching the way he creamy cock slides in and out of your abused pussy. You've lost count of how many times you've come alone, but you know based on the way your body shivers and jolts that it's far more than you've ever had before. It's almost painful now, the way your next orgasm rips through you and shatters your soul again. You let out strangled breaths as you fight through the aftershocks and the continued pleasure of Miguel's cock slamming against your cervix. You swear you black out before he finally stops, your eyes and mind groggy as he pulls your hips flush against his as he spills into you.

You can feel him trying to push deeper into you as he pants ruggedly, his cock twitching against your walls until he's milked dry. Even when he's done filling you, he stays connected. He collapses onto you, breathing in the linger smell of sweat and sex on your skin.

"Got to make sure it takes."

Well, does the process really matter if you get the desired result anyway?

Part 2 Part 3

[prael]

Not Quite Home

Kinktember Day 15: Stand & Carry

Kepler Youngeun x male reader smut

words: 1,495 Kinktember Masterlist

She is everything you're not. Everything you hate. How can someone refuse to have a place to call home?

All this about being a free spirit and experiencing everything that the world has to offer all sounds well and good but how is a tree supposed to grow if it has no roots? But Youngeun insists that is exactly what she is after, the constant thrill, the constant novelty, the rush and urgency. In every interaction, she seems to have been in search of the next big adventure.

And you think you do her a disservice by not understanding.

Perhaps if you had met each other under other circumstances, things might have gone better for the two of you. But now, you resent how she feels like a stranger whenever you're together. She once brought an element of excitement and risk to a routine, drab life, but that grew exhausting and more than once made you feel like you were suffocating. You grew to loathe her carelessness.

"Your parents?" You ask as she stands in your bedroom for the third night in a row, "Have you even told them you're back in town?"

She shakes her head in lieu of an answer, "You know how they are."

"You're going to blame them for wanting their daughter to visit for once?"

Youngeun laughs. It's one of your least favourite traits—her incapability to take anything seriously. "Not your business. Besides, seven nights, remember?"

Yes. Seven nights. This is what she told you, another expiry date on another chapter of whatever the fuck this is between you. Another unspoken contract was signed for the hell of it. A time limit, for something that isn't even real.

"Just think about it," you continue, hopelessly, "talking with your family. It'll clear your mind."

"Know what clears my mind? The wind in my hair, sun on my skin, music in my ears," Youngeun runs her hand through her silky hair, "Landing in some new town, finding a new local hang out to try something exotic and then exploring whatever is hidden in that town's history, picking up a new person, hooking up with them, letting the excitement course through my veins, knowing there's always something else waiting on the horizon."

Another insufferable thing that she does. It's been maybe fifteen minutes since you tangled limbs in the bed and now she's standing across the room naked making no secret of the fact that she picks up guys and girls wherever she goes. Youngeun looks down at you on the mattress and runs her eyes up and down your body, her fingers resting lightly over her collarbone.

You follow the line of her fingers, nails cut short with traces of peeled black nail paint. A callus on her finger is a reminder of how often she played the guitar. She runs them down her chest, thumb catching a nipple in the process of doing so.

"Look at you. You get hotter every time I come back." And just like that, Youngeun drops a compliment, casual and effortless and you question who's benefiting from this relationship because it clearly isn't you.

You're gonna fuck her again tonight. Tomorrow too, and another three nights after that. After which she'll be gone for another six months to a year. There's a weird emotional emptiness to this routine—you give and she takes and this is all she asks.

"Come here, will you? Pin me to this wall already. Make me feel you." Her hand cups her breast and another traces its way down her abs, a clear intention.

You should hate her, really. Like how you hate the idea that she left home for no reason or how she wasted her potential, hate her for her indifference, for her recklessness and her cold detachment, or hate the fact that it's just meaningless sex. 

She doesn't like strings, it makes no sense to her how people commit. If she was the type of person who asked to be understood, you would probably try to, but that's never something she ever expressed. 

For all of that, you don't hate her. It's why you're still walking towards her and she's backing up into the wall.

So, what does she ask for? Her answer is pleasure and pain.

She kisses like a raging fire. Everywhere her hands roam leaves marks on your skin; she scratches deep in your back as you hook her thigh up around your waist. A hand between her legs, sliding in without any sort of preamble. She's still dripping wet, though some of that may well be your last load. She tastes of salty, sweaty sex and you relish it. She kisses and she gasps as your fingers work at her entrance; crooking them upward so you can press them into her and rub right against the sensitive spot inside her.

Her tongue slides past yours, hot and wet as she grinds up into your hand, claws digging into your lower back. Your hand fucks into her roughly with reckless abandon and her breathing gets shallow as your fingers bring her closer and closer.

It doesn't take long, she's close, you know that when she throws her head back against the wall. "Stop—wait, fuck—wait," Youngeun barely gasps and then with your name in her throat, the friction of your fingers sends her over the edge. A moan escapes as her mouth falls open, eyes clamp shut as you finger her to orgasm.

It's always been easy to make Youngeun cum, but it never loses its magic. There's something particularly thrilling to the way she moans your name in that honey-laced rasp, to the way her entire body arches upwards as the pleasure mounts. A sharp gasp cuts the air.

Her limbs slacken. She leans her head against the wall. She's struggling to catch her breath.

And this is the fucking problem. For every reason to hate her, there are so many more reasons to enjoy her.

That's when you lift her, hooking up the other thigh and holding her by her tight little ass. Youngeun hisses and she's staring daggers and that's always a part of the fun. She'll give you these looks that could kill a lesser man, but you know the only solution is to pound her into submission.

"Be rough with me. Hard," Youngeun pants, sucking air in, breath ragged. Her skin's hot to the touch.

"Like last time?" Your voice comes low, thick and gruff as you hook her legs higher.

"No, harder, faster," Youngeun replies between rapid, short breaths, she grips your arms, rolls her hips and wraps her body tighter around you, "Want me to stay? Fuck me until I can't walk out."

You're incensed and sliding your length over her slick, warm, inviting heat, before slamming her back into the wall, entering her in one long hard motion and enjoying the way her lips fall apart; enjoying the way her hot and messy, fucked-out body arches upward as you hit deeper and the way her cries pitch. You don't even wait for her to catch her breath before snapping your hips over and over and giving Youngeun exactly the type of pounding that she wants.

There's a sharp gasp. A second of silence and then a choked-back scream. You feel a palm on the nape of your neck and a sting on your shoulders as her nails dig deep and scratch. She rakes them over the broad expanse of your upper back and it fucking hurts. It fucking stings and it's delicious. You bury yourself deep inside her, stretch and fuck her all open on your dick.

"Like that. Yes! Like that! Fucking ruin me."

"Since you asked so nicely."

Her moans become a struggle now that you've run a hand roughly up her body and planted it around her neck. Squeezing, not too hard, not to cut her airflow, not to bruise, but firmly enough that she will feel it and feel that she is being held. She loves to feel hopeless. And there, that's what you like: her hot, sweaty body locked between you and the wall and helpless against you as you sink into her.

And as much as she says it doesn't mean anything. Youngeun cries out your name like it means something.

The ever-familiar suffocating grip of her wet cunt grips you as she cums again. Bodies flushed together, grinding and sweaty.

"I can't breathe—" Youngeun whimpers in that cracked, vulnerable and submissive way and you snarl. Fuck her up as promised. Hurt her like she begs for. And Youngeun loves it like nothing else, absolutely nothing, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and a strangled groan as you reach another climax and fill up her pussy again. You pound yet another load into her tight hole.

As much as she would hate to ever admit it, this is as close to a home as she has in her life.

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 10 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Part 9 : Words 3.1k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

It was a turn back to normal after the long conversation between the two of you. Tears sliding down your faces, majority yours but you saw a couple fall from his. It was a necessary conversation. He opened up about his quirk and apologized for ditching you. You apologize for the same.

Easily enough, the two of you moved on from it quickly. Talking about the past two months when all the overwhelming emotions passed. You blabbed about how many new offers you were getting and he talked about how he was hiring more and more people to his agency.

Despite not being able to ignore the last two months, it was easy to move past.

Growing past it within the night, having everything off your chest. It still didn't make things go back to normal.

You continued to share a bed, but changed your schedules around again to see more of each other. Flipping back into your old routine as much as possible. Not without a few changes though. Lunches would only be once a week rather than daily, and you'd be working for another hour or two after he got home. Since you wanted to sleep in still.

But it still improved your relationship again. Building it back up slowly. You were able to eat a late dinner together each night and share an off day. Sharing your off day made it easier for you anyway. After the break-in it was hard to be home without him, so the last two months were rough. Your therapist said you were doing great though, so that helped.

The first days of going back to normal was rough, having to adjust to seeing each other daily again. Conversations between the two of you felt awkward, mainly on your side. You grew so much in those two months, no longer relying on him. It shifted the dynamic.

"Y'good?" Katsuki's gruff voice broke your train of thought. Your eyes flickered up to him.

"Huh?"

"Been fuckin' playin' with your food," he points his fork at your plate, "Don't like it or some shit?"

"No, I like it," you looked back down. It was definitely not your favorite meal he made, but it was good.

His silverware claddered roughly against his plate, his arms crossing, "The fuck has been wrong with you?"

"Do you have to swear with every sentence?" you avoided, taking a bite of your food instead.

You could feel him roll his eyes along with his heavy sigh, "You've been off since."

"A relationship doesn't heal just like that," you pointed out.

"Will you look at me?" he asked annoyed. A glance up at his expression made you cut your attitude. He was trying, that much was obvious. And after all your talk of communication, you were doing nothing.

"Sorry," you set your fork down, engaging in the conversation, "I'm just lost? I guess. Hard to place it. I've changed a lot in the past two months-"

"How?"

You glared at him for interrupting you. "I've stopped prioritizing you. I'm more focused on myself now. It's hard to go back to normal when the 'normal,' was me running circles around you."

He shuffled in his seat, "That's fine. I'm glad you've moved on in that sense, done you good."

"You're not worried how it'll change us?" you asked softly, it's been all you were thinking of for the past few weeks.

"I'm always fuckin' worried," he admitted, eyes drifting to look at the wall instead of you, "But we'll work it out."

You were glad he still viewed the two of you as a 'we,' heart melting slightly as you reached your hand across the table. "I'm not going to tip-toe around you anymore, Kats."

"Good," he gruffed out, uncrossing his arms and grabbing onto your hand. Changing his focus onto that, "I don't want you to."

"Good," you agreed, smiling at how he let his thumb trace over your knuckles.

"You, um," he fumbled for a minute, eyebrows furrowing, "You're still okay with us not doing shit right?"

"I'd never push that," you confirmed, shocked he even thought you would complain about that.

"Don't get me wrong, I would, just-" he pulled his hands back wiping them on his pants before running them down his face, "my dumb fuckin' quirk."

"You love your quirk," you pointed out.

"Yeah and I'd fuckin' love to touch my girlfriend but no, I gotta be a horny virgin 'cause of it," he groaned, crossing his arms again.

Stifling a laugh was difficult, but you managed, "Maybe we can just work up to it? Get you used to the baseline first before, that."

His quirk went off suddenly, "Can't even fuckin' think of it," he groaned, standing up to go wash his hands off.

"It's cute." You followed behind him to place dishes in the skin, having cleared your plates a while ago.

"Fuck you."

"Hey," you laughed, "At least you can tell Denki and Sero that you beat them at No Nut November. And have for the past 19 years."

He shot you a glare from the sink, "The one challenge I wouldn't want to beat, great."

"It's what makes you number one to me, baby," you teased, kissing his shoulder as you moved past him, wanting to pester him while the mood was light and he was already flustered. It was nice how easy it was to move past something with him. But you wanted to test how much he'd react to you not tiptoeing around him anymore.

With success, his quirk popped off again.

"Fuck off."

You let out a crackle of laughter, "You're too easy."

"Die."

He finally stopped washing his hands, turning to dry them off. You watched from the counter, plotting. "Your back looks nice," you commented, his muscles have been more defined lately and you only got to appreciate it now. His tank top showcases his shoulders nicely.

He froze for a moment, side-eyeing you. "Do you want to get blown up or something?"

"No, do you want to get blown?" you asked back, letting Denki's crude humor influence you.

Like a charm, his quirk sparked off. "Quit it."

"Nah, it's too much fun," you smiled at him, kicking off the counter you were leaning on and moving to leave the kitchen. Hand squeezing his bicep when you walked by.

He didn't let you get even a step away before he grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. His hands grabbing at your hips and moving to push you into the counter. "Where do y'think you're goin'?" he smirked down at you.

Your face bloomed a deep shade, blushing harshly at how close he was. He hasn't been that close since you argued two months ago.

"Nothin' to say?"

You blinked up at him, trying to steady the rapid beating of your heart with the way he was tracing circles onto your hips.

"Might like you but that doesn't mean I'll let you say shit and get away with it," he crowded you closer to the counter.

"What happened to your quirk?" you whispered, losing your voice at the proximity.

"You offered to work up to it, right?" he brushed his hands clean on his shirt briefly before going back to your hips.

"Yeah," you looked down at his hands, trying to make sure the watch was off.

"It's off," he confirmed, twisting his wrist so you could see. When you looked back up at him, he held his gaze deeply, "What happened to that smart mouth?"

"Want me to show you?" you placed your hands on his chest, running over the span of his shoulders. Your body was on fire, the two of you flirted, sure, but this was different. His quirk was fully there. He was fully there.

His eyes lidded slightly, zeroing in his focus on your lips, "Fuck yeah I do."

Your lips closed the gap between the two of you. It wasn't as soft and nervous as all the past kisses, it was something you just threw yourself in. Stomach crazy with butterflies as your mind started buzzing. His hands tightened their grip on your hips as he stepped even closer to you.

Bodies curled into each other to get closer. Your hands digging into the hair at the base of his neck as you deepened the kiss. Full of passion and sexual tension. There was hardly any innocence to the kiss, and if there was, it faded within seconds.

