#max stop being hot challenge?

[princess00wifi]

Max’s roasts are clean as fuck. HE COOKING TF OUT OF FTR BALD. I LOVE IT HERE.

HE CALLED THEM DICKRIDERS. SHABOING BOING. GET PUNKS DICK OUT YA MOUF.

[rivatar]

His Stress Relief

MDNI!🔞 based off this request!

Pairing: Aged!Up!Neteyam x fem!human!reader

W/c: 1.9k

Warnings/content: SMUT, Dub-con, p in v, cream pie, dom Neteyam, sub reader, dirty talk, cussing

A/n: I hope the anon who requested this enjoys, I didn’t know how you wanted it to go so I hope it’s okay and you like it!😩 And I hope the rest of you lovelies can enjoy too. Keep sending me requests & I love you all 💖

“Don’t go too far out, y/n!” Max shouted as you were already out the door.

It had been a stressful day for you in the lab. You had arrived on Pandora not even a full month ago. Everything was new to you, including a lot of the science they had here. You had just gotten your PhD not long before leaving for this mission and it was all you dreamed of was to work here, but now that you’re here, you found that the work was quite challenging and you didn’t like feeling stupid or behind everyone else.

After getting yelled at by another coworker for doing something wrong again, you decided you needed a break to calm your mind. You told Max you were going to take a walk right outside the facility, it wasn’t really a question for him but more so telling him where you’d be. He was a bit concerned for you as you were still new here but he knew he couldn’t stop you, nor had the time to babysit you.

The door slammed behind you. You spotted a slightly beaten path that led into the forest and decided to walk along it so that you could find your way back later on. You weren’t planning to go far of course but your racing thoughts occupied you so much it had you completely distracted.

Unbeknownst to you, a particular Na’vi had already spotted you and was following you quietly while staying tucked behind the various trees and plants of the forest.

Neteyam was out clearing his mind as well, he was also stressed like you, but his stress was due to his endless duties preparing to be Olo’eyktan soon. He noticed you and instantly became intrigued with you and decided to follow you and see what you were up to. It was something to take his mind off of his responsibilities for once.

You noticed a particularly amazing plant and crouched down to it, smiling gently. Next thing you knew a huge arm wrapped around your front and brought you back into them, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“What the fuck?!” You yelled in terror. You looked down and realized the arm was blue and your soul almost left your body.

“Hi, tawtute,” the creature bent down to speak in your ear.

“Please let me go!! I’m sorry for being out here! Please I’ll go back!” You pleaded and played nice while struggling against his steady hold.

“Nah. I think I’d rather keep you,” he spoke lowly and unbothered.

Fear rushed through your body like a flaming hot fire and consumed all your senses. You wanted to cry at your predicament but you had to keep your wits about you if you were gonna make it out alive.

“P-please! I’ll do anything just please let me go, I won’t tell a soul!” You pleaded some more.

He chuckled and was amused with you. “Anything?”

Confusion etched across your face. “What?”

“You said you’d do anything”

He sounded… suggestive. Or were you just going insane??

“…yeah?”

“I think I’ve got something in mind for your payment. And a way to relieve my stress”

To say your heart was beating out of your chest was an understatement.

“What do you want from me?” You cried.

“You’re not stupid, girl. You know what I want” he spoke sensually as he ran his other hand down the front of your body to cup your pussy. You gasped at the sudden sensation.

He pressed his hard bulge against your butt. “You understand now?”

You weakly nodded, fear still evident in your eyes but you were not wanting to upset him in any way by disagreeing.

Without anymore time to process this, he yanked your pants down and pushed your back forward, making you abruptly fall to your knees with your ass in the air.

You were flushed and felt exposed and vulnerable but before you could think about those feelings anymore, he suddenly ran his tongue up through your slit. You gasped at the pleasure.

“Mmm I love how your little human pussy tastes,” he groaned “much sweeter than the omatikaya girls”

He continued lapping up your juices like a starved man and you had no choice but to take it. It felt extremely good though, your hole clenched, wanting and needing attention too.

“Fucking slut. You act like you don’t want this too but your body says otherwise,” he said while prodding his thumb around your entrance. You tried to push yourself back to get the penetration you craved.

He laughed at your pathetic action. “Awww the little human needs some action? You should be thanking me” he spanked your ass hard.

You whimpered out loud and knew you were indeed being pathetic. But dammit, you were stressed and pent up too.

“Pleaseeee” you begged him shamelessly.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled mockingly.

You backed up more, wordlessly begging him to stop torturing you. So he granted your request and plunged an entire finger in, already brushing your cervix with his long digits.

“Mmm!! More!” You moaned for him.

He groaned at the feeling of your tight, gummy walls sucking him in perfectly.

“So warm and tight… fuck” he purred.

He then plunged another digit in, marveling at how you stretched for him. He roughly sped up, deciding he wanted to watch your pussy cum on his hand.

“Cum for me” he urged you while his other hand groped your ass.

You were whimpering and moaning on the ground, feeling the pleasure wash through your body as your incoming orgasm threatened to burst.

“Can feel you squeezing. Let it go, tawtute”

And just like that, as if his sultry tone and words were all you needed to reach your peak, you came all over his working fingers with your eyes rolling back in your head. It had to be the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

“Mmm, good job sevin” he praised your shaking form, still recovering from the after shocks.

He rolled your limp body over to where you could finally see his face. He was so handsome. Your fucked out face scanned over his toned, muscular body. Every curve and edge of him was perfectly carved by Eywa herself. His body was amazing but you couldn’t believe how stunning his face was. His bright yellow eyes held so much emotion and passion in them and you held his gaze, unable to look away.

He took this opportunity to untie his loincloth rather slowly. The skimpy item of clothing fell down to the ground and just when you thought he couldn’t get anymore visually stunning, he did. His cock was huge to you but fit his body proportions perfectly. It stood up loud and proud, the tip glistening with his shimmery precum.

“I take it you like it, huh?” He asked teasingly but also meant it.

You snapped your eyes back up to him and nodded slowly. Your brain was telling you to be scared but the rest of your body was screaming at you to indulge and enjoy.

He bent back down to your recovering body. His hands reached the bottom of your shirt and tugged up on it. To your own surprise, you submitted and lifted your arms to let him take off your shirt. You did the rest by then unclipping your bra.

He leaned back on his heels and his chest quickly rose and fell at the sight of you being completely naked. His face didn’t change though, he seemed to be trained to show no emotion, though his breath quickening and precum gathering at his tip gave away his arousal to you.

He got closer to you and leaned in for a brutal kiss. His large mouth completely engulfed yours and you tried to keep up with him.

He pulled back to look into your eyes and said, “I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you so good you’re gonna be coming back and begging for more after this”

He left you no time to object this and continued the kiss. Although at this point you were sure you wouldn’t argue with him. Your body was aching for attention and relief.

He effortlessly picked you up and set your back against the grass. “Spread open for me,” he tapped your thigh.

You did as you were told and gave him complete access. He couldn’t wait to feel your tight, wet pussy around him.

He held his dick and coated it in your juices, before angling to start pushing in.

“You are soaked, little human” he said admiringly.

You were also amazed at how aroused you were, you had to admit it had been a while but also none of your previous experiences have been this erotic. Nonetheless you blushed at him stating the obvious about your neediness.

He sunk deeper and deeper, you were both making little noises of discomfort and pleasure at the tight stretch.

“Never had a Na’vi cock huh? You’re in for a treat” he smiled a bit menacingly.

You chuckled nervously, still focusing on breathing and getting through the extreme stretch.

He bottomed out and you moaned as he brushed your cervix. “Is that the spot?”

“Mhmm” you whined.

“I know, I know. Hold on tight, my little tawtute slut”

He removed himself all the way out and slammed back in, his huge balls slapping your skin.

��Fuck” he grunted.

He continued his assault on your cunt, ruthlessly pounding into you like a feral animal, giving you no time to adjust fully.

His mouth was open and relaxed in an ‘o’ as he watched your pretty face screw up in pleasure, both of you taking in the feeling.

You held onto his bulky arms that were settled on either side of you as he hovered over you.

You eyes started welling up with tears from the overwhelming sensation. You were being stuffed to your fullest capacity.

He then bent down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples, while his other hand pulled your other one. You screamed and arched your back off the ground.

“I can’t! It’s too much!!” You squealed and he only let up so he could speak to you.

“Thought you were begging for more earlier? You’ve gotta take it now, cmon just take it like the good slut I know you are”

He then started rubbing your clit, edging you on more. “You gonna cum again? Well I’m gonna cum deep in your pussy, I got a lot and it’ll be leaking out of you for days”

He sped up his thrusts. “Maybe when it leaks out of you, it can remind you of me and you can use it to touch yourself”

His lewd words made your coil snap yet again, and your pussy convulsed around his length.

“Good lil cockslut. Take my cum now” he grunted as his thrusts got irregular and his body locked up. His cum shot deep into you and you felt it get crowded in there with his dick still inside too.

He was panting and sweating above you, his eyes half lidded and looking delirious and spent.

You both suddenly heard a distant cry, like a Na’vi calling out as communication.

His ears went up and he pulled out quickly, both of you hissing at the loss. He scrambled to tie his loincloth back on. He leaned down to your face after you sat up.

“Next time you need some na’vi cock again, come to this spot and I will answer your calling” he winked and ran off with his bow in hand, leaving you naked and vulnerable. But… also satisfied.

Taglist: @bambithewriter @neteyamssyulang @professional-yapper @teyamshuman @nonamevenus

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk--

-and come over. p3 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Lando can't stand Y/N, the first female driver in F1. He also can't stand not having her with her clothes on.

warnings: minors do not interact, cursing, a bit of smau...just generally don't take this one too seriously

The following week marked a u-turn in the media strategy of McLaren and Aston Martin. Another set of meetings, very quick as nobody wanted to open a can of worms or cause even more talk on the topic of Y/N and Lando. They studied the material shot for the F1 - and the consensus was to stop the Lando x Y/N part being released out as it gave off strange vibes. It was a mix of pure lack of chemistry and then a sudden spike of sexual tension and a 180 shift. In all fairness it was a bit uncomfortable to watch for the media teams, who had to analyse people they were in direct daily contact.

