#possibly a little fruity? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aeyumicore · 1 month

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misty invasion - hidden motive

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some/little plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.6k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight spoilers to ‘hidden motive’ (zayne’s misty invasion card), knee humping, titty sucking, titty sucking through clothes, titty nibbling (zayne is a boobie fiend), slight predator and prey, switch!zayne (he’s dom but kinda needy and vulnerable), use of Y/N, sub!reader, unprotected sex, cumming in panties, reader on top

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | sylus's version | raf's version | xav's version

━ ✧.˖ A/N: haiiii guyssss i decided to upload the boys’ misty invasion fics one at a time! first up is baby zayne <3 his card inspired me so much, it was so intimate and passionate.

next up will probably be sylus, hopefully will post in maybe 3ish days! I haven’t watched raf’s or xav’s but i have ideas for them. I’m excited to write, i’m praying i don’t burn out…hope you guys enjoy :) love ya’ll! also i am more active on twitter if you guys would like to follow me there, my link is in my masterpost!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

Spontaneity was not something Zayne preferred to indulge in.

He had enough of it in his hectic surgery schedule, so in his personal life he tried to keep things as predictable as possible.

Yet he was graced with an absolute menace of a girlfriend, who, from the second she walked into his life, created chaos in her wake. Always running off on faraway Hunter missions, telling him only after she’d already left. Coming back injured, with a frustratingly adorable and sheepish smile, trying, and failing, to convince him she was fine.

God, you drove him utterly insane.

Which is why now, the normally composed, self-assured, and controlled, chief cardiac surgeon was unraveling at the seams beneath your seemingly innocent touch.

“Why does it smell sweeter than usual?” Zayne’s voice is raspy and breathless from the torrid and heated kiss the two of you had just been locked in. The razor blade and shaving cream had long since been discarded and forgotten.

Before you can respond, he’s pulling your wrist towards his reddened face, making you fall on top of him from your seat on his lap. You’re left straddling his one knee as you fall forward. Your wrist grips the leather recliner cushion by his head to catch you as he cups your lower back, just above your rear, pressing your body deeper into his.

He nuzzles his face into your wrist that's planted beside his head, absolutely enraptured by the scent of your lotion. The scent of you.

Taking another deef lung full of your pheromones mixed with your fruity lotion, his intense hazel eyes desperately seek yours, like he’s conveying his desires with the golden green orbs. You open your mouth to question his unusual behavior, but Zayne’s one step ahead of you. His knee raises to push your backside towards him, making you lose your grip completely and collapse completely atop him.

The recliner chair swings wildly at your combined movements, and you find yourself struggling to steady yourself. In your brief moment of helplessness, Zayne hoists you towards him, burying his face into your chest. His lips find your collarbone instantly, his knee nestled between your thighs to help balance you.

You gasp at his tongue lapping languidly at your fragrant skin, your fingers grasping his shoulders as he sucks at your sensitive collar, no doubt leaving a bruise. His lips dance dangerously close to where your silk camisole hangs off the swell of your breasts.

“Are you taking a break from work?” you ask between your raspy pants. Zayne continues to indulge in your skin, moving lower until his face meets your hardened nipples, separated only by a thin layer of silk. His tongue softly brushes against the soft material of your top, stroking at the swollen peaks through the smooth fabric. His knee grinds into your thighs, craving the warmth and dampness of his most favorite place.

He has to physically pry himself away from your chest, a dusting of deep peach painting his flustered face.

“Do I look like I can work right now?” His question is simple, but the aggressive demand that hides underneath them is urgent, nearly feral. You don’t get a chance to get another word out before he’s sinking back into the warmth of your chest.

This time, his lips close over your entire nipple through the soft silk of your sleeping cami, making you cry out in surprise. Your fingers grip his hair as he absolutely devours you through your top, the silk dampening with his saliva. His teeth come down to graze your sensitive peaks and you have to push him back before you lose yourself to the pleasure.

“...You don’t have to be so intense,” you urge him, despite the clear and inarguable fact that you want more. Clear from the way the panties you’d slept in start to dampen against his bare knee that peeks out from his robe.

Zayne looks unamused, almost sulky, as he mutters, “No working, and not allowed to do anything else…” He looks up at you, mischief briefly flashing across his eyes

He sits up, wrapping his strong arm around your shoulder and bringing you to him in an intimate embrace. You flail forward at his sudden movements, the rocking of the recliner chair making it impossible to find any balance. He takes the opportunity to drive his knee deeper into your core, making you moan lewdly. His chin rests on your bare shoulder, words hot and breathy against your pulsing neck, “Well then…my love, what exactly do you allow me to do?”

His actions make it difficult for you to speak, brain focussing solely on the pleasure he’s both giving you and keeping from you. At your wordless moans of excitement, Zayne continues.

“Will you allow me to do this?” he rocks his knee deeper into you, effectively humping you against his leg. Your nails dig into his muscled back at the unexpected ecstasy, his knee rubbing against your clit in the most sinfully perfect ways.

Zayne hisses at the feeling of the sting of your nails, only making him more desperate to take you right there on his living room chair, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

With his lips at your neck, he slowly and torturously pulls the flimsy straps of your loose top down, until your breasts are pressing against his exposed chest underneath his luxurious bathrobe.

His hands descend to hold your waist firmly, gently pulling you away from his chest so his hungry mouth can find your soft breasts again.

You throw your head backwards when his warm and wet mouth captures your bare skin into its embrace. Zayne is absolutely relentless, bouncing you filthily on his thigh as he absolutely devours your breasts. His teeth and tongue work in tandem to suckle pretty little bruises into the swell of your chest, and around your pert nipples.

Zayne looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes, heated irises drinking in your quivering form atop him. His erection pushes against the feeble restraints of his tied robe, creating a tent in his lap that twitches with anticipation. It brushes against your stomach as he grinds his knee into you, giving him just enough friction to need to bite into your breast to hold back his desperate moans.

You cling to him, trusting him to take all control of your body and of your pleasure. Your nails continue to draw angry red welts into his back, as you feel the familiar coiling of ecstasy in your gut.

You tap desperately on his shoulders, not wanting to make a mess in your panties that are already sticking to your wet folds.

“Z-Zayne, wait I —”

He brings his thumb to your lips, pressing softly against your parted lips, all the while his own lips never leave your aching tits. Against them, he mumbles, “Don’t deny me. Please.”

You’re briefly snapped out of the mind numbing pleasure of your quickly approaching orgasm at the sound of his plea, bordering on a feral demand. It’s so rare to hear him so unraveled and desperate, to hear him demanding things from you. A man who never asked anything of anyone, especially not of you, the one person he treasured more than life itself. It’s so rare and raw that you can’t help but want to give him everything he wants.

You bury your face into the top of his head, his addicting scent invading your senses, and you kiss him gently, “Never, I would never deny you.”

Zayne inhales sharply, groaning at your sweet words, ”Good girl.” He pulls you down fully on top of him again, the leather chair reclining until it’s nearly flat. Your ass is arched into the air, your face pressed into his chest, as his knee pushes into you with renewed vigor.

His lips find themselves sucking urgently at your nipples again, his knee moving faster, wanting to see his beautiful girl come undone all over his thighs. His tongue lathers tortuous circles around your hardened and swollen peaks, soothing the areas in which his teeth bite down softly.

“Let me see you, love. Please. I haven’t gotten to feel you since you ran off into danger without telling me, again.”

Your heart clenched as you realized that was where all this desperation and vulnerability was coming from. You want to apologize, but his unforgiving knee against your weeping cunt made it nearly impossible to get the syllables out.

“I-I’m – nnghh – m’sorry.”

His hand roughly grabs your chin, turning you to level with his smoldering hazel eyes. His voice is gruff and inquisitive, eyebrows raised in doubt, “Are you, sweetheart?”

You whine at his words, his actions only becoming more relentless, as if forcing the responses he wants out of you, “I am!”

The corner of his lips curl up, so faint you can barely see it. An arrogance Zayne so rarely lets show.

“Then show me. Show me how sorry you are.” With each demand, his leg drives harshly into your clit. You nod vigorously, eager to please him.

His darkened green eyes cling to yours, his voice deceptively calm and soothing, “Say it, love.”

You want to respond but the way he’s punctuating his every word with a hard intentional thrust of his knee into your aching cunt makes it impossible to do anything but moan lewdly into his ear, your head hanging down with your hair falling over your eyes.

He pinches your abused nipple, guiding your eyes back to his demanding hazel ones, the golden flecks glowing brightly as they savor the sight of you.

“I-I’m – unghh – s-sorry. Should’ve told you. I’ll be good, just-just let me cum f’you!” You bury your face into his neck, embarrassed by the words coming out of your mouth but unable to stop them all the same.

“Let me see you,” he grunts. When you lift your head, bleary eyes fixing on his, he smiles. It's faint but effervescently warm.

“That’s my girl. Now tell me, hm? How is my beautiful girl going to make it up to me?”

Your eyes fill with tears, overwhelmed by the pleasure his knee brings you, and the raw feelings that are masked behind his lewd words. His facade of filthy demands that hide the suffocating emotions, the same emotions he’d felt when he saw your name on the list of hunters dispatched to the wanderer quarantine zone. Emotions that he was now taking out on your ever-so responsive body.

“Anything you want Zayne, anything,” you gasp, your eyes locked into his as he continues to hump his knee into you,

His breath catches audibly at your words, pulling your chin towards him to capture your lips in a raw and passionate kiss, one that felt like it might stop time and space as you knew it.

At his intensely possessive lips, his throaty demands, his insistent knee wedged into your cunt, it isn’t long before you come undone all over his knee. You cum with a strangled cry, your fingers digging crescents into his muscled shoulders. Your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of the filthy dampness against the fabric of your panties. Zayne groans at the angelic sight of your face contorted into pure pleasure, his erection painfully hard against his silken robe, pressed into your quivering belly. The heavenly vision of you cumming was almost enough to have him erupting right against your stomach.

“That’s it my love, just like that,” Zayne coos as you cum over his knee, still rocking gently into you as he helps you ride out the waves of your ecstasy. His slender fingers rub soothing circles into the small of your back, cooling your burning skin.

“So good, so good for me,” he murmurs into your hair, your head resting on his shoulders as the post-orgasm tremors come and go. His lips press into your scalp, the moment feeling absolutely and idyllically perfect.

You’re so blissed out you almost don’t feel him shifting beneath you, slender fingers pulling your soaked panties to the side. It isn’t until you feel the all-too familiar feeling of his fat leaking cockhead nestled between your folds, right at the entrance to your most sensitive parts, that your bleary eyes open.

You watch him, cock in his fist, swiping up and down your drenched lips, head hung down in pleasure as he watches the way your pussy quite literally invites him in. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his furrowed forehead, his restraint hanging on by a thread as he tries to calm himself before he burrows into you like an absolute animal.

You grab him by his chin, guiding him to look up at you. You take his throbbing manhood into your own fingers, in place of his. He stares at you heatedly, your languid actions driving him to the edge of insanity. Your body quivers as his cockhead catches on your clit, your body still reeling from the orgasm you’d just experienced on his knee.

Zayne’s hand encompasses yours, your joined palms holding his aching cock at the base. He repeats his plea from earlier, his voice raspy and breathless, “Show me.”

His desperation makes you bite your lip in anticipation, and you nod before sinking down onto his thick member. Your body grapples with the stretch as you slide further and further down, as Zayne writhes below you, panting rapidly and fingers digging into your waist.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he rasps, fingers bruising your hips with the intensity in which they grab you, “Give me more, please love.”

You grin at his rare pleas, teasing him by stopping halfway, not letting him enter you fully. His desperate moans and grunts make you giggle, and you relish in the way his large hands hold you so possessively, in the way only you are able to make him lose control.

Zayne chuckles darkly at your teasing antics, “You don’t sound very apologetic, sweetheart.” He raises his eyebrow at you, in a playful warning. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s cut off with a scream when he slams you down on his thick length, his strong grip pulling you down until your ass meets his thighs.

The impact of your thighs against Zayne’s lap is sinful. Zayne groans at the way he can feel the globes of your ass shake against him, your pussy clenching to accommodate the sudden stretch. And Zayne doesn’t even let you ride him, instead using the raw strength of his arms and thighs to bob you up and down his length, in a rhythm that had you seeing white.

“Nnghh – P-Please Zayne!” you plead, but for what you’re not even sure. You certainly don’t want him to stop or slow down. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding on while he bounces you like you weigh absolutely nothing.

Zayne grunts in response, too lost in the feeling of how your walls cling to him, how your body responds to his touch and thrusts like he owns you.

“Always — hah — throwing yourself — fuck! — into danger. Without telling me,” he grits out, his thrusts into you harsh and passionate all at the same time. You can tell by his tone that he’s more hurt than he is angry about you running off to the frontlines of a nearby wanderer quarantine. The deep timbre of his voice conveys more worry and vulnerability than it does domination and accusation.

Your heart flutters at how adorably pouty Zayne was being, in his own way. It was rare for him to act on his emotions like this, and it reminded you of how far the two of you had come. His hands gripped you forcibly, almost as if he was afraid you’d disappear on him again. His face buried into your chest, savoring your intoxicating scent like it was the air he needed to survive. The way your warm plush skin tasted on his tongue and felt against his canines.

So you let him throw you around like a fucktoy, letting him feel how absolutely and irrevocably his, you were. You held him tightly to your chest, kissing the shell of his ear as he rutted into you like a madman, suckling on your breasts like he thought you might lactate for him. The blend of possessive domination and raw neediness was driving you insane.

Zayne tears himself away from your chest, looking up at you with heated expectation, his eyes hazy with animalistic desire, “Nothing to say, Y/N?” He punctuates his question with a harsh thrust that prods against your g-spot, all the way to your cervix.

You gasp out, almost choking for air, “M’sorry Zayne. I-I’ll make it up t’y-you.” His fingers grip you tighter as he relentlessly bounces you on his lap, his fat cock bullying into your g spot. Your teeth dig into your lip as you feel your cunt trembling, close to release.

Zayne nestles his face into the area where your neck meets your collarbone, gasping out as you get increasingly tighter, until it feels like he’s suffocating with pleasure.

“Let me cum in you,” he growls, moving back to your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts, lapping at a reddened bruise he’d unwittingly left there. Zayne normally wasn’t keen on these juvenile displays of affection, leaving hickeys like a horny highschooler. But something about the way you constantly threw yourself into the face of danger for others, left him uncharacteristically uncontrollable and unrestrained.

“Let me leave my mark in you so you know better than to go running off into danger without me again.”

A string of whimpers escapes your mouth at his possessive yet sensitive words, clearly still miffed at the memory of your injured state after saving the pair of young siblings in the quarantine zone. Your talented, self-controlled, god-like surgeon, falling apart at the seams, for you.

It’s all enough to have you at the cusp of another mind-bending orgasm, your eyes rolling up as you try to warn him, “Z-Zayne, c-close.”

Zayne chuckles as you warn him. How adorable you were to think he needed to be told, as if he didn’t know your body like the back of his hand. That he couldn’t feel the telltale way your pussy pulsed and quivered around his cock, so tightly it threatened to break him.

“Look at me, my love. I need to see you.” He rams up into you, hands possessively on your hips, bringing you down forcefully with each upward thrust. You focus your eyes on him, eyelids hooded with an exhausted pleasure.

Through your blurry vision, you can see that Zayne is close too. His jaw ticks dangerously, teeth grit to hold the swears back. His golden emerald eyes meet yours, and he smiles, his fingers threading into the back of your head.

“Just like that, look at me when you cum,” he demands, pulling your face forward to capture your lips in a final kiss that would have you tumbling down the cliff of ecstasy. His tongue demands entry, teasing the seam of your lips. His fingers cup your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone.

You moan into his mouth as your body succumbs to yet another orgasm, your fingernails scraping into his back. Zayne groans into you as the sting of your nails against his skin intensifies the pleasure of your pussy practically wringing his cock dry, forcing the orgasm out of him.

It’s a passionate and furious gnashing of tongue and skin, his thighs, wet with your release, pounding up into you. Your combined whimpers of pleasure mix with the wet smacks of your ass against his thighs, creating the most sinful blanket of lust-filled ecstasy in Zayne’s living room.

His seed erupts inside you, hot, plenty, and demanding. Demanding to be inside you. Demanding to claim you.