A sigh of relief falling from your lips when his hands slipped under your shirt, brushing over your skin roughly. Fingers being callused and dry from work.

As soon as his hands met your skin he pulled away frantically. Pulling his body from yours completely before his quirk started popping off.

"Fuck me," he groaned in frustration, grabbing a dish towel and wiping his hands off.

"I wish I could," you teased.

He shot you a glare, blush flaring all over his face and coating his neck with a red. "Stop," he grumbled.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that," he shied away, washing his hands in water for a moment.

You paused for a moment, considering how you looked. With how flushed his face was you could tell you were no better. Lips plumped and freshly kissed red as your shirt was ruffled up from his hands as you leaned back into the counter. "Why would I? You clearly like what you see?"

The confidence within you came from nowhere. There has been sexual tension between the two of you before, many times before. Even before he had the watch. But normally you had to be drunk as hell to make such obvious jokes towards him, especially ones about sex. Maybe it was the fact that it was on the table, when before it wasn't. You knew he wanted it as much as you did.

"Fuck off," he grumbled.

"Come on, Kats," you pushed your luck.

"I love you, but please stop whatever the fuck you're doing before we need a new apartment," he spoke without thought, freezing the second he realized what he said.

You barked out a laugh, he spoke so plainly. You didn't want him to get wrapped up in his head, so you ignored the rushing butterflies over his admissions. "Fine, fine," you gave in, smiling happily at him, "Hug?"

He looked at you, untrusting of you before he opened his arms, gesturing you near.

Taking the moment, you threw yourself in his arms. Wrapping your arms around his waist he pulled you in fully. Letting you rest your head on his chest as he rested his on yours.

Everything felt secure in your relationship, you'd move one step at a time together. With a lot of teasing between, but that was common between you and him, despite the lack of it lately.

"I love you too, by the way," you mumbled into his chest, having a happy feeling travel through your body at the small number of times he's actually said it.

"I know."

You moved slightly to look up at him, his eyes fell on yours before you spoke, "Are you hard?"

He glared sharply, embarrassment covering his features as you felt him grow hot. You were going to ignore the feeling of him pressing into your lower stomach, but decided you wanted the chance to rub it in his face that you have the upper hand here. He tried to pull away, only for you to keep your grip.

"Stop," he warned, his hands raised away from you.

"It's only a little spark, Kats," you tried to comfort.

With a roll of his eyes he smiled evilly down at you, "You asked for it," before you could protest, he wiped his sweaty hands on your face before rubbing the rest of it off on your sweater, down your chest.

"Katsuki! That's gross," you pulled away from him, using your sleeve to wipe away the damp residue of his sweat off your cheek before you pulled the bottom of your shirt out, seeing if he got sweat marks on it. "You just used that as an excuse to touch my tits," you glared at him, seeing the faint marks of his handprint on your shirt, right over your tits. It surprised you that he sweat enough to leave a mark.

He laughed sharply, walking out of the kitchen, "Got no proof, Brains."

"I literally have the proof of your hands on my tits," you called out to him.

He looked over you, "How do I know those are mine?"

"Really? Cause I'd let a random guy grope me and he'd be sweaty enough to leave a mark like you do," you snarked.

"No way to know," he shrugged.

"You're such an ass," you groaned.

His phone buzzing loudly cut off his laughter.

"This late?" you asked as you eyed his work phone.

"It's PR," he said as he furrowed his brows, answering the phone, "Dynamight."

You heard mumbling for a moment before he huffed and put his phone on speaker. "Can she hear me now?" the lady's voice rang through, the same manager you've spoken with before.

"Hello," you answered for him, "What can I do?"

"You've done quite enough," she spoke abruptly. It took a lot to get her mad, so to have pissed her off five words was a record. "People are spreading pictures of you crying in the middle of the street."

Katsuki's eyes shot to you, concerned.

"They also claim to of heard you talking to Deku, saying you said his name several times."

His concerned look turned to a glare quickly.

"I can explain that," you said quickly before Katsuki added his two cents, "I was having a rough time and decided to call a friend, simple."

She laughed, "It's not the simple. It was the night of your party. And with the lack of social outings between Dynamight and you, people are saying the two of you broken up."

"Why does this matter?" you asked annoyed. It was still a sore subject.

"It matters because bad things are being said about the two of you. It's not just Dynamight's image anymore, but yours too. They're saying he's abusive while also saying that you're sleeping your way to the top."

You've heard that said too many times to count. Both things. So filled with anger, you grabbed the phone from Katsuki's hand and hung up.

"The fuck?"

"I don't know! I'm annoyed," you huffed, tossing his phone onto the couch before pacing, "I'm sick of people talking."

"I get it's annoying but you're gonna hear it-"

"Not helping," you glared at him.

"PR helps get them to knock it off," he pushed.

"She hardly says anything but the obvious," you rolled your eyes, "We can just post a picture of us or something."

"How does that prove I don't hit you?"

You paused your pacing, "Under a truth quirk I said the worst thing about you was your socks. I think if you abused me I would have said that."

He gave up his fight with a shrug, moving to sit on the couch instead.

"Don't get me wrong, it pisses me off that they say that. There is just no way to prove otherwise. Nothing is ever enough for them," you corrected, not wanting him to get the idea that you were only concerned for yourself.

"If you think that, why are you so pissed right now?" he crossed his arms.

You shook your eyes off the flex of his arms, throwing your hands up in frustration, "Because everyone says that, I hate hearing it."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone thinks you hit me or some bullshit," you huff.

"Everyone?"

"Like people that don't know you," you changed, "you're a softy and they ignore it.

"Who you callin soft?" he sat up straight.

You smiled at him, "Kats, you can't even look mad at me."

He glared at you, eyebrows being the only thing supporting it. His eyes were soft. "Die."

"Let's just forget about it," you sighed, not wanting to talk about the press or your relationship. Nothing stressful.

"Why were you even cryin' to Deku?"

"You," you admitted shamefully, looking away. Talking about this would be stressful.

When he said nothing, you turned back to him. He was staring out the window. The view was filled with city lights.

"I only called him 'cause I couldn't call you," you comforted, stepping closer to him.

"Could always call me," he spoke softly.

"Kats," at this point you were standing right in front of him

"Yeah?"

You swallowed quickly, "We don't need to do everything together."

He took a deep breath, "I know, just want you to know you can call me, no matter what."

"I already know that," you smiled fondly at him. It was one of the best things about him. No matter how mad he was at a friend or family, he would never ignore them if they needed anything, even a random call. He might ignore a stupid text, but he never missed a call from someone close to him.

"Good."

"Maybe," he looked up at you, "We don't do anything publically? If they think I'm dating you then good, if they think I'm not, I don't care."

"If you want," he shrugged.

"You don't mind?" you step closer to him, him making space for you by manspreading further.

"Not really, just don't go making 'em think you're dating that damn nerd."

"Okay."

"Want somethin'?" he looked at you with a brow up. His eyes flickering from your chest to your face.

"Seems like you do," you smiled, inviting yourself more into his personal space by straddling him, both knees by his side.

"What are you doing?" his hands were pushed outwards, far from you.

"It's fine," you hushed him, sitting your weight on his lap.

"We didn't even do this stuff with the watch," he hissed at you, face flushed.

"Yes we did," you looked at him confused, "I made you cum y-"

"Shut it," he huffed, hands popping with the sound of his quirk, "Get off."

"Look, if you really want to, I will, but I don't think you want me to," you didn't want to force him into anything.

"What even put you in this mood?" he glared at you.

"You looked at my tits," you shrugged.

"Cause you still have my handprint on em," he smirked proudly.

You looked down at them quickly, "Bakugo."

"What? It's how it should be."

"Will it stain?"

"Shouldn't."

"I hate you," you glared at him.

"Sure, cause one glance at your tits makes you wanna jump me, cause you hate me," he was too cocky.

"Shut up you can hardly kiss me without losing your mind," you fought back.

"Kissed ya earlier didn't I?"

"Barely, come on, kiss me like a man-"

Forgetting his prior reluctance, he pulled you into him. Connecting your lips in a messy kiss as his hand held you to him by the back of your neck. Slowly losing its grip before sliding down to your waist. Losing himself into the kiss just as you were.

You were shocked he was even kissing you, cherishing the win regardless. Moving more onto him. Wrapping your arms around him, scratching at his scalp as you pulled on his hair.

The groan that left his lips encouraged you to push down more in his lap, wanting something more. You could never get enough of him. Anything he'd give, you'd take.

A rough push of yourself onto him caused his quirk to go off, not just a small spark either.

It singed your top, burning your skin.

You jumped off his lap once he let go, holding your sides.

His hand was placed right over your old scar.

Posted late cause I forgot to finish the chapter, and the tag list is being a bitch rn. (phone is glitching and laptop is weird) if it's fucked up mb.

---

-Next Part-

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[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 

You swallow. 

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 

"No." 

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up the tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues. 

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been on their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?" 

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback, and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 

You grimace a little at the mental image. 

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

[yanderambling]

omg i’m thrilled that y’all like him so much!!! and these ideas were soso tasty ugh your minds~ i had a lot of fun with this, maybe too much if you look at the wc lol, so i hope y’all enjoy <3 ALSO continuity note: since Adrian is so popular, i won't carry major events through different stories unless requested, that way everyone can have their own version of his story! but i'll be keeping general facts about Adrian the same unless otherwise specified, like his parents being rich because i find it funny~ thank you and goodnight <3 (and yes i switched this gif with the last part shhhh it’s okay)

pairing: Masochist Puppyboy!Yandere(m) x Bully!Reader(gn)

words: ~ 4.6k

you can read the previous part here!

CW: 18+, NSFW, yandere behavior, stalking, bullying, physical/verbal abuse, BDSM themes, poor BDSM etiquette but neither party minds

Adrian nearly choked when he heard his name read next to yours for the school project.

It took you a second to recognize his; you mostly just call him mutt. Once you realized, you loudly groaned at the prospect of spending the week with that pest.

Adrian couldn’t hear it over his racing heart.

As soon as class lets out, he's right at your side, yammering on about project materials and meeting arrangements and times and "we should really meet at one of our houses so we don't have to worry about distractions, I'm fine with coming to yours! It's closer to school anyway, right? It'll be more private- I just think it makes sense-"

You finally shut him up by making the executive decision that you’ll work at his house (you don’t need him shedding on your furniture, or potentially getting any personal ammunition against you; he is way too interested in being inside your home, and how does he know it’s closer to school?).

Adrian was crestfallen that he wouldn’t get to go in your house (and smell the pure you imbued in your furniture, and pretend he’s really your dog while you sit together- maybe in your bedroom!-, and snoop through your underwear drawer when you go to the bathroom, and snoop through your bathroom when he goes in right after you...), but he was still over the moon at the idea of having you in his space.

(He’ll just visit your window later tonight like usual, anyway- he'll still get high off that closeness alone. Win/win!)

Adrian doesn't think about anything else for the rest of the day, zoning through his classes and plastered to your side whenever he gets the chance, just alight with energy and anticipation and not shutting up about it- he's lucky there's too many witnesses for you to knock him quiet (oh, but he would feel so much luckier if you did).

You would totally bail on this project if you weren’t already failing this class, which is mostly on account of you bailing. You’re wondering if all those cut classes were worth having to work with this, but you’re not feeling hopeful.

The day seems to drag on forever for both of you, for vastly different reasons. By the time school lets out, Adrian is buzzing out of his skin and you're seconds away from ripping it off him.

As you two start the trek to his place, Adrian can't get over how surreal it feels to walk beside you. It's like you two are a couple, and you're walking him home for an after school study date!

He gets lost in the daydream easily, giving you a brief reprieve from his energy, and allowing you to absently notice his rapidly wagging tail almost propelling him down the sidewalk. You can't help but smirk a little at the image that conjures in your mind.

He's truly ridiculous, you can't really believe him sometimes. Doesn't that thing ever get tired? What does he think is gonna happen that's got him so damn excited? That he's gonna get in good with you somehow (hopefully) and you'll leave him alone? (never in his wildest dreams.)

Yeah, fat chance.

When Adrian stops at his house, you think he's joking. But then he walks right up the driveway of this random McMansion, motioning you along eagerly, and enters a security code before holding the door open for you with a clearly anticipatory smile.

...The fuck.

You did not count on Adrian’s family being loaded. He certainly doesn't dress or groom like it.

You consider berating him for not mentioning it, but decide against it for the risk of seeming stupid- to Adrian of all people. You do make a mental note for your future errand requests, though.

Adrian’s parents aren’t home, he tells you his mom is always traveling and his dad basically lives at his office. You’re relieved that you won’t have to put on a nice face for the folks, but there’s apparently still a live-in housekeeper that floats around (are you fucking kidding?) so you stay diligent.

Adrian suggests you two work in his room; you figure the further from watchful eyes, the better.

Despite it being his idea, Adrian can't help his giddy nervousness as you enter his room (he’d texted the housekeeper to make sure it was clean as soon as you decided to come over, lucky he keeps his souvenirs hidden away whenever he’s not admiring them).

The room is frankly ridiculous, easily twice the size of yours, a king bed in the corner, a desk and coffee table and two dressers, and yet adorned with piles of clothes and clutter and more genres of nerdy shit than you even knew existed.

"Yeah, okay, parts of this make sense."

Adrian cocks his head, opening his mouth to ask what you mean, when he suddenly chokes on air.

You've made a bee-line right to his desk, covered in books and papers for hobbies and school alike, but also holding a locked drawer at the very bottom in which he keeps his "school collection" (just discarded pencils with bitten erasers, torn up notebook paper he can still smell your hands on, old gym shorts you were probably gonna replace soon anyway, a bandaid here, a plastic fork there; nothing crazy).

He watches with bated breath as you sift through the contents of his desk, occasionally scoffing or chuckling at what you find. He lets out a sigh when you seem to grow bored, just for you to move on to his dresser and have his stomach doing somersaults all over again.

Maybe he should've asked the housekeeper to hide his stuff better and just braved the questions later...