No unnecessary contact. No joined interviews. Keeping them as apart as possible. Gone were the days where teams would use the sexual tension as a selling point. Times have changed, this would fly really well in 2010's, but now anything of this sorts for a nightmare for PR. Y/N would be undermined. Lando put in a fuck boy category. It wasn't like anyone saw anything happen. None of the people initiating these meetings had even slightest idea that their worst nightmares were only a light version of the truth. If there was ever an elephant in a room, it was this time. Nobody dared to speak their mind. The whisper challenge video came out without the two. Having it cut and deleted from all hard drives was an order and nobody was to speak of it again.

Social media had been strangely quiet, focusing on race related topics. That was until Lando wore a short sleeve, his healing bite mark seeing the light of day and on display for thousands of eyes. How was one suppose to wear long shirts in hot ass countries they were constantly traveling to? Personally, he thought it was cool and there was even a point where he debated having it tattooed - owning the shit out of and taking the power away from Y/N. Max, his best friend, stopped him. But the thought still lingered back in his mind. It had been a little too long since their last night session. Jerking off was fine, but never good enough. The bite mark caused quite the stir among his fans, but he honestly gave little to no shit about that. He was not going to contact her first though. The last thing he would do is to simp up to her. So when there was a hot model present at one their random club night outs, he did not think twice. It was a little too easy for his liking, but he needed to blow some steam. He could have been discreet, he really could. But why? There was a part of him that was excited to see how this would resonate with Y/N. The violent make out outside the club really was not necessary. Especially when Lando knew that there was a photographer sitting nearby patiently, about to make a living out of a Lando's whim.

When Lando scrolled instagram the next morning, he has a little too proud smile on his face. He would never admit it out loud, not even to himself, that Y/N was on his mind when he fucked the brunette. Mediocre night at best. What worried him a bit was that bad sex was something he almost forgot existed. Of course that Y/N saw it. It was one of the first things that popped up on her phone that morning. It did not bother her. Not even closely. She just had a good energy streak, that was her reply to her trainer when she nearly broke the rowing machine at the gym. She uninstalled instagram later in the afternoon, trying to get the instagram girl's face out of her memory.

There was no way she'd be the one texting him for a late night hook up now. Maybe it was for the better in the end. Focusing on racing only now and even potentially beating him on the track. Night got a little too lonely without the option to have him over, on her and under her. She tried baking, reading, got really into chemistry related youtube videos, yet drinking and working out seemed to be the only thing to really work.

Two long weeks passed until she finally received a text. She ignored that her heart skipped a beat when she saw his name on her phone screen.

"Bro. What are we going to do now?"

She rolled her eyes. What a lame ass opening. No point in playing the waiting game, so she replied immediately. She could care less.

"Aw, got bored and miss some quality fucking?" She second guessed the text right after sending. Was that too desperate? She thew the phone away for few minutes. One late night unnecessary coffee later, she picked it right back up.

"No, you little shit. You not on socials or what?"

A screenshot followed.

There were PR nightmares and there was this kind of disaster. Instagram and Tik Tok got installed back immediately. She watched some cuts and edits from their video, low quality snips that were not giving any full image. Comment after comment, the creativity not being of concern to anyone. All of the same note. Is there more to their obvious dislike of each other? There were only few who were concern by why did most of the leak footage give such a hostile vibe. Lando's eye fucking was more of an attractive topic.

She scrolled for few minutes, watching a new shift on their public image unfold. It was mostly the hardcore fans, not really something the big outlets took interest in at the moment. But there was one theme that followed - people were curious. Panic set over her, mind started racing in all possible scenarios. And then did something for the first time - she dialed Lando's number. He picked up reluctantly.

"How did it get out?" she asked right away.

"Hello to you too. And the fuck would I know."

"Seems like something that would fit into your current portfolio, so yeah, I am asking directly."

Lando smiled proudly. She was jealous. Oh, what he would do to see her face now.

"Hate to disappoint, but I don't have the need for cheap attention." Liar, all he wanted was for her to notice him.

"Ok, assuming nobody from your team or my team did, who got it out?"

"I severely overestimated your ability to focus on the important thing here, apparently."

"So you tell me, Mr. Genius."

"Like I said before you invaded my evening by this panic phone call. What are we going to do? The last thing I'd want is for someone to find out...about us." It felt strange for both of them, to hear him say it like that. Like it wasn't a problem. Every time someone put them together in a sentence, it had been a bad connotation. But not his tone, this one time.

"Well, I don't know, I've only had a minute to process."

"Oh, take your time, of course. Time flies really slowly on social media, so yeah, I'd say you have about a year or so to react."

"Well, we're obviously not going to react anyway."

"I really hope they don't force us to. I'm getting sick of all the media team meddling in. It's their fault in the first place," he said, unamused.

"Yeah, you're right. Good defense, I will use that if they bring it up."

"Don't worry, you'll get my invoice for consulting in your email tomorrow."

"Aw, McLaren not paying enough?"

"I'm sorry, you're still at Aston, correct?"

"Shut it, Norris. So that's it? We'll just not react and let it go?"

"I mean, what else is there to do. Denying anything will only bring up more questions. It's not like people will believe we're friends."

"That, my friend, is true."

"I'm a smart boy, not only a sex god."

"Uhm." Trouble is that he really really was.

"So we'll just let it die out?"

"Yeah. When someone mentions it, we can say that we just don't get along and that's that."

"Great, no lie there."

There were few seconds of quiet tension. Panic was somehow over, but the high adrenaline stayed. It was late evening, their usual prime time. Would they? Should they? Y/N was debating whether she wanted to see Lando again with the vibe he was setting around himself lately putting her off a bit. But then there was the need for territorial claim. Built up energy that wanted to get out. Both of them silently trying to come up with a line good enough for Lando to come over and "dance" with Y/N in a way no friend would. Lando took a breath to speak, but Y/N was quicker.

"So, wanna come over for a work out?" He was over at her place within 25 minutes.

part 4

[eoieopda]

meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading 💕 I posted an epilogue drabble on 7/26/23. Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it. 

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it —  your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain. 

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance. 

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone. 

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however. 

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs. 

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind. 

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was —” He gestured vaguely. “— To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night. 

That rush of warmth you felt then  — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job. 

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted. “Was that a windshield wiper?”  

“No, that was embarrassing.” 

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink. 

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours.

“And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?” 

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you tease, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —” 

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage.

“— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point: 

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off. “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?” 

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise. 

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning. 

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict? 

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty. 

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.  

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex. 

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk. 

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer. 

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own. 

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness. 

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars. 

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more. 

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank. 

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now. 

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can. 

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement. 

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No. 

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going. 

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap. 

Once more with feeling: thank god. 

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance. 

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances. 

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it. 

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning. 

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all. 

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded. 

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances,  “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck. 

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you: 

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours. 

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours. 

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?” 

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms. 

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod. 

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh. 

Fuck. 

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you. 

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for. 

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap. 

Strike that. 

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive.  “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.” 

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes. 

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks. 

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs. 

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?” 

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn’t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear. 

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.” 

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist. 

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut. 

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear. 

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow,  he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please. 

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

Epilogue, posted 7/26/23.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

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[adawngswife]

sean diaz + daniel diaz modern hcs

i kind of forgot this was exclusively modern at the end just ignore that LMFAO

- sean has no social media presence whatsoever

- a lot of people from school follow him but he only follows lyla and his track team back 😭 popular loner energy 🥀🐺

- i feel like if sean went to hs now hed be sm more popular esp w girls but hes rlly humble so he doesnt see it at all

- hes stupid and just thinks theyre being nice

- it gets on lylas nerves bc he refuses to believe anybody wants him 😭

- all his stories are like fireworks he posted when he was thirteen that he never bothered to delete

- its titled Highlights bc he doesnt know how to make an aesthetic instagram

- if anything, if he posts now its skate videos, drawings, or funny pics of daniel

- sean def takes 0.5x photos of daniel where his eyes go two diff directions and threatens to send them to lyla whenever he starts acting up

- daniel always throws a tantrum and esteban gets mad and tells sean to delete the pics (he doesnt)

- speaking of daniel he def got wayyy into skibidi toilet

- daniel tries to explain skibidi toilet n sean just tunes him out and says “uh huh” every so often

- hes those impressionable kids that gets into literally anything on the internet. among us, squid games, ROBLOX FOR SURE. sticky ipad baby energy overall!

- sean plays roblox with daniel on very rare occasions. i can imagine daniels avatar is decked out with limited items and sean is a bacon haired woman 😭

- daniel has definitely swiped estebans card a couple times under his nose for his robux…

- daniel purposely chooses games hes good at to watch sean struggle and die over and over again

- daniel watches weird kid youtube videos like… among us 24 hour challenge with spiderman and elsa giving birth kind of videos. sean gets really pissed off partly bc theyre rotting daniels brain and partly bc daniel always put it at max volume in the living room

- once sean gets paid he always goes thrifting. he fs goes to the bins and finds dirty dookie drawls every weekend 😭 but its worth it bc he finds cool shit

- as a skater boy i feel its obligatory for him to wear those afflication types of clothing as well as ironic graphic tees

- sean def wears baggy jeans in 2023 🙅‍♀️ none of that straight leg jeans from the game!!