Zayne’s thrusts slow, but don’t stop, plugging you completely full of him. He finally pulls away from your lips, breathing heavily as goosebumps of overstimulation litter his skin. He keeps going until you tap his shoulders in surrender. He chuckles, lifting you easily off of him, removing himself from you.

Your thighs quiver as you remain seated on Zayne’s lap, his fingers rubbing delicate circles on your waist. His lips brush gentle kisses on your collar, savoring the moment of intimacy and adoration that falls over the two of you.

Zayne shifts so that he can look at you, cupping your chin gently in his fingers.

“How are you feeling Y/N?” His deep voice is filled with concern, eyes searching yours, “Was I too…enthusiastic?”

You giggle tiredly, your voice filled with playful teasing, “Maybe a bit. But I loved it. I love you.”

Zayne chuckles, bringing your face back down to rest on his chest, his bare skin peeking through the robe that had become untied amidst all the movement. He cradles your head against his body, his arms secure and protective against you, his lips pressing kisses into the top of your head.

“Can you blame me?” He presses his lips into the space below your ear, leaving a trail of kissing down your neck and along your shoulders.

“When you’re constantly worried about the woman you love…it can leave one a bit pent up.”

His lips on your singed skin has you shivering against him, your fingers trailing up and down his chest, “And are you still…pent up?”

The corner of Zayne’s lips quirk up, the blood rushing back south as he feels you writhe against his most fleeting touches. Always so responsive to his touch.

Zayne uses one hand to guide your chin up towards him, his smile hungry and affectionate all at the same time. His other hand holds yours, and you jolt off his chest when he wraps your fingers around something wet, hot, and hard.

“You could say that.”

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

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kingkatsuki · 7 months

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Thinking about Bakugou who hates when you shower after sex. Because to him it feels like you’re washing the scent of him off your skin, and wasting the copious amounts of spunk that now disappear down the drain. Cleaning your body with that expensive body scrub that has him going insane as he watches you clean away every bit of evidence that he was balls deep inside you barely ten minutes ago. If he had it his way you’d keep his cum buried deep inside you, clinging to your silky walls as a reminder that every inch of you is his. Your body doused in the lingering scent of his cologne, sweat and his quirk to ensure that if anyone dared to get too close they’d know exactly what it meant.

Which is why Bakugou loves when you use his deodorant, shampoo, shower gel or creams because it means you’ll smell like him for the rest of the day. Silently letting everyone know that you belong to him without having to say a word, the scent of him lingering on your skin as a deadly reminder to anyone that you have a man at home.

He’ll never admit to hiding your products, or dousing his own body in a little too much of your fruity body scrub or vanilla cream after a shower. Not that he minds, he loves the scent of you lingering on his skin too— just enough to have his cock half mast as he wraps a palm doused with your fruity shower gel around his length.

Hearing you shout at him from the bedroom when you’ve just waddled into the bathroom after sex that— “it’s so expensive Katsuki, you used all of it!” So now you have no choice but to use his instead. Picking up your deodorant to put it into his gym bag before you notice so you’re forced to spray yourself with his musky scent.

Offering to help cream your soft body when you step out of the shower dressed in nothing but a fluffy towel, perching your foot on his thigh so he can caress his cream into your skin. Peppering apologetic kisses against your skin as he promises to buy you more, while simultaneously breathing in the scent of him mixed with you.

But that doesn’t mean Bakugou is any better— Bakugou loves being surrounded in the scent of you too.

You’ve lost count of the number of times he’s returned home battered and bruised, covered in a thick layer of sweat and grime as he begs you to run him a bath— because somehow your baths are always better than his. Coaxing you into the tub behind him as he surrounds himself in the scent of you.

He’s shameless after sex, refusing to shower as he watches you disappear into the bathroom, wanting to keep the lingering scent of you stuck to his skin for as long as possible. Only joining you in the shower when the thought of you naked, wet and soapy is too much to bear.

He doesn’t even care when he pulls out a bottle of your fruity gels at the agency when he takes a long shower, listening to his friends and sidekicks mocking him for using such ‘girly’ products. Because how could he care when he smells like you.

#soft bakugou #literally imagining him using my bath products has me swooning

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forzalando · 3 months

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take my hand

another 3k celebration blurb! this time, best friends to lovers with lando for my dear friend lee @scuderiahoney 💛 i hope you all love this one, it's an apology for unrequited love!lando lol no heartbreak this time, folks!!! i'm being nice!!!! set at the 2024 spanish gp but definitely some inaccuracies with the post race timeline and also please pretend max fewtrell was there pairing: lando norris x fem best friend!reader word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a blurb wtf is wrong with me) summary: it can be so easy to fall in love with your best friend, and it can also be incredibly hard to imagine a world where they love you back. in this world, you're one of the lucky ones. tw: short but steamy makeout scene, mild cursing

Loving Lando Norris was so astonishingly easy. It came as naturally as breathing for you and has for over half of your life.

You met so many years ago but it still feels like yesterday that he reached out to you and said, “take my hand”, pulling you gently off the ground while the other children laughed at your clumsiness. He told you that they laughed at him too – he was short, shorter than you even at that age, and he struggled to read and write. You vowed that day to always pick each other up when you fell or faltered, always stand by each other’s side even when everyone else was laughing, and although it was a promise made between two children, neither of you had ever broken it.

Smiling at the memory, you were off in your own little world – thinking about the days when he would pick you “flowers” at recess (you didn’t have the heart to tell him they were weeds) and you would always share half of your cookie at lunch.

A voice pulled you from your trance, making you jump slightly at the sudden interruption.

“What are you thinking about? Or should I say who are you thinking about with that dopey smile on your face?”

You turned to face Max Fewtrell, a staple in both yours and Lando’s lives for just as long as you’d known each other.

“I was just thinking about where we’ll go for a celebratory dinner after the race. I’ve been craving gourmet pasta and a fruity cocktail.”

“Right, and my name is Willy Wonka. You don’t have to tell me the truth, it’s fine! Just thought I’d let you know he’s looking for you, he wants you in the garage for the race.”

Your heart swelled – even though Lando asked you to be there for every race you could attend, it never failed to make you giddy. You nodded your head at Max, he smirked back at you, and you walked as quickly as possible to the McLaren garage without calling attention to yourself.

As soon as you stepped into the garage, you ran straight into Oscar and the force almost knocked you to the floor.

“Oh thank god you’re here,” he groaned. “Lando’s insufferable, asking where you are every five minutes.”

“Where is he? In his driver’s room?”

“Yeah, that’s where I last saw him headed,” Oscar yelled over his shoulder, walking towards his car. “Go work your magic on him!”

You rolled your eyes as you walked the familiar route to Lando’s driver’s room, your heart rate picking up a bit the closer you got to it. As soon as you were in front of the door, you knocked once and paused, then twice in quick succession, and once more after another brief pause – the secret knock you’d been using for years to let each other know you were there.

The door swung open almost immediately after your last knock and a frantic Lando yanked you inside. He flopped down on the couch behind him and covered his face with his hands – even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he had a frown and furrowed brow.

“Thank god you’re here now, I’ve been going insane. I need you to tell me that I’m going to win this race – now that I’ve won once, it’s fucking brutal being so close yet so far. Canada was a nightmare and today I’m starting on pole. They’ll eat me alive if I don’t convert it into a win and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

You sat next to him and gently peeled his hands from his face, glassy green eyes, flushed cheeks, and, just as you predicted, a frown and furrowed brow.

“I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, Lando,” you started to say until he interrupted you with a groan, pushing your hands away.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, but what I can tell you is that no matter what, I’m proud of you. Max is proud of you. Your family is proud of you. Your fans are proud of you. So many people love you and see what you’re capable of – winning a race, not winning a race, it doesn’t define you. You’re the hardest worker I know, you’re kind, you are the most wonderful friend. I’ll celebrate you even if you come plum last pushing a burning, front wing-less car across the line and so will everyone else who knows and loves you.”

By the time you’d finished rambling, Lando’s shoulders had visibly relaxed and he was smiling. Not the goofy smile with his teeth on full display but a smile was a smile, you would take what you could get.

“Thank you for always being there for me. I can’t promise I won’t be pissed if I lose today but at least I feel better now, thanks to you.”

You punched his arm lightly, jokingly, and rolled your eyes. “We made a promise, didn’t we? I’ll always be there for you, always there to pick you up, even if your inability to see how wonderful you are makes me want to scream.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m perfect, you love me, I’m the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you, your days are miserable without me, tell me something I don’t know,” he jested, nudging your shoulder before standing and holding out his hand to help you up.

“In your dreams, Norris,” you scoffed. “Make sure that big head of yours still fits in your helmet before you get in the car.”

He laughed loudly as he led you out of his driver’s room, finally smiling the goofy smile you loved so dearly. The moment was short-lived – someone from his team called his name and he hugged you briefly before jogging towards them, yelling over his shoulder that he wanted you waiting for him in Parc Ferme after the race.

You shouted your agreement, hoping and praying he hadn’t noticed the rapid beating of your heart or how warm your cheeks were when he pulled you into that brief embrace. Although he had said it all to rile you up, you truly did think the world of him. He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to you. In your eyes, he was as perfect as a person could be, and oh, did you love him. You loved him far more than a friend should and it was getting increasingly more difficult to keep that to yourself.

As Lando pulled his car in front of the P2 sign, you felt the familiar burning of guilt running through your veins.

Maybe you should have told him he would win. Insisted on it, actually. You should have been adamant that he would rise to the occasion and to the top step of the podium once again.

He wouldn’t want to see you, you were quite sure of that, and despite your promise to be waiting for him with his team, you tried to sneak away unnoticed. You’d slowly made it far back enough to be swallowed by the sea of people until an arm blocked you from getting any further.

You looked up to see Lando’s race engineer with a disapproving look on his face and instantly felt like your father had just caught you trying to sneak out after curfew.

“He wants you here and he’s going to need you here,” Will shouted over the noise of the crowd.

“I think I’m the last person he wants to see right now, I wouldn’t promise him that he would win. I basically jinxed his whole race trying to keep him from being so hard on himself. What if he thinks I don’t believe in him?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Will snorted. “Now please get back up there quickly so you’re the first person he sees when he gets out of that car.”

With the help of Will, you were pushed gently back to the front just in time to see Lando haul himself out of his McLaren. His body language was obvious – disappointment, sorrow, embarrassment, and your heart ached as you listened to the roaring cheers from the Red Bull team as Max launched himself into their arms.

You knew Lando would be running every possible scenario through his mind – what if he had gotten a better start, what if he’d managed tires just a bit better, what if George hadn’t been able to sail through at the start and he hadn’t had to back off of fighting Max. All of those thoughts a natural, valid response, but if he voiced any of them out loud he’d get torn to pieces by both journalists and fans of other drivers.

When he peeled his balaclava from his face your stomach twisted and you silently begged him to look your way – for him to find a face in the crowd that was so unwaveringly proud of him through everything, but he kept his eyes trained anywhere but you or his team.

Finally, you saw his eyes flicker to you, and he walked briskly toward where you and the few members of his team were waiting. Wordlessly, he pulled you into his arms and exhaled so deeply it felt as if he’d been holding his breath since the end of the race.

“You drove beautifully,” you whispered, combing your fingers through the sweat-dampened curls on his head. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Lando’s arms immediately loosened around you and his head was turned away from you, he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, look you in the eye.

“We’ll talk later, I have to go do my interview,” he mumbled. “Wait for me in my driver’s room, okay?”

You nodded your head even though he was already walking away from you, shoulders slumped and jaw clenched. Honestly, you weren’t sure what hurt worse – the fact that you could physically see his disappointment or that he didn’t say he loved you back.

It felt like hours before you heard an all too familiar knock on the door to Lando’s room – the door gently swinging open to reveal the tired face and frame of your best friend. He must have showered in Oscar’s room before coming to find you – the smell of champagne nowhere to be found yet his curls stuck slightly to his forehead. The sight was endearing, and it took everything in you to not pull him into you and bury yourself against his chest.

“You didn’t have to knock, it’s your room,” you spoke softly, adjusting your position on the couch.

“Force of habit, I guess.” The corner of his lip turned up when he answered you – a good sign, a sign that maybe he wasn’t angry with you at all about your earlier conversation.

Although it was Lando who asked to talk, you couldn’t help yourself from blurting out an apology as soon as he took a seat next to you.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” you pleaded. “I should’ve said something different, I should’ve just said what you wanted me to say. I meant all of it, every word, but you asked me to reassure you in a specific way and I didn’t.”

Lando blinked a few times as he stared at you, his mouth falling open in shock? Amusement? You couldn’t tell, but at least he didn’t appear to be mad.

“Do you think I’m angry with you?”

“Well, yes,” you mumbled. “I probably jinxed your race.”

“Jinxed it? If anything, you’re the reason I finished second. I kept thinking about what you told me instead of focusing on how I screwed up – it kept my head in the race.”

“But, but,” you stammered, “you didn’t say you loved me back. In Parc Ferme, when you were hugging me. You always say it back, I thought you were furious with me.”

“Would I have walked over only to hug you if I was furious with you?”

You felt a little embarrassed at your panic – “I suppose not, you probably would’ve stayed as far away from me as possible.”

“Exactly, you silly muppet,” he teased, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “I didn’t say it back because I realized that it means something different for both of us and I, believe it or not, got scared.”

Your eyes widened and you felt like you were going to be sick. He knew. You shouldn’t have been surprised, everyone had figured it out – his pit crew, Will, Zak, Oscar, Oscar’s girlfriend the literal first time you met her, all of your friends and family, even drivers on different teams had made comments to you in passing over the years.

“Lando, I,” you tried to get ahead of it, ahead of the rejection and the awkwardness, but he cut you off with a raised hand and a pleading look.

“Please, just let me get this out or I never will,” he begged. “I think I’ve always known, or at least everyone around me has just always told me that it’s painfully obvious, but I didn’t fully realize it until earlier today. You care about me so much, more than anyone, and I’m almost positive I could be the lousiest driver, lawyer, engineer, teacher, architect, whatever, and you’d still always be proud of me. You’d be there for me regardless with a giant smile on your face, an “I love you”, and a hug that would heal any self-doubt or negative thoughts. You mean everything to me and I don’t know what I would do without you but – ”

You waited with bated breath, your leg bouncing uncontrollably and heart hammering in your chest. Waiting for the “but I don’t feel the same”, “but I see you as a friend”, for the inevitable heartbreak.

“But I can’t keep my feelings a secret anymore, even if it might ruin everything, but I have to believe it won’t because we can get through anything together. I love you, Y/N, more than anyone in this world, more than a friend, more than I ever thought it would be possible to love someone. I’m saying it back now, hoping that you feel the same because it’ll be incredibly awkward if you don’t, but that’s what I had to tell you first. I love you. I think I always have.”

It felt like the earth had stopped moving, time frozen and only you and Lando existed in this moment, only you existed in the entire universe. Your thoughts raced with what to say back – something romantic? Should you just jump into his arms and kiss him senseless like you’d dreamed about for years? Unfortunately, you landed on something far less eloquent.

“You what?” Your shout echoed in his driver’s room, if anyone was within a ten-foot radius they surely would have heard you.

“Well, I guess that’s not the worst reaction,” Lando pondered, looking away from you bashfully. “Nora Powell stomped on my foot when I told her I liked her. Do you remember that? I think it was Year 10?”

You did remember – it was quite a horrendous memory for you, actually, as that’s the year you realized you had a crush on your best friend.

“Oh, I was so jealous of her,” you blurted. “I cornered her at lunch the next day and told her she was the luckiest girl in the world and a certified idiot for turning you down.”

His head snapped back to look at you, a hopeful glint in his eye.

You smiled at Lando, tentatively cupping his cheek. “I suppose I’m the luckiest girl in the world now, to love and be loved by the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

“Oh no,” he insisted, “I promise you, I’m the lucky one.”

He kissed you once gently, tentatively, his lips barely brushing yours before he pulled you into his lap and slid his hands to rest on your neck, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. In an instant, he was kissing you breathless, licking into your mouth as you whined and pressed yourself against him.

One roll of your hips had him panting, a hand leaving your face to slide under your shirt, leaving a trail of fire until he stopped and squeezed just under your breast. You were dizzy with desire and full of so much love for the man underneath you – he was intoxicating, you never wanted to stop kissing him, you never wanted to know the feeling of his hands not wandering your body.