You move throughout the room like you own it (you do, as far as the both of you are concerned), making little jabs at his various posters and figurines which make his whole body flush hot with pleasure because you're noticing things about him, but every other move you make sends his heart jumping into his throat in a completely different way.

It only takes a minute or two for the stress to get to him.

“Ah- hey! Uh, maybe we should- maybe we should start on the project, right?”

You bark a laugh and spin on your heel to face him, an incredulous half-grin pulling your lips and revealing a gut-twisting flash of teeth.

"We?"

Oh, yeah, he much prefers those intense eyes boring into him.

He starts spluttering placations immediately. "No! Well, uhm, I didn't mean- you, you don't- have to- obviously, I mean, I don't- I wouldn't-"

You roll your eyes and shove past him, effectively cutting him off as you flop down onto his abominably soft mattress. "Right, yeah, whatever. Let's get one thing straight here, okay?"

Adrian nods, his whole being drawn to focus at your entrancingly commanding tone. Although, it's incredibly hard to focus on anything with the sight of you on his bed right in front of him; he's already planning how to avoid that area so it'll retain your scent longer, he wonders if he could cut that part of the duvet out and keep it in an airtight container, maybe the sheets under it too just to be safe...

"This is not a "we" situation, got it? I'm not lifting a damn finger for this bullshit, that's what you're there for." Adrian has a purpose to you! "I am only here to make sure you're actually doing it, which shouldn't be a problem because if we get anything less than an A, it's gonna be your ass."

As tempting as it is to see what punishment you would inflict upon him, Adrian really really really wants to please you- and he's pretty good at this subject anyway!

You then cross your arms and lean back just enough to look down your nose at him. "Got it?"

Adrian can't answer fast enough.

"Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Awesome, good- great!"

But then he doesn’t make a move. Ha.

He looks a little lost, standing in the middle of his own room, barely biting down a grin and wringing his hands as he seems to wait for another command.

Apparently, you’ve trained him well.

You scoff and let yourself fall onto your back as you pull out your phone (Adrian's gonna need a bigger airtight container).

"Well, go on then, we don't have all day."

Adrian scrambles to get to work. He quickly positions himself on the floor by the foot of the bed and pulls the coffee table closer, emptying his school bag carelessly onto the carpet.

You huff a laugh at the sight, all this money and the kid's parents couldn't buy him any class. Maybe sloppiness is an inherent trait, like his apparent passion for service- nobody with this much money should be such a pushover. And yet...

Adrian couldn’t be happier, sitting on the floor while you lounge across his bed and periodically weigh in with (mostly incorrect) corrections or snide remarks, an almost alarmingly wide grin settled on his face as his tail taps a steady rhythm against his carpet.

It’s not an unpleasant picture, you muse absently as you look up from your phone, it’s almost comforting to have your little puppy on the floor, cheerily working away for you while you laze about. It certainly beats doing the work yourself, or having to threaten a student with an actual spine to do it for you.

Still, it doesn't take long for you to get bored. Bored enough to notice your empty stomach, at least.

"I'm hungry."

Adrian's head shoots up from the book he was hunched over, ears raised at attention and eyes glittering with something you're not sure you care to identify.

He's on his feet in the next second, knocking his knees on the way up loud enough to startle you yet showing no signs of even noticing.

"I-I'll ask Len to make something!"

He darts out of the room before you can tell him what you want, but you trust he knows your moods and tastes well enough by this point to predict. (Oh, he does, and Len's not going to be making anything- they don't know all the special ingredients!)

The second he leaves, you decide to really cure your boredom by snooping around in earnest. Certainly this creep has something actually weird hidden in here, you just have to look in the right places.

You waste no time in sifting through his bookshelf (nerd shit), closet (nerd clothes, some dirty), a dresser (nerd clothes, mostly clean), under his bed (dirty clothes, nerd shit in boxes)- the door opens behind you.

“Wha-? Oh! Ah- Wh-what- what are you doing?”

You don’t even bother moving from your crouch, most of your upper body shoved under the bedstand while the rest of you... is not.

Adrian’s mouth is completely dry for several reasons.

“What’re you, blind? I’m snooping.”

Adrian slowly comes further into the room, hesitantly setting the serving tray on the low table. He can’t stop his voice from cracking as he stutters out,

“Uh- yeah, okay, yeah, but- um, would you maybe mind- um, not?”

You snicker, at least he has some manners. “Yeah, I do mind, actually. What’s the matter, mutt? Got something to hide?”

“N-no!”

The answer is so immediate, so fervent, that it has you pulling up just to give him an unimpressed look. He stares back at you, eyes wide and frenzied.

“Jesus you’re a bad liar.”

Looking at him now, you can see sweat glistening on his face and his hands clenching by his side. His eyes dart toward the dresser you haven't checked yet.

Bingo.

You jump up from your position and stride across the room with purpose. You only make it a few steps before Adrian seems to materialize in front of you, making you stop short and almost yelp from shock.

“S-sorry! I’m sorry, I just-" he's waving his hands wildly, head ducked as his gaze rapidly flicks between your face and the floor, "You-you can’t- please, please don’t-”

“Okay, creep, I get the gist.”

You shove past him, and he wishes he could relish the firm pressure of your hands on him.

He whirls around and watches in horror as you approach the dresser. He needs to do something, he needs to stop you, but what can he do? You’ve clearly made up your mind, it’s not like it's his place to try and change it...

All he can do is watch, a high ringing in his ears and his body filling with static, while you meticulously sift through every drawer until his clothes are strewn about the floor and you're panting with frustration.

He's about to let himself take a breath when you suddenly squat down and stick your arm into the shallow space underneath. He nearly swallows his tongue when you let out a disbelieving huff and awkwardly slide out a long lockbox.

You look up at him triumphantly, eyes sparkling with glee, and he almost mirrors your smile just for how captivating it is.

"Open it."

"N-no-"

You lean up toward him and cock your head, he has to stop himself from being drawn in by the magnetism of your narrowed eyes. “The fuck did you just say to me?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't- just, I can't-"

"Oh, I think you can. Or you're not gonna like what happens next."

That's where you're wrong, and it only really strengthens Adrian's extremely shaky resolve. He tries to keep the grin off his face as he habitually starts to picture the punishment you might give him; a cuff on the ears, a knee to the stomach, a punch in the face-

But you just roll your eyes and groan, no longer in the mood now that something more interesting has presented itself.

Instead, your gaze floats down to the flimsy looking combination lock on the box, then it fixes on some heavy-standed figurine you'd knocked off his bookshelf earlier.

Yeah, good enough.

Adrian barely has time to flinch before you're snatching it up and breaking the lock with a sound crack.

Then you're lifting the lid.

"No!"

He starts to lunge forward, but your sharply raised hand halts him dead in his tracks.

Fuck.

It's too late anyway, judging by your wide eyes and slightly slack jaw (god how he wishes he could focus on the glorious curve of your open lips, or the way your perfect teeth peek over them, or how it might feel to have those teeth sunk into his skin-)

"What. The. Fuck."

"I-I can explain- It's not-!"

"I literally do not believe that you can."

Adrian's throat goes dry, he feels tears welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry! I never meant- it's not like-"

You tune Adrian out as you focus on the stacks and stacks of photos arranged in the box before you. There even seem to be books underneath those, thick ones despite the shallowness of the container. You’d say there’s easily hundreds of pictures in here.

But, more concerning than the amount of photos… is their content.

They’re all you.

Undeniable, from every angle and range and setting you could imagine, it’s all you. There’s you at your spot with your friends, sitting in class, in the cafeteria, running errands in town, sneaking off to that private spot nobody else is supposed to know about, asleep in your bed- in dozens and dozens of iterations, like you could probably make a flip book of every scene.

It’s offensively redundant, honestly, a gross waste of paper. Maybe equally as concerning.

(Adrian needs to keep physical copies, and hard drives, and backup hard drives, and another box further under the dresser... What if something happens to his phone? What if he lost all his treasured photos forever? He doesn’t know what he’d do.)

"You're a bigger creep than I gave you credit for." You murmur, mostly to yourself.

Adrian never thought he'd feel anything but sheer joy from hearing that word leave your mouth. "N-no! It's not- it's not like that! I'm not- I don't-"

While Adrian's still blustering and working himself into a tizzy, you're just... processing.

It's oddly unsurprising, once you consider all the other factors together. Looking at it now, of course Adrian had more perverted reasons for complying to your cruelty, what else could he have been getting out of it? You guess you kinda always knew, on some level, but you never thought it would be like this.

But, since it is, you can't help but wonder just how far this perversion has gone, how far it will go...

This night has been boring enough that you're entitled to a little fun, right?

And besides, looking at him now- all wide eyed and droopy eared, his tail pulled between his legs and clutched in his trembling hands- Adrian actually looks a little bit... cute? In a pathetic, dirty stray caught in the rain type of way, of course.

The only real difference is that you'd be much kinder to the stray.

"Alright, shut it, stalker."

Adrian's mouth snaps closed, his tail trying to tuck further at your dangerously low voice.

"Obviously, this severe-" you flap a stack of photos at him, causing him to duck his head and whimper, "-invasion of my privacy can't go unpunished."

Adrian's eyes become impossibly bigger as they flash up to watch you stand. His ears suddenly perk, his tail tugs against his grip as it tries to hesitantly wag.

Jesus, he's shameless.

This is gonna be fun.

But first, a plan. You don't want Adrian getting too bold, so what better way to keep him in his place than by tying him there? Looking around his room, you don't have much to work with, but you're resourceful; a lace from his sneakers should do just fine (who keeps shoes in their room? what a creep).

"Alright. Sit."

Adrian is falling to his knees before his brain can process the words. When it does, he isn't quick enough to bite down on the high keen that builds in his throat.

You scoff, mentally scorning yourself for ignoring his shit for so long, then go to pull a lace. Adrian watches in rapt attention as you test its strength, your hands flexing so tantalizingly as you pull the string harshly several times over.

He holds his breath on instinct when your scrutinizing glare scans the room again.

"Okay, bed. Back to the headboard. Now."

Adrian scrambles up immediately, pulling some of the sheets off in his hurry, eager to obey before you change your mind.

You follow right after, kneeling up and leaning over him to tie his hands to the headboard above him. His dry throat click as he gulps.

You're so close, your heavenly scent filling his lungs like a sweet paralyzing vapor, he can feel the heat radiating from your skin despite the clothes between you, he could probably taste you if he just stuck out his tongue...

He whines as you yank the shoelace tight with a grunt before tying it off. You tug on his hands once more, forcing the string deeper into his skin, and your hum of satisfaction is drowned out by Adrian's low groan.

What a wonderful feeling, the sharp sting of the lace grounding him down like he needs to be; he can't help twisting and pulling until the burn intensifies, imagining it's your firm hands holding him so tightly...

"Jesus, freak, you're already getting into it?"

Adrian just whimpers, barely registering the question past your condescending tone as he continues to squirm.

You suddenly grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward until he's partially hovering off the mattress, the combined pressure of your knuckles under his chin and the shoestring grating his tender wrists pulls a breathy moan along with.

You lean in close, practically growling as you say, "Don't do my job for me, mutt."

You press a relatively fresh bruise on his arm just to see him twitch and bite his lip (it’s actually from a week ago, that’s how good he is at maintaining your marks for you!). It is pretty gratifying.

Almost as gratifying as the bulge you spot between his wantonly spread legs.

A breathless laugh punches out of you. It's oddly jarring to see, and you would later deny that it's slightly impressive, but it's not an entirely unpleasant sight.

"God, you're fucking pathetic. But you know that, don't you, you little creep?"

If your words weren't enough to have Adrian shaking out of his skin, you lean closer and nip his ear; he jerks back instinctively at the pain, which only makes its sting so much sweeter when you sink your teeth in and pull back.

He doesn’t bother trying to keep himself quiet.

“This isn’t even a punishment for you, is it? Is it, you fucking perv?”

Adrian is so far beyond saving face, he’s mostly beyond communication of any kind, so he just shakes his head fervently and grunts and hopes it’s good enough.

“Use your words, mutt.”

He gasps as you yank his throbbing ear, pulling his face closer to yours- oh dear god he can feel your hot breath against his cheeks, every detail of your perfect face so confident and dangerous and ethereal, your sparkling eyes look positively deadly and Adrian is ready to submit himself to their perils-

“Answer me," your sharp words make his lashes flutter, but he keeps his eyes wide open to stare at your taunting smile hanging just inches from his face, "are you getting off on this?”

He nods, he’s starting to get dizzy with all this nodding but he doesn't feel capable of much else, then you tug his hair back with the most glorious burn-

“Ah-Yes! Yes, I love- I love it, please- give me- more- please, I need- I need-“

He cuts off with a choked sound as your fingers slide up his throat and tighten, all too happy to oblige.

"That what you want? You happy now?" You taunt, your breath against the shell of his ear raising goosebumps all over his body.

He tries to nod against your grip, causing you to smirk and push further.

Oh god yes please-

Garbled moans fight their way from his throat as his eyes roll back in ecstasy, his straddled legs pressing tightly together as he thrashes desperately against the headboard, his whole body trembling and pushing up and up in search of contact- but you keep pulling away, putting more pressure on his neck to support yourself, bringing out the most pitiful little whimpers.

"Use your words, puppy."

Puppy.

Adrian chokes for reasons entirely unrelated to your hand on his neck. His tail, which had been beating a rapid tempo since you sat him down, starts flailing into overdrive.

It takes considerably more effort, but Adrian needs to please you- maybe you’ll even reward him!- so he coughs and gasps until he can force out,

"Y-Yes,” a strained cough, “Tha-agh-thank- you-"

A smile curls your lips unbidden. Such initiative! You let your fingers stroke over his throat as your hand presses in harder.

"There, that's a good boy."

Adrian's vision whites out.