- he also probably loves those ironic wolf shirts w the galaxy print n thinks theyre so funny

- sean also buys clothes in his style for daniel from the thrift n records 360s of daniel in his skater outfits

- “can i go play roblox now?” “no u have to cover ur nose when u turn around”

- got a buzzcut and surprisingly it looked really good

- esteban, daniel, lyla, and practically everyone else in his life kept making fun of him for being bald and would rub his head like a genie bottle tho

- daniels go-to is “well- well at least i don’t look like… look like caillou!” bc i imagine he tries to make funny comebacks but always stutters in the middle 😭😭

- eventually grew it back out bc he got annoyed at everyone making fun of him. they dont see his blond album cover early 2000s vision 💔

- daniel has no room to talk bc sooner or later he goes to the barber and gets a fucked edgar bowlcut

- sean laughs until he can barely breathe 😭 when lyla sees she TRIES to cheer him up about it but its too late

- even esteban laughs a little but only when daniel cant see bc he knows how much itd hurt him

- back to the blond album cover… sean LOVES music. his playlists are hours long

- i feel like he indulges in a super LARGE range of music likeee from bad bunny to deftones to pinkpantheress

- everybody hates it when he has aux and boos him off

- when esteban orders mexican food, sean and daniel both get horchata. sean dgaf if hes grown he still loves it!!

- i imagine esteban slowly stopped enforcing mexican food and culture overtime. bc of this, daniel knows barely any spanish and has 0 spice tolerance. sean always makes fun of him bc he goes gets water after a couple hot cheetos

- daniel tries to recreate those videos of people eating carolina reapers in hot sauce to prove a point and almost dies

- sean absolutely LOVES halloween. horror movies, costumes, the weather, everything abt it

- a part of him always gets jealous of daniel bc hes no longer considered trick or treating age anymore

- lowkey hed be willing to pull up in a full body costume just so he can trick or treat again

- when watching horror movies, sean will get way too immersed and start judging the people in the movies 😭

- daniels not allowed to watch but he peaks around the corner when estebans not watching

- “why the fuck is she just standing there? RUN! WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?!”

- “language mijo”

- he acts like he cld fight off the killer and explains his mastermind plan during the movie

- he doesnt admit it but he gets jumpy after a horror movie 😭 esteban and daniel take advantage of this every single time

- sean daniel and esteban are a tight knit family REGARDLESS of sean’s moodiness and daniel’s annoying gen alpha brainrot theyre so 😢

yes im aware that 2016 wasnt tjat long ago but i dont want to imagine sean diaz enjoying dank memes and saying boi 💔

[f0point5]

intro throughts

Logan being a little pookie, a bit like cute hamster, but he got BUFFED over winter break, wouldn't recognize him if compared to his first race last year

Kevin looking normal, would appreciate maybe a little bit from distance, having his face that close was almost uncomfortable, not bad though

Zhou looking good, I love his hair

appreciate Daniel just smirking, not actual wide smile that close to the camera, love his beard, gives "your daughter calls me daddy" vibe

Nico challenging his pose for future political career

Valterri and his mullet plus his highlighter green suit, not great not terrible, looks better with the bleached hair (at least in my opinion)

Yuki looking like a robot, sorry our Japanese sweetheart they did you dirty

Alex and his natural hair, appreciate it, plus loving the white suit

not gonna lie, that shot of Ocon did things to me that I'm not so sure about

Pierre looking like he wants to kill you (knowing how tall he is, it's how he would have to look up to me as well, makes it quite funny), great shot of his eyes

Lance... where did that hair come from man?!

Oscar, oh my adored Mr Koala. not a bad word about you (insert Kris Jenner's "you're doing great sweetie") - his eyes his neck his hair, consider me dead thank you

George's eyes look so huge there, for some reason he reminds me of The Boss Baby 😂 good thing he didn't do anything stupid or cringe-y this time

can we talk about how proportionally perfect Carlos is? also those eyes see to your very SOUL you perverts!

they did Lando dirty, kinda sad that they did him from afar

Charles being Charles. no other words needed

NANDOOOO! Grandpa of the grid looking amazing, whoever decided to use this shot deserves a raise

Lewis looking like he's preparing for a boxing match, but in a weirdly hot way

not sure about Checo, he stands there kinda like a 🧍🏻‍♂️, love his eyes though

and Max. oh mister please have a mercy with my poor heart, that little smirk and those eyes will keep me awake at night!

that's it, I'm done 😂

Logan did indeed bulk up. I keep seeing videos of him in the paddock and I’m like damn son you had a lot of steak over Christmas.

Don’t talk to me about Ocon. I’m going through something with him at the minute and I’m deeply ashamed.

Oscar is really having a moment. I hope it lasts all year.

They need to stop doing close ups of Daniel.

I liked Lando’s actually. He is a short king but he’s a cutie, and Orange is his colour.

Fernando has definitely had Botox or a chemical peel and he is looking incredible. INCREDIBLE.

Lewis looking kinda hot ngl he isn’t a bit of me but that promo really was.

The Ferrari boys and just models. You can’t even judge them against the rest of the grid they’re just beautiful. The way this team has the two best looking drivers and Red is their colour…I’m going to miss Carlos next year.

Max. That smirk is going to haunt me. In there very best way.

[jarviscockerssecrethusband]

Steve was meant to be working on his confidence. Billy wasn’t helping.

Autistic skill regression had hit him pretty hard after he broke up with Nancy and what had used to be Steve just being a usual dumb jock with a social life landed him slap bang into special ed. Because he’d traded in a stealth hate watching Kalvin Garrah life of parties, hookups where he never really took his clothes off and being King Steve, to not even being able to leave his house and struggling to talk.

Billy was meant to be a social coach, whatever that meant and get him back on his feet so that he’d actually be able to go to college without having a mental breakdown. What Billy was actually doing was making Steve freak the fuck out.

He was remarkably academic, a straight A student who mouthed off just enough teachers to stay popular while helping his single mom with his younger brother Max. He was hot, fit, creative and Steve had to use an aac device to ask for a glass of water.

Even Robin liked him and Robin hated pretty much everyone. That just rubbed salt into the wound of high school hiring a friend for him.

At first, he resisted it as much as humanly possible. Every opportunity he got, Steve would give Billy the slip and crawl back into the janitors closet with his notepad and sketchbook. Then get a lecture from his parents and the principal about it being for his own good. He couldn’t just refuse to talk to people forever.

Steve decided to take that as a personal challenge.

Billy took it all in his stride of course. That was the bit that pissed off Steve the most. He could be the most bitchy King Steve diva and the guy wouldn’t even be phased. Nobody was allowed to be that perfect.

Then Steve found out about Neil. The puzzle pieces started to slot together a little easier after that.

He decided to go a little easier on Billy. Begrudgingly, they got through the worksheet about appropriate responses to the word hello (patronising drawings included) and made it onto the shopping scenario. Billy decided to take a smoke break after that.

They both smoked in silence for five minutes. It was a nice change of pace and god did Billy look hot while smoking. Steve kept that thought to himself.

He got invited to Billy’s house that night. His younger brother opened the door, rolled his eyes and yelled like a banshee until Billy came skidding across the hall, hair still wet from a shower. Probably had a date afterwards as a treat for hanging out with someone as dumb as Steve.

The hangout was mostly sitting on Billy’s bed, laughing at truly horrendous archived Instagram posts until dinner. Billy had actually made him dinner. Mac and cheese.

Steves favourite.

Things were different when Steve came back to school on the Monday. There was an invitation to sit at Billy’s table at lunch, with the cool kids. Steves old friends. He took it.

Steve had really missed Carol. She was great and seemed genuinely excited to have Steve back. Even if he’d gone nonverbal again so couldn’t really talk to her properly.

Billy was absolutely jubilant. Of course it was probably just because he wouldn’t have to be saddled with Steve for much longer, but Steve chose to believe it was because he genuinely wanted Steve to be happy.

The crush had also become rapidly apparent, much to Steve’s dismay. Billy wasn’t doing much good for the matter considering how touchy feely he’d started being. It started out with just shoulder squeezes and a friendly arm across Steve’s shoulder but then they started cuddling. Billy kissing Steve’s cheek. In school. So Steve started doing it back because he certainly wasn’t complaining and hell maybe this was how straight guys acted nowadays.

It was very confusing and looking up why is my friend kissing me just led him to a porn site. But asking why it was happening might have made it stop so Steve just didn’t.

Then Billy asked him to the prom. That was even more confusing.

So Steve did the intelligent thing and asked “like, as bros right?”

Billy appeared to be doing his best impression of a startled horse at that question so Steve made the guess that he may have committed some sort of social faux pas.

Then he very patiently explained that they’d been dating since the day of homemade mac and cheese. That put a lot of things in perspective.

Steve said yes. Billy cried.

Then Steve discovered that a gay makeout beat a “he’s just straight and this is what straight guys do now” makeout by a mile.

This fic is a gift for @dragonflylady77 who is amazing and deserves the world (for any allistics reading unfortunately school assigning you a friend if you’re autistic is a very real experience 💀)

[its-avalon-08]

lando norrix x reader part4

part 4 guys <;3 themes- enemies to lovers flirty interactions female Formula1 driver

Chapter 4 - Laughter and Shadows

The post-race interviews buzzed with the usual whirlwind of questions and soundbites. Max, ever the stoic champion, dispensed his answers with practiced ease. Y/N, however, was a different story. Her playful banter with the reporters had the room in stitches, her genuine humor and quick wit disarming even the most jaded journalists.

"And Y/N," a reporter chimed, "that overtake on Leclerc for P2, absolutely textbook! Were you nervous at all?"

Y/N's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, you know, just the usual pre-overtake existential crisis – should I go inside, outside, fake a pit stop? But then I remembered Charles probably wouldn't appreciate the pit maneuver in Monaco traffic, so inside it was!"

The room erupted in laughter, even Red Bull's resident stoic, Sergio Perez, cracking a smile. Y/N, unable to contain herself, burst into a fit of giggles, grabbing Checo's shoulder for balance. The gesture was casual, friendly, but to Lando, watching from the corner of the media pen, it felt like a branding iron searing his insides.

His jaw clenched, his fists bunched up under the interview table. The playful camaraderie between Y/N and Checo, the ease with which she touched him – it ignited a jealous rage within him that he couldn't explain. He knew Y/N and Checo were just teammates, colleagues, but the sight of them together twisted his gut with an emotion he couldn't name.

Max, meanwhile, watched the entire exchange with a raised eyebrow. He'd noticed Lando's simmering jealousy before, but this… this was a different kind of anger, darker, more possessive. It sent a shiver down his spine, a disquieting premonition of the chaos that might ensue.