You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to disconnect his lips from yours even though it pained you to do so.

“I love you so much,” you muttered, a tear escaping from your eye. “I never thought – ”, you couldn’t even get the words out, choosing to bury your head into Lando’s neck as he gently rubbed your back.

“I know,” he whispered, lifting your head to kiss you senseless once again.

The two of you were so wrapped up in one another that neither of you heard a knock at the door or the turning of the knob. You did, however, hear the blood-curdling scream.

“Oh my god, my eyes,” Max groaned, slapping a hand over his face while he dramatically dry-heaved. “Get a room, you deviants!”

“Mate, we are literally in a room!” Lando shouted back, lifting you gently off his lap before he leapt to his feet and pushed Max backward. “We will see you back at the hotel.”

“Great, I’ll be bleaching my eyes out when you get there. For the record, I’ve always wanted this to happen, but I never wanted to see it.”

“Well, that’s your own fault,” you scolded. “Next time wait for a response before barging in somewhere.”

“Oh, believe me,” he stressed, “I’ll never be walking into any room you two are in ever again. Not even if there’s another fire and I’m the only one who can warn you to get out.”

“The dramatics are unnecessary but you do need to leave,” Lando insisted, pointing out the door.

“Yes, absolutely, but before I go, who confessed first?”

“Lando did,” you said proudly. “I’m just irresistible, I guess.” Lando winked back at you, which you took to be an agreement.

“Damn it, I owe Piastri, Sainz, and Verstappen $100 each,” Max groaned. “Like they need my money. See you two lovebirds later!”

He shut the door so quickly that neither you nor Lando had time to react to the fact that your friends had been betting on you. It took a few rounds of looking back and forth at each other and then the closed door before you burst into giggles and fell back into the couch, clinging onto each other. You laughed a bit too hard, your hands leaving Lando to clutch at your ribs. Almost instantly, you felt yourself sliding off your seat, your bum hitting the floor with a thud.

You looked up to see Lando with his arm outstretched, a cheesy smile on his face as he repeated the same words he said to you so many years ago.

“Take my hand.”

And just like you did that fateful day, you grabbed on, let him pull you up, and fell in love all over again.

----------------------

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writerpeach · 29 days

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Premium Content

Kep1er/Madein Kang Yeseo x m!reader

10k words

Happy Yeseo day!

---

Read on AO3

“Come on, just go say something to her.”

“It’s not that easy, Ting.“

Two drinks in, and this isn’t your finest moment. It’s not like you’re too shy to approach a girl at the bar, or embarrassed, but—

“What’s the worst thing that happens? She tells you to fuck off?"

"Well yeah—exactly that.”

“So what? You get rejected, order another drink, and then you try again. If you don’t, then you have someone hot to take home and put your dick in.” A frustrated sigh later, and then you hear a thud against the bar counter, as your companion slams her drink down. You look over to see Xiaoting call over the bartender with a wave of her hand, as if she’s the one that needs a stiff drink more than you do.

“She's even your type. If you don't go over there and say something to her, then I will," Xiaoting huffs, reaching over to yank the fruity drink out right from between your fingers to steal a sip.

"Please, as if you know who my type is."

"She's a woman, and she’s pretty. That's your type,” she returns, a slight chuckle escaping as she sips on her own drink, eyeing you down with hopes to encourage you to get off your ass.

"I don't even know what to say. Hi, you're cute. Let me buy you a drink? That sounds all so generic, doesn't it?"

"Exactly that," Xiaoting replies. "It's not that difficult.” And with a sudden push, you find yourself stumbling into the open, caught in your own thoughts. This girl—she’s gorgeous. Even from a distance, she stands out in this white little dress that beckons you, makes your heart beat a little faster with how well it hugs her body. A cute face with that figure, it’s a sinful combination.

Well, here goes nothing.

You nearly stumble over your own two feet when you approach cautiously, incredulous to the fact that Xiaoting’s powers of persuasion are responsible for this—but you can't disappoint now. The odds seem to be in your favor: she's alone, nursing a glass of something dark and murky and barely touched, so this seems as good an opening as any.

"H-hi, I—" you stutter out before any full words can escape you, barely managing to utter a single syllable before your confidence breaks. Your words stick in your throat as the girl looks up, away from her phone for a brief glance, eyes curious. And already you feel like an idiot.

"Hi there," she says, wearing this warm smile across her lips, and the fact that she hasn't already told you to fuck off nearly has you in a panic. Yet you have no follow through, with half a mind to turn around and walk right through the exit, but you can’t with how your legs feel glued in place.

"Can I uh…"

In that brief moment, you've completely forgotten how words work. This is all so embarrassing, you don't know why you let Xiaoting convince you in the first place. You could be at home, catching up on favorite shows in your favorite pajamas—yet, you're stuck in this fancy venue, about to make an ass of yourself.

"Buy me a drink?" she finishes for you, taking pity on the fact you can't find your bearings. "Sure. As long as you have one, too.”

That goes way better than expected—you already had one foot in the opposite direction prepared to make a quick getaway. You take a seat beside her with a small victory, a quick glance back at Xiaoting who offers a silent thumbs up in the dim light from a distance, which is enough confidence to fill your entire body and get the ball rolling.

"My name's Yeseo," the girl introduces, taking a slow sip from her glass. "Saw you staring at me from across the bar.. was wondering when you would come over and introduce yourself. “

"Sorry I just—couldn't take my eyes off of you."

You want to vomit.

Of all the things you could have said, that sounds like the worst possible outcome. You curse under your breath, and nearly down your drink in one go, hoping this alcohol makes its way through your system as fast as possible.

"Don't be," Yeseo replies with a smile. "You're cute. Glad your friend convinced you to talk to me."

"Ah, was it that obvious?"

She nods, leaning forward to swirl the remains of her glass, the clink loud enough to distract you. "Noticed you staring from a mile away. Most guys come up to hit on me the moment they see me, with some shitty pickup line and a bad attitude. But not you. You hesitated. Which means you don't do this that often..."

"You got me. I'm terrible at this, in case you didn't notice already."

“Honestly," Yeseo starts. "It's cute. A welcome change from all the creepy guys who think I'll fuck them the second I talk to them."

You stare into your drink for a moment, hoping a bit more courage starts to manifest to drown the nerves. Yeseo, she's beyond pretty, absolutely the prettiest girl in the whole goddamn bar—the least you can do is treat her with respect.

"So," Yeseo says, as the bartender comes to slide you both new drinks. "You've bought me a drink. Now tell me something about yourself. Anything at all."

Her demeanor is confident, composed—while you can barely handle looking directly into those eyes without feeling flustered. Your mind has already become a blur of indecision, so you blurt the first thing to cross your mind.

"Just moved here for work a few months ago. Don't really know too many people. I met Xiaoting at a coffee shop and she showed me around the city, and somehow, she dragged me to come here for a night out."

"XIaoting? Your friend over there?"

You just nod.

"Good for her. Drinking's fun," Yeseo says and takes a long, careful sip of her glass, crossing one bare leg over the other, as if that was enough to prove her point. "Probably the best thing to do in this city."

"Have you been here a while, then?"

"A year or two," she muses. "Moved out here to do some modeling, but it doesn't exactly pay the bills. Had to resort to doing some side gigs just to cover the rest.”

"Side gigs?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

"You know. A little erotic photography.” Yeseo sips at her drink, so nonchalant and casually. “The kind that satisfies people's fantasies for the right price."

Oh.

You freeze mid-sip at the curveball you’ve been thrown, as you attempt not to choke on your own drink, unsure if you heard her correctly.

"Do you wanna see some examples? I can show you." Yeseo pulls her phone out before you can even answer, tapping a few times before sliding the phone over, as if she has no sense of discretion whatsoever to share these with an almost complete stranger.

What you see on that small screen is tamer than expected, but nonetheless—you’re taken aback.

Yeseo's all dolled up, wearing sheer white lingerie, posed suggestively on a black leather couch, legs all spread out for the camera to see—possibly in the exact same heels she has on now. She scrolls through, presenting each picture for you with a simple swipe of her finger. Different outfits, different poses, increasing levels of nudity.

It's not until she gets near the end that the pictures leave little to the imagination, no clothes, only a suggestive stare, and strategic placement of objects blocking what matters most. By the time you return her phone, you’re jolted back to reality, the startling juxtaposition between these images and this cute, bright girl sitting right next to you.

"People pay a lot of money just for me to send those types of pics. Men mostly. Then they'll pay extra just for me to pretend I'm their girlfriend. It's kind of sad actually, but it pays well, and all I have to do is send pictures of my tits and pretend to be interested for a few hours."

"The camera doesn't really do you justice…" you say out of nowhere, and you can feel your face heating up when you finish that sentence, like you've found this modicum of courage.

"Well, thanks. Aren't you the sweetest thing?" There's something to that smile, the way Yeseo glances in your direction, those eyes so alluring, so damn beautiful. She runs her hand slowly through her long, dark hair, brushing it off to one side, before resting on the counter. "I can give you a closer look if you'd like. My apartment's not far."

You almost choke on your drink again.

Yeseo doesn't hesitate, doesn't hold back. The look in her eyes is completely irresistible, her gaze trapping you as she inches closer, making a quick move across the counter, a hand coming to rest on your knee.

She squeezes gently and you swallow nervously at Yeseo's not-so-subtle intentions, your mouth suddenly so dry that you chug the rest of your drink—savoring the way it burns on the way down. There's no hiding the flush across your face, the obvious redness around your cheeks. "Y-yeah, that sounds—"

"You don't sound so sure. Do you need your friend to come speak for you?" she teases, the tone of her voice shifting all cute and bubbly.

Xiaoting—you completely forget all about Xiaoting, turning your head in her direction, and she offers you a slight smile and a subtle, approving nod that keeps you going. "No, not at all. I'm fine."

"Oh? Good then. Do you wanna fuck me?" Yeseo asks blatantly, pushing her drink away and pulling herself just a smidge closer until her face is mere inches from your own.

You're not fine.

You nearly faint at those words, barely able to think clearly in such a short amount of time. But you pull yourself together to answer with conviction, to gather the strength to reply with some shred of dignity. "Of course I do."

Yeseo likes that answer, and the fact that you can look her in the eye this time. "Hmm, thought so. Will your friend be joining us?"

An answer doesn't quite form so fast this time—you shift nervously in your seat at the proposition, not expecting to take things any further.

“I’m kidding. I want you all to myself.”

With your head still spinning, Yeseo takes your hand and guides you out of the bar into the open air. You catch a passing glance of Xiaoting on your way out—wearing an expression full of excitement, like she knew this was all inevitable.

Your phone buzzes once you're in the backseat of the taxi, Yeseo sliding in beside you, a message lighting up the screen. But you can already guess who it’s from before you even look.

Xiaoting (09:06 PM):

knew you had it in you

go get your dick wet, tiger

You send back a few hearts before silencing your phone and shoving it back in your pocket.

“Come here," Yeseo says in your ear, and you listen, leaning over as she kisses you with those irresistible lips, more intoxicating than the liquor running through you. One more kiss leaves you drowning in lust, and god, the way she pulls you in and devours you in an instant—it's an easy prelude to what's coming, leaving you aching for more.

You melt right then, forgetting how to breathe for a split second, when her lips press deeper against yours. By the time you recover, she's halfway into your lap, straddled atop your thighs—a bold move considering you're still very much in the presence of a complete stranger. But that hardly bothers her when she shifts against you, kissing you again, and her hands aren't shy either, exploring wherever they please.

Those lips feel as soft and sweet as they look, and you can still taste the liquor on her breath when she kisses you, all aggressive and eager, each lingering for a bit longer, almost forgetting where the two of you are, until the car halts to a sudden stop.

You reluctantly part your lips from hers, catching your breath again, as she tucks a finger under your chin to direct your gaze back at her. “This is me. Come on.”

The interruption is torturous, and Yeseo lets out this devilish little smirk when she climbs off your lap and crawls out of the cab, her urgency only growing once you get inside the building. Within seconds, you've got her pinned against a wall in the lobby, hands all over the body of this petite girl you just met, and end up missing the elevator after getting lost in these lips.

You catch the next one, and the doors are still sliding shut when you press a feverish kiss to Yeseo's neck, already leaving marks on her flawless skin that are sure to show up within hours. One elevator ride, a long hallway all the way to the back, and not a single barrier can stand in your way when you’re at her front door, pressed against the surface while these desperate kisses get more heated, making out so shamelessly for everyone to see.

"Come in—come in so you can fuck me," Yeseo says all greedily between kisses, and she wrestles getting her key into the lock, something you're both laughing about.

"That’s the plan, isn’t it?” you say, fueled by alcohol and lust, and your words surprise the both of you. Yeseo swings the door wide, tossing her keys on a counter with barely enough time to kick her heels off before she jumps into your arms without any warning.

You carry her further in, the weight of her petite frame less of a burden and more a comfort as you look around at the unfamiliar territory of her apartment—a fairly nice space. The living area isn’t exactly sparse, but doesn't feel massive either. A few paintings hang on the cream-colored walls, fashion magazines littering her small coffee table, while an open laptop sits unattended on a sleek black sofa that looks surprisingly familiar. There’s a sweater resting on an armchair opposite the couch, along with a tall tripod standing beside that seems out of place at first, until you connect the dots.

But as Yeseo looks at you, you find this sudden indomitable spirit, the confidence to do absolutely anything. “Can’t wait to get my tongue in you.” It’s the boldest thing you’ve said so far, but the effect is immediate.

“Fuck, say that again. About time you finally stopped being shy around me."

“Wanna get my tongue all over you—“

Yeseo bites her lip. She directs you to the couch, her lips never straying away for too long when you fall backwards against the cushions. And wasting no time, the laptop gets tossed aside as she plants herself in your lap again, with all the freedom to do so.

"Well, you gotta unwrap me first," Yeseo says, giggling, and takes your hands, letting them run the length of her tight body until you find the zipper at the back of her little dress. One tug is all it takes and that whole outfit is on the floor, in a heap, so easily revealing what's beneath.

In mere seconds, Yeseo sits there in nothing but lace panties, a bra that matches, and a smile—the exact same set of lingerie you saw in her pictures. A model indeed, that puts her photos to shame, this sinful body the perfect mix of feminine yet toned, and those perky breasts are a perfect handful when she unhooks the clasp of her bra with ease, letting it fall right by her forgotten dress.

The rest comes so easily—her panties drop with the same urgency, and you only catch a passing glimpse of her bare body until she falls atop the couch on her back, completely and utterly naked, offering herself to you like an exquisite feast. And so, the hunger kicks in, and this time, you make sure you don't even hesitate to indulge.

Within moments, you’re making up her body with kisses, a slow, long drag of your tongue along her flat stomach, memorizing every curve, every inch of bare skin. You continue upwards, paying ample attention to each breast, first one and then the other—nothing but little nips and teasing pecks until finally taking one hard nipple between your teeth, not afraid of giving just a little bit of pressure, to draw a long exhale from Yeseo.

Her fingers tangle in your hair and urge you even more, but your tongue already is flicking furiously while your other hand rolls her opposite nipple between your fingers, drawing out that little whine into a blissful moan. These cute little gasps, you love them as much as Yeseo loves her body being lavished with attention, the way your lips tease, the way your hands roam and explore, relishing the naked perfection laid out before your eyes.

“God, this feels good—wanna see what else your mouth can do." Yeseo reaches down and begins rubbing her clit in full circles, just in full view of you.

"Patience," you say, as if you have any left in you, but take the hint nonetheless and head south. And then she guides your head down between her legs, spreading them wide, so you can get the best fucking view in the world, no cameras necessary—that pretty pussy, all bare and dripping wet, so ready to be devoured.

When your mouth meets the inside of Yeseo's thighs—those perfect fucking thighs that are destined to be around your head, you take your sweet time exploring the creamy skin. From this position, it's all so visible, how wet she is, how those pink folds glisten, inviting you right in. And with those greedy fingers rubbing between, it's become even more apparent how desperate her body gets in response to your touch.

A few more wet kisses on her full thighs, and your tongue slides between those drenched folds, her arousal immediately flooding your mouth. Yeseo lets out a sharp gasp the second you taste her, with a sudden bite of her lip as she stifles a cry, hips bucking so desperately into your face. "Fuck—"

Yeseo has the sweetest taste that fills your mouth, and you want to drag this moment on forever. Your tongue teases, pushing inside and delving deep, exploring her pussy before you find her sensitive clit. She sounds so needy, that you can’t help but grant what she wants right away, circling around, flicking lazily against the swollen bud until you seal your lips around it, sucking hard.