He’s not even aware of the stream of whines and moans that force their way from beneath your fingers, he doesn't notice how his body squirms against the pressure of you on top of him, he couldn't tell the frantic thumping of his tail from that of his heart- all he can focus on is the red hot ecstasy filling every inch of him to bursting, the transcendent bliss of being so thoroughly claimed, so completely controlled, so wholly owned by you.

He's still hiccupping moans and thumping his tail when you withdraw your hand for fear of suffocating him, these needy little noises escaping his already bruising throat.

His head lolls back and his mouth falls open as you remain suspended above him, taking in your handiwork.

He’s so vulnerable, his entire body open and happily exposed to you, every muscle trembling in the aftershocks. His chest heaves as sweat and tears drip down onto his shirt, but he seems to pay no mind as his vacant eyes flutter up at you. He struggles to keep them open as a dopey grin spreads across his bitten lips, and you have to bite your own to stop from returning it.

Then, your eyes travel down to the steadily shrinking tent of his pants, now adorned with a dark wet stain- just like you expected.

Hot.

"Pathetic."

You sit back on you heels, seemingly alerting Adrian to your absence as his hand flies up to grab his throat with a high whine- but you cut that shit off right away.

"Yeah, no, I'm not trying to catch a murder charge tonight, thanks. Besides," your eyes pointedly flick down between his spread legs, causing his face to heat up though he makes no move to close them, "it looks like you got more than your share- frankly, you should be grateful for anything I'm willing to give you."

Adrian's voice is hoarse when he tries to insist, "I am! I-" he cuts off with a heavy cough, which only has you wincing with guilt a little. "I'm- I'm grateful. I am!"

You don't doubt it, especially looking into those watery, red-rimmed puppydog eyes of his. However, you do like to be cruel, and you did just get a bunch of texts from some of your friends about this 'super crazy thing you don't wanna miss and you gotta get down here right now!', (and you're maybe feeling a little uncharacteristically giddy as you fully process your situation) so...

"Doesn't matter, I can't reward this insolence."

You untie the shoelace with a deft tug and slide off the bed without another word.

Adrian just barely stops himself from whining again, the sudden loss of the pressure around his wrists leaving him feeling untethered. He has to dig his nails into his hands as he watches you collect your things (the covered platter lay forgotten on the table, insult to injury), just to keep from reaching out for you.

He wants desperately to follow you, but he can't make his body move for how relaxed and heavy it feels, and he knows it would probably just upset you more anyway- and not in the good way.

“Oh, and Adrian?” You slap the doorframe as you hang off of it, and your use of his name has Adrian's groggy head springing up to face you instantly, ears high and eyes hopeful.

“Next time you want a picture of me, just ask. That way I can knock some sense into you right away.” You tap the frame again, a crooked grin fixing your lips before you push off.

“See ya tomorrow!”

Still too fuzzy to move, and in fresh shock from that almost-genuine smile, he can only listen forlornly as your steps grow fainter and fainter until the door shuts downstairs. Then, he's helpless to do anything beyond replay the events of the past ten minutes in obsessive detail in attempts to permanently document every single sensation you gave to him.

He only manages to move about a half hour later, when his phone buzzes with a text.

He slowly leans over the bed and lifts his phone from the floor, blinking blearily as he reads... your name. Attached to a ludicrously extravagant lunch order for tomorrow.

The phone drops from his fingers like lead.

How?

His heart starts racing as he wracks his brain to recall when you put his number in your phone- then, his tail starts up again as he wonders if he'll be punished for already having yours in his (not for anything weird! he just likes to type out walls of text complimenting every part of you and telling you exactly the ways he wants you to destroy him and then deleting them- but maybe he'll send the next one).

It must mean something good if you want to keep in close contact with him, right? That must mean you aren't really mad at him, right? That must mean you like him, right? You still think he’s a good boy, right?

Another text lights up his phone. He scrambles to grab it back, hands shaking as he holds the screen close to his face.

[ur gnna b my bitch 4evr now]

A shaky giggle escapes him.

Those are easily the most beautiful words he’s ever read.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

[woso-dreamzzz]

Secret III

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You're a bit messy

When Mapi takes you out to the park, she doesn't expect it to rain.

But it does.

It rains and rains and rains until she's shivering in the cold and wet as you very determinedly stamp around in the mud by the bank of the lake.

"Be careful!" Mapi calls after you and you stick your tongue out at her.

It was a stupid idea to be caught without an umbrella and without a coat but this was Barcelona and she really wasn't expecting it.

"Come on!" She winces as you sink lower into the mud, ruining the new Sambas she had specifically bought for you.

"But Mami-"

"No, Skatt," Mapi says, covering her horror with a little laugh," Let's go home now."

You huff in annoyance, dipping down once more into the mud before running to her side, hands firmly in your pockets as you drag your muddy feet all the way back to Mapi's nice, clean car.

"Oh!" Ingrid exclaims when you come running into the house about twenty minutes later," You look all messy, Skatt! Did you have fun!"

You push a strand of wet hair out of your face as you grin. "Uh-huh."

You hurry off into the bathroom, leaving a trail of muddy footprints after you.

"She's ruined them," Mapi laments.

"Well," Ingrid replies, pursing her lips," Seeing as the last four pairs of the same shoes ended up the same way, you can't be surprised Mapi."

"Yes I can! I thought it would be different!"

Ingrid shakes her head fondly, pushing out from the kitchen table. "I told you," She says," Skatt doesn't need fancy shoes. You need to start putting her in her wellies even when you don't think it'll rain. Save the fancy shoes for dinners and birthday parties."

Mapi pouts, scuffing her own Sambas on the hard wood flooring. "I just wanted us to match."

"I know."

And Ingrid does know. You look like her, overwhelmingly so. It makes sense obviously but you're truly like her mini and sometimes Mapi's been called things like your auntie or babysitter by strangers and Ingrid knows Mapi hates it.

"But you can match for fancy events," Ingrid continues," It's not worth it ruining another set of shoes because Skatt decided to go digging again."

The bath starts running and Mapi smiles wryly.

"At least she knows it's bath time when she gets muddy."

"Yes," Ingrid says fondly," We've trained her well." She leans towards the bathroom. "Skatt! Are you getting undressed?"

"Yes, Mama!"

"Do you want to wash her up or should I?"

"You can," Mapi says," I'll grab her a change of clothes. You might need to do her hair. It wasn't tied up properly."

"Got it."

When Ingrid enters the bathroom, she's thrown. There's a remarkably lifelike frog toy kicking around in the water. She's never seen it before but she knows Mapi stopped off at the shops before the park and your interest in frogs is almost as high as your interest in bugs so Ingrid supposes you had convinced Mapi to buy it for you.

She lathers up your hair with shampoo after cleaning your body and you hum happily.

"Did you see a lot of bugs on your trip today?"

"Uh-hu! Saw dragonfly and gnats and flies and bumblebees-"

The power on the toy is really going strong, Ingrid notes, because it keeps swimming in circles and she has to wonder what store Mapi bought it at because it's unlike any other bath toy Ingrid's ever seen before.

"-And wasps and Mami had to run away after seeing it because she was scared it was going to string her."

"That's nice, Skatt." Ingrid rinses out your hair, pulls out the plug of the bath and moves to the living room to start towel drying your hair.

Mapi goes to grab your dirty clothes and throw them in the laundry.

That's when it croaks at her.

That's also when she screams.

A frog stares back at her, perched on the taps.

It stares.

Mapi screams again.

"Mapi?!" Ingrid bursts into the room," What is it? Are you hurt?!"

"What is that?!" Mapi points a shaking finger at the creature and you, still wrapped up in your towel, poke your head around the door.

"My frog!"

"What?!" Mapi and Ingrid both demand, whirling around to look at you.

"My frog!" You repeat," Found him in the park. He was sad so I brought him home!"

Ingrid massages her temples and Mapi shrieks again when she sees the frog hop into the now empty bathtub.

"We can't keep the frog."

You grown. "Why not? We kept my millipede."

Ingrid goes pale. "What millipede?"

"The millipede in my terrarium." You point your own finger at Mapi. "The one Mami bought for me."

"She what?!"

"Ingrid...I can explain!"

[liaswills]

Pick a card: What does this person want to say to you? ❤️

Good evening lovely darlings! I'm back with another Tumblr Tarot post- for the delusional girlies, this is another What would this person want to say to you? Particularly love focused! This could be a message from a S/O- or F/s/o or perhaps even a f/o! Depending on your degree of delulu, ofcourse. :)

Pick a pile! Use the pics underneath or go based on intuition. Thankyou! ❤️

Oh, love of mine. What wonders there are to be found when you look into my eyes. This is all poetic, truly, but in my soul, the deepest parts of it, I know that you'll still be hoping to come back to me. It is the way things are. I can't change it- even if I wanted to. I watch you. I see you. I hope you know I do believe in you- I love you. When I see tears on your cheeks, streaking like some porcelain beauty, some victorian soul, gauging at what is left of me, gauging at what the eye cannot see, I long to hold your hand, softly press a kiss to it and tell you all I have seen in you that you do not see. I would take you to my favourite spot, walk the whole way just to talk to you, I would tell you what I have been wanting to let you know- that no matter where I am, or what you do, or who we are, in our very souls, we are always one and the same. We are alike. Perhaps in spirit, personality, or maybe just in how we devote ourselves to spirituality, or God, but I know that I am yours if you will be mine. But you haven't been coming to me. You don't want to be mine yet. I know you think you do- but you're not ready for this. Neither am I. I have found myself trying to build what was left- to build a new. I have found I wanted to incorporate more of the old into my new life and therefore I am struggling to find my way to you- it will show some day but I will make time free. Free time for you. I promise you this. I fear some day, you may leave me entirely. Yet even when this happens, I'm but a cinder. I'm but a memory. A distant person you once knew. Distant eyes you once reflected upon, talked to, listened to, hoped for, wished and yearned. I'll not be the same because you won't either. We grow with one another. Tell me you love me. I need to know this. I need you to tell it straight to my face, to my memory, to my thought, to my soul, just think it. Think, say, breathe it. I will know when you do. Thank you for thinking of me today, I appreciate it.

You'll always be my true love, you know? ❤️

It's in his kiss, that's where it is. You can feel when I love you truly, baby, because I would kiss you like you've never felt before. I'd go as slow as you want, as sensual as I could ever be, as loving as I could try, I would do it for you. I know we don't know each other that well yet. We are new. But even if you know me for a long time, this feeling is new. We haven't been together before- not in other lives. I haven't loved you yet. This is new to me. I think we would fit together.... I am confused about it however. I'm not really sure what I want. I know, I am indecisive. But with you- it does feel right, it does feel... like I am a child again kissing his first crush. It feels this way- which is why I think it's important that we continue to communicate, about what you want, about what I want... it'll make this easier because I can't smell what is on your mind. I can sense your feelings, I am very empathic, but I don't know what you're thinking. And I have the feeling you're led by your thoughts, just as I am. We are horrible in listening to ourselves. Perhaps, I am better at giving you advice than I am for myself but in truth, it should be me who has to do the work and approach you, romance you, love you, not the other way around. You're so kind to me- this bamboozles the shit out of me because I am not technically seen as an approachable nice person, so your energy it really confuses me for that reason. Am I not repulsive? Do you not... want to run away from me? You're making my bad thoughts about myself resurface and dissolve all the same. When I think or look at you, even for a second, I just know that I am looking at something good. I know this is something to be cherished. Can I trust my own feeling however? I'm not too sure. I want you to know this. Just to make some clarification about where I am right now. I am not trying to push you away- nor do I want you gone AT ALL I need you and I want you by my side but I am just a torn up dunderhead. Forgive me?

"She's one of my favourite things." This is what I say when people ask about you. Hm, yes, I know. From me? You're surprised. I know some days you may think I don't know you, or don't like you, but I do, I like you a lot. You're my princess, in any fairytale that exists. And the divine to my subservient self. I'd worship you. Cherish you. Because, I know, that for you not to leave me, I have to step up and treat you well. I will be forthcoming, I will be consistent, and I will try to make your life as much of a priority as I will mine. It's not black and grey with me. It's quite clear with me. I want you to be mine. I need to marry you- some day or now. I do not care when. That's how serious I am. That's how real this feels for me. I don't need to figure this out by a 10 hour astrology research to compare my charts to yours. I don't need to figure out via a deity about what time you're going to call or text. I need to know just one thing- and that is that I can trust my feelings. I want you to trust yours. If you do- if you do feel for me, If you do cherish me, or even like me, or god above, if you even love me, if you could, that you won't break it hard on me. Do it gently. Tell me how you love me, and when you leave me, so I know it's easier. If you ever leave me, I would try to have you one more day. I really would. Not in spite or because I want some silly disgusting energy break up sex but because...I would just want to look at you, once more, see you, breathe you, just touch your hand perhaps, or even your hair, to just sit there and tell you nothing or a lot. But I wouldn't ever try to hurt you, I will never try to do this I just hope... perhaps... that you won't hurt me, all right? Can you do this for me? Can you do everything gently? (Except the sex, I don't need it to be gentle ok) but you get what I mean. My heart, my feelings, are much more tender than I can confess. I may look tough. I may be someone you think is tough- perhaps I am, maybe I am also that, but one word of you can silence me forever. Trust on that. So use your words well with me, it'll be better for both of us. Don't you think? I love you. ❤️

God speed your love to me. You thought this was going to be the romantic pile, didn't you? Hahahaha! Bitch please! I am your worst nightmare. Just kidding, I am just incapable of showing you the love you so desire and dream of. What is it with you and me? You like me obsessively. Trust me, your guides and I have been chatting away for a bit and you're.... well, let's just say, you're at wits end about me, aren't you darling? Hehe. I like when you're mad. Some days, I just think how lovely it would be if you'd be in my arms and I could just... have a peek at that lovely chest of yours. Too dirty? I understand. You think I'm a pervert. Honestly, darling, I do too. That's what I hide behind, mostly, truthfully, I'm disgusting myself sometimes, especially during those solo hours. You don't want to believe the things I've thought about you- oh my god. If my life's work and thoughts would ever get published, it would be the biggest event of all lifetime. The world would stop. The M25 would be in a traffic jam all fucking year- don't know why, but it would, wouldn't it? Say, I know you from somewhere... that's what I always say, I always begin with that. And then, I would transgress your interest and I would try and lure you into thinking of me. And when you're thinking of me, I am thinking of how you're hopelessly and desperately thinking of me and then I'll- you know, get creative thinking of you. Honey, what am I to you? Though? Like- can we be real? Am I your friend? Your lover? Your nemesis? Your teacher? Your mentor? What the fuck are we? I am so confused ! 🤣 You say things that literally bolder me off the side of the road and throw me right into the cut. Like can we pretend that for one day, you and I aren't you and I and then we can be delusional together in our own little world? You'd like that right? Well, I would too. I need to escape whatever the hell this is, or this life is, and then we can get coffee and a drink or two and you can tell me what we're going to do about this, about us, because I can't stop thinking how we are going to solve this or do this or just... how. Hm :) You look good. Just wanted to say that. Take some medicine when you feel bad, especially cramps. Take good care of yourself. I could write to you forever- know that. You can reach out to me.