"Next question, please?" Y/N's voice cut through the silence, her smile back in place, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing in Lando's heart.

The interviews resumed, a seemingly innocuous exchange of soundbites and predictions. But beneath the surface, a tension crackled, a silent battle being waged in the shadows of the paddock. Lando's eyes burned with a dark fire, his focus shifting from the interviewer to Y/N and Checo, his smile becoming a strained mask.

Max, sensing the growing animosity, exchanged a wary glance with Y/N. They both knew the season was far from over, and the battle on the track was only a part of the story. The real challenge, the true test, would be navigating the treacherous landscape of jealousy, ambition, and the simmering darkness that threatened to consume them all.

As the media scrum dispersed, Max found Y/N alone, a thoughtful frown etched on her face. "You alright?" he asked, his voice low.

Y/N met his gaze, her smile fading. "I don't know, Maxy," she admitted. "There's something about Lando… it's different this time. I feel like he's changed. And holy fuck, its a little hot, but I/m just confused, what did i do?"

Max nodded, a sudden understanding in his eyes. "He's jealous, Y/N," he said bluntly. "Jealous of Checo stealing your laughs, maybe even something more."

Y/N shivered, a cold unease settling in her stomach. "More?" she echoed.

Max didn't answer, but his silence spoke volumes. The laughter and lightheartedness of the interviews felt miles away, replaced by a chilling premonition of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. The battle for victory had just begun, and in this game, the stakes were higher than ever.

[tricoufamily]

🔪rogues gallery legacy challenge 🔪

i'm misleading you most of them aren't even criminals

ok!!! so i made this challenge for myself because i can't commit to any save, but i'll definitely want to play with these sims it's got autism sprinkled all over it. some of you might also like it as well so i'll share it!

this is a ten generation legacy challenge, with every generation loosely based on a different batman villain, but you don't have to be a batman fan to do it.

general rules

start with the default amount of money you get straight out of cas. no money cheats!

heirs can be any gender with any appearance. i think it'd be fun to dress them inspired by the character, but you don't have to. you probably don't want to make the actual character, honestly (what, ivy marries harley, then a few generations later there's just another harley? no)

choose your own succession laws

if you don’t have the pack for the requirement, replace it with whatever is a logical replacement. or just do something else instead, i’m not gonna come through your computer

i have provided alternate requirements when necessary for people who don’t want to play with occult sims

when stated that the sim goes to university, i recommend turning off aging until they graduate. sims without a university requirement can still attend!

if you end up doing this, please tag me in your posts 💜 or at least tell me how it's going in an ask lol

1: poison ivy 🌱

people say you’re a bit intense about the environment, but you say people are too stupid to see what’s right in front of them. the world clearly needs your help, but no one understands you. people quickly disappoint you when you get close to them. they voted against the clean energy production n.a.p.—why shouldn’t their spouse find out about that secret date you had?

stats:

traits: green fiend, hot-headed, loves outdoors aspiration: villainous valentine career: gardener (botanist branch) max skills: gardening, herbalism, flower arranging

requirements:

live in any world but strangerville (it doesn’t have an eco footprint!). make every neighborhood in the world have a green eco footprint—this means you’ll have to live in all of them at some point. big worlds recommended.

get the super green thumb bonus trait from the aspiration rewards store.

leave someone at the altar.

eventually end up with your best friend who’s already in a relationship.

have 3 cowplants. if one of them dies, remove 1000 simoleons as punishment and replace it. what you do with them is your business.

2: scarecrow 👻

between moving constantly, being terrified of the man-eating plants outside your window, and your parent's reputation preceding them, you fantasize about the control you’ve lacked your whole life. you loved creating monstrosities with your chemistry set as a child, and when you finally escape your town for college, your mind leads you to dark places. you evade consequences until your scheming backfires, and you’re haunted for the rest of your life by a terrifying specter your family can’t see.

stats:

traits: paranoid, genius, ambitious aspiration: purveyor of potions (non-occult alternative: academic) career: education (professor branch)/scientist (for non-occult route) max skills: mental skill, mixology skill, cooking skill

requirements:

gain and conquer every adult fear.

go to the university of britechester and major in psychology. join a secret society.

become a spellcaster. feed hexed potions to 5 sims and use negative spells on 10 sims. non-occult alternative: instead of becoming a professor, join the scientist career, and with the sim ray, use the mind control: panic upgrade on all coworkers.

after college, move to another world than where your parent lives.

become cursed with the curse of the night wraith (you may cheat for it if you can’t get it). live 3 days with it then you can de-curse yourself, but not before adding the night wraith to your household (requires cheats). obviously you can’t stop your family from interacting with it autonomously, but never initiate an interaction yourself while playing as another family member. non-occult alternative: use a ghost instead and you can pretend it’s just a figment of your sim’s imagination.

3: riddler 🧩

with your parent who hasn’t slept in days claiming your house is cursed, you drown it out with the internet and video games. your social skills might not be up to par because of it, but you’re a genius the likes of which has never been seen before. according to you, at least. you aren’t easy to get along with, but neither is one of your exes, whose path you just can’t stop crossing. try as you might, you can’t stay away from each other for very long.

stats:

traits: geek, socially awkward, self-absorbed aspiration: chief of mischief career: tech guru (start-up entrepreneur branch) max skills: mischief, robotics, logic

requirements:

as a teen, be in the streamer part-time career. have at least 500 followers on social media.

have a sim you’re dating die.

your “forever partner” has the hot-headed and mean trait. break up and get back together with them 4 times.

successfully hack supercomputer 3 times.

woohoo a servo. at least once

4: harley quinn ♦

you might never be a fully mature person, but that’s okay! you’re a free spirit—a bit unpredictable and fickle, but you’re fun! your parent’s dream is for you to go to foxbury, but one night out drinking with your roommates, you fall head over heels for a mysterious, charismatic stranger at the bar. you very quickly decide to follow them to the city, only to realize that they aren’t who you thought they were, and maybe you’re not who you thought you were, either. you end the relationship and truly find yourself.

stats:

traits: goofball, childish, romantic aspiration: leader of the pack career: doctor max skills: mischief, comedy

requirements:

start a club with your two best friends.

have an equal number of friends and enemies

briefly live on the foxbury campus, majoring in biology. fall in love with a criminal sim with all negative traits, drop out of college, and move in with them in a needs tlc apartment.

work a number of odd jobs and part-time careers while your relationship deteriorates.

break up with your partner, move out on your own, and go back to college. do not live on campus this time—continue working a part-time job while living at home. become a doctor.

5: clayface 🎭

your parent never took life very seriously, but you couldn’t be more different. not only are you fiercely competitive, you have to be liked by everyone. you’re a social chameleon who dreams of the stage. you’re only a high-maintenance, jealous, hothead—fame certainly won’t go to your head…

stats:

traits: high-maintenance, hot-headed, jealous aspiration: master actor career: actor max skills: acting, charisma

requirements:

live in del sol valley.

have a good reputation until becoming a proper celebrity, then earn a bad reputation.

marry and divorce (at least) 2 actors.

fist-fight 5 costars.

after completing the master actor aspiration, gradually lose all fame.

6: penguin ☂

there’s a lot you can say about your childhood, but you can’t say it wasn’t comfortable. with all the trust fund and nepotism you could ask for, what’s there to lose? oh. oh, wait, this trust fund isn’t bottomless, actually. uh oh. better pick up a couple side hustles to keep the lights on.

stats:

traits: snob, mean, materialistic aspiration: mansion baron career: business career (investor branch) max skills: nectar making, fishing

requirements:

never work a job until young adulthood.

spend all or almost all of your inheritance immediately after moving out (have <1500 simoleons).

start selling nectar and fish on the side.

adopt or have 1 solo science baby. be enemies with all of your neighbors but have a max relationship with your child.

have 5 on-and-off woohoo partners but never a real relationship. once you reach mid-adulthood (not young adulthood), you may marry one of your woohoo partners who’s always secretly been in love with you.

7: mr. freeze 🧊

your eccentric parent doted on you, but school was miserable. at least you had one friend, your best friend. as you got older, you got shy about your developing feelings for them—little did you know, they in love with you too. you got married and everything was perfect. and then they died. you’ll dedicate your entire life to bringing them back, no matter the cost.

stats:

traits: gloomy, perfectionist, family-oriented aspiration: soulmate career: scientist max skills: all skills associated with making ambrosia

requirements:

be disliked by at least 3 classmates as a child/teen and have only 1 friend.

become soulmates with the friend, get married, and move to mt. komorebi. when at least 1 of your children ages up into a child, your spouse dies.

you quit your job to focus solely on making ambrosia to bring your spouse back. you can rejoin the scientist career when this is complete. if you need money, start selling household items.

you become increasingly distant with your child(ren), too focused on your goal. your relationship with them suffers greatly.

you cannot have any romantic relationship with another sim ever. even if your revived spouse can’t forgive you…

8: joker 🤡

when you watch your parent sob while baking ten cakes in a row, saying it’ll bring your other parent back from the dead, the best way to cope is turning it into a stand-up routine, right? you’ve used comedy to mask the darkness in you your whole life. might as well try to profit off it. also, your vampire obsession is kind of off-putting.

stats:

traits: goofball, evil, hates children aspiration: joke star career: entertainer (comedian branch) max skills: comedy, mischief, vampire lore

requirements:

as a child, get a’s in school and be in the drama club. have a forgotten birthday when becoming a teen, the final straw. quit the drama club, become disliked/enemies with all of your friends, and become a d student.

move to san myshuno.

reach a two-star celebrity level from comedy.

never marry and have an accidental child with a fan. all children you have must be accidental. like your parent before you, you cannot connect with your children and have a difficult dynamic with all of them.

have a -100 relationship with a vampire. have a negative interaction at least once a week. non-occult alternative: make it a human goth sim. lmao.