“Shit, holy shit,” Yeseo cries out, falling apart so beautifully already. She can't stay still, writhing helplessly as the ecstasy slowly builds, the taste of heaven coating your lips. When you push two fingers inside her dripping core, curling and pumping while continuing the assault with your mouth—she just lets go, entirely, with a series of desperate whines, clutching tightly on to the back of your head and grabbing a fistful of your hair. “Fuck, how are you so good at this?”

"Dunno. Maybe because you taste so fucking good," you say, voice all muffled between the heavenly thighs that slowly close around your head, trapping you in their intoxicating softness. You need Yeseo to be absolutely convinced how divine she is when your fingers pull out, cleaning them off before replacing them with your tongue, plunging all the way inside her wetness.

"And to think," Yeseo pants, as she pushes your head deeper into her cunt. "You could barely fucking talk to me. Now look at you, eating my pussy—so fucking well. Not too shy to bury your head between my legs."

That's enough praise for you to make sure you deliver, to keep giving Yeseo what she wants, lapping away at her delicious cunt, eager for every drop. This time, when she clamps her thighs harder around your head, you give all you've got, working her clit frantically, slurping so lewdly to make those moans tumble out.

Her taste is unforgettable, and you can’t help but be ravenous for more, tasting as much of Yeseo as you can get your lips on, a never-ending feast that keeps those deliciously warm thighs squeezing your head. You keep a tight seal around her swollen clit, and a hand flat on her smooth stomach to pin her down—never letting up, witnessing how she crumbles, how she edges closer by the second.

"I'm close, fuck, so close," she says so desperately, eyes squeezed shut, holding your head steady to her core. You give her all these messy licks that leave her gasping, shallow breaths growing more frantic, eyes pleading, and with that one last swirl of your tongue, you take her right over the edge. "Fuck, oh god, shit, shit shit—"

It’s gorgeous, the way she shatters. Her whole body shudders, thighs quivering around your head so violently, so perfectly, as your mouth keeps all the pressure on her clit she needs, until Yeseo cums right on your face.

The pure bliss hits so hard that a surge of her delectable juices pours right into your mouth, a flood of endless sweetness, and it all tastes so fucking incredible. Yeseo keeps you right there between her legs for this burst of pleasure to linger, lips parted, crying out in broken moans, riding it all out with all these messy flicks of your tongue that draw more nectar into your mouth.

Her release is all over your face by the time she's done, and you're licking her through the whole thing. But your hunger isn’t satiated so easily, dragging through her sopping wet folds, sucking frantically on her clit, until Yeseo has to shove your mouth away—unable to take any more.

That intoxicating sweetness clings to your tongue, and you lick your lips to savor every morsel. When you glance up into Yeseo's eyes, she's still shaking, out of breath, chest heaving, blushing hard, trying to come down from the intensity.

"Can't talk to a girl at a bar, but you can make her cum like that?" Yeseo asks between gasps, struggling to recover, still riding the euphoric high after such a satisfying finish. "You are full of surprises."

You don't say much, more interested in kissing the creamy, flushed skin of her thighs, licking up whatever delicious nectar that you can clean up as her breathing starts to get under control. But the longer you lay there, just kissing, softly caressing her naked body, the more that need for your own pleasure starts to rise, reminding you how painful and neglected your erection is—straining against the confines of your pants.

You need to be inside Yeseo.

As you brazenly stare at her legs spread wide, this gorgeous exhibit of her glistening slit dripping with arousal, you tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it off and tossing it haphazardly on the floor. There's not a drop of discretion when Yeseo's eyes land on your bare chest, watching every movement, not even offering to help, gaze slowly lowering when she catches sight of how tented the fabric of your pants has become.

"Those need to come off, immediately," Yeseo demands, licking her lips.

"Working on it, give me a second—” you say, reaching for the belt around your waist, fiddling with the buckle, trying so desperately not to lose eye contact as Yeseo stares hungrily into your eyes. And the moment your pants and boxers finally come off, freeing your rigid cock—she's practically drooling.

"Oh fuck, that’s gonna feel so good inside me," Yeseo gasps, as her eyes light up, and already she's guiding you to her inviting heat, her small hand making all these little pumps that get you nice and hard. She lets you do the rest—the anticipation agonizing when you grip your cock tightly, pushing against her wet entrance and looking at the approval in her eyes for a fleeting moment.

And then, those silky wet folds part, and you slide right into Yeseo.

All of this was worth the effort, when you hear moans escape from her lips, nothing but bliss written on her innocent little features.

"So damn tight—fuck," you moan, her cunt so goddamn wet and warm as her walls stretch wide around your length, accommodating the first few inches. It's unreal, the sensations you feel around your cock, the wet heat, the sheer tightness—and that's all before you've even started to move.

“Fucking give it to me. Pound me, I know you want to," is all Yeseo says when you take hold of her slender waist, your fingertips pressing firmly into her perfect skin, all eager to pound into her pretty little pussy.

The invitation is too enticing, and you snap your hips, a shallow thrust at first, to get yourself accustomed to this smothering heat as she settles into the stretch. These walls covered in slick, they choke your cock from the first pump, her pussy so hot and deliciously tight around your length that it’s a struggle to not drive everything in all at once.

You want to revel in how good Yeseo feels—how good this tight fucking pussy swallows you up and might never let go. Little by little, your hips gain momentum, until each plunge gets easier and easier, building gradually to a punishing rhythm that drives needy, unstoppable moans past her lips, gasping louder each time you sink deeper.

“So good, feels so fucking good,” she says, every plunge eliciting a flood of juices between her folds that coats every inch of your cock in her delectable wetness.

You fall victim to those eyes when they meet your own, looking back at you, dark and pretty, lips parted. Without pause, Yeseo watches your cock thrust into her, taking in every inch inside her dripping folds, the delicate features you’ve drawn to paint such a sinful picture, eyes widened as she takes each delicious thrust, not able to hide her craving for more.

"Keep doing that—you feel so fucking perfect inside me," Yeseo says, soft pleads in between breaths, biting her bottom lip hard, walls clenching harshly every time her heavenly cunt gets filled by your entire length. "Oh god, give me that fucking cock—"

You're gripping her body so possessively, fingers digging hard into her flesh, pulling her down with each thrust as your cock pounds away into that tight hole. There’s no wasted motion when you meet her demands, and you get so goddamn deep, bottoming out with ease, before pulling your slick cock out enough until only the very tip remains—then you slam back in harder than before without another word.

"H-harder," Yeseo whimpers, begging for all you can give, desperate to keep you buried inside her dripping core. Her eyes nearly roll back at the addicting stretch that draws out all these pitiful noises, your hips working overtime to satisfy her needs.

Those perfect, perky tits bounce in unison with every forceful thrust, each rock of your hips into her slender frame growing more frantic, until you’re pounding mercilessly into that tight cunt. “Shit, this perfect little cunt—it feels so goddamn good, baby." And you can’t help the overwhelming feeling whenever you bottom out in Yeseo, sinking your length balls deep, again and again, that cute face all contorted in bliss when the rhythm picks up, and god, she just feels unbelievable—

"You're so fucking deep inside me," she tells you in this raspy, desperate voice as you get lost in how her tight cunt squeezes your throbbing cock. "Harder, fuck me harder, wanna feel all of you, wanna fucking cream on your big fucking cock. Pound my little pussy like I know you can.”

Your hips can’t help but oblige these depraved words, burying yourself to the hilt whenever you pull out—leaving a wet, messy slap of flesh when you sink back in.

At this point, you're basically fucking her into the couch like you’ve lost all restraint, thrusting into her hot cunt with a relentless, unforgiving pace, and still she asks for more, demands it even. You're addicted to these sensations, the needy cries she spills out when you get in so deep, the warmth of her slick pussy demanding every inch—taking it all without so much as a struggle.

"Fuck, that's perfect—don't stop," she urges, clenching down on you while her wet warm walls quiver, urging you to shove the full length of your hard length deep inside her cunt. Nothing’s going to stop you, not now, not ever, not when your cock is surrounded by all this warmth, these unforgiving clenches to keep your momentum going, pleading for your cock to fill this girl’s perfect pussy like it belongs there.

“Yeseo, fuck—you feel so incredible, love my cock in this pretty little cunt,” you groan, slamming yourself as deeply inside as you can, drawing out all these noises from Yeseo, desperate and greedy—each one driving you madder with need.

"Keep that up, tell me how good it feels to fuck me—tell me.”

You can hardly hear the words through her ragged breaths, her voice coming out so strained the longer you fuck her without respite. And you just can’t look away from how her cute, innocent features have turned into anything but drowning in lust while you thrust into her greedy little pussy with all your might.

"Shit, you feel so fucking good, baby—I love your tight fucking cunt, makes my cock feel so fucking amazing when I’m balls fucking deep inside you.” The words fall out before you can even think, because the thought of being anywhere other than this slippery warmth is out of the question.

The most sinful type of bliss you can indulge in, ramming into Yeseo’s warm little cunt this hard and this deep, watching how her small frame gets rocked, these relentless thrusts that you can’t keep up for long as you look into her pretty eyes, unable to do much but surrender to the pleasure.

“Don't stop, just a little longer—"Yeseo swings her legs around your waist, wrapping tightly around your body as if you'll even think about stopping. The way she's all coiled up gives you no other option than to piston your hips, drilling her deeper into the couch.

And then Yeseo cums all over you, eyes shut, head tilted back as she clenches so tight around your cock you're almost right there with her, struggling to hold yourself back. Because this girl feels impossibly tight when she squeezes your length, spilling all this wetness that threatens to force you out were it not for the way her legs keep you trapped.

"Keep fucking me, keep fucking me until you cum,” Yeseo murmurs, as her body still shakes with every pump of your hips, legs wrapping tighter to demand your cock stay inside.

"W-wait—"

"No, inside," she demands again, locking her arms around your neck, and there's no way out of this when she clings so tightly, no chance for you to do anything but empty inside her greedy little cunt. "Cum inside, please. You've earned it."

Yeseo looks right at you, that lecherous gaze you'll never be able to defy as your hips obey, until her cunt squeezes you just the right way—and then you fucking explode, unloading so deep inside her in heavy bursts. You spill everything, nowhere to empty but right into her tight pussy, a huge, thick load, one shot after another firing out of your cock.

It seems endless, the way you throb inside, flooding her cunt as Yeseo takes every thick spurt, milking you for everything you can give until your balls are completely drained and that hot cum has filled her completely.

"Yeseo, fuck…" you mutter, mind a jumbled mess as you try to remember what to call her, the girl whose name you've known all of an hour or so before you've fucked your load into her. All the tension flees your body at once, but your cock, however, doesn’t escape, because her arms and legs refuse to release.

You stay buried, hard and throbbing, long after your high has run out, until the last drop is claimed. Only then, does Yeseo loosen up her limbs, slowly letting the lock around your waist ease off, and it's over far sooner than you'd like. “Now aren't you glad you bought me that drink?"

All you can manage is this tired laugh and a sigh of relief as you collapse on her naked body, kissing at her sweaty neck with whatever energy is leftover. Yeseo, likewise, shows no signs of urgency, as you rest together to regain some strength. "Hold on…"

There's some rustling when she reaches for her handbag on the floor and grabs something from inside. When you're too weak to stay inside her warmth, eventually you slide out with a groan, leaving a huge sticky white trail pouring from her pussy. Yeseo presents her camera, aiming between her legs and snaps a few pictures to capture how absolutely messy her cunt has become after being filled to the brim. "People will pay a lot for these. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not if you share them with me too," you answer, breathless, barely coherent.

Yeseo grins at you playfully, handing over her phone so you can key in your contact details, a vibration coming through your pants pocket soon after. And then she stands up, unabashedly naked—your cum leaking down her thighs so messily as it glistens under the lights.

"I should probably head home soon. Work in the morning, unfortunately.” Instant regret hits the moment such a poor excuse leaves your lips. Yeseo however, is much more interested in capturing this big mess you’ve left between her legs.

"You're not going to stay the night? It's already pretty late.”

"Don't exactly have anything to wear in the morning. Or even a toothbrush. I wasn't planning on getting so lucky tonight.”

"I have everything you need in the bathroom," she says, determined to keep you right where you are, like she’s planned for every imaginable outcome. "But you wouldn't need extra clothes if you called in sick tomorrow, would you?"

She’s unbelievable. Not that this offer isn’t tempting, because you could pass out right here on her naked body, and waking up next to a model, one that looks like Yeseo? There’s better than winning the lottery.

"It's not easy for me to call off work,” you say, intent on keeping up these lame excuses regardless of what you actually want, which is right underneath you. “We're behind on a project and I've got some important meetings tomorrow morning…"

Yeseo remains unconvinced.

"Maybe a nice, hot shower with me will change your mind? At least clean up a bit before you decide..." she's already reaching for your hand, leading the way to the bathroom—despite the fact that you haven't said anything yet. A dangerous proposition, because you know if you step one foot inside the shower, you won't be walking away from her tonight. But maybe work can wait, and maybe you've worked enough overtime this week, because you suddenly feel a little under the weather.

Now that you’ve seen Yeseo’s naked figure under the hot running water, there’s no going back.

Once you've toweled off and shaken off some of that exhaustion, you're still naked, sitting on Yeseo's bed after a quick tour of her bedroom that doubles as a photo studio.

She makes a compelling argument lazily bobbing her head between your legs—as if you need more convincing with her mouth. And if that wasn’t enough, you've got her phone in your hands to distract you, with full access to a more explicit folder of photos she claims are for your eyes only.

When you scroll through, there's several shots of Yeseo playing with her tits, fingers shoved in her tiny little cunt for the camera, and a few of her riding a huge, fleshy toy on these same sheets, spread out on all fours with a girthy plastic cock shoved right inside her.

"Shit, Yeseo—” It’s a response to both what's on your screen, and also the warm mouth slobbering on your cock as you flip through more of her work. She lets you slip out for a brief moment, and you nearly whine, but it doesn't last long, licking at your shaft, using her hand to pump all that spit into every inch.

"This is what I do when I'm not at modeling gigs. Fuck myself on these toys my clients buy me, or take pictures of my body—you wouldn't believe what people will pay just for feet pics."

"Feet pics?"

"Among other things. But those are pretty popular requests." Yeseo shrugs a bit. She gets back to work on that mouthful of cock, while you continue to scroll through her gallery of depravity, more shots of her tits, more focused shots of her wet, pink pussy, and the aforementioned feet pics, a dozen different colors of nail polish, wrapped up in nylons, stockings, thigh high socks—the options are endless.

"God, your mouth—it's fucking insane," you tell her as your thumb scrolls through the various images on her phone. "So you don't fuck any of the guys? Just talk to them for hours?"

And it's funny how you're holding a conversation through this blowjob that gets progressively messier, with obscene trails of saliva connecting Yeseo's wet, heavenly mouth to your stiff cock.

"I'm a model, not an escort service," Yeseo says, like it should be obvious. "I’ll do whatever they pay me for, within reason. Nothing weird, but that certainly hasn't stopped guys from asking. I usually dress up in costumes, or sexy lingerie and heels, and pose however they tell me to. Most men just want me to visualize their fantasies so they can jerk off to it as many times as they'd like."

"Sounds lucrative."

"It can be, but it's not a career,” Yeseo explains as she holds eye contact when the tip of her tongue presses right below your cockhead, giving the sensitive spot just the right amount of pressure. “Plus, I have to sort through a bunch of creeps with requests that I don't allow, especially when they're not offering to pay much. It can be very demanding, depending on the person."

Through this all, you let out another groan. It takes considerable effort, but you manage to remain in the conversation, glancing down to see her angelic features on your cock. Yeseo bobs her head on and on, so sloppily, messy and deliberate, letting her spit flow all down her chin when you look away to glance back at the screen.

"People have this wild fascination with cute and innocent looking girls. I sell these fantasies, their deepest and most perverse desires fulfilled. I become anything they want. A slutty schoolgirl, a cheating housewife, a co-worker they've wanted to rail for ages. They pay me for my time and my body—I'm just the illusion they've created."