[hajimeseyo]

(part 1 here! it's not required for reading this piece, but they are connected, so it'll make more sense if you read the first part first!)

The door to the sewing club slides open with a loud BANG!

“Yo.” A tall, intimidating guy with blond, braided hair strolls in, with all the casualness of someone taking a trip to the convenience store.

You gape wordlessly at him from where you're sitting, still jolted from the lound and sudden bang. Who is this? What does he want?? Has he ever heard of knocking??? 

“Let’s go eat, Mitsuya, I'm hungry as fu– oh, sorry, didn't see you there.” he strides into the room, pausing when he sees you. You can only blankly nod in response, the movement itself almost pure instinct, brain still running on fight or flight mode. 

A light chuckle comes from your right, and you shift your gaze to the lilac haired male sitting next to you. He shoots you a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the blond, now standing in front of him.

“Gimme a moment, yeah? I'm almost done here.” He motions to the school jacket in his hand. Your school jacket, actually. You accidentally ripped it while you were at school, and Mitsuya insisted on helping you fix it, waving away your voiced worries of taking away his precious lunch time. 

He returns to the current task at hand, hands swiftly and fluidly sewing the tear up, masterful after years of practice. Your gaze returns back to the blond guy as he pulls up a chair from one of the nearby tables and plops down across from Mitsuya. They seem familiar with each other, the way both are relaxed in each other’s presence. 

“Oh yeah, this is Draken, by the way. The guy I was telling you about.” Mitsuya pauses briefly from his sewing to introduce the new person in the room. You immediately perk up at the familiar name. Well, that clears up a lot of things.

“Draken? The guy with the matching dragon tattoo?” You ask, eyes alight with intrigue. Draken snorts amusedly. 

“I see you've heard the story.” He turns his head so you can see the familiar dragon tattoo inked into the left side of his head, the exact mirror of Mitsuya's. Your mouth forms into a little ‘o’ at the sight of it. “This tattoo is mine, by the way. Paid for it and everything.”

Another snort, from Mitsuya this time. “Right, I'm sure you paid for it fair and square.” A smile dances on his lips as he continues sewing, eyes focused.

“Hey, who was the one who ate all my rice first?”

“Um, excuse me…” Your voice turns Draken's attention back to you. “If you don't mind, could I take a closer look at your tattoo?” You shyly ask the blonde male. 

His eyebrows raise at the bold request, and you hurriedly add on to your previous question. “It’s just that, I've seen Mitsuya's one before, but I couldn't really get a full view due to his hair covering most of it. It seemed really cool, so…”

The explanation seems to placate him, and he smiles reassuringly, the sight easing some of your nerves. “Yeah, go ahead, knock yourself out.” 

You brighten up at that, immediately moving your seat to Draken’s left and wasting no time in studying every detail of the tattoo.

“Woahh…it’s so different seeing it in its entirety! It really is beautiful…”

“Heh, right? I thought it would’ve been such a shame, leaving such a cool design to stay hidden in some dingy alley, so getting it as a tattoo was a no-brainer. Didn’t expect this guy over here to do the same, though.”

“Hahah, you really made the right decision. It fits you really well!”

“Yeah, and it fit with my name too, y’kno? Draken, dragon. Really helps with making a name for yourself.”

“Ooh, that’s a cool detail!”

As you ooh and aah over the inked dragon on Draken’s head, unconsciously shifting closer and closer to him, you don’t notice how Mitsuya pauses in his work, quietly staring at the two of you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Have you seen the actual mural? It’s way bigger than this tattoo.”

“I haven’t, actually.”

“If you want, I can bring you sometime—”

“[name].” Mitsuya cuts in loudly, both your heads snapping towards him at the sound. He raises the repaired jacket in his hands with a smile that doesn’t really seem to reach his eyes. “The jacket’s done.”

“Oh!” You hop off the stool and gratefully accept the jacket as he walks over to hand it to you, lilac eyes never leaving your figure as you slip your arms through the sleeves, blissfully unaware. “Good as new! Thank you so, so much, Mitsuya.” 

His eyes soften at your sincere words, a warm smile naturally finding its way onto his face at your happy expression. “No problem at all, [name].”

“I’ll get going, then. I don’t wanna take up anymore of both of your lunch time.” you say, turning around to leave. You shoot Draken a wave as you walk past. “Bye, Draken! It was nice meeting you; maybe I’ll take you up on that offer to see the mural sometime.”

“You too, [name]. I’ll see you around.”

Mitsuya coughs lightly, and the sound prompts you to continue moving towards the exit. He follows closely behind you, reaching forward to open the door before you can.

“Thank you again, ‘tsuya.” You say once more, turning to him with a bashful grin. 

He huffs amusedly. “Like I said, it’s no problem at all. You can come to me anytime if you have any problems.” Your lips curl up even more at that, cheeks tinged with the slightest pink.

“Also,” He lets out another light cough, and you can’t help but take note of the way his ears are tinged red, how he suddenly seems to be avoiding your gaze. “You don’t…have to take Draken up on his offer.” he quietly says, words slowly turning into mumbles, the red from his ears slowly spreading to his cheeks. “I can bring you…if you want. And,” His face is fully red at this point, words so quiet you had to lean in to hear them. “if you want to look at the tattoo up close, you can just look at mine anytime…” he trails off, eyes looking anywhere but you.

You gape at him. This was something you definitely weren’t expecting. Despite your surprise, you can’t stop the giddy smile spreading across your face, giggling as you try to hold back your teasing. He’s already flustered enough; you suppose you’d spare him, just this once.

“Okay then.” You wave at him as you step out, eyes twinkling with mirth. “See you, ‘tsuya!”

Mitsuya watches your figure go until you disappear from his sight, sighing in relief and slight disbelief as he closes the door to the club. He hadn’t really planned on saying that, but the words just… slipped out. Something about the way you looked at him made them bubble up until he couldn’t contain them any longer. At least your reaction was positive.

He turns around, fully prepared to put the whole thing behind him, only to be greeted with a razor-sharp grin. Draken wiggles his eyebrows at him, looking like a cat that just caught its prey.  “So…someone got jealous, huh?”

Mitsuya lets out a suffering groan. “Please. Don’t tell anyone. You didn’t see anything.”

Draken cackles. “Maybe I’ll consider it if you buy me a karubi don.”

He’s so telling everyone. 

[anonymousicecream]

Mistress (Haewon x M Reader)

Becoming a leader is tough. You knew that ever since you were 10, but it wasn't as if you can reject this role. You're the heir of Pacific Corporation, a multinational conglomerate based in Seoul, South Korea. As the heir, it makes sense for you to search for experiences before eventually leading the conglomerate. You're now assigned by your family, mainly your father, as the CEO of Asiana Airlines, an airline owned by Pacific Corp. You have been in the role for 2 years, rising from vice president before becoming the CEO of the company.

You're currently relaxing in your office as everyone already went home earlier. It's currently 9:30 PM, and you're waiting for the appearance of one specific person.

"Hello y/n." The person said. Before we continue, let's rewind to my first interaction with the person.

(Rewind to 6 months ago)

You have worked with Asiana Airlines for the past year and a half, but this week is your first as the chief operating officer of the company. As the COO, you are to make sure that things go well. Due to the fact that you work for an airline, a part of the things you have to do as the chief operating officer is to make sure that operations are going smoothly on every flight.

Today is one of those days where you have to assess the operations in a flight. You arrived at the airport 2 hours ago and you just boarded the plane, heading from Seoul to Tokyo. It'll be a two hour flight, so you hope you get to enjoy all the in-flight festivities. You took a seat at the window seat in first class, enjoying the whole row to yourself as the flight is surprisingly empty, at least in first class.

The take off went well and it didn't take long before the pilot turned off the "wear your seatbelt" sign. Since you always felt a bit nervous whenever you're on a plane, you never really take off your seatbelt unless you need to use the bathroom. You decided to distract yourself with the in-flight TV, searching on what movies to watch. Before you manage to find one, you saw a flight attendant walking towards you.

"Good afternoon sir, I'm Haewon and I will be your attendant helping you today. What would you like to order sir?" She asks you. "I'd take the soba along with a champagne please." You told her. "Of course sir." She then went off, preparing your order before she returned to you with your order. She prepared them down, laying it on the table for you before she said, "Enjoy your meal sir. I noticed that you seem tense before. If you need a 'desert', come to the front, I'll be there, alone." She said, teasing you, before she went off. You ate your meal while watching the movie, still contemplating whether you would accept Haewon's offer or not.

(Time skip)

You finished your meal, and you saw that there was still 60 minutes left on the flight. You decided to make the most of it, so you unbuckled your seatbelt and stand up, walking towards the front, closing the curtains in the process. As you walked, you saw Haewon standing near the pantry. She then looked at you, smirking at you before guiding you to the toilet, which you obeyed immediately. Once the two of you entered the toilet, you locked the doors before lifting her onto the sink.

"Make the most out of this please. I need a release, and by the looks of this, so do you." She said, in a begging tone. You smirked at her, before leaning in to kiss her on the lips. She replied with the same intensity, her hands never staying in one place, constantly moving around your back. It didn't take long before you decided to up the pace, reaching onto her tits, grabbing them. "Ah!" She moaned, which allowed you to insert your tongue into her mouth. She did the same to you, and it didn't take longer before you started getting hard.

Haewon noticed this, and decided to move her hands down to your trousers, unbuttoning them before dropping them as well as your boxers, releasing your cock onto the free air. She pulled out of the kiss, spitting on her hand before stroking your cock. You decided to do the same, spitting on your hand before reaching inside her dress, setting her panties aside and starting to rub on her pussy and clit.

The two of you returned to kissing, while simultaneously pleasuring each other with your hands. It didn't take long before you decide to insert your fingers into her pussy, making her moan. "Ahhh." You took the opportunity to move down, kissing her neck and jaw, creating extra stimulation for her. At the same time, she decided to stroke your cock harder.

"You're getting close mister. Just cum on me and we'll fuck. I'm pretty sure you can release more load." Haewon said, teasing into your ears as you groaned, hearing her words as well as feeling her strokes. You decided to up the pace on your fingers, making sure the two of you can cum together.

"I'm close." Haewon moaned. "Yeah that's it baby, cum with me, let's cum together." You groaned into her ears, increasing the speed of your fingers before she lets out one loud shriek and squirted onto your fingers. You continued fingering her, trying to reach your climax as well before she did one final stroke, tightening her hands around your cock, which caused you to cum as well. You finished on her thighs, covering each of them as you sucked on her neck while you cum.

"That was..... incredible. I didn't knew I need a release that bad." You told her, and she smirked at you. "As much as I'd want you to fuck me, I don't have condoms right now." She said. "Yes, that's a shame. Give me your number, we'll fuck in Tokyo." You told her, and she smirked, before typing in her phone number.

(Time Return to Today)

"Haewon. It's been a while." You told her. "Yes it has. How have you been?" She asked you. "Bad. Not fucking you for 2 weeks has been hell." You replied. "Same here. Let's just get to the point." She told you, and you agreed.

You got up from your seat, walking towards her as she walks towards you, meeting in the middle as the two of you reached onto each other's cheeks, making out with each other. It didn't take long before you grabbed onto her thighs, caressing them before you lift her up, earning a squeal from her as you guided her to your work chair, sitting down on the chair. It didn't take long before she moved her hands downwards, resting on your now hardening cock. She rubbed it through your trousers, before unbuckling your belt and trousers, lowering them as well as your boxers, unveiling your now-hard cock.

She immediately starts stroking on your cock at a very fast pace, and it became clear to you that all she wants to do now is focus on your pleasure, so you let her be. You started kissing her neck as well as grabbing her tits from her covered dress, before eventually moving to her thighs and ass, caressing them.

After a few moments, she stopped stroking you and got off you, kneeling down under you. She opened her mouth before spitting on her hand, stroking my cock before she inserted my cock into her mouth. Her mouth was warm, probably the warmest it had ever been ever since she first gave me blowjobs, and the way she moves her tongue is second to none. She knew my weak points, as well as how to hit them and how long she should do it in order to make me cum.

"I'm close." I told her, and she nodded, increasing her pace. It didn't take long before I reached my climax and as I was about to reach my climax, I grabbed her head, pushing it down my cock as I came deep inside her mouth, with the tip of my cock reaching her throat. "AHHHH!" You groaned, as she groaned as well, enjoying your cum. Once you finished cumming, you pulled out of her mouth and she opened her mouth wide, showing you your load. "Swallow it." You ordered, and she obeyed immediately. She then opened her mouth, showing her empty mouth which is a sign that she already swallowed the load.