9: two-face 🌗

despite absent parenting, you were voted most likely to succeed in high school and graduated at the top of your class. your goals are simple and attainable: become leader of the free world. but your promising political career is nipped in the bud when your entire life is ruined. disgraced, secluded, and battling two sides of yourself, you turn to other career options.

stats:

traits: self-assured, erratic, overachiever aspiration: goal oriented, public enemy career: politics (politician branch), criminal career (boss branch) max skills: charisma, research & debate

requirements:

as a child, receive a future cube as a gift from a parent. every major decision you make besides the requirements have to be made with the future cube. no takesies backsies.

make all a’s in elementary and high school and win prom royalty.

marry your teenage sweetheart straight out of high school. have only 1 child.

reach level 5 of the politics career, then your sim is turned into either a werewolf or vampire (player’s choice—or flip a coin!) against their will (you’ll have to pretend). non-occult alternative: you’re caught in a cheating scandal that ruins your career.

you’re forced to quit your job, get divorced, move to a non-city world with your child, and join the criminal career.

10: catwoman 🐈

your parent was not an easy person to live with. they may have not minded your habit of stealing from school, but you couldn’t take it anymore. you return to the city with a plan to get rich quick, but you’re no crime boss. you’re doing this on your own terms, playing for nobody’s team but your own. even if someone keeps trying to poke their nose in your family’s business.

stats:

traits: kleptomaniac, cat lover, adventurous aspiration: fabulously wealthy career: retail employee, thief max skills: rock climbing, knitting

requirements:

your non-criminal parent dies before you reach teenhood.

have a gloomy childhood friend you lose touch with in your teen years. as young adults, the friend has become a secret agent investigating your family. they are enemies with your criminal parent. you and the friend also become enemies.

you’re working as a retail employee, but where you’re really getting your money is robbery. initiate 2 romantic relationships with rich sims to rob their house.

eventually become lovers with your friend-turned-enemy.

adopt 3 stray cats.

[kirbyskisses]

kirby’s kinktober (twenty)

overstimulation//sen kaibara

kaibara appreciates how he can make your swollen cunt twitch, dripping on his spinning finger.

“fuck baby. are you already crying?” he smirks at your face, eyes scrunched with embarrassment to hold back the hot, sweet tears he’s causing. his finger spins and gyrates between your grinding hips, his quirk operating like a max-level vibrator.

he smirks at your tears, how your trembling at just one finger being inside you. it takes almost nothing to make you cum because you’re so sensitive and needy.

“s-sen!” you sniffle, making an inhuman sound when he added the same type of vibrational power to his thumb, which attacks your clit with a powerful “brrrr.”

“mhm? what’s the matter, princess?”

you sob, shaking your head furiously unable to make words as you grab his wrist. but he only takes it as a challenge to keep going and kisses your cheek from behind before upping his quirk to a level of vibration you hadn’t thought possible.

“nnngh! s-sen! sen - can’t! i can’t!” you through back your head against his shoulder before his free hand pushes you back down by the hair.

“i’ll tell ya what you can’t do. you can’t take your eyes off this shivering little cunt until ‘m done.~” he laughs kissing your cheek as he makes you watch his pretty finger stuff your little lips open while working circles over your clit with the pad of his thumb.

“y-you’re gonna...make me c-cum!” you cry, kicking like a little kid.

“that’s the point.” he smiles, kissing your cheek with softness and adoration. you don’t have time to respond before your brought to climax.

you stop to breath after, his finger finally stopping so he can take them to his mouth.

“you taste so sweet. now what do we say when i make you cum?”

your thighs are trembling as you whisper out a “‘say thank you, senny.”

“good, was it too much, baby?” he pets your hair with a smile that helps you regain some sense of calm. you nod, skin still hot.

“but you didn’t need your word, did you? not even a little, little bit.”

“n-no, senny. jus’ felt too good…” you look at his adoring black eyes, unable to tell they’re planning something.

“good. cuz guess what, baby girl?” his eyes twist into something more devious before he kisses your lips softly.

“daddy’s gonna do it again.”

you make a high pitched squeal on his lap, hips waving back and forth as his thumb spins against your clit once more.

you kick your feet again, trying to tighten tighten your thighs instinctually until he forces your legs to stay open by pushing his shaking thigh between them.

your second orgasm tumbles out of you before you’ve fully registered the first and your last thought is cursing yourself for forgetting how his quirk affects every part of his body, before your mind goes numb.

“i wonder what’s it’s like to have a vibe on the inside baby? will it make you squirt to put basically a wand on your g-spot?” he smirks and your eyes see two of his fingers twist at max power, rather than just the one he had in you before.

“why don’t we find out?”

by the time he’s done, you’re too fucked out to even remember.

but the cum-stained sheets and the wetness on his hand and pant legs are answer enough.

[princess00wifi]

This Yung Gravy tweet but we’re talking about MJF.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Wildest Dreams | Reidams

A/N - This is for Maze’s @tobias-hankel Pre-Whumptober Challenge and was influenced by their fic Dad or Daddy. Please read the tags carefully and DNI if you are triggered by any of the topics mentioned.

Bad Thing: rape / non-con

Bad Person: Cat Adams

One Line Prompt: “Are you going to be the boy who cried rape again, Spencie?”

Summary - Right before Cat Adams is executed she can’t help but ruminate on the things she didn’t do…

Warnings - dead dove do not eat, rape non-con, non consensual somnophilia, post Date Night, nightmares, swearing, brief mention of male masturbation, talk of death penalty, oral (m receiving), handjob, restraints, penetrative, unprotected sex, belly bulge, sub! Spencer, Dom! Cat (at least right up until the end), tears, choking.

WC - 4.8k

Ever since Spencer Reid’s release from Milburn, he’d been suffering from nightmares. At least once a week he would awake in a cold sweat, his throat ravaged from screaming, heart thumping aggressively against his chest. After four months it had just become the norm to him and honestly he got used to them, started to almost lean into them. 

But after four months the nightmares of being trapped in a cell, of being beaten and forced to sling drugs warped into something different entirely, some might say they were worse and on the surface Spencer would agree with that summation. However internally, these new dreams didn’t scare him as much as they should. 

They revolved less around prison and more around the woman who put him in there. Those intense dark eyes and sinful visage of the woman who made his life hell, who had him arrested, had his mother kidnapped and claimed to have had him sexually assaulted. 

“I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time. And I gave her very specific instructions to get you in the mood.” 

“What, did she pretend to be you?” 

“Why? Would that have worked?”

“No.”

“Yeah I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid ‘hot or not’ list.” 

But the thing was, Cat Adams didn’t know where she stood on that list because as much as Spencer would rather die than admit as much out loud, he found Cat to be unfathomably attractive. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful and alluring but he admired her brain, no matter how sick and twisted it could be at times. And so he found he didn’t actually mind when his prison nightmares shifted to dreams of Cat climbing into his bed and having her wicked way with him.

These dreams still caused him to awake with his heart rampantly beating and oftentimes screaming but for completely different reasons. And he would find himself painfully aroused and even sometimes he would wake to discover he had come in his pyjama pants. 

These dreams continued for years, he told himself it was just his brain's own way of dealing with the trauma of being sexually assaulted, the only way he was able to process the fact that Cat had Lindsey violate him in such a way. 

And then he’d had to come face to face with her again after Cat’s partner kidnapped Max’s father and sister. 

“You haven’t done me? You sexually violated me in Mexico.” 

“I did? Are you sure? The drugs that made you hallucinate, they flood your brain with serotonin, right? So what does that mean when it comes to…?”

“It’s similar to MDMA, it’s hard too…”

“That’s right. Stop being the boy who cried rape, Spencie, it’s not a good look.” 

Of course it was a relief to know Lindsey hadn’t raped him, but it didn’t stop those dreams, if anything they became even more vivid, especially after he finally found out what it would be like to kiss her. 

Honestly when she’d stood in the doorway of his apartment, looking at him the way she had been, it had been impossible for him not to kiss her. He didn’t even care that Luke and Prentiss and the SWAT team were there to witness it, he physically couldn’t keep his hands off of her for another second. 

And in truth, had Max not been behind that door he may well have dragged Cat inside of his apartment and fucked her right then and there. He knew how wrong it was, he knew he should be disgusted by her. But Spencer wanted Cat with a white hot burning rage even if it was taboo. 

It was inevitable that he wouldn’t make things work with Max after that kiss, he may never be able to make things work with anyone after that experience. Their terrible third date had been their last and after walking her to the elevators at the BAU, Spencer never saw her again.

In the weeks that followed Spencer spent most of his sleeping hours and countless amounts of his waking ones thinking about Cat Adams. If his team noticed he was preoccupied they didn’t mention anything, but then again when did they? 

The day before Cat’s scheduled execution date, Spencer felt an odd sense of unease all day. He had planned to go to Mount Pleasant tomorrow, look her in the eye one last time but he’d talked himself out of it. He needed to put Cat behind him once and for all and watching her die wasn’t going to make up for all the things she’d put him through.

The world was a better place without Cat Adams, that he was certain of. But also couldn’t help but wish he had the chance to do more than just kiss her. Although, if it had ever actually come to it he was certain he wouldn’t have followed through with his hidden desires. That was one line Spencer could not cross and if he did he would never come back from it. It probably wouldn’t stop him from dreaming about it though. 

Continue reading on AO3

[grace122]

Imagine keeping the dteam locked and tied up in the bedroom and the challenge is to be completely still and quiet while the reader watches a movie. Having those prostate massagers turned to the max.

They think it's funny at first but as soon as they start feeling it for real, it's over. Sapnap would definitely be the first to moan out quietly then start not to care if he's quiet or not.

The reader gets up from their couch to put a gag in his mouth. "Shut up or I'll put your mouth to work right now." I feel like Dream would definitely want something in his mouth.

Dream would only scream to feel something on his tongue tbh. George would be the one who would stay as quiet as possible. Making him the winner, he's the only one touching your pussy tonight.