When your cock hits the back of her throat, you tense up, nearly dropping the one thing that's keeping your focus divided. Yeseo gives a slow, easy glide back to the tip before engulfing your entire cock, throat squeezing every inch of your sensitive length as she slurps hard enough to get your full attention.

But that’s when you find something even better than all those pics—it's a video, and it's taken from the shower, a perfect shot of Yeseo taking an oversized toy into her ass, inching further as she moans for the camera, spreading those cheeks for it all to go in. It nearly makes you forget about the wet kisses and tender licks on the delicate underside of your shaft, keeping your eyes to the screen, captivated.

"Ah, you found those, didn't you?" she chuckles, but she doesn't stop sucking at your shaft, dipping her mouth low to bring in your heavy balls that have filled up far too easily into her mouth.

"That ass—you've got a really nice ass, Yeseo," you admit in all honesty, your attention once again torn between the screen and how messy she's getting with her mouth on your swollen balls. Yeseo keeps playing with them, giving a nice squeeze, as she drools so heavily over each one and, this perfect fondle, massaging away while the video keeps playing.

"Yeah?" she asks after slurping hard, releasing your balls with this lewd, messy pop, drenched with a layer of spit as she gives another squeeze for good measure, moving right back to stroking your cock. "Those videos are more popular than almost anything else. My ass is kind of the moneymaker and some guys are more than willing to pay an obscene amount for a toy in my ass."

“Can’t blame them...” You’re throbbing heavily in her grip, not sure if it's the pleasure or that you've moved on to the next video, where Yeseo has the tip of a vibrator teasing her asshole. And then the toy gets pressed inside slowly, stretching her wider while you try to stifle a groan, until there's so much of it disappearing.

"We can try that if you’d like. Do you wanna do that to me?" she asks, and you're so entranced by the screen that you don't even process her words.

"No—ah, what?" you say, mindlessly distracted, setting her phone down on the sheets, bringing your full attention to Yeseo.

"That video. We can recreate it. Not with the toy, but with your cock."

Your face blazes red at that admission—unable to wrap your mind around how she looks all too innocent while proposing the most sinful things.

"I’m asking—if you wanna put your cock up my ass? You said you liked it." Yeseo can see you blush as you try not to meet her eyes, but she won't leave it be, pressing for an answer.

"Do you even have to ask? Of course I do."

"Good, because you can,“ she tells you, getting up off her knees to reach into a drawer by her bed, digging up a half full bottle of lube that she tosses it toward you. “Here. Use this." Yeseo turns right around and eases into your lap, giving you a beautiful view of her perfect, plump ass that she pushes right up against your crotch, your cock nestled perfectly between.

You don't do anything besides stare, unable to get past the way those pale cheeks perfectly press up against the full length of your stiff shaft. Then Yeseo pushes back again, making the offer clearer.

"Come on, open me up," she purrs, grinding those soft, supple cheeks against your cock slowly, a nice not-so-subtle way you get the hint. "Your cock, my ass. That’s where it really belongs. Get right inside my asshole.”

Your hand goes for the bottle of lube that she’s just retrieved from the bedside, but you don't uncap it yet, as you watch Yeseo rub that perfect ass along your erection. "Wait. Got a better idea."

Her head tilts, confused about what could be possibly better than this offer put on the table. But this girl’s body, the body of a literal model, you want to savor it all. With an ass like that, how could you not? You want to get even closer to appreciate it, pulling Yeseo onto the bed, hoping she gets the message. At first, she keeps this questioning look on her face—but when she figures out where you're headed with this, her expression brightens.

She shuffles around to follow where you guide her, getting on all fours while facing the headboard, so that delicious ass raises toward you, those delectable curves all at your disposal.

"Perfect,” you say to yourself, voice trailing off as you grab at her waist and position her just the way you'd like, admiring her full body on display, and fuck, that ass is unreal.

And then you stuff your face right in those cheeks. Yeseo laughs in delight, wiggling around just for your sake, making sure every inch is captured by your attention. You get two large handfuls—spreading her ass wide so you can have an unobstructed view, and that's when you dive right in and dip your tongue inside her puckered hole.

A sound of pure filth comes out of Yeseo right away, all broken and uninhibited. "Oh my god—"

With Yeseo's approval, you keep the tip of your tongue swirling, flicking around, coating her asshole with as much drool as possible as she starts moaning uncontrollably at your immediate assault, trying to adjust to these intense sensations.

"And now you're eating my ass? You really are so full of surprises."

"Do you really expect me not to?" you question back, as your mouth gets entirely preoccupied by lapping at her tight hole, slurping greedily and teasing around. Your licks only get sloppier each time you dip your tongue in deeper, more focused on pleasing her than keeping any kind of composure, eating her ass without restraint.

She grinds up against your face to praise your work, and it's all the encouragement you need, a palm on either side of her ass, spreading her hole wide—your tongue practically fucking her, devouring her tight little asshole so ravenously, slipping further and further inside.

"F-fuck, baby, that tongue feels so good. Is this my reward for getting you to skip work?" Yeseo asks, half groan, half giggle as you work this sensitive area in ways that get the most obscene sounds pouring from her lips. She groans in absolute delight while your saliva flows freely down into her puckered hole, her cheeks surrounding your face, an absolute meal that has her scrambling for the bed sheets.

"I'll quit my job tomorrow if I get to eat this fucking ass every single day," you utter through sloppy licks and frantic slurps, words all muffled, not letting up in the slightest from licking Yeseo open. The whimpers that slip through, and these shallow, shaky breaths, that’s all you care about, when this tight ring of flesh clenches harshly against your probing tongue.

“Just wait till you have this ass milking you dry for everything that dick's got," Yeseo says, a promise with a loud sigh, falling apart under your attentive, merciless mouth as you greedily tonguefuck her asshole, holding her nice and still. You could just about take her up on that, but you haven’t quite had your fill—not yet.

So you keep those whimpers going, holding Yeseo in place as you continue to flick your tongue out in quick little strokes, licking her right where she's most sensitive. It's fucking perfect, how she helps spreads those asscheeks wide for you—like she can't get enough either, that twitching hole tightening each time it meets your tongue, tensing under your mouth, begging to stay filled.

"God, y-you're so good at that," she gasps, arching that cute ass up higher, holding herself open even further when it's clear there's more pleasure than she can keep up with. There's this urgency in her voice, so impatient and eager—it drives you absolutely wild.

But despite your selfish intentions to bury your tongue in Yeseo’s perfect ass forever, you can't ignore the persistent throbs your cock makes against the mattress—aching for relief, and you've got the perfect place for it to go.

When you pull back for air, you want nothing more than to shove your face back into those squishy cheeks—but the aching between your legs has other plans. You sit up on your knees, and admire all of Yeseo bent forward, presented like a meal, no question to where you're putting your stiff cock when you pop open that clear bottle.

Now you’re in for the main event, but you can't help but give her delectable ass a smack, both hands grabbing those thick asscheeks. You take your time to spread the slick liquid around her rear entrance, and it makes all the anticipation almost unbearable as you work a finger inside that tight ring of muscle. She eases up to swallow you in, letting you test the warm, snug tightness bound to accommodate your cock that’s going to feel like heaven.

"Fuck, your cock is going to stretch out my ass so much… so much better than that toy you saw me fucking." While you continue to prep her, Yeseo lets out the sweetest little sounds, relaxing almost instantly at your slick finger working its way inside, like she's done this more times than she can count.

"Yeah? Want me to ruin your pretty little asshole with this fucking cock?" And it's like her muscles know exactly what to do to hold you right in, hugging your digit, so you can barely contain yourself through this tight preview, thinking of how it'll feel clenching around your length.

“Do you even have to ask?”

Yeseo’s cute little smile when she looks back gets all the blood pumping toward your throbbing hardness as you stroke the lube into your shaft, getting yourself nice and slick before aiming yourself right between her asscheeks. "Don't you worry, I'm fucking you until you can't walk straight."

Then, there's nothing else to do but slide your cock into her slicked up, eager hole. Slowly at first, as Yeseo braces for it—her eyes demanding every inch when you ease into the delicious, tight heat of her ass.

“My fucking god, baby—this ass is so much tighter than I ever imagined," you groan with a sharp breath, clutching her shapely hips while you rest your cock fully sheathed inside, not daring to move. You're not even sure if you can pull back out, completely overwhelmed at just how intense this grip is, and when you look down to see it all disappear—god, it's maddening.

Nearly doubling over from pleasure, all rational thought gets driven out with that tight warmth gripping your cock so hard it steals your breath away.

"Are you going to fuck my ass or just stare at it?" Yeseo asks, and you're tempted to do the latter, but she jerks her body backward to jumpstart the whole thing. When you pull out in one fluid motion, you have to stop for a second to admire her slick little hole stretching around the thickness of your shaft, before you slam back into the hilt.

It takes little time for your cock to stretch that greedy asshole out as Yeseo welcomes in each thrust working her open, your hips making her cheeks jiggle when they meet. Looking back, she grins with bliss, a groan accompanying every pump as she adjusts to your size, inviting your cock into her ass with a perfect arch of her back. "Come on—show me how much you really love this ass, give me everything you’ve got.”

Just like that, your hips get rougher. Yeseo welcomes this stretch that stuffs her so full, deeper each time your shaft pounds into her tightest opening, lost in lust while she clutches at the sheets, nails digging in for dear life.

"There you go, baby, give me that fucking cock,“ she pleads with each snap of your hips, her ass crashing against you. So the rougher you get, the more she whines out for more—this sweet little innocent thing reduced to absolute sin, nothing but curses and groans leaving her parted lips.

And while you watch her delicious ass swallow up all that hard cock, you can't help but smack it, greedily grabbing a handful of flesh before letting your palm fly again, marking up both pale cheeks with these beautiful red handprints. Hard, repeatedly, every harsh impact jostles those reddened cheeks as she takes your rapid thrusts into that impossibly tight asshole, clenching around after each smack to the sore flesh.

"Make it hurt, make my ass fucking sting, please," she demands so desperately, and it only takes a few more harsh slaps to leave her completely incoherent.

You pound into Yeseo with such reckless abandon until your carnal desires take over. Those tender cheeks bounce hypnotically, the rhythm of your hips in sync with every single slap across the delicate flesh. “Baby—fuck, this ass feels incredible. Makes my cock feel so goddamn good.” You're relentless—not just because you can’t help yourself, but because she can’t stop letting out the most pathetic little whimpers that cry for more.

Your pace picks right up, so frantic, each slam deep enough to send those soft cheeks rippling, every last thrust filling her up so nicely. What’s even better is the beautiful red tint spreading across that backside, and the delicious sound of your palm hitting flesh—again, and again, and again.

"Ah—fuck, shit, right there, oh my fucking god—" It's impossible to stop looking at this wrecked little hole as Yeseo takes your dick without mercy, earning every bit of the relentless stretch she begs for. Your vigorous thrusts get you so worked up, that you pull out and spread that reddened ass just to savor the view, gaping so beautifully and desperate to get full again—

Yeseo practically sobs when you shove your hard cock all the way back in balls fucking deep, which makes her bite down on the sheets, as if there's anything that'll muffle her screams when you're fucking her this hard.

"So good, so fucking good, your cock is fucking perfect and I don't ever want it to leave my ass," Yeseo cries out into the mattress, not making the slightest attempt to remain composed anymore. The poor bed absorbs every creak and slam, the whole frame shaking under your forceful thrusts that threaten to collapse the whole thing.

And Yeseo is right there, telling you how fucking good your cock is, that small body all yours to use how you please. Without hesitation, you keep giving her what she wants, keep giving this tight little asshole the pummeling it deserves—just listening to the squeal in her voice as you pound her the way that she absolutely desires it.

So there's no reason to stop when she's clearly aching for more, unable to get enough of how easily your cock tears her to pieces with every single thrust. All she can do is brace for the next one when your shaft hits so fucking deep—and then you crash down all your weight on top of her tiny frame, pinning her flat against the bed. so your cock somehow plunges even deeper into her asshole.

“F-fuck!” You reach such depths Yeseo could never hit with any toy, and she takes it all, face down, with unwavering lust that powers the motions of your hips until it's a struggle for either of you to think straight.

"Baby, this ass—I'd ruin my whole fucking career for this ass," you pant out through uneven breaths, continuing the dizzying pace that has no right feeling this good, pumping into her with every last thing you’ve got until it all becomes a blur.

Yeseo, she’s clenching so fucking tight that each thrust might be your last, your hips every bit merciless, crashing against the soft flesh of her perfect ass to gather up the most desperate cries.

"Fuck, that’s just what I want, so deep inside me,“ she struggles to say, downright delirious, and you're not far off, unsure how much more you can take of this, your balls feeling so tight as you pound and pound into that warm hole. In fact, you can tell there's no sense in even holding it in at this point, gathering up that final bit of momentum, making every single thrust count before you feel that release boiling up—

At the last possible second you pull out, eyes focused intently on her ruined little asshole that gapes so perfectly before Yeseo follows you off the bed and onto the floor. She drops to her knees, back against the side of the mattress and stares expectantly, while you aim inches away toward her beautiful, sweat-covered face, furiously stroking.

Your hand tangles up in her hair, giving a hard tug that forces her chin up. It's not the pleasure that brings you closer to the brink, it's the sight of her doe-eyed stare, all this innocence and sin rolled together that begs for your load without saying a word.

Yeseo gazes up with her lips open, tongue lolling out, so beautifully obedient, waiting for you to unload. "Go on, baby—fucking explode all over this pretty fucking face," Yeseo urges, and it's the way she looks at you, that mesmerizing, seductive eye contact that you can’t take it any longer.

In an instant, your release hits, with all this built-up tension that just empties out with a huge shot of your load streaking across the bridge of her nose, coating those cute cheeks. Yeseo doesn't even flinch as it splatters across her features, hot and thick, all the way up to her forehead, eyes so bright with this lewd, shameless gaze as you glaze her.

You spill everything from your balls like you’ve gone weeks without release, groaning as you shoot more massive streaks everywhere, even some getting caught in her lashes. This thick trail drips down to her lips as she just opens her mouth and lets it fall onto her hungry little tongue, a taste she’s been dying for.

She’s never looked so good.

After the last drop hits her mouth, it's already dripping down her chin, this pretty, porcelain skin painted so vividly. Yeseo’s a gorgeous mess, and you keep these weak pumps going, pumping it all out to ensure she’s covered as can be before her tongue collects your load settling around her messy lips, returning back to that cum-stained smile.

"So fucking good, you taste even better than I thought.”

And then you nearly topple over when she sucks at the tip until you're cleaned off, making sure every drop is drained. Yeseo holds your hips to keep you still, lips tight around your sensitive cockhead, looking so goddamn gorgeous with your load all over that face.

“Jesus, fuck—“ you say, feeling lightheaded, the impact of your orgasm still hitting like a train. Yeseo just smiles through it all, such a perfect image that you'll never get out of your head.

The bed beside you has never looked so welcoming, and while you recover, you hear a click and shuffling next to you. But you know what it is by this point, a new set of pictures with Yeseo’s face fucking glazed, ready to be sent to whoever wants to pad her bank account.

"I feel like I should get a cut now," you say with a tired smile, trying to catch your breath.

"Pounding my ass like that wasn't payment enough?" Yeseo fires back, but her tone is all soft and sweet as she saunters over, so much energy left in that perfect body compared to your spent state. "It's not my fault you cum so much..."

"Isn't it exactly that? Weren't you begging me to cum inside you the first time?"

"I think I liked you better when you were shy." Yeseo sticks her tongue out and giggles, disappearing into the bathroom. "I'm going to get cleaned up. And take more pictures while I'm at it."

By the time Yeseo returns from the bathroom, you're about ready to pass out, having fallen onto the pillows in total exhaustion. When your eyes open back up, she's inches away from your face, looking all clean and barefaced. "Are you really falling asleep like that without me?"

"You wore me out."

"I did what?” she asks incredulously, head tilted in confusion. “You're the one who fucked me senseless. I can still feel how sore my ass is when I sit down..."

"Hey, you asked for that. Also like…twenty other things."

"Guilty. Guess I’m a little greedy.”

With a content sigh, Yeseo throws an arm and leg over, cuddling up right against you. You're too tired to even move, while this bubbly girl seems she could go the rest of the night. But maybe you're not entirely worn out as her perfect little body presses up against your chest, those sweet lips pouting, looking so irresistibly delicious. And before you fall asleep, you need to have just one more taste of those lips.