"Get on the table, lie down." You instructed her, and she obeyed. As she did that, you got your clothes off, getting yourself naked, before you went to your drawer, taking out a box of condoms. You grabbed a pack of condom, as you tore it open, before Haewon grabbed it from you, as she sat up and rolled it onto your hardening cock. You smirked at her, before you lined your cock up with her pussy, before pushing in, earning a groan from her and yourself due to her tightness. You stayed there for a moment, staring at her before she nodded, allowing you to start moving.

You started moving in and out of her at a moderate but deep thrust, allowing you to reach her g-spot sooner than expected. It also allowed her to feel the full size of your cock, which, to your surprise, made her tremble more than expected. You reached for her tits, grabbing her dress strap down before unhooking her bra, throwing it to the side as you thrust into her harder. You started increasing your pace as she wraps her legs around your hips and ass, making you go deeper into her.

"AHHHH YES RIGHT THERE!" Haewon moaned, and you kept on aiming at her preferred spot again and again. It didn't take long before she started clenching as she moaned "I'm close!". You moved one of your hands onto her clit, rubbing it aggressively while you suck on her neck, collarbone and her tits, before she clenched one last time as she.......

"FUCKKKKK!!!!" She moaned loudly as she came, squirting on your cock. You ignored her moans as you continued thrusting in and out of her, prolonging and increasing pleasure to her orgasm. After she came down from her high, you pulled out of her, taking her dress off before you grabbed her by her thighs and lift her up. She wrapped her legs around your hips as you kissed her again, before settling down at the couch.

You lift her up and aligned your cock with her pussy, but as you lowered her down, she grasped your hands. "What?" You asked her. "No protection, just this once, please." She told you, and you considered for a second before agreeing to her idea. Haewon took the condom off your cock, throwing it away to the side before grabbing your cock, stroking it before she lowered herself on your cock. "Fuckkkkkk!" A groan from the two of you, feeling the size, tightness and warmth of each other.

It didn't take long for Haewon to adjust as she starts grinding on your cock, before moving up and down on your cock, managing to hit her g-spot again and again and again. You moved your hands onto her back, making her lean forwards as you start sucking on her tits.

It surprised you that you could last this long, considering how close you were, but you were relieved when she moaned "I'm close". You nodded at her statement, before reaching onto her hips and flipping her over onto her stomach while you were still inside her, earning a shriek from her. You put your hands on her hips, raising her ass up as you started pounding her from behind.

It didn't take for you to hit the sweet spot and you leaned onto her back, kissing her neck and back while your hands play with her tits and pussy, earning tons of moans from her. It didn't take long until.....

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCKKKKKK!" She moaned as she clenched, cumming, HARD. I gave her a few more thrusts before pushing into her as deep as I could, one last time, as I came deep inside. "FUCKK BABY!" You groaned into her ear as you dropped your load inside her scorching hot pussy, still kissing, sucking and biting on her neck.

"Ahhh fuck!" Haewon couldn't stop cumming, so I decided to give her a few more thrusts, prolonging her orgasm, and it definitely helped as she continued cumming, before we both came down from our highs. I pulled out of her, grabbing a tissue before cleaning her up and grabbing a blanket, wrapping the two of you over the couch as the two of you cuddled onto dreamland.

[incognit0slut]

Body on mine

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Y/n and Spencer finds a way to spend the night together on a team retreat. Based on;

warnings: 18+ includes overstimulation, chocking, unprotected sex, creampie, and soft!dom Spence with a mirror involved

words: 5.9k (hehe)

a/n: my goal is to make you hot and flustered by the end of this, also watch the edit I made based on this writing (using voice ai because I mastered eleven labs!). The more delusional we are, the better🥰

MASTERLIST

“…when you put your body on mine, and collide, collide…”

"SNEAK INTO MY ROOM TONIGHT."

Spencer’s gaping mouth was an indication of how baffling her suggestion was. He tried not to give away the disbelief in his eyes, especially when he was good at maintaining a poker face—given he was a master of the game—but it was hard to act as if her words weren’t affecting him. And they did. Badly.

In fairness, it wasn't simply her words that stirred him. It was everything about her. The way she carried herself, the way she stood in front of him, a silhouette against the backdrop of crashing waves and gently swaying palm trees. The way the sun illuminated her features, highlighting the curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes.

But it was her words that heightened his senses as his mind conjured vivid images of what would happen with her proposition. It also reminded him how her suggestive offer happened at an inappropriate time, a moment when he should have exercised restraint.

"I'll leave the door unlocked," her sultry voice, carried by the gentle wind, reached his ears like a melodic symphony. It was a sound that evoked a longing deep within him. "Come by around midnight."

He gulped as his eyes wandered to their teammates gathered by the shore, engaged in a spirited game of beach volleyball, their competitive spirits matched by bursts of laughter and playful banter. Everyone was there except for Rossi who sat under the shade of a massive umbrella, and of course, excluding the two of them, who were now huddled under a food stall nearby.

Spencer had the duty to bring in more snacks and drinks when Y/n offered her help. It turned out she had other intentions behind her assistance, which was anything but innocent with the way she was standing close to him, bringing up their ongoing rendezvous without their friends' knowledge. At the thought of this, he nodded their way. "They'll notice."

"Not when they're fast asleep they won't."

His eyes drew back to her. "Hotch is a late sleeper."

"You're right," she mused, then she gave him a coy smile. "Come by my room around 2 then."

His eyes darted around nervously, his mind locked in a relentless battle between reason and longing. His thoughts swirled in a whirlwind of forbidden fantasies, each one more tantalizing than the last. With a heavy sigh, he gathered the strength to resist the pull of his desires. "Do you think we should do this?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'm offering you to sleep with me and you're opposed to the idea?"

"What? No!" He quickly shook his head. "I didn't mean it that way."

She fixed her eyes on him with an alluring gaze, her lips curved into a mischievous smile. He watched as she removed the plastic wrapper of her recently bought popsicle, pulling out the frozen treat, her fingers moving with deliberate slowness.

"Loosen up, Reid. It'll be fun. Besides," she continued as she drew the ice pop closer to her lips, feeling the coolness radiate from the icy surface. "I brought something along this trip that I really want to show you."

Then he watched her, his eyes drinking in the way she wrapped her lips around the cold treat, unraveling the boundaries of his imagination. She savored the tangy sweetness that burst in her mouth, her eyes never leaving his gaze. The bright red juice trickled down her chin, leaving a sticky trail in its wake and Spencer felt the weight of temptation pressing upon him, especially when her tongue slid along her mouth, capturing every last drop of the delicious treat.

Her movement exuded a potent magnetism, a subtle yet irresistible lure that drew him closer to the edge of indulgence. He would be a fool to decline a night of having her sweaty, naked body writhing under him.

"I'll be there."

And that was how he found himself walking stealthily through their rented villa hours later.

True to his words, Hotch was a late sleeper. But he wasn't the only one still awake in the dead of the night. Somehow he and Rossi were still in the kitchen, indulging themselves in the expensive liquor Rossi had brought along on this retreat. They had also invited him to join, but Spencer feigned fatigue and quickly excused himself, only to find Morgan and Garcia coming down the stairs as he climbed up to the second floor.

Now it was barely past midnight and half of the team was still wide awake—but he couldn't wait any longer. Not when the curiosity of what she wanted to show him fueled the fire within him, intensifying his longing with each passing second.

That was why he was making his way toward her room as stealthy as possible. He glanced down the dim-lit hallway before stopping right in front of her door. It was then he heard the faint shuffling noises coming from the room next door, certain it was Emily's lodging for the night. Then suddenly the door next to him rattled and Spencer's eyes widened as the adrenaline coursed through his veins, his heartbeat quickening its pace.

He reached out in a single fluid motion, his hand trembling ever so slightly, and grasped the cool metal handle in front of him. A rush of relief washed over him as he quickly slipped into the room before closing the door harshly amid his panic, a jarring thud echoing in the silence.

The sudden sound jolted Y/n as she twirled around in surprise.

"Reid," she hissed, her eyes darting toward the clock on the wall. "What are you doing? I told you to come by in another two hours!"

He looked over to her, and whatever thoughts he had at that fleeting moment completely dissolved into thin air. His eyes fell upon her and his words become entangled in a tangled web of astonishment. Spencer had seen her in clothes that weren't exactly modest, but he had never seen her adorned in a risqué outfit that accentuates every contour of her body.

The dress clung to her like a second skin, embracing her curves with a provocative grace, tracing the outline of her waist and hips with tantalizing precision. His eyes caressed the gentle slope of her shoulders, the smooth expanse of her collarbone, and the delicate neckline that plunged daringly. The delicate lace and sheer panels teased his senses, offering glimpses of beauty that lay beneath the surface—a beauty he could see a fragment of as his gaze lingered on her hard nipples pressed against the see-through fabric.

"Is that—" He cleared his throat, the hoarseness in his voice sounding foreign to him. "Is that what you wanted to show me?"

She looked into the full-body mirror she stood before by the bed, catching her reflection. "Technically. I brought a bunch of these and I was trying them on..." Her eyes drew back to him. "Until you came sooner than expected."

"Should I not be here now?"

"It kind of ruins the surprise."

His eyes slowly roamed across her body, stopping a little longer on the short hem of her fabric that stopped in the middle of her thigh. "I'd say you've accomplished whatever reaction you were aiming for."

She watched as he took a slow step forward, his eyes never wavered from her, locked onto her form with an intensity that had her feeling breathless. "I take it that you like this one?"

"I love it."

An amused smile formed on her lips. "But you haven't seen the other ones I brought."

"I'm certain I would also love them on you. But this—" His gaze revealed the depths of his desire, a hunger that burned bright within him. It was a flame that flickered in his eyes, igniting the anticipation that coursed through his veins. "Never knew I liked the color red."

As he took deliberate steps towards her, a surge of anticipation gripped her being. The intensity of his gaze, filled with longing and need, held her captive. With each stride, he closed the distance between them, his presence growing stronger, more intoxicating. She could feel his gaze caressing her, leaving a trail of heat and anticipation.

As he finally stood before her, the weight of his presence wrapped around her like a warm embrace. Visibly heaving and clenching her thighs, she peered at him with veiled anticipation, unbidden lust scorching at her core which lost all battle to and demanded to be consumed by the heat that radiated from his body. She could feel the intensity of his need, tangible and potent.

"You're beautiful," he said, reaching for her waist, both of his thumbs lightly rubbing along the material of the soft fabric. Then his hands slowly slid their way up her hips, gradually snaking their way up over her rib cage until both of his large palms paused at her breasts. "So fucking beautiful."

Then he squeezed her breasts roughly over the material and she gasped, thighs tightening together.

Y/n wasn't sure which reason she was surprised more, the way his touch was rougher than usual or the fact that he was cursing, because there were only two occasions for that to happen—either he was really, really mad, or he was far too aroused to properly filter his mouth.

It was definitely the latter considering she could distinctly see the bulge forming in his pants. And then his hands were quickly sliding down her body, gliding down over the curve of her ass. Feeling his fingers splay wide over each cheek beneath the fabric, he abruptly gave her a firm squeeze.

The way they stood in front of the mirror gave him a clear view of her backside as he marveled at the way her flesh molded in his grip. The tips of his fingers grazed her skin, the fabric having ridden up while he roughly kneaded her ass. Spencer almost purred when both of his hands fully slipped under the material only to be greeted with bare skin.

"Are you not wearing anything under this?" he whispered into her ear, the tip of his nose nuzzling into her cheek.

"It's called a thong."

He took a step closer and she could feel his arousal pressing into her leg. His forehead dropped down to her shoulder, resting there as his nails lightly dug into the flesh beneath his hands. "You want to torture me, don't you?"

She couldn't stop the giggle falling from her mouth. "Maybe."

He lifted his head, gently nipping at her shoulder. A shudder ran down her spine when he lightly kissed the spot afterward. "Laugh all you want now," he softly murmured against her skin. "You won't be able to laugh by the end of tonight."

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to surrender completely to his caresses, to the raw intensity that pulsed in her veins. "Spence."

The way she pronounced his given name held a power that transcended the ordinary, leaving him spellbound. "I love it when you call my name."

She felt a surge of confidence in his words that she let out a moan a she threw her head back, giving him better access while he gently peppered her neck with kisses. "Spencer."

Then it happened in a flash. One moment he was holding her gently and the next thing she knew, rough fingers gripped around the base of her throat, forcing her to look into the depths of his eyes. She could sense the unyielding force of his longing and desire. It was a palpable energy, a hunger that radiated from him, enveloping her in its intensity. She squirmed in his grip, mouth open as she gasped for air.

"Now you're just playing with fire."

She sensed the dominance that simmered beneath his touch, an innate desire to take control, to possess her completely. His hands, firm yet gentle, left trails of sensation along her skin, marking her as his own. It was a force that she couldn't ignore, nor did she want to. Instead, she surrendered to the raw power of his need, allowing it to wash over her.

"I must warn you," he murmured, licking across his bottom lip. "I'm not feeling like my usual self tonight."

She felt a shiver of anticipation ripple through her body. His words, laced with a commanding tone, sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core.

"You trust me, don't you?" She found herself nodding in agreement. "And you'll tell me if I'm being too much on you?"

She nodded again.

A satisfied smile played on his lips. "Good."

Then his breath was on hers. Their lips finally met in a gentle, tentative union, the soft brush of skin against skin. It was a delicate dance, a mingling of breath and desire that sent ripples of sensation throughout their bodies. She gasped out a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her, rolling her lips into the frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

As their bodies pressed closer, their mouths molded together with a hunger that defied words. It was a sensory feast, an exploration of pleasure that left them craving for more.

He slowly pulled away and breathed against her lips, "Turn for me."

Her hazy mind was trying to comprehend his request. "W-What?"

"I want to see you. Turn around for me."

She obliged his command without further thought, mostly because she was already willingly surrendered to the force of his dominant nature.

He stood behind her, his gaze fixated on the reflection before him. The soft glow of the ambient light accentuated her curves, casting a mesmerizing aura around her. His fingertips grazed the smooth surface of her arm, a gentle caress that sent shivers of anticipation coursing through her body. "Look at how beautiful you are."