Feel free to elaborate :>

- ALIEN anon

ANON THIS IS SO HOT WTF, your so right with sapnap being the first to make noise! He would be squirming in his spot while moaning and whining calling your name aswell “y/n, y/n i need you” he’d moan trying to hump the air🤭

dream would definitely try to stay quiet because he’s so competitive but i feel like sapnap moaning and begging would make his dick twitch and pull some whines from him “s-sap stop” dream would whine softly as sapnap looks at him through glossy eyes “dre-dream m’feels so good though” sapnap moans knowing EXACTLY what he’s doing as dream moans at sapnaps sentence while george sits there in silence only thinking about how amazing it’s going to bed when he gets you to himself🤭

[artzychic27]

Idea: Actor AU commentary, but it’s for Monstrous Youths, where they talk about different aspects of the show like plots, character stuff, and of course, costumes and makeup! (Marc talking about how much he loves his moth wings, him and Reshma talk about maneuvering the extra limbs, Mylene, Mireille, and Lacey talk about how you simulate someone having vines, tar or flames for hair, the Buff Squad™️ talking about the fur on their arms is hot as hell and gets rank as fuck😅)

Chloé: *Rises from her sarcophagus* WHO DARES TO AWAKEN THE QUEEN- Ugh! Ew! There’s sand on my tongue!

Cast: *Laughing*

Director: *Laughs* Cut!

—

[Commentary]

Juleka: *Adjusting her fangs* I think what I like best about playing a vampire is that my wardrobe is the same as what I usually wear. That, and they don’t need to cake my face with a ton of makeup to give me that “undead” look.

Luka: I, on the other hand, require tons of makeup to truly make myself look like the living dead.

Juleka: And because you wanna feel pretty.

Luka: Jules… I am pretty.

—

[Commentary]

Marc: Reshma and I love being insect monsters.

Reshma: He’s an insect, I’m an arachnid. But, he’s right. It’s fun controlling the extra limbs, but also challenging.

Marc: For the longest time, we’ve been slapping the other cast members.

Reshma: I swear, we did not mean to do that!

—

[Commentary]

Kim: See, in order to play the role of the fearsome werewolf of DuPont School For Monstrous Youths, I spent the longest time observing the masters…

Max: And by that, he means he spent hours at a dog shelter playing with the puppies.

Kim: It’s called getting into character!

—

Adrien: Why don’t you just ask your dad?

Nino: Whenever I do, he always goes, “GRRRR! GRANDPA BAD!” *Coughs* God, that fucked my throat.

Adrien: *Burries his face in his hands and laughs* Drink some water, man!

Ismael: Ugh! I wanna go home!

Lila: The boy wants to go home! Enough with the bloopers! End the madness!

—

[Commentary]

Lila: Nath, Marc, and I cannot tell you how long it took us to master having wings. Mine are made of real feathers, and they’re pretty thick, so I had to work on my balance quite a bit.

Marc: Then, there are the harnesses that make it look we’re flying. Nathaniel screamed the first time.

Nathaniel: Because that harness broke and I was falling!

Lila: No, that was just… Flying downwards.

Nathaniel: Well, screw you.

—

[Commentary]

Simon: *Getting his makeup done* The crew did excellent work on my eye. It blinks whenever I do, and I can see through it. The only thing is that it gets kinda sweaty under there, and it gets all in my eyes, so my fake eye is just blinking non-stop.

—

[Commentary]

Alya: *Putting on a green bodysuit* My outfit’s a little… Complex. See, there’s this combination of the suit I’m wearing and transparent clothing to make it look like I’m a ghost with translucent skin

Mireille: The same is with me, only my clothes are not transparent.

—

Ondine: *Emerges from the pool, gasping for air*

Lacey: Ondine! What happened?

Ondine: I couldn’t breathe under there!

Rose: Why didn’t you just use the breathing tube?

Ondine: I couldn’t find the tube!

Staff member: My bad!

—

[Commentary]

Ondine: Things don’t always go according to plan on set. Some tails may come off, wings may not flap accordingly, and people trip on vines. What’s important is that we stay levelheaded, share a few laughs, and things go smoothly in the end.

Rose: And then we laugh at the bloopers.

Ondine: That, too.

—

[Commentary]

Lacey: Okay, okay! So, my fire hair?! It’s actual fire! There’s this non-burning fire that doesn’t even hurt, and it’s awesome!

Jean: Also terrifying.

Lacey: But also AWESOME!

Alix: Yeah, and speaking of hair… Those are real trained snakes. Because pops didn’t raise some coward who goes with the CGI option!

*The camera pans to Nathaniel*

Nathaniel: Hi. Yeah, uh… That actually is CGI. Alix tried the snake option for a minute, screamed, and then fainted. She just wants to sound badass.

—

[Commentary]

Zoé: I’d say the most difficult part about our characters are the bandages and vines.

Myléne: I’m always tripping on them during the days my characters forgets to trim them, and Chloé and Zoé often get tangled in their bandages.

Chloé: They’re like a fucking straitjacket!

—

Kagami: You will do well to listen, Félix. Stay away from my school. Stay away from Adrien. And stay away from me. *One of her horns falls off* … My horn fell off, didn’t it?

Félix: *Snickering* Yep. Wanna try that again?

Kagami: No, I want to wallow in shame. *Leaves*

Félix: Kagami! Come back! You were good! I was really intimidated!

*Meanwhile*

Cosette: Kagami, come on! It happens to all of us. You’re not the first one, really. Remember when I charged at Lucien and both of my horns just slipped off?

Aurore: Or when one of mine fell into the pool?

Kagami: I know, it’s just embarrassing. Right after I have the monologue of a lifetime.

Cosette: Yeah, that does kinda suck.

Aurore: Cosette!

Coaette: What? It’s true.

—

[Commentary]

Félix: Working with Lucien as the antagonists is great, just wonderful.

Lucien: Yes, I can’t get enough of playing the villain. There’s just something about it that draws me toward the role.

Félix: Same! And, you know, if there just so happens to be a villain musical number, then you can bet I’m going to give it my all. Hint. Hint.

Lucien: The writers looked at your notes; they said they’d think about it.

—

[Commentary]

Marinette: Having these buttons put on my eyes gave me flashbacks to when I watched Coraline!

Alya: She screamed.

Marinette: I did!

—

[Commentary]

Denise: That fur… Is hot as fuck! I- no joke! My arms are soaked when I take those off!

Ivan: They have to be washed constantly, and no one wants that job.

Denise: Sometimes the others make jokes about burning them, and we are beginning to consider it, ‘cause those things are getting rank.

—

Jean: Hey, guys- Ghouls! I meant ghouls! Fuck!

Cast: *Laughing*

Jean: Fuck all these fucking monster words! I need coffee! *Dramatically tosses one end of his scarf over his shoulder and leaves*

Ismael: Say what you want. He was destined to be The Phantom.

—

[Commentary]

Sabrina: The groaning my character does is actually just me saying real sentences from the back of my throat. When I say, “Hello, my name is Sabrina,” people have to listen closely to hear it. I was originally going to groan, but then I thought, ‘Nah! Lemme have some fun with this!’

—

Rose: Real quick, I can’t find my femur.

Kim: What?

Rose: It was supposed to come off for one scene, and now I can’t find it.

Ismael: *Points to her thigh* Found it. Case solved!

Adrien: You’re a little shit, you know that?

Ismael: *Smirks* All a part of my charm.

@msweebyness @imsparky2002

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

ttwt episode 14

“Last time on Total Takes, World Tour: Fiji, baby! Our remaining teams raced from island-to-island across this beautiful oceanic paradise, collecting flags- and losing teammates- along the way. Courtney and Ass had a heart-to-heart, which mended more than one nasty breakup… partially, anyway. In the end, Team Yaoi was handed their loss on a silver platter and Ass willingly took the jump. I know, right? Will anyone else have a sudden change of character? What’s in store for our remaining players? Find out now, on Total Takes: World Tour!”

Economy is tense, to say the least. 

Everyone else is shrinking in on themselves as two very, very ticked off girls are seething on their respective sides of the cabin. 

In one corner of the ring, Julia is mumbling under her breath, still hot-headed and scarlet-faced from the last challenge’s proceedings. Mal, as per usual, is nowhere to be found, and Courtney looks like death itself, pale and hunched over on the opposite end of the bench. 

In the other corner, Albert warily watches Michela as she grumbles to herself, drumming her fingers on the splinter-infested wood of the bench. 

---

ALBERT: “Honestly- the situation is resolved, can’t those two just get over themselves and move on?” he paused to shiver. “Human drama- is this how people saw me when I cared about the coalition? Stupid, petty, so wrapped up in trying to make a futile difference that I couldn’t look at the big picture and see how pointless it all is?”

---

First class isn’t much better. Max is sitting in one of the soft, plush seats, surrounded by conventional heating and plates of warm cookies, and he looks as miserable as can be. 

Beside him, Kelly watches nervously, twiddling their thumbs and holding their breath. They look uncomfortable, to say the least. 

After a long silence, they open their mouth. “Maybe you two-”

“No!” Max hisses sharply before groaning and sinking into his seat. 

Despite the uncomfortable energy radiating out of the boy, Phillip is none the wiser. He’s lying on his stomach on the scratchy carpet of the aisle, kicking his legs back and forth and giggling menacingly. His face is contorted into a wicked grin as he scribbles in his notebook. 

Kelly looks between the two boys- one’s eyes brimming with tears, the other’s with pure malice- and they hunch over, looking quite ill, as if taking psychic damage just from being around them. 

---

KELLY: “I don’t handle relationship conflict very well- but there’s gotta be something I can do to put a sweet smile back on my boy’s faces!”

---

“Maybe she’ll understand if you just explain your side of the story to her!” they insist. 

Max sinks lower in his seat. “No,”

“How about a heartfelt apology?”

“No,”

Kelly pouts, again put-off by his sullen demeanor. Nonetheless, they’re a non-stop ideas machine, and they smile again. “What if you came up with some grand romantic gesture for her? That always works!”

Max sighs and sits up, massaging his temples. “This isn’t a movie, Kelly. Chel is seriously mad at me, and I don’t know if I can bounce back. I’ve never messed up this badly,”

The blond, again, frowns. 