#kpop smut #yeseo smut #kep1er smut #girl group smut #reader insert #kpop fanfic #male reader #kpop fanfiction #yeseo x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

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💕 twst 2024 valentine gifts! 🎁

***Please note:*** Sharing merch images + news is not intended to encourage and/or to pressure anyone into making purchases. It is up to the individual consumer to be informed and to choose how they spend their money.

For general information about how TWST Valentine Gifts work, check out this post.

For character signatures and the messages from previous years, check out this post.

The gifts for 2024 are 100 ml fragrance sprays. These are not perfumes, they are more like room sprays. According to Yana, they worked with professional perfumers and the fragrances were formulated with each character's "image" in mind! These each come with a unique bottle label, plus a ribbon and a little wooden charm with a matching character motif on it. You can soak the wooden charm with the fragrance and use it to diffuse the smell through a room.

Preorders are open until 10 March 2024.

(Warning: in the case that these contain alcohol, it will not be possible to send the fragrances overseas due to shipping regulations against flammable materials. The paper goods—the 2024 Valentine Gift messages—will still be able to be sent out.)

Each character has their own unique scent. The following are summaries of what each spray smells like overall (according to official posts), but each also has its own more detailed descriptions of the top, middle, and base notes on their individual website postings.

Heartslabyul

Riddle - refined rose (geranium, rose, honey)

Trey - powdery mint (spearmint of course the guy obsessed with dental hygiene smells like MINT, white flowers, powdery musk and balsam)

Cater - lemon herbal (lemon, herbs like juniper, amber and cedar)

Ace - naughty cherry (cherry, almond and rose, vanilla and woods)

Deuce - citrus rhubarb (citrus and rhubarb, rose, warm musk)

Savanaclaw

Leona - clear wild (rosemary, neroli, musk and sandalwood)

Ruggie - dried nuts (hazelnut, vanilla, creamy musk and dry woods)

Jack - calm pear (pear, osmanthus, amber)

Octavinelle

Azul - salty milk (salt and minerals, herbs like sage, milky musk)

Jade - bergamot amber (bergamot, herbs, patchouli and amber)

Floyd - aqua vetiver (Japanese pepper yes, a literal pepper, a fresh bouquet, vetiver and musk)

Scarabia

Kalim - mystical musk (citrus, white flowers, creamy musk and sandalwood)

Jamil - smoky herb (spicy herbs, white flowers, musk and smoky leather)

Pomefiore

Vil - elegant fruity (cassis, white flowers, vanilla and musk and sandalwood)

Rook - dry green (eucalyptus, geranium, tonka beans)

Epel - spicy apple (cinnamon, apple, vanilla and sandalwood)

Ignihyde (warning that these were vaguely worded compared to the rest of the fragrances)

Idia - clean musk (“something refreshing”, lily of the valley, sweet musk why does bro smell sweeter than most of the others www)

Ortho - bluish clean (rosemary and other “fresh” smells, clear plants/greens he’s touching the grass that Idia refuses to)

Diasomnia

Malleus - deep oak moss (forest, spices, sweet and earthy vetiver and oak moss)

Lilia - historical depths (citrus, roses and white flowers, thick musk and sandalwood)

Silver - musty green (black pepper, cedarwood, warm sandalwood and musk)

Sebek - honest aroma (rosemary, white flowers and spices, patchouli and oak moss he shares a base note with Malleus, this was 100% intentional)

Grim + NRC Staff Shoot, no Rollo, Fellow, or Gidel valentine gift :(

Grim - innocent soap (citrus, lily of the valley, peach and musk he just hopped out of the bath)

Crowley - mysterious calm (***fatty aldehyde***, white flowers, cedarwood and amber)

Crewel - sweet charm (amber, woods, sweet oak moss)

Trein - tense wood (spices, dry woods, “sweet tangy tone” sorry, the base was vague)

Vargas - manly musk (smoky spices, incense, vetiver and leather and musk)

Sam - exotic bouquet (cloves, bouquet including ylang-ylang, tropical woods)

***NOTE ABOUT CROWLEY’S:*** I looked this up! Apparently, fatty aldehydes smell like fresh citrus but I believe the literally translated term is “fatty aldehyde”; not sure why it was worded like this. There are many forms of aldehyde and each smells different. For example, one form smells closer to a rose. Another supposedly smells like rancid butter 💀

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milksnake-tea · 2 months

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✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : Sunday spreads his wings for the first time in years.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 3.8k

✩ TAGLIST : @vynicity , @vxnuslogy, @https-mika, @greyrain23, @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax , @semi-orangeapple , @ezra1yn , @xynthevoid , @apinu , @crysangria , @shenwi , @louchive , @mave-in , @mutiachan , @meerpea ( send me an ask off anon if you want to be added !! remember to specify that it is for this series )

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : sorry for the later update yall, i had to study for a math placement test and write scholarship essays 😭 more emotionally packed chapter this time because apparently i can't go on too long without sunday suffering. its not that bad tho. have fun, and thank you to @vxnuslogy for betareading this chapter for me !!

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Unnaturally-colored lights illuminate your face in an eerie glow. All that can be heard in your dark office are the small clicks of your digital keyboard as you type and the soft tunes of your computer.

Holding out your hand, you extract some of the stolen medicine from your inventory and throw them into your synthesizer with an effortless wave. Your fingers tap against the table in small, repetitive motions as you idly watch the drugs separating into their basic chemical compositions.

It’s been a few hours since you’ve returned from Euphrosyne.

Shortly after Sunday’s first robbery (with heavy quotation marks), he’d dragged you into a cosmetics store in order to ransack it of its skincare products. Now, you weren’t completely clueless, but some of the things he picked out you didn’t even know existed - and you stole drugs on the basis.

You wince at the memory. Your wallet is still recovering from that escapade - with so many people in a smaller store, it was inconvenient to just drug them all, so you ended up having to pay the old-fashioned way, much to your chagrin.

You raise your hand to type a few commands into the holographic keyboard that appears beside you. The synthesizer glows, rearranging and recombining the chemicals until a completely new drug is born.

Sunday’s probably in his room right now, putting away the gifts you’d bought him and no doubt eager to return Blade’s borrowed clothes. In a few minutes, he’ll come walking through your doorway for the examination of his wings.

His wings… The image of them at the clothing store resurfaces in your mind with a furrowing of your brow.

While you have a good feel for his personality, you can’t understand why he’d keep his wings like that. If you were a Halovian and had wings like that, you’d fly whenever possible. Wings like those are meant to be used.

After all, aren’t birds born to fly?

A high-pitched hum from the synthesizer snaps you from your thoughts. The new drugs float patiently in the synthesizer’s hold, awaiting your final input.

Ah, right. You almost forgot.

You walk over to your desk and down to open up a drawer next to it. Inside is your stash of sugar and various packets of artificial flavoring - ranging from typical fruity flavors to root beer or even coffee.

It isn’t like the Stellaron Hunters are made up of notoriously picky eaters (except for Silver Wolf, but she’s different), but you still like to add a little bit of flavoring as a final touch, just to make the otherwise bitter medicines bearable.

Returning to the synthesizer, you unzip a bag of sugar and scoop out a cup or two and dump it in, along with a few drops of random flavoring you grabbed. With another quick typing, you assign each medicinal candy a flavor and an appropriate amount of sugar, and then it’s done.

And then, as if on cue, the familiar sound of heavy boots comes from behind you.

You squint as you look up from your synthesizer, the light from the hallway blinding you momentarily.

“Must you always do your work in darkness?” Blade mutters as he steps into the infirmary.

His youthful face shows no signs of weariness, but you can tell from his slumped body language how many hours of sleep he’d gotten - which is to say, zero.

You shrug, taking the finished candies from the synthesizer. “It helps me concentrate.”

A ragged sigh emits from your senior. “If you wish to blind yourself so soon, my sword is a faster option.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you chuckle. “Besides, a little eye problem isn't anything I can't bounce back from.”

Blade’s gaze is piercing as he stares at you, the slightest narrowing of his eyes revealing his disapproval. “Your constitution does not warrant recklessness.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “Don't act like you're worried about me.”

He scoffs. Turning his head, the conversation ends there, leaving empty space behind. The silence isn’t unbearable; with Blade, things have always been this way, but there's an unmistakable tension in the air that you don't care enough to dispel.

You drop half of the candies into a jar before sliding said jar towards Blade.

“That should be enough for a month or so,” you say, leaning your elbows against the counter. “But don’t overdose, okay? Only use them when the mara becomes too much.”

Blade takes the jar without so much as a second glance. “I am aware.”

The shadow he casts as he leaves feels taller and more imposing than it should be. It catches the tip of your shoe, and you subtly take a step back.

The second Blade’s silhouette leaves your sight, a heavy sigh sags your body. Massaging your temple idly, you stare blankly into the light of your synthesizer.

“Great Mercy…” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “You just had to make it awkward, didn’t you? And we were doing so well too.”

You lift your head. Your vision feels hazy, and you don’t truly see your hands in front of you. The synthesizer’s glow blurs with the light in the doorway and the skin of your palms. For a moment, you are no longer in your office, but somewhere far, far away - a place you left several Amber Eras ago.

Inhaling sharply, you shake your head, dragging a hand over your face. Physically, it’s impossible for you to feel tired, but your mind is absolutely exhausted.

“That’s enough,” you quietly scold yourself. You roll back your shoulders and straighten from the desk, wiping your mind of any troubling thoughts. Blade never holds any grudges, and so neither should you.

Yeah… You shouldn’t.

You rest a hand over your heart. It thuds under your touch, still as frenzied and frightened as it was all those eras ago. Briefly, you consider ripping it out and growing a new one altogether.

“Mx. [Name]?”

A new silhouette joins the hallway’s light. You turn to see Sunday standing in the doorway, his expression candid - although slightly apprehensive. You wonder how long he’d been there - and hope that he didn’t see your exchange with Blade.

“You know, you don’t have to call me that,” you say, allowing your hand to drop to your side. Sunday blinks.

“Ah… I see.” He rests a hand over his heart in apology. “Forgive me, it’s a habit I developed in my line of work.”

Always with the apologizing, you think in amusement. “Nothing I need to forgive you for. All I’m saying is that you can just call me by my name, or whatever nickname you decide to force upon me.”

“A nickname,” he repeats. “Like the ones you call Ms. Kafka, and the others?”

“Don’t forget yourself, princess,” you joke, drinking in the way Sunday’s upper wings twitch at the name.

He sighs with a smile. “I was doing my best to.”

You hum out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not going to let you. Come on in, let’s take a look at those wings, shall we?”

Immediately the lighthearted mood is vanquished. The air thickens, becoming almost suffocating. Sunday’s smile falters, the glow in his eyes dulls, and he crosses his arms in a vain attempt to provide himself a semblance of comfort.

Fear flashes over his eyes, and then a steady, unwavering determination.

“Right.” He breathes in, the breath shaking in his chest as he prepares himself. “The wings.”

—

It hurts.

Sunday knows he should’ve expected this - he hadn’t fully extended his wings in who knows how long, but still, the pain that strikes through his body is like nothing he’s ever felt before. Even the fall of the Charmony Festival hadn’t hurt this bad.

His body screams at him to stop, but the stretch is as painful as it is necessary.

“Breathe, princess.”

Your hand is an anchor at the small of his back, your palm flat against him as you aid him in extending his wings.

In the back of his mind, he wants to shove you away, for his larger pair of wings are surely a horrid sight - an image of grotesque, mangled limbs flashes in his mind. But the pain overrides his need to appear presentable.

Sunday’s breath rattles - it’s a deadweight in his chest, pressing down on his lungs and heart and comes out as a wheeze.

“Princess, listen to me-”

Your voice drowns in the sea of his thoughts.

His eyes squeeze shut. In a seizure of ill-willed panic, he forces his wings to open faster, biting back a scream as the tearing sensation returns in full force. His fingers dig into his palms in an attempt to ground himself, but adding pain to pain does little to console.

His mind becomes a storm-wrecked ocean, waves crashing and beating at him every time he tries to surface. Horrid thoughts howl above him with the harsh winds, screaming at him to open them faster, to get this over with, to not disappoint you.

Water fills his lungs and he chokes, hands scrambling for any sort of anchor but finding nothing in their grasp.

He’ll drown - he is drowning, slammed deeper into the waves again and again until-

Something grabs his wrist and pulls him out.

“Sunday.”

A strangled gasp shudders him. His eyes fly open.

The storm is gone. Replacing its howls is the distant hum of your synthesizer, and the dark waves are washed away by a gentle shadow. He sits no longer in groundless water, but instead on one of the two beds in the infirmary.

Your hand runs over his spine in a soothing motion while the other squeezes his shoulder firmly. Subconsciously, Sunday leans into your palms to stabilize himself.

He allows himself a few moments to breathe, gulping down vital mouthfuls of air. Like statues, his wings rigidly stay in place, in the middle of ripping themselves open. After a few minutes of silence, he finally composes himself enough to speak.

“I-”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off. Shame burns Sunday regardless. “Just listen.”

It takes Sunday a moment, one part because of his still-buzzing mind, one part another predicament entirely.

Your fingers linger around where the base of his wings are, in the window of the thin, long-sleeved shirt he’s thrown on for the examination. All of his senses are zeroed in on that small sliver of skin, tingling at the mere prospect of another’s touch - although he can’t tell if it wants or fears it.

“Sunday?”

With a start, he realizes you’re awaiting his answer. Heat rushing to his cheeks, he nods tentatively, signaling for you to continue.

“Your wings aren’t used to being pried open like that,” you say calmly. Instinctively he tries to find any hint that you’re annoyed, or irritated, or any of the sort. But he finds nothing, only a strangely secure serenity. “You have to take it slow; otherwise you’ll hurt them even more.”

Relief floods him when your palm lies flat against him once more.

Wait, relief? Why was he…

“Focus on my voice,” you interrupt his thoughts before he can get too embarrassed. “I’ll guide you through it. Now, may I?”

Sunday’s lips part to ask just what you mean by that, only for his voice to lodge in his throat as you ghost a hand over the base of his wing.

Granted, his second pair of wings isn’t as sensitive as the ones that lie behind his head - thank Ena for that - but they still are more sensitive than he’d like to admit. Allowing you, who he’s known for a little more than a day, to touch them… even if this is a medical necessity, he still finds himself a bit wary.

“May I ask what you’re planning to do, first?” he asks quietly, turning slightly so that he can glimpse at your face.

“Remember what I did back on Euphrosyne, with the clerk?” you reassuringly squeeze his shoulder one last time before hovering both of your hands over the base of his wings.

Sunday remembers the scene at the clinic. “Your lollipop, you mean?”

You chuckle. “That too. But no, I meant what happened after the lollipop - when the clerk hit their head.”

“Ah.” Sunday’s wings rustle. “That healing ability of yours. You intend to use it on my wings?”

“Bingo. You hurt them a bit in that frenzy just now, so I need to repair that. It’ll also make the stretch much easier.”

That makes sense, Sunday thinks. But there’s one thing he’s slightly worried about.

“Is touching my wings necessary for this procedure?”

You hum. “Not really, although it’d be more efficient if I did. If I handle your wings directly, I can further aid you in extending them and more accurately heal them when needed. Would you rather I didn’t?”

If it were any other person - save for perhaps Robin and his adoptive father, Sunday would’ve said yes right away. A Halovian’s wings were one of the most intimate parts of them, especially the ones that extend from their nape. Only close friends, family, and romantic partners were allowed to touch them.

But the more he thinks, the more he realizes that he doesn’t feel as inclined to those traditions with you. There’s something about you that puts him at ease, much to his chagrin.

For some bewildering reason, he trusts you.

It’s just a medicinal procedure, he tells himself.

“No, I don’t mind,” Sunday finally says, turning his back. “Do what you must, doctor.”

He hears an amused hum from behind. “Alright, princess. Follow my lead.”

Sunday lets his eyes flutter close. He feels your hands lay gentle on his wings, the touch sending tingles of static up and down. It’s almost ticklish, but it isn’t unpleasant.

Warmth blooms at the curve of his wings, ebbing away the pain and leaving him with an almost refreshed feeling, as if stepping out of a dark forest into a sunlit meadow. He realizes that it’s your ability at work. Slowly, his shoulders droop, and his muscles relax.