He watched himself in the mirror as his hands made their way from caressing the softness of her stomach to gripping onto points of her hips and then up over the swells of her breasts. He gave them both a firm squeeze, admiring how they looked in his hands, how her skin radiates beneath his own. Then his lips descended upon the nape of her neck, pressing gentle kisses that left a trail of fire.

She whimpered when he pinched gently at her nipples to see it harden instantly against his touch. "...Spence."

He hummed a satisfied sound as his hands found their way back to her hips again, directing her with a low, sultry groan, "Sit down between my legs." Her eyes snapped towards his through the reflection. He simply smiled. "Don't worry. Just let me admire you."

That was how she ended up sitting in front of him on the bed, her back resting against his chest. Spencer carefully nudged her legs apart with his hand, and she couldn't resist looking away when she saw herself in such an explicit and vulnerable position. His breath, warm against her skin, mingled with the scent of her arousal, creating a heady atmosphere of desire. "I thought you wanted me to admire you in this outfit?"

Her eyes were brought back to the mirror. "I do."

"Then watch me while I do exactly just that."

He didn't leave her time to react because his fingers were already trailing around to feel over her stomach, across the dip of her navel, up and down the thickness of her thighs until they stopped between her legs. She could see herself clearly. The slick fabric of her thong was already a second skin to her, sticking against her arousal which barely covered her sex. Then his fingers moved deliberately slow as he grabbed onto the flimsy material, gently knitting it together in his hand before pulling it up along her wet folds.

Oh my god.

The friction startled her as she felt an unfamiliar pain while he continued to tug on the fabric, but at the same time, she felt a surge of arousal as it nudged against her clit. She was lost in this feeling, of him grinding the material against her core, of the view of her legs spread wide open in the mirror, of his ragged voice breathing in her ear... it was all too much.

And when she thought she couldn't take more of the pleasure building up in her body, he proved her wrong by pushing her thong aside, finally exposing her flesh in the open. The second his fingers slipped into the pooling wetness of her folds, spreading them open for himself to see, she couldn't help but let out a moan louder than she intended to.

"Shh," he cooed, his breath hot against her skin. "We don't want the others to know what we're doing, do we?"

She shook her head helplessly, watching as his fingers continued their exploration. She could already feel him harden with each steady, rhythmic beat of his heart while his fingers explored her, collecting the slick of her arousal before spreading it along her folds. His voice was a bit louder this time, the filthy words echoing in her clouded mind, "You like this, don't you? Look how fucking wet you're getting."

There went another curse word and somehow it managed to peak her arousal. There really was something about being the reason for him to act this way, so primal and dominant, so crude and demanding. His voice, deep and resonant, carried an authority that sent shivers of anticipation cascading through her body. It was a voice that commanded attention, demanding her full submission to his desires.

"Do you wanna see how my fingers look inside you?" He was taunting her now, teasing his fingers around the entrance of her like a twisted, evil game.

One of her hands gripped his thigh, the need to be pleasured so strong in her core that she couldn't help but cry out desperately. "Spencer, please...please."

He gently laughed at her despair, the throaty sound made her shiver. She let out a soft whimper when he finally gave her desperate pleas by sliding his middle finger into her.

Her eyes rolled at the back of her head before she instinctively closed her eyes. "Fuck..."

It wasn't long before his other hand gripped her chin, forcing her to open her eyes. "Keep your eyes open or I'll stop," he groaned into her ear. This alone almost sent her teetering right over the edge, just feeling his finger locked inside her. She settled to watch how his hand flexed as he began to slowly pump his finger in and out of her before adding another to stretch her out.

The bedroom was quickly filled with the lewd sound of his fingers plunging into her, suddenly moving at a crazy, mind-numbing pace as he curled them the way he knew would make her weak.

Her throbbing heat swallowed his fingers greedily as she caught a glimpse of them in the mirror, the only sounds echoing in their shared space were the hard breathings and low noises of her wetness and his fingers finding that sweet spot relentlessly. Spencer gently placed a kiss on her cheek and pressed his palm against her clit, feeling her body jolt in pleasure as he moved his hand.

She turned her head towards him, her lips capturing his in a needy kiss. He swallowed all her whimpers and bit her bottom lip before her tongue slid inside his mouth, sloppy and rough, and yet he wouldn't have it any other way. The closer she was reaching her high, the more intense the movements of his fingers became. She let out a gasp when the coil in her stomach tightened her core.

"Keep your voice down," he whispered, his fingers still driving in and out of her. "Don't worry, I got you. I got you."

She did her best to try to drag her focus back to their reflection through her fogged daze from her heavy, closing lids. The sight of him withdrawing his soaked fingers from her to circle changing patterns across her clit elicited a symphony of sighs and gasps, a testament to the depths of her pleasure. She could feel his breath against her skin, warm and tantalizing, as he placed gentle kisses along the nape of her neck.

"Spence...I'm so close," she sighed between heavy pants.

He nodded against her. "I can feel you. Let go for me. I want to see you."

She closed her eyes, ready to simply enjoy the thrilling and wonderful feelings of the pleasure he was bringing to her. When she was about to reach for her high, rolling her hips against his fingers as the tension in her body rose higher, he suddenly pulled them out and she whimpered at the loss. Her eyes settled on his gaze through the mirror.

"Sweetheart," he whispered gently, but then his fingers gripped around her throat again, forcing her attention back on her arousal glistening in the light. "I need you to keep your eyes on yourself."

She let out a strangled moan but managed to nod her head helplessly. Satisfied she was listening to him, he then started rubbing her clit roughly. She let out a muffled cry as she felt her orgasm rushing, his hold tightening around her throat as his fingers kept stimulating her clit in quick motions. She cried out his name over and over like a skipping, broken record.

"That's it. Say my name," He nipped at her skin, stinging that sensitive flesh between his teeth. "You're doing so good."

One look at the reflection before her was all she needed to fall apart. Seeing his arms holding her in place while his thighs were wide open behind her was more enticing than she had ever imagined. The way he touched her, so caring yet so dominant was the last drop for her to come hard, nails digging painfully into his forearm as her body went rigid.

The person staring back at her was one she almost didn't recognize. Her hair was frizzy and disheveled as it stick to her cheeks, her cheeks were flushed bright red and her face was coated in a sheen of sweat. Her eyes followed down her own body to see the mess coating his fingers, pooling between her thighs. She was still trying to reel back her senses when he suddenly let go of her.

"Lay on your back," he demanded, carefully pushing her onto the bed.

Then he proceeded to jump off the bed, his hands quickly removing his shirt before throwing it to the floor. Then she watched him as he started unbuckling his belt and—how did he manage to make it look so sensual? He dragged his tongue across his lips as he lingered at the sight of her sprawled wide open before him. The sound of his zipper being pulled down echoed throughout the room while he locked her gaze, finally slipping out of the last piece of clothing.

In one swift motion, he reached out and hooked his arms under her thighs and roughly yanked her further toward the edge of the bed. She squealed at the sudden movement in which he leveled her with a strong, disapproving gaze. "What did I tell you about keeping quiet?"

She nodded and watched as he slipped off her thong through her legs, slightly lifting her hips. Then he moved closer and positioned himself between her legs, taking his twitching cock in his hand as he stroked from base to tip, ready to bury himself inside her.

"So messy," He mumbled, dragging his cock along her folds as the head caught her entrance. "You're drenched."

She grumbled out a faint whimper.

"Make one noise and I'll stop," he sighed before slotting the head of his cock through her slit, catching the dewy arousal pooling there. Every fiber of his being trembled with the weight of desire, teetering on the edge of control.

"S-Spence," she mewled, her cheeks heated at the sensation of him pushing into her, the burning stretch of his tip reached places that felt nearly impossible to find.

"Shh," he whispered, desperately holding onto every self-control he had with the way she was already gripping him. "God, you're so tight."

"Baby," she mumbled, biting her bottom lip as she looked up at him with the utmost desperation. "Just fuck me already."

It was as if a dam had burst, unleashing a torrent of pent-up desire that had been building within him for far too long. The walls he had erected to hold back his cravings began to crumble, surrendering to the tempestuous storm that raged inside him.

With a breathless whisper, he reached out, his hands trembling in anticipation. "I'm afraid I don't have the restraint to be gentle," he exhaled, appetence thick in his throat. Searching fingers trailed over her stomach and eventually rested at her thighs and dug into the flesh until he couldn't hesitate anymore, and thrust to the hilt. "Forgive me."

At that moment, he finally let go, relinquishing control to the overwhelming force of his desire. He started out slow, enjoying the tightness wrapping around him as she gasped out his name. It was like he was reading her mind, moving at exactly the right pace to make her comfortable, but also building that delicious pressure. The roll of his hips pulled her into a trance as her body responded; muscles straining, eyes widening, lips parting.

She watched as he threw both of her ankles up onto his shoulders, his hands pinning them to his body. She felt his fingers firmly grip her legs tighter before he abruptly snapped his hips forward, his cock driving all the way into her instantly.

“Keep going," she breathed out, eyes snapping shut.

The grip on her face startled her as her eyelids fluttered open again. "Keep your eyes on me."

A low moan escaped her lips. He leaned over, hovering above her, his hands pushing her legs as they pressed against her body. The position allowed him to bury himself so deep inside of her, that the pleasant sting of him hitting her reverberated around her entire body. Her legs along his chest were already trembling against him as he continued to slam himself into her over and over.

"Don't make a fucking sound."

She hummed a reply before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft, hungry kiss. He trailed his lips down her throat before slightly pulling away, watching the way she was staring up at him, gasping and withering at every hard thrust of his hips. Her eyelids grew heavy under the weight of his stare, her mouth going slack as she felt the slow withdrawal of his cock, but she wasn't prepared for the way he rammed himself swiftly forward into her seconds later.

"Fuck, baby," she whimpered, feeling him stretching her all over again.

His hand slid back down to her throat, wrapping his fingers around it. Squeezing with just the right pressure, he picked up his pace, his hips rocking more rapidly into her. The hand on her throat tightened and she relaxed into his touch, feeling her climax reaching up to her as her own hand latched onto his forearm.

She continued to meet his savage thrusts with her hips, though his pace was near impossible for her to keep up with. Every soft grunt of his was falling almost into her ear and she couldn't help the way it was sending goosebumps across her skin. "Spence."

He could feel her walls clenching around him. "Don't come before me."

The demand startled her, because in honesty, Spencer always prioritized her needs before him. "W-What?"

"Trust me," he grunted, his lips hovering inches above hers. "Hold on a little longer."

There was nothing else she could do but to obey. There was something addicting with the way she easily surrendered control to him with so much trust that made pride swell in his chest, something about the sight of her obediently agreeing to him. Each forward thrust of his hips had her jolting, her breasts bouncing inside her barely covered outfit as the tip of his cock hit deep inside her.

The sounds that filled the room were vile. She faintly looked down between them as the crude sound of her slick walls squelching around his cock rang in her ears, leaving creamy rings of her slick around the base of his cock. A motion almost knocked the wind out of her as she let out a silent moan, lips parted in pleasure as he began a frantic pace.

And then he came undone. The intensity of his orgasm was enough for him to have an out-of-body experience, his vision going white as he filled her, her name drunkenly dripping off his lips. It was also enough for her to feel his warmth spread in her core, enough for her to clench hard around his cock as her own orgasm tugged her without warning, her legs shaking and her vision blurred as she felt the sensation traveling through every nerve of her body.

Her pleasure didn't go unnoticed by him as he frowned, his chest heaving while he tried to calm himself. "I thought I told you to wait."

She looked up at him tiredly. "You made it hard for me to wait."

He gave her a manic smile that sent a shiver down her spine before prompting himself on his arms, his dark curls tickling her skin as he stared down at her. The moment she felt him moving his hips again, she looked up in a panic.

"What are you doing—shit." He thrust his hips into her violently, her body squirming at his movement. "T-Too much."

"You came without my permission, might as well give you another one."

She bucked wildly beneath him, trying desperately to escape the tormenting way he was thrusting into her. She bit her lip from making a sound as he leaned back, pushing her thighs wide to expose her to him. "I-I can't."

"You can," he muttered, eyes never leaving the way he filled her up, his own release coating the slickness of her arousal. It was such a crude, messy sight, yet he was so infatuated by it. His thumb then fell on her swollen clit, moving it frantically in a circular motion. "You've been doing so well."

"Fuck." She stuttered out incoherent words as he thrust in and out of her in quick progressions, impatient and rabid. Pleasure and pain intermingled with each other so much that her brain couldn't process which one was which as they blurred. "Spence."

Then she couldn't take it anymore. It was too much for her to bear as her body erupted in flames, every vein of her being scorched with the fierceness of pleasure running through it, every collision of his hips into her sending sparks down her thighs. The climax swept through her like molten lava, swallowing her whole and threatening to drown her in a sea of pleasure. 

"That's it, good girl," he grunted. There was something about how she was letting him witness such a sight, to let him bask in her lust-driven state. His fingers continued their torture on her clit. "So fucking pretty."

He didn't allow her even a moment to reprieve or a second to fully come down from her high, keeping up the same frantic pace until she was freefalling into another orgasm so strong that she briefly forgot how to breathe. It wracked through her like a creature possessed, pulling her muscles taut and rendering her completely speechless. She couldn't have screamed his name even if she tried. Every nerve seemed to vibrate with divine electricity that consumed her entirely. She trembled uncontrollably, her limbs quivering with the sheer magnitude of the sensations coursing through her body.

Her vision became a hazy blur as the world around faded into insignificance. The room, once familiar, now dissolved into a backdrop of abstract shapes and colors. Her eyes, filled with tears of ecstasy, mirrored the tumultuous storm within. They spilled over, tracing a path down her flushed cheeks. She gasped for breath, struggling to anchor herself in the midst of the whirlwind that enveloped her.

Somehow amidst her shaking form, Spencer managed to pull her into his embrace, settling them onto the mattress before pulling the covers over their body. He held her and peppered the side of her face with gentle kisses as his hands soothed down her trembling body. 