---

KELLY: “Okay, so he’s a bit of a fixer-upper: I can still work with this!”

---

“Maybe you just need to look on the bright side of things,” they offer, gesturing around the warm, cushy interior of first class. Max shoves another plate of cookies away from him. “This can be a way to rekindle your flame, like renewing your vows!”

He grits his teeth. “Kelly. I don’t think you understand what I’m-”

“Tell me everything you like about her,” they don’t let him finish, clapping their hands. “It’ll remind you just how strong your bond is!”

Max opens his mouth to fire back a retort, but he can’t. He sighs instead. “I like everything about her. She’s smart, but not pretentious about it. She’s funny, and nice, and not even a little “intimidated” by me, even though I was of her for so long- not that I’d ever admit it to her face! She’s capable, but she’s down-to-earth, and she’s got the best laugh…”

He trails off again, and sighs. “I feel like if this doesn’t work out, nothing ever will,”

Kelly’s smile droops a bit and they turn away from Max. 

---

KELLY: “I know it’s a bit selfish to make this about myself, but… I understand perfectly. Sometimes I feel like ever since Austin and I split- amicably!- everyone’s left me behind. I’m just... never anyone’s first choice,”

---

After a moment, they force a smile and turn back. “Great exercise! I’ll go get more cookies for you,”

“Wait-” Max tries to stop them, but it’s too late- they breeze out of the room. 

---

“Welcome one, welcome all, back to the lovely country of Sweden! Hinga dinga durgen!” Chris chimes merrily, a horned helmet placed snugly on his perfectly coiffed head. “That’s right- after our little mix-up in Rome, we’re finally doing our throwback challenge!”

Courtney sighs with relief, a relaxed smile crossing their face. 

---

COURTNEY: “I know that if we lose again, I’m next- no way Mal and Julia are gonna vote for each other. So for now, my strategy is… don’t lose,”

---

“This, I can do,” Courtney says cheerily, putting their hands on their hips. “In the original episode of Total Drama, the challenge was to build-”

“HUSHHHHHH!” Chris hisses, shoving a finger in their face. “Not everyone needs to know! You’re ruining my fun!”

Julia rolls her eyes. 

“Anyway, as I was saying… we stand here at the edge of this epic taiga forest, a Scandinavian hallmark. Right up ahead you’ll find some building materials, as stated by Mr. Know-it-All,” the host pauses to glare. “...And no instructions. Your task is to find out what you’re building, how to build it, and what you’ll be doing next. Go!”

The teams immediately divulge, racing through the conifer trees to the mouth of a large, partially-frozen lake. 

“I wish this was an eating challenge or something,” Albert says, picking up a mysteriously shaped plank of wood. “I could go for some vegan meatballs.”

Michela sighs, half-heartedly digging through a bag of screws and nails. “Yeah… I guess…”

Albert’s brow furrows. 

Some distance away, Courtney stands before their teams supplies- each individual plank of wood, each nail, each tool has been sorted into its own category. They huff, admiring their handiwork, and turn back to the group. Julia looks thoroughly unamused. 

“We’re building a boat,” they offer, holding out a wrench. 

Julia grabs it from them. “Yeah. I figured,” she spats, breezing by. Courtney sighs. 

Mal hums a familiar tune to herself as she hammers plank-to-plank, working with an expertise that leaves even Courtney slightly suspicious. “Where did you learn to do all that?”

“I’ve been brushing up on my carpentry. Jesus was a carpenter, you know,” she says merrily, attaching the bow to the hull as if the heavy pieces weighed nothing. 

Courtney and Julia make fleeting eye contact, and then turn away. 

“Well, it’s official. She’s really lost it this time,” the former whispers. “Just when I thought she couldn't get any crazier…”

“There’s something up with her,” Julia hisses, pushing two large sections of wood together. “Does no one else find it suspicious how she conveniently disappears every time we enter the plane? She knows something.”

Courtney looks off to the side- allying themselves with Julia was a risky move, but… “Usually, I would brush it off as her usual crazies, but I think you’re right. She’s been a little odd lately. More than she usually is,”

“Mhm. Then again, I thought you and Ass were acting normal, so what do I know?” the blonde retorts sharply, walking away. 

---

“A house?” Kelly offers. 

“A weapon?” Phillip says. 

Max massages his temples. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be here,”

Michela and Albert’s bickering picks up across the space as they heatedly discuss what goes where. Their tense energy starkly contrasts Team Friendship’s slow, melancholy feel. 

Max sighs, Kelly’s words from earlier echoing around in his mind. A romantic gesture…

“I think I have an idea,”

---

Albert squints, trying to see through the careful cover of trees at the other teams as Michela lugs planks of wood behind him. 

“I’m getting nothing,”

She sighs, dropping a heavy bow at his feet. “There has to be some kind of logic to this, right? We’re in a forest, at the mouth of a lake…”

“Good, good, keep at it. Logic helps,” Albert says, smiling. 

---

ALBERT: “Perhaps I underestimated Michela… she’s emotional, but it seems as if her anger drives her… I can work with this,”

---

Albert rushes to her side to help her with the rest of the curved pieces. As they lug the final plank into a single pile, he wipes the sweat off her forehead with his windbreaker sleeve. 

“You’re doing very well for yourself, all things considered,” he says, momentarily tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “Now, that’s the spirit- you should be showing that little traitor just what you’re made of.”

Michela frowns for a moment, her eyes drifting over to the thin spaces between the trees. She could just barely catch a glimpse at the moving colors of Team Friendship’s clothing against the green backdrop. 

“You’re right, I suppose…”

“You suppose? I think you know,” Albert chuckles. “He humiliated you- both of us, really- and then he comes crawling back, demanding forgiveness as if he doesn’t even care how it affected you at all? You have every right to be angry.”

Her brow furrowed. “Yeah…”

“He had the gall to call you a traitor, without even letting you explain yourself. He’d take the word of a certifiable psych ward princess over his own girlfriend,” Albert egged her on, his grip on her chin never loosening. “You deserve the time to grieve. You deserve to let him squirm. It’s only fair.”

Michela’s gaze tightened, her eyes turning back to Team Friendship. “I just need time to consider some things. That’s all…”

And with that, she walked off. Albert smirked to himself and twirled a hammer between his fingers, whistling as he walked along. 

---

Julia whistled. “Look at that,” 

The three remaining Yaois stand before an admittedly impressive viking-styled ship, anchored in the shallow water at the mouth of the lake. 

“Three sailing challenges in a row… you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Courtney shakes their head. “Our next better be on dry land, Chris is getting pretty lazy.”

“It’s the budget. Boat-based challenges are cheaper than something fancy like esports,” Mal says, wiggling her fingers while she scrolls through her phone. “They are in like, massive financial debt, LOL.”

Julia and Courtney make the same fleeting eye contact, sharing the same knowing gaze. 

---

JULIA: “I’ve been suspicious of Mal for a while now, and seeing that she's essentially useless to the team again, I think it’s time to find out what’s up,” she pauses to sigh, slumping a bit. ��I thought I was being a good leader… maybe I’m just meant to be the villain.”

---

“Time to set sail!” Chris’ voice appears out of nowhere as Albert struggles to nail another plank together. 

“Sail… so this is another water-based challenge,” Michela raises an eyebrow. “Well… at least we have… something.”

She gestures to the tiny, shabbily-crafted raft in front of them. 

Albert helps her push the craft into the water, and to both their relief (and amazement) it stays afloat.

The two turn to each other. “Let's do this thing,”

---

As Chris' voice fades out, Team Friendship turns to each other. None of them want to say it, but they're all thinking the same thing: they're screwed.

“Uh-oh,” Max says quietly, gazing up at the terrible Frankenstein’s Monster before him. 

Kelly forces another grin. “It-it’s the thought that counts?”

“It’s just gotta float, right?” He looks at the blond. Behind them, Phillip raises a saw. 

---

Team Yaoi pushes out first, their shimmering beacon of craftsmanship making Max grit his teeth. Both Kelly and Phillip wince. “A BOAT?!”

“Hey, I like what we built!” the blonde offers him the small words of praise, which he quickly shoots down with a glare. 

Phillip twirls his thumbs. “I liked sawing the top off,”

“I should’ve known… am I stupid?” he kicks the inside of the wooden structure and yelps in pain. “DAMMIT! Stupid love! Stupid romance!”

Kelly winces. 

Across the lake, Team Mojo’s tiny raft floats onto the frigid waters. Michela tightens their tiny sail as Albert picks up a plank of wood to row, before promptly dropping it in the water in shock. “Oh… my God…”

“What?” Michela asks, turning. Her face goes pale, an expression of pure horror taking it over. “Is that ME?”

---

Courtney snorts, watching a massive wooden replica of Michela’s head bob in the water behind their boat. They put their hands on their hips, a smile on their face. “History really does repeat itself, huh?”

Mal snaps a quick picture just as the wind picks up, careening their boat forward. 

---

Back on the S.S. Michela, Max stomps his feet and groans. “FINE! I guess we can work with this!”

Kelly grins. “That’s the spirit! Think positive thoughts- manifest success!”

“CAN IT!” 

Before Max can berate them any further, a distant ding makes him visibly cringe. He jabs his thumb out to Team Yaoi’s perfect ship. 

“They’re way ahead, so we’ve got to go,” he sighs. “We should’ve built something to sail, something we can row-ow!”

“It doesn’t have to be a boat, as long as it stays afloat-” Kelly chimes in. 

The three Team Friendship sing together, all exchanging glances. “Oh, why did we build Chel’s face?”

Across the water, Courtney grins. “We’re always ready, to set sail- just watch us win, we won’t fail!”

“We really did this fast-” Mal sings along, snapping a quick selfie. 

Julia rolls her eyes. “We better be back in first class!”

“Because they built Chel’s face!”

Phillip blows in their hastily set-up sail, as if trying to summon the winds himself. Max smacks his forehead. 

“We built Chel’s face!”

Even Team Mojo’s tiny raft breezes by their monstrous creation. Michela grins. “We’re gonna take first place-”

“Because we built Chel’s face!”