Then he feels your hands slide up his wings, applying pressure every so often like a massage, correcting the kinks in his bones and healing whenever needed.

His breath hitches at the feeling. A pleased hum begins to vibrate in his chest like static as he loses himself to the dream-like feeling.

Vaguely, he hears you instruct him to open and close his wings, and he listens, easing them open at a gradual pace. The hum in his chest increases in magnitude, his back arching slightly as his wings extend to their full length.

He sighs in satisfaction once the stretch is complete and the tips of his feathers brush against the ceiling in a veil of midnight blue.

“Someone looks happy,” you say. “Feels better, doesn’t it?”

Your voice comes from a higher place than before, making Sunday look up. You smile down at him, hand resting gently on the bend of his left wing.

His left wing…

His serene expression falters. Carefully, he folds that wing in front of him and takes the dark plumage in his hands. Running his fingers amongst the feathers, he stops with narrowed eyes at the feeling of a sudden edge in the sea of softness.

Just as before, his left wing’s flight feathers are still cut short, snipped so that he may never take to the skies.

This time, he had been the one to cut them - Gopher Wood needn’t be bothered with such trivial matters, especially after Sunday had become an adult. But he remembers his first cutting well - the sheen of the scissors, the iron grip on his wings, the fear he’d felt, all in the past but not truly left behind.

“They’ll grow back.”

Sunday glances up.

“I know.”

He doesn’t sound convinced, not even to himself. But what he wants to convince himself of, he doesn’t know.

Sunday lets go of his wing and lets it hang comfortably at his side. You slide off the bed behind him and pull up your office chair. Sitting on it with your chest against the back, you roll back in front of him.

“Try flapping them,” you say. “Slowly, just open and close until you get used to the feeling.”

Sunday obliges. The wings are larger and heavier than he expects, and it’s a bit of a struggle, but he manages. Winds spurs from every flap of his wings, rustling your hair each time.

“No pain?” you prompt, raising a hand to summon a screen and type some things onto it. Sunday shakes his head.

“No.” He flaps one more time just to make sure, but he feels nothing, only his wings’ new weight.

“Good.” You type a bit more before closing the window. “I wouldn’t try flying just yet - especially with those clipped feathers, but we can start out with a few exercises every day to strengthen them. Kind of like physical therapy.”

Something warm blooms in Sunday’s chest. His heart rate quickens, and for the first time in years, he feels excited, giddy, relieved. It’s almost overwhelming, all of it.

He flicks his wing again, and again, and again. A gleeful laugh bubbles up in his chest.

His feathers tickle against his cheek, as if his wings are trying to comfort him. He smiles at the thought, despite how silly it is.

But then he remembers where he is. Heat reddens his face as he meets your amused gaze, his upper wings instinctively covering his face as he coughs bashfully.

“Sorry, I’m afraid I got a little carried away.”

“Aw, don’t get embarrassed on me now,” you giggle, not helping his predicament at all. “It was cute, watching you get all giddy.”

He half-heartedly shoots you a glare, to which you only smile calmly in reply.

“Are we finished here?” he huffs, eager to change the subject. You hum.

“Yeah, basically. I don’t have anything to give you, unless you want some of those sleeping candies I mentioned earlier.”

Sunday blinks. For a moment, he contemplates the offer despite you probably having only mentioned it in passing.

The nightmare from last night still hangs fresh in his mind, and his inability to fall asleep still bears its consequences - the reminder brings back the dull ache at the back of his head which he’d tried to ignore. Sleeping still scares him - if naturally induced rest brings upon visions such as those, he’d rather not sleep at all. But he is still mortal, human, and as such, he cannot evade his body’s needs forever.

Yet at the same time, he doesn’t want you to think there’s anything wrong with him to warrant such medications.

Then again, you’ve already seen his wings.

“Those medications of yours,” he says softly, “do they get rid of dreams?”

You prop your elbows up on the back of your chair. “They do. Are you suffering from nightmares?”

He’s unable to stop the smallest flinch that confirms your speculations. You stand up, pushing the chair back to your desk.

“I get it,” you offer as consolation, although it doesn’t assure him as much as it piques his curiosity. “When I first came here, I had a rough time sleeping too. I only slept when I couldn’t stand anymore, and even Kafka was concerned - or well, as concerned as a woman like her could be.”

The synthesizer opens, revealing pre-made candies floating in its hold. Sunday recognizes them as the same ones Blade had walked out holding.

“When I found out Blade had the same problem - okay, well, not the same problem,” you correct yourself, “I started making these. After seeing them work so well on Blade, I figured I should take some too.”

Sunday tilts his head. “Blade has nightmares?”

“You can see it like that,” you say, bagging a couple candies with a wave of your hand. Thankfully, your hand doesn’t come in contact with the candies; otherwise, Sunday would leave them untouched in the corner of his room for all eternity. “But his ailment is far worse and more complicated than just that.”

Sunday briefly remembers the stories he’d read of the Xianzhou, including that of the curse its locals bear.

His gaze drops to his hands. “I see.”

Sympathy tugs at his heartstrings. For a second, he is the Bronze Melodia again, listening to the plight of the weak with a careful ear. Now, Blade is by no means what he’d call weak, but knowing he suffers from such a cruel fate…

He looks over at you, brows furrowed slightly. Your back is turned, meaning he can’t see your expression.

Even the strongest have their vulnerabilities - this he knows well.

Then what does that make of you, who suffered like he did?

“You have nightmares too, then?” he asks gently.

“Had,” you’re quick to correct. “After a few Amber Eras, I got over them. I don’t take these anymore.”

There’s a clear edge in your tone that is chilling despite your otherwise easygoing voice. The message is clear - don’t push it.

Sunday tenses, his feathers bristling instinctively.

Right. He’s forgotten who you were - what you were. You may be kind to him now, but the two of you aren’t close, nor are you someone who needs his comfort. He is no longer the Bronze Melodia, and you are not his kin.

You’re a Stellaron Hunter - a criminal and a murderer.

You don’t need nor want his pity.

Your footsteps snap him out of his momentary moment of fear. You don’t look mad, or, well, anything, for that matter - just the same as usual. He could almost convince himself that nothing had happened at all.

The small mesh bag of candies is soft as you plop it in his palm.

“Don’t get too used to them, okay?” you sit down on the bed next to him, the mattress creaking as you do. He shifts his wing away so that it doesn’t drape over you like a blanket. “You can overdose on these, and it’s not fun.”

Did you know from experience? Sunday wonders, but decides against asking. He doesn’t want to push his chances.

“I’ll try,” he assures, folding his wings behind him.

“Looks like you’re already getting used to them,” you comment, leaning back onto your hands to look at his wings one last time. Sunday hums as you hold a hand out and run it along his plumage. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask. Do Halovians purr?”

Sunday’s mind malfunctions as he tries to process your words. “Excuse me?”

You drop your hand to look at him innocently. “Back when I was helping your wings out, you were making this purring sound, like a cat. I don’t know if you noticed but I wanted to ask-”

His wing smacks you over the head in embarrassment.

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reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday x reader #sunday hsr x reader #honkai star rail sunday x reader #sunday x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #━━ series : on the other side of morality #honkai star rail series #archives 🏵️

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sweetcollywobbles · 3 months

Text

more leon headcanons

i miss him i miss him i miss him i miss him i miss him i miss him

i miss my wife, tails.

so lets talk about him.

⟢ leon was 6 years old when his family was murdered. there was a time when he could remember all of their faces. yet as he gets older, their faces have become a lot more blurry. sometimes he catches himself staring into the mirror. did nonno have the same nose as he did? was he the same blonde as his nonna? does he have his moms' smile? were his dad's eyes just as blue as his? when they looked at him, did they see themselves in him as he's so desperatley trying to remember them in him?

⟢ leon is the italian version of a "no sabo" kid. he knows the language, yet doesn't seem to be able to put the words together himself. he just kinda stands there nodding his head with a blank stare. then when he has to respond he's just kinda like "uuuhhhh tbh idk". he knows how to correctly pronounce some words and phrases, but that's about it.

⟡HOWEVER, he will call his lover with italian terms of endearment, i.e., amore mio, cucciolotta, cuore mio, piccola, etc. he might even say some phrases that he does know in italian, i.e., Io e te per sempre (you and me forever), sei la mia vita (you are my life), ti amo tanto (i love you so much), etc.

+p.s. sorry for any misinterpretations, i'm not italian but i am mexican so spanish and italian are not too different (???) but please correct me if i'm wrong!

⟢ leon has always been a dinosuar guy. he's watched probably every dino documentary thats ever been made and rewatches them whenever they're on. so, naturally, whenever he travels for work, he'll try his best to visit every museum he possibly can to see their dino exhibit and nothing else. of course, as het gets older (probably DI to RE6) he'll explore the other exhibits but for rn he'll just stick to the dino exhibits. and if you must ask him what his favorite dinosuar is, he'll say the answer he said as a kid, a spinosaurus. it's common enough for people to know and not give him a strange look of confusion. but really, his heart belongs to the pachycephalosaurus.

⟡ of course, in its natural progression, leon will also delve into a fascination of raptors and reptiles. he'll go to zoos and spend his time in the reptile exhibit. he'll also go bird watching for any avian raptors he can find. this also does mean that he has nice pair binoculars and will buy a native bird identify guide when he travels. his documentary options have now expanded with his two new interests which really excites him.

⟢ whether you believe it or not, leon is actually more of a fruity cocktail kinda guy. he doesn't mind beer or hard liquor, especially when he needs something strong and to the point. something to help him drink away the bad memories and all too realistic nightmares. but if he's just in the mood to enjoy himself, leon will cook up a salty dog or a cranberry vodka.

⟢ leon oh so terribly wants kids. but before he forces you into his life, he never thought that to be possible. so in his off time, he would volunteer for the NICU at the local hospital to be a baby cuddler. he got into it after he tried it with rebecca. it gave him the sense that everything will be okay, that even if he can't have a few of his own, at least he can be there for little ones that need someone, even if its for a moment.

⟡ TRUST, that once you do have a baby with this man, he's all over them. that baby will never not be in his arms or in the proximity of him. he's on spit up and diaper duty. baby wakes up late at night crying? no worries, he's already in the room (he was sleeping on the nursery floor). you will almost have to battle this man to hold YOUR baby.

⟢ leon is actually a really big fan of romcoms and time pieces. in fact, his favorite time piece movie is pride and prejudice. oh he absolutely adores romantic pieces like that especially because he's a hopeless romantic at heart. he's fallen in love with the idea of falling in love with a girl he's just met and having soft intimate moments with them. his guilty pleasure romcom is 13 going on 30, especially since after the whole plagas incident, the movie was just released and he binged that movie on repeat.

⟡ BUT, just because he likes time pieces and romcoms doesn't mean he doesn't like action or thriller movies. leon's a really big fan of the matrix series and star wars series. also the fast and furious franchise is actually where his love of fast cars and motorcycles stem from. he just can't do any horror movies because baby has trauma :(

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

it's not much, but i thought these were silly and gave him a little more character. please let me know what you think or if you have any headcanons of your own!!!

xxox

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy headcanons

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maximotts · 5 months

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I know the trope tends to be older woman covering the younger one in lipstick stains but I wanna do that to milf Wanda 🥺 Like I think it would make her all giggly and maybe make her feel like she’s doing one of the things she’s missed out on 👉👈

I got this a few days ago and I've simply never recovered so here's how I imagine this little interaction would go. Disclaimer that I took two mini naps writing this drabble and it's got 0 editing; it's just cute.

"What has gotten into you?"

Wanda giggled, barely getting the question out before you were on her again, covering her cheeks in quick, scattered kisses. She could feel your lipstick leaving smudges on her skin, warm and waxy red smudges she was much more used to leaving on you than receiving.

She'd pushed at your shoulders too lightly for it to really move you, the action futile considering how you'd caged her under you on the sofa just moments after you'd stumbled through Wanda's front door. "You're right here in kissing range so..."

The reasoning was silly, but Wanda couldn't expect much else after a night you'd spent out drinking with your friends. You'd invited her along, but Wanda had the twins this weekend so she declined, spending her night trying to forget how badly she hoped you'd come over whenever you were ready to leave.

Unfortunately you'd caught her on the couch waiting up for you, red robe wrapped around her freshly showered form— so much for coming off as nonchalant about the possibility of seeing you, more so having you end your night with her, in a house she'd like you to consider your home too.

Wanda smelled the alcohol on your breath even as your lips trailed down to her neck; whatever you'd drunk all night must've been sweet, a faint fruity scent accompanying the liquor- cute. "Were you a good girl tonight?"

The question caught you off guard, her firm hand catching your jaw and forcing your confused gaze back to her face. Wanda stared you down as seriously as an over-tired and now flushed in the face woman could at two in the morning waiting for you to give her the answer she waited for.

She'd know if you lied. She always knew.

"I didn't do anything with anyone else, if that's what you're asking." Wanda moved to caress your cheek and you were quick to nuzzle into her hand, her warm palm grounding your hazy focus. Arms weakening, you settled your weight between her legs and the rough denim scratching along your inner thighs sent a shiver up her spine so suddenly, her breath caught in her throat for a minute. "Look at you... you're so pretty, mommy."

"Shhh, honey, the boys are sleeping." Sweet as the rambly compliment was, your volume control wasn't proving to be great while drunk.

The gentle reminder left you pouting, nosing at the base of her throat apologetically. "I'll be quiet! Let me kiss you more? Preferably all over? Just for a little bit, then bedtime."

"Alright okay! So eager..." Wanda couldn't help but laugh as your attention turned to her sternum, fumbling hands already struggling with the knot of her robe, appreciating not only your adoration, but your blunt honesty.

Both were quite new to her relationship wise and she was quickly finding it to be very... fun; something she'd missed out on most times in her marriage. "But you're showering first thing in the morning; you smell like that bar."

#wanda maximoff x reader #milf!wanda maximoff x reader #milf!wanda au #soft mommy wanda my love my life #motts writes.#maximotts

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hotyanderedaddies · 8 months

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Hiiiiii i love your stories sm, they’re so unique and truly well written, but could I possibly request a hopeless romantic m reader who has never been inlove and longs for a big muscular daddy (possibly yakuza?? Up to u tho!😁)

[Yandere! Boyfriend x Hopeless Romantic! M Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Plain and simple: You're a hopeless romantic.

You're in love with the idea of love.

Having someone there to be by your side through life, sharing your hopes and dreams with him, building a home and a family with him-- doing everything with him.

It's so intoxicating.

And you were determined to find whoever "him" is.

You weren't really too picky. Really, your only condition is that your dream guy has to be slightly bigger than you and allow you to call him "Daddy".

You wanted a big man who'd man-handle you nonstop and be all completely dominate like the Dom!Daddy he is. *Swoon.

But... where do you find a Daddy?

You couldn't exactly just put an ad in the newspaper. That might attract some weirdos. Therefore, one night, you decided to finally begin your quest for love, and go to a biker bar to try and find some tough guy daddy who would totally wreck you love you.

The mere second you stepped foot inside the bar, you couldn't help but feel like you were totally out of place. You weren't an absolute square, but whereas a majority of the clientele wore leather jackets and tight jeans that strained over their powerful muscles, you were dressed in your white button down and you even had your thick glasses on (so you could see, obviously).

Needless to say, you looked incredibly tiny compared to the large, intimidating men in the bar (which is kinda hot, to be honest).

Not being a fan of beer, you ordered a fruity cocktail from the bartender (earning a look, but whatever). As you nursed your drink, someone took the seat next to yours.

Looking over, you saw a guy giving you a hungry look. "Hey there," he said in his deep voice, "I'm--"

A large hand engulfed your small shoulder, interrupting the budding conversation between you and the guy. You craned your neck skywards and stared in awe at the even larger man who stood behind you.

This new man was by far the largest in the bar, both in height and musculature. He completely towered over you by at least two feet and was about twice as wide. His muscles strained against his tight black t-shirt. And he scowled at the other man who was trying to talk to you, a snarl on his handsome face.

"This one's mine," he practically growled at the other guy, his voice full of masculine baritone. "Fuck off."

The other guy scampered away like a frightened puppy, tail between his legs.

Your heart beat like crazy in your chest, due to a combination of nerves and total awe over the drop dead gorgeous daddy of a man who'd just totally claimed you as his in the bar.