“Hey, I got you. I'm right here."

The intensity was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a fusion of pleasure and vulnerability that brought her to the edge of her limits. She clung to the precipice, teetering on the brink of overwhelming release, as her body continued to convulse. Her grip tightened on his arm as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"Baby, breath with me," he muttered, gently cupping her face. "Breath in... breath out."

She followed him, her chest rising and falling with every breath she took as he helped her through it. And as the tremors subsided, she gradually returned to herself, her senses reawakening to the world around her. Her breathing steadied as she basked in the aftermath of the blissful storm that had swept her away.

"I'm sorry."

She shifted in his arms and glanced at him, noticing the way he was looking at her with worry. "Why?"

He gently swiped away the remnants of the tears still glistening in her eyes, evidence of the overwhelming intensity that had consumed her. "I pushed you too much."

"Spencer," she said, her voice dripping with astonishment. "That was the best sex of my life."

An amused chuckle escaped his lips. "Yeah?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "And it would hurt my ego if you don’t say the same thing."

His shoulder shook as he continued to laugh. "Y/n," he urged on, pressing a soft kiss on her mouth, smiling against her lips. "You're the best of everything that has ever happened to me."

As his words washed over her, a surge of warmth and tenderness enveloped her heart. She looked into his eyes, her gaze locked with his, and she could see the sincerity that radiated from his every word. His confession held a weight that transcended mere compliments or flattery and a soft smile played upon her lips as her eyes shimmered with a mixture of joy and disbelief.

But their moment was interrupted by the sudden sound of the door rattling without their knowledge.

"Y/n," Garcia walked into the room, her eyes focusing on the tablet in her hand. "Can you—"

Then she looked up, her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she stood still. She blinked, hoping to dispel the illusion, but it remained, solidifying the reality of what she beheld. She finally let out a scream.

"What the hell?!" She groaned in disbelief, quickly turning around. "Seriously?"

Y/n winced and let out a sigh. "...surprise?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't see that!" Garcia yelled, already out of the room as she shut the door behind her. Then her voice rang in the air, muffled by the walls. "I'm happy for the both of you but very, very traumatized."

Her footsteps disappeared down the hallway and Y/n let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding. She quickly swat Spencer's arm and gave him a glare. "You didn't lock the door?!"

He gave her a sheepish smile. "Oops."

"Reid."

"You distracted me with your outfit!"

She groaned, burying her face against his neck. It wasn't that she didn't want anyone to find out about them, everyone would eventually know how infatuated they were with one another. But she never thought they would find out this way.

He slowly kissed her shoulder before mumbling against the skin, "So much for keeping quiet, huh?"

She burst into laughter, shoving an elbow into his side, not knowing whether to find this amusing or wanting to die out of embarrassment. "Shut the fuck up."

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part three.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” You look down at the post. The photos, carefully taken a few nights ago while getting ready for a dinner gala you’d been brought along to as Sophia’s plus one, are pretty. She and you had scrolled and sorted and scrolled and sorted some more trying to pick the perfect ones, and then you’d written and rewritten the caption more times than you could count before finally settling on something vague but faintly implicit.

You study it for a moment longer, then look back up to your friend.

She smirks. “Trust me. It'll work. I got an ex-boyfriend to come crawling back begging for another chance by making him think I was already moving on.”

“It just seems… mean,” you murmur, frowning. You want Oscar to like you— you want it a lot— but you're not sure if this is the way you want to go about it. “Isn’t this just manipulating him?”

Sophia sighs and falls back onto the bed beside you. She gives you a look, gestures down to your phone, and then curls around your shoulder so she can peer down at the screen. “It’s not a soft launch. There’s no guy. The caption doesn’t mention anyone. If he gets the impression that you’re with someone else, then that’s on him.”

You trust her, of course, but this is Oscar. You’ve known him for years. He’s your brother’s best friend, and for the longest time, he was the closest thing you had to a best friend too. As twins, anything Logan did you tended to do with him— soccer, swimming, biking. You even had shared birthday parties growing up. Karting was the first real thing he’d done on his own, but even then you’d always been close by, and that meant you’d always been close by to Oscar too.

Like she can sense your continued hesitation, Sophia speaks up again. “If you post that, and he doesn’t react, then that’s that. You don’t have to do it again.”

“I just— I don’t know.” You worry your lip between your teeth. “I just don’t think it’s the type of thing that he’d go for. He’s, you know, polite like that, I guess? If he thought I was taken, or moving on, or something, then he’d respect that and wouldn’t bother me.”

The silence hangs in the room. She’s still leaning against you, one hand rubbing your shoulder comfortingly and the other hugging you into her. When you stand, she lets you go easily, watching as you begin to pace the length of your bedroom, phone clenched tightly in your hands.

When you finally come to a halt in the corner farthest from the bed, you turn and meet her gaze shyly, “What if he stops ‘maybe’ having feelings for me because he thinks I'm taken? Or, what if he thinks I’m not interested and so he doesn’t ever bring it up?”

“Then you take one for the team and you tell him,” she shrugs. “Woman up and admit that the entire time you were out in that fancy dress of yours with those roses, you’d wished it was him who had gotten them for you and you’d wanted it to be him you were getting dressed up for.”

You look back down to your phone.

You’ve never done this before— boys, at least. The chase. Europe hadn’t been a very easy place to live— not with a schedule that made keeping friends virtually impossible, let alone a boyfriend. When you moved back to the United States, you were focused more on your career, prioritizing yourself over anything else.

You’d been single for so long that you hadn’t been in any hurry to change things, but now the lack of experience is making you nervous. Apart from movies and books and the borderline horror stories Sophia has told you about her own disastrous love life, you don’t know the first thing about dating.

“Y/N, is this about Oscar or something else?”

You look up, still biting at your lip. “What if we break up and I’ve ruined a friendship?”

Sophia raises an eyebrow, “Is he the kind of guy that would throw away a friendship because things didn’t work out?”

“I don’t know! That’s the problem! I wanna say no, that he’d be totally fine and we would be able to pretend like nothing happened and go back to how we were before it all, but I can’t,” you cross the room and lower yourself onto the bed again. “Context matters too. What if it’s a really messy breakup and we can never look at each other the same? What if he does something so unforgivable that it ruins his friendship with my brother? Logan worked hard to make friends and this first season was rough for him. He’s the only American driver on the grid, and they weren’t exactly welcoming. But Oscar was there for him and I would never forgive myself if I did something to ruin that.”

“What could Oscar do that would be so unforgivable it would ruin a friendship?”

You fall back onto the mattress. “I don’t know that either! Realistically he wouldn’t do anything because that’s just who he is— he’s like the nicest most genuinely sweet guy I’ve ever met. But I’m not a fortune teller! I can’t look into the future and know that he won’t get tired of me and go find some other girl, or, I don’t know.”

You can feel tears burning at the back of your eyes and wipe at them harshly.

Sophia notices and lays down beside you, pulling you into her side again. She runs her fingers through your hair and lets you compose yourself a bit more before she speaks up again. When she does, it’s— “You’re so afraid of the worst-case scenario that you aren’t even letting yourself take the chance. Sometimes you just gotta leap before you look and believe that you’ll land on solid ground.”

“I hate when you get philosophical on me,” you murmur, a soft laugh slipping past your lips.

She sits back up and rolls her eyes, but there’s a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Puh-lease. As if you’d ever get anything done without my wizened words of advice.”

You sniffle and wipe the last remnants of tears from your eyes, then sit up with her and look back down at your phone. The unfinished post still stares back up at you.

“What if I just—” you delete the caption for the umpteenth time and let your fingers dance across the screen, “—say this instead?”

Sophia leans over your shoulder, reads the new caption, pauses, and purses her lips. She reads it again, hums, and then breaks out into a grin. An incredulous laugh slips out and she turns to you with shining eyes. “You’re a damn genius! I knew you were worried over nothing. You just gotta stop getting into your head so much.”

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, and 12,827 others

yourusername honey, i’m still free. take a chance on me.

view all 7,631 comments

user WHAT???

user IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH???

↳ user she’s literally saying she’s still free?? why would she say that if this is a soft launch?? 😭😭

logansargeant should’ve taken me with you 😒

↳ yourusername logie we both know you hate black tie events

user girl idk how you can do it i’d be spilling out of that dress with one wrong turn

user THE ROSES?? THE BABY’S BREATH?? I’M SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS

landonorris slay girl queen boss

↳ yourusername lando… what…

↳ landonorris i’m in my supportive era 😌💅 you should try it sometime

user i NEED to know where that dress is from omg

user oh to be a young rich and beautiful socialite

user not to be delulu but there’s a surprising lack of op81 in these comments 👀

INSTAGRAM.

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 429,868 others

oscarpiastri it’s summer somewhere right?

view all 1,021 comments

landonorris hm this caption seems familiar 🤨 i wonder what it could be referencing 🤔

user GOOD LUCK IN 2024 OSCAR 🧡🧡🧡

user wishing this were me rn

user i’m too delulu for this rn 😭

↳ user i’m waiting for y/n to show up in these comments

↳ user did they have a fight or smth??? they haven’t commented on each other’s last few posts

user gosh that’s the dream rn

When you answer the unknown number, on your way back to your room with a tub of ice cream and a plan to eat away your disappointment at the failure of Sophia’s plan, the last thing you expect is to hear Lando Norris of all people on the other end. There’s no greeting, no introduction, just an immediate— “Yeah, so, I’m gonna need you to fill me in on the sitch.”

For a brief moment, all you can do is stand there in the hallway with your phone pressed to your ear, wondering if this is real. You’ve had maybe a few brief conversations with Lando throughout your various visits to the paddock across the season, and though he was very nice and polite, and all of your interactions were friendly, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself friends. Certainly not “swap numbers and call one another” type of friends, either. Your most recent socializing has been strictly confined to the comment sections of Instagram posts.

“Hello? Y/N?”

You clear your throat, “Sorry. What?”

“The sitch? Situation? That’s an American slang word, I thought you knew that.” He says it so matter-of-factly. As if that’s the only thing you could be even remotely confused about in this whole interaction.

“No,” you answer, shaking your head as if it’ll somehow straighten out the spinning of your mind. “I know what the word means, Lando. I’m just wondering why you of all people are calling me right now? How’d you even get my number?”

You can hear music and voices on the other end of the line, muffled and distant, and then a door opens and closes and the extra noise is gone. Lando takes a deep breath and sighs, “If you must know, I got it from Alex, who got it from Lily, who got it from you. So, you know, transitive property means technically I got it from you, too.”

“I’m gonna choose to ignore how wrong all of that is,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose as you continue down the hall and eventually slip into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you.

You do recall giving your number to Lily, and the two of you have shared a few messages since the end of the season— mostly typical check-ins and catching up with the happenings of your individual lives. Occasionally she sends you recipes she thinks you’d like, and you do the same. You knew she’d given it to Alex because she’d asked you first if that was okay, and all Alex had sent was a brief well-wishes when Williams had confirmed Logan’s re-signing, accompanied by a short message that Lily was looking forward to seeing you in the paddock again.

Ignoring all of that, however, you focus on the matter at hand. “Why are you calling? Isn’t it crazy late in Monaco right now?”

He hums. “I’m the slightest bit tipsy, but I cannot take it anymore. If I see one more caption with underlying subtext like this is a forbidden romance in a period drama I am going to, quite frankly, lose my mind. I need you to explain to me what in the fuck is going on between you and Oscar.”

You pause, and then you groan. “Oh my God.”

“Yes, ‘oh my God’ indeed. Now please explain.”

You heave a sigh, because you know he isn’t going to drop this, but you also know that if anyone could help you more than Sophia, it’s probably Lando. He’s Oscar’s teammate, and at the very least, if you can’t talk to Logan, you can talk to the only other person who probably knows him just as well.

“It’s a long story,” you mumble, curling up in your bed.

He makes a sound, like a scoff. “Okay? I have plenty of time.”

So you start from the beginning. Between spoonfuls of chocolate ice cream, you detail how it all started because of a message of condolence, how that had led to a rendezvous for drinks, and how that had led even further to him kissing you in the car as he’d dropped you off at your hotel.

He’s silent up until you mention that Oscar hadn’t acknowledged the kiss at all afterward, and then he makes an affronted noise and mutters something under his breath about stupid guys and heads in asses.

You admit that part of it was your own fault, that you hadn’t attempted to communicate either because you’d been afraid of the reaction and potentially the rejection, but that you’d been kicking yourself ever since for missing out on being able to talk face to face about things when you’d had the chance.

It all culminates in you explaining your current situation, and you tell him about your talk with Sophia and then your friend’s self-proclaimed mastermind plan, which had failed spectacularly when Oscar hadn’t even seen the post.

When you’re finished, there’s a moment of silence before he bursts into laughter.

You flush red in embarrassment and hug the tub of ice cream closer to your chest, feeling miserable and ashamed, but also like you deserve it all anyway. The tub isn’t freezing cold anymore, but the chill still seeps in through your shirt faintly, and it’s comforting against the heated blush.

“Sorry,” he says when his cackling has died down to chuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I actually do want to help. I genuinely can’t take one more post with a caption that’s all thinly veiled pining.”

You pause, fiddle with your spoon for a moment, and then hesitantly ask— “Do you know if he likes me?”

Lando goes quiet, and then he hums and admits that he doesn’t. “But,” he adds quickly, “just because I don’t have total confirmation doesn’t mean it isn’t basically obvious. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I know Oscar.”

You sigh, “But how are you going to help? You can’t just ask.”

“I don’t need to,” he answers, like you’re crazy for thinking he’d do something like that. “I’ve got a plan.”

Great. You run a hand down your face and try to stay optimistic. Another plan.

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry

━━ a/n: a bit more writing heavy this part, and a bit longer because of it, but i'm proud of how it turned out! we're finally getting somewhere, and now we've got lando joining the team. genuinely had so much fun writing him, so i'm excited to feature him in future parts!