Kelly sighs, throwing out their arms. “Ah-ee-yeah-yeah-ah!” 

“We built Chel’s face!”

“Yeah-ee-yeah-ee-yeah-ee-yeahhhhh!” Phillip screeches, forcing everyone on board to cover their ears. 

The song slows to an end and Max sighs, falling backwards. He lands on the wooden floor of the boat- or, rather, head- with a thump and both Phillip and Kelly gasp. 

---

“I can’t believe it,” Michela sighs, watching Team Friendship’s creation fall behind them. “They lobotomized me.”

“A tragic disfigurement of beauty,” Albert shakes his head. “They’re mocking you.”

“Really? I don’t think Max would… I mean, he’s seemed pretty torn up. Maybe he’s… coping?”

Albert sucks in his breath. “Eating a gallon of ice cream is coping. Going for a lame walk in your pj’s after sixteen hours of telenovelas is coping. Making a massive replica of your girlfriend’s head, then sawing the top off so you can live inside it? That might just be insanity,”

Michela sulks just as Chris’ voice blares from a loudspeaker back on shore. “Attention, passengers! You are now in a race to the DEATH! First intact boat to reach that buoy wins!”

Back in Team Friendship’s floating head, Max finally sits up, looking tired and disheveled. “Let’s just kill ourselves now and get it over with,”

Kelly bites their lip. “Did he say to the death?”

Phillip watches the two, and a sudden look of determination crosses his face. He stands, grabs a hold of the sail, and begins careening the boat-like-head forward. 

---

PHILLIP: “The vikings were like, these super cool guys who plundered and pillaged and murdered, right? Maybe this is my chance to finally fulfill my destiny, and please my bloodline!”

---

The wind finally picks up and Michela’s head goes soaring past Team Mojo, much to the real Michela’s annoyance. 

Kelly’s eyes light up. “Yes! Go Phillip! Go!”

“Heh, you’re welcome. I’m pretty sure I’m like, a direct descendent of Julius Caesar, by the way,” he smirks. Max groans and lies back down on the floor. 

---

The finish line- a single red flag tied to a buoy- comes into view in the distance. Courtney cheers and does a tiny dance. “We’re gonna make it! We’re gonna make it!”

A small grin finally breaks across Julia’s face, but before she can reply, Mal scoffs. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,”

The pink-haired player turns, a mystified expression on their face. “What does that-”

A sudden explosion throws everyone off their feet. Their boat creaks and groans as it fills with water, the collision with Michela’s head having torn a sizable hole in their hull. 

“Ha! Murder!” Phillip says, pointing from Team Friendship’s boat as it, too, fills with water. 

“You idiot! You’re going to disqualify us both!” Julia snaps, throwing her arms out. Phillip’s smug expression drops as she begins pelting him with the ice chunks floating into the now-water covered deck. 

Max sighs. “Just let me drown,”

As the two teams bicker (and as Phillip attempts, and fails, to dodge Julia’s ice storm), Team Mojo flies by, passing the designated buoy. 

Michela cheers. “Take that, boat! Take that, my head!” 

Albert rolls his eyes, though there’s a small, self-satisfied smile on his face. 

“Team Mojo has won immunity- The rest of you will be up for a dual-team elimination, seeing as neither of you crossed the finish line at all!” Chris shouts. Julia growls, turning her sharp gaze on Courtney, before the host yells into his loudspeaker again. “That is- IF this were an elimination episode! Congrats, everyone is safe!”

Phillip stops scampering around the head to cheer, just to be hit in the back of the throat with a particularly hard chunk of ice. He chokes and falls over. 

Kelly winces and helps him up, then pulls Max out of the lake. He’s dripping with ice water, barely moving. He blinks slowly. 

---

Max rocks back and forth on the bench, swatting away Kelly whenever they try to console him. “Just leave me here to rot…”

“Action is always better than inaction, you know! Making a move raises a 0% chance- and anything above zero means it’s possible!” they insist, attempting to drag him out of his fetal position. He doesn’t budge. 

Phillip shivers, wrapped in several blankets. Julia rolls her eyes at the display. 

“Tsk… I’m gonna go search for a better connection. My favorite gacha game is having an event, and I can not miss out on this card,” Mal says, suddenly standing. She tucks her phone in her back pocket and saunters out, much to both Courtney and Julia’s annoyance. 

The pink-haired player starts. “Should we-”

“Leave it. I’ll figure something out,”

---

JULIA: “You know what? Fine. Maybe I’m not a good leader. Maybe I can’t keep my team together. But I can sure as hell be a villain, and if that’s what they want, that’s what they’re going to get!” After a long pause, Julia sighs. She digs in her shirt, pulling out an obsidian necklace from under the cloth. She stares at it for a good, long while, and then forces her expression to harden. 

---

Max swats Kelly away for the thousandth time, and they finally relent. No touching- got it! They could still work with this. 

 “I’ll go get you something to eat, then! Being low on energy never improves anyone’s mood,” they wink, offering a smile (which is quickly rebuffed by a dramatic sigh). 

Kelly leaves the cabin, walking along the halls of the plane alone. As soon as they’re out of sight of the others, they let their shoulders droop and their smile disappear. A tired look crosses their face, worry wrinkles instantly aging them by at least twenty years. 

“Something troubling you?” a voice asks. They jump, and quickly straighten their posture. 

“No- who is it?”

Albert walks out of the galley, hands folded behind his back. “Really? You look pretty tired… been working overtime, have you?”

Kelly stiffens, and then crosses their arms. “My team works very hard, thank you,”

“Oh, please,” he says, leaning against the wall. “You know what I meant. Being everyone’s everything- their therapist, their mother, their nurse. You can’t save them, you know, and you’re just going to destroy yourself trying.”

“I’m-I’m just being a good friend,”

“You’re trying to prove something to yourself,” he rebuffs, rather sharply. “I would know. I’ve been in those shoes before. Trust me, it’s better to give up while you’re ahead.”

Albert looks away, staring at a cockroach as it scuttles across the floor. Kelly’s expression softens for a moment, and they take a cautious step closer. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighs. “You’re just not getting it. No matter,” he stands straight again quite abruptly, pushing past her. He hovers in the doorway to first class for a moment before turning back. “I know you’re hiding something repulsive down there. No one is this nice- not for long, anyway.”

And with that, he disappears. Kelly stares at the floor for a moment, letting his words settle in, before coming to their senses and hurrying back to economy. 

[littleoceanfairy]

It's ok

Eric Coulter x reader Fandom: Divergent Words: 868

*Trigger warning* mentions of injury, Eric being rude (as always), fluff?

Three weeks since the fractionless had been caught in the warehouse. Three weeks since you almost died because a bullet hit you. And two weeks since you left the infirmary and Lynn started helping you out in your day to day life. She brought you food and kept you and your apartment looking decently clean. Even Eric came over after Leader-meetings to give you updates on everything going on outside of your safe zone.

The injury had left you unable to move your arm properely, but the doctors said it would take a few months and then a lot of training to get everything back to how it was before. So you were stuck in your apartment with noting better to do than to think about how you could have missed the shooter that day.

"So Max would offer you to work in the control rooms until you have recovered.", Eric's words snap you back to reality and you direct your gaze at him. "I don't want to go back to work yet and Max knows about that.", you sigh and pull your knees up towards your chest. "You need to go outside again y/n. People are talking and making up stories about what actually happened. Dauntless don't behave like this after an injury like that!", the tall man almost jumps up from your sofa and towers over you. "When was the last time you got shot Coulter?", glaring up at him you also lift yourself off the couch an walk past him. "During initiation. Because I am aware of my surroundings while on a mission.", stopping dead in your tracks you turn back around and face Eric. "Well you should report my carelessness to Max then and get me kicked out of here. See how long it takes for me to shoot you as a fractionless.", the words come out even harsher than you intended but the laugh that leaves Erics mouth makes you even angrier. "I'll get going then. Better to catch Max in his office than on his way to his woman.", you slam shut the door to your bathroom while Eric still makes his way toward your front door.

Getting the black shirt over your head without moving too much of your right arm was a challenge which had you cursing quietly until you where completely naked an inside the shower. The hot water hitting your skin soothed the soarness from sleeping on one side for weeks almost instantly and you calmed down until it happened. A bottle of Shampoo fell to the ground and instinctively you reach for it with your injured arm. Screaming out in pain you held your arm and instantly turned off the water.

Mere seconds later the door bursts open and there he was standing and looking around the slightly foggy room - Eric. "Get the fuck out of my apartment Coulter!", you try to cover your naked body from his cold, blue eyes as he quickly turns around and faces the wall. "What did you do now? I could hear your scream out in the hallway.", is that a worried undertone in his voice you could hear? "Well what does it look like? I am taking a shower.", you spit out sarcasticly while trying to get a towel wrapped around you.

"Don't lie to me Y/n. Do you need help?", you can see his muscles tensing as you step out of the shower. "I don't need your help or pity, Eric.", "I don't pity you Y/n. We are worried about you. Well fuck - I am worried about you. You havent left this apartment in almost a month and talked to no one beside Lynn and me.", he turns around and almost smashes into you. "You worry about me? Are you even capeable of that Eric?", instead of taking a step back you stand your ground and stare up at the tall man. "I want to take care of you and", "I can take care of myself just fine.", you interrupt him and stab a finger into his chest. "You can go and take care of some initiates or the fractionless but you don't need to take care of me.", "Y/n can you please calm down and listen to what I'm trying to say?", Eric grabs your wrist and actually manages to shut you up by pulling you even closer towards him. "I want to take care of you. I want to be there for you so you don't get hurt like this anymore. While getting you back here I thought you died in my arms and I realized that I need you more, than you need me.", he almost whispers the last part and you look up at him. "Will you say you love me right now?", your voice is barely audible and a choked up laugh leaves Erics lips. "Don't do this now Y/n. You know me better than anyone else here. I would never say that to anyone.", he let's go of your hand but you stay close to him. "Well that's pretty rude of you. But it's ok. I would also never say that to anyone.", a slight smile crosses both of your lips.