The large man's narrowed eyes drifted towards you, and his snarl lifted the slightest bit.

"Hope I didn't scare ya, Darling," he told you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Why don't you come over to my table, and I'll make it up to ya?"

He didn't give you time to answer, because he tightened his grip on you (not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point known), and led you away from the bar towards the back where a solo table was. There was only one chair and when he sat in it, you briefly looked around for a spare seat you could drag over.

The man yanked you down onto his lap, quickly securing both of his muscled arms around your waist.

His lap was surprisingly soft and cozy, and it was hard not to cuddle against his broad chest that vibrated whenever he spoke.

"Now what is a cute little thing like you doing in such a dangerous place like this?" the man asked you. "You really should have your daddy here to protect you..." He trailed off and you could feel him tense up slightly. "Unless, you don't have a daddy... yet?"

You perked up, unable to believe your luck. Not only had you just begun your love quest, but you've potentially found someone in under an hour!

And this man who'd placed you on his lap was insanely tall, built like a truck, and seemed to be one of those characters who were cold to everyone except for their darling. That last part was based on the way he wouldn't stop nuzzling you every so often, happily humming as he did so.

"A d-daddy?" you repeated in disbelief.

The man mistook your words and said, "A daddy is someone who takes care of his darling. He protects him, cherishes him, pampers him, and above all: loves him." He paused to press his lips against your cheek quickly, his light stubble pricking your skin. "And all he asks is that his darling belong to him. And only him."

Holy crap, this was definitely what you were looking for!

"So, Darling," the man continued, his grip on you tightening, "would you like me to be your daddy?"

Logic dictated that you decline (at first) and say that the best decision would be to go on a couple of dates to get to know one another. That way, you could see if you were compatible beyond the daddy/darling dynamic--

"But before you answer, Darling," the man chuckled, "I have to warn you: If you say 'Yes', then I'll never, ever let you go. You'll be all mine."

"Yes!" you blurted without a moment's hesitation.

The man, Daddy, gave you a slight squeeze. "Yes, what?" he pressed, and you could feel him getting hard as you sat on his lap... and hot damn, you need to look up some stretching techniques.

"Yes, Daddy."

#yandere boyfriend #yandere boy #yandere daddy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #obsessive love #possessive boyfriend #asks

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qlossytbh · 5 months

Text

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 - 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 working with the BAU team has always been challenging— but your suddenly disrupted by a case that hits close to home and you don’t know how to react when your past starts clawing at you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 drinking, usual criminal minds content, mentions of dead bodies, mentions of murder, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of anxiety

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 3.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 AHHH so the series has begun. this is based on this lovely request. i’m trying my hardest for things with the UnSub and the case to be as coherent as possible while the storyline progresses, so it’s very important to pay attention to names and your past ;)

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"And that is your third drink of the night—" You reached over to Garcia's drink, ripping it from her lips as she tried puckering onto the straw before you could steal her of the drink she had rightfully purchased. Protests flowed out of her as you brought her drink to your own lips, taking a deep sip of the fruity alcoholic beverage, savoring the light flavors in your mouth. "At least share."

"Anyone tell you how boring you can be sometimes?" She slumped herself across the table complaining profusely at your antics.

"All the time actually," You shrugged. "And I'm not boring, I just don’t condone alcoholism."

"Says the one whos about to singlehandly down my drink," She rolled her eyes at the sound of your straw reaching the bottom of the glass with a slurp. You looked at the glass and shrugged your shoulders innocently.

"Oops,"

The whole BAU had finally decided to host another one of these team bonding activity's, and the vast majorty had agreed on hitting a bar that was near the downtown area, Morgan having been the main enthusiast at picking where the bonding would take place.

You thought it'd be fun honestly. It was unusual to see the group in an ambience that wasn't so full of anxiety and tension all the time. Of course, a joke or two would slip around the office, mainly through the jet rides but it was hard to lay back all the time when you were constantly chasing sadists and murderers around.

It had also been a while since you had gotten somewhat dressed up. A simple black squareneck bodysuit and some leather pants wasnt your biggest definition of getting dressed up, but you knew today was casual, so you didnt want to go completely out. You chose to instead settle for a outfit that'd allow you to blend in and some soft curls in your hair.

Everyone was in their own little comfortable bubble, which really allowed you to understand your co-workers and friends better. You watched how JJ and Emily chatted along a few other men on the further side of the bar, laughing at their antics and desperation when it came to obviously impress them. It was funny even from this side of the bar how badly the men were oggling them shamelessly.

Just as you were about to look for Derek, you felt someone clash between you and Garcia. "Well how are the two of the smokiest looking woman in this bar doin'?"

"I was just looking for you," You jabbed him with your elbow as he wrapped his arm around you. "Should've known you'd come crawling to look for us."

"By us, I hope you mean just me." Garcia butted in. Derek scoffed and allowed his arm to leave your shoulder and instead wrap both of his around the blonde that sat next to you on the bar stool.

"Pfft, you kidding?" He scoffed. "Don't' get me wrong, those pants look great on you sweetheart, but Garcia here's my one and only."

You let out a laugh at Morgans comment. He was a flirt, a natural one, it'd been just like this since you first arrived at the BAU all those years back. You however, were inmune to his charm, and he'd always been a brotherly figure to you. The two of you teased the other and often got into small discussions that were similar to that of a sibling dynamic. Nevertheless, you cared a lot for him.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," You eyed Morgan, sipping through the straw of the recently emptied drink. He pinched your cheek as a familiar laugh left his mouth while you slapped his hand away.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the bar, allowing your shoulders to slouch ever so slightly. You swirled the small cubes of ice around in the glass, looking at them intently before Derek whistled low accompanied by a deep chuckle. "Looks like Boy genius is hitting jackpot over there."

Your eyes turned to where Derek was gesturing and you saw Spencer sitting at a small table with three other woman practically perched on his arms. You watched as his arms enthusiastically flew over the place. Garcia pitched in. "Well thats a first,"

You chuckled to yourself, not failing to notice how his mouth was moving at an unreadable pace, which probably meant he had already went into what you'd like to tease him as 'wikipedia mode'. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed as they moved inaudibly, the same way they always did when he rambled on about something.

"Look at my man go," Morgan cheered.

"He looks constipated.." Garcia squinted her eyes, noticing his nervous and tense posture as one woman grazed his forearm.

You and Spencer had gotten really close over the past few years. He was the first person you immediately hit it off with when you first arrived to the BAU a little over a year later than he had. It initially started when the two of you were unintentionally being paired in many cases together.

However, Hotch and at the time Gideon realized that putting both of your minds together was a power weapon in disguise— Both you and spencer were incredibly smart but very different. Spencer was very good with statistics and information, and you were good with reading people in great depth, which is why the two of you made such an outstanding team.

By being together all the time, you slowly started to get more comfortable around eachother and soon enough the two of you became inseperable. Wether it was getting coffee with eachother in the morning, or staying over later in the office to read over some unsolved cases, you and Spencer were attached at the hip as months went on. It had taken a while to crack his shell open, but slowly, you'd manadge for him to loosen up.

"Looks like that's my cue," You said standing up and dusting of your pants. Morgan and Garcia shared a look while you sighed heavily, watching how Spencer entirely short circuited when one of the girls reached up to tuck a loose strand of his hair behind his ear.

You knew Spencer had a thing with his personal space, but also having a heart of gold prevented him from having the guts to push these woman off. You could tell that he didn't desire their company or attention.

You rounded the bar and made your way to the table where Spencer desperately needed saving. Once you walked closer to them, the woman in the middle looked up with an unamused gaze and then Spencer's intimidated eyes met yours. You clicked your tongue, gesturing your chin to the side and insinuating them to take a hint.

"Sorry to interrupt ladies," You smiled tightly, crossing your arms. "I need to steal your boy candy for a bit."

"We're busy.." One of them said, smiling at you wickidly and she placed her hand on Spencer's shoulder. You groaned internally because your intentions weren't territorially driven and these woman felt some inescessary need to fight you for Spencers attention.

"I wasn't asking." You responded sharply, given them one final smile. Under the intensity of your gaze, the three woman finally cowered and got to their feet, walking away while tossing their hair back at you and spitting hateful glances towards you. You followed their trail with your eyes before looking back at Spencer and narrowing your eyes at him.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," He clasped his hands together, blabbering as you walked over and plopped into the seat next to him.

"Why is it that you always end up in these situations?" You looked over at him. "You have got to stop attracting the bitches.." You rested your elbow on the chair and tilted your chin towards him.

"They came and I didn't really know how to—" He started but cut himself off with a groan, slumping deeper in his chair and dragging his hands across his face. He peered at you through his fingers and you chuckled at him, looking down and shaking your head to yourself.

Spencer quickly noticed how your hair was lightly curled towards its ends and the makeup on your face was giving you a soft glowy hue. His eyes scanned your lightly tinted cheeks and eyelids, along with the long dark wisp of your eyelashes that deepened your gaze, not entirely used to seeing you like this. You finally looked up at him, and eyed him.

"What?" You laughed, shoving his arm lightly. He looked down and smiled to himself. When he looked back up at you, he opened his mouth, wanting to tell you all about the statistics of makeup and its history and evolution along the years to ease his nerves, but Derek's voice cut through the comfortable chattering the two of you were sitting in.

When you looked up at him, you saw JJ, Emily and Garcia standing alongside him, all having the same familiar expression on their face. Derek motioned towards his phone and you nodded your head understandingly. You knew that Rossi and Hotch had probably called everyone in due to a new case. You looked over at Spencer, sighing heavily. "Duty calls,"

Spencer stood up from his seat and grabbed your hand, helping you up from your own and letting his chest heave with disappointment. "Are we ever going to get a day off?"

You looked up at him and patted his chest. "Now that is a stupid question for someone as smart as you, Dr. Reid."

The whole team scattered into the conference room as Rossi held his phone to his ear and chatted stoically to someone, pacing back and forth the white board. You scanned Rossi's posture and the few pictures that were peeping out of a file and your brows furrowed.

"What do you think happened now?" You voiced, turning to Spencer, who scanned the room just as intently as you had beside you, hands deep in his pocket. Morgan, JJ and Parentiss had already fallen into their seats waiting for Rossi to hang up with whoever it is he was talking to. Spencer looked down at you and tightened his lips, shrugging slightly.

You hugged yourself as an unsettling feeling sat in the pools of your gut. There was something that happened to you often where you couldn't really voice a feeling into coherent words, but something about a situation seemed oddly off in your gut. The familiar feeling was currently bubbling inside of you and it evidently manifested onto your expression. You felt a hand on your shoulder accompanied by a light squeeze.

"You okay?" Spencer asked, furrowing his brows in concern. You quickly waved him off, smiling at him and taking in a deep breath.

"Yeah, just got a bad feeling,"

As Rossi hung up, you and Spencer made your way to your chairs. Spencer absentmindedly pulled yours out, allowing you to sit before him. You mumbled a quick 'thanks' before sitting down comfortably and turning your attention to Rossi with Spencer not far beside you.

"Sorry to interrupt team bonding but," Rossi shoved his phone into his pocket. "We've got trouble."

Rossi lifted the projector remote, turning on its contents and revealing a series of gruesome pictures. The photos showed what looked to be a couple, brutally slaughtered with blood splattered across the walls.

"Easton Green, 27 and Michael Green, 28, brutally slaughtered last night in their home here in Virginia," Rossi said scrolling through a few pictures of the couples body limply displayed across what looked like a bathroom. "Both victims received more than 20 stab wounds and both had their ring fingers severed. Due to autopsy reports, Easton had water in her lungs and Michael showed signs of sexual assault."

Your heart stopped in the back of your throat as Rossi read off the names of the victims, following with ID pictures of the two familiar faces you hadn't seen in a long period of time.

"A week ago, an almost identical murder took place." He punched the buttons on the small control, revealing a stomach churning picture. "Sarah Johnson, 28 and Adam Johnson, 28. The couple presented the same stab wounds and severed fingers, but no signs of sexual assault and no water in either of their lungs."

Your eyebrows were furrowed deeply as your mouth hung open, just slightly. You never thought you'd hear those names again, much less the way you had just right now.

"Both murders happened in their own houses and signs of forced entry are present." Rossi said.

"How do we know that these murders are connected?" JJ asked, scribbling mindlessly into her journal.

"We were able to make with the little evidence they've presented so far was that both couples had been recently married," Hotch pipped in. "The stab wounds are also identically the same, along with the way the bodies were left."

"So, wait, we have someone hunting around recently married couples?" Derek asked, brows furrowed tightly in curiosity.

"In a way that would explain why the ring fingers were severed..." Spencer quipped, scrolling through his files. You glanced over at him, watching the familiar furrow in his brow. He looked up. "Recently married couples wear their wedding bands on their ring fingers after the ceremony takes place. They're exchanged during the wedding ceremony and symbolize the couple's union and commitment to each other,"

"And with the severed fingers are probably the wedding bands," Derek blew out.

"If only the ring fingers are being cut off than maybe our UnSub probably has a personal vendetta with marriage in itself and is most definitely acting out of rage," Parentiss quipped in as well, crossing her arms over her chest. You looked from person to person as they all added in their analysis and group review, but you felt as if you couldn't keep up. Your brain had stopped working the second Easton and Michael had been named.

"We'd have to figure out how the UnSub is connected to the victims to be able to confirm that, and by that we'd have to connect the victims," Hotch uncapped a marker and turned to the board.

"Actually," You finally said. "All these victims went to North Virginia High School, the private school over by the upper east side of town."

The room fell silent as everyone's head turned to you. You froze momentarily, sinking into your seat while swallowing the bundle of embarrassment that seeped into you as the spotlight suddenly found your way. You signaled to the files "I, uhm— I used to go to school with these people."

"All four of them were in my class, I was actually friends with Easton. Sort of—" You shook your head. "—I haven't talked to her for years until well..."

You looked over at the board and cringed internally.

"So were they together since high school?" Derek asked you, turning in his seat towards you. You pursed your lips in thought.

”Sort of," You flipped a page over onto it's back and pointed your finger to one of the lines. "Easton and Michael starting dating a year or two after graduation, but Sarah and Adam had been dating since sophomore year of college."

Your frown deepened, suddenly memories of your past flooding your head quicker than you anticipated. And quicker than you were prepared for. You rubbed your temple and laid back in your chair.

"Whoever the UnSub is could be connected to the class or school," You stated, deciding to fall silent until further notice. Hotch nodded in your direction, eyeing you suspiciously before Rossi began laying out a few more details of the case to which you couldn't completely pay attention to. Your hands fell into a nervous pattern of picking at the skin that sat comfortably on the side of your nails.

Spencer reached out from the side, placing one of his hands over both of your to prevent you from continuing your anxious habit. When you looked over at him, his gaze remained on Rossi and Hotch, eyebrows slightly furrowed yet expression completely relaxed as if he had not a single thought flowing around in his head.

God knows you needed a bit of that. You glared at him but with a huff of surrender, you slouched further into your chair, allowing your fingers to dance along with Spencers underneath the table and away from anyone else's view.

After about thirty minutes of placing down a starters plan to the case and more unnecessary stuff that you weren’t all too interested in paying attention to, everyone in the team was dismissed. You snapped out of your trance, suddenly realizing that everyone was standing up and getting ready to leave.

"You in there?" Spencer called out from beside you as he shoved his paperwork into his familiar satchel. You hummed offering him a quick, forced smile.

"Yeah," You threw your bag over your shoulder. Spencer stopped you with a firm hand as you attempted leaving the room. He gave you a knowing look, clearly not even impressed by your poor attempt at running away from his worried gaze.

"I’m fine Spence," You said, tilting your head slightly to the side. "I’ll tell you about it in the car,"

When you and Spencer first started to get along, both of you had realized that your lived not far from the other. A fifteen, maybe twenty minute car ride from the others place at most. When Spencer found out you usually took the train to get home, he insisted on dropping you off every evening after work. At first, it was a bit awkward, due to the fact that none of you knew anything about the other, opting for plugging your AUX cord into your phone and playing music to distract yourself from the silence. But now, things were different and things were everything but uncomfortable

"Y/N," Hotchs voice cut through the air thickly. "A minute?”

Your head snapped over to Hotch. You tensed, looking back over Spencer to which he tightened his lips, giving you a look full of sympathy. You assured him with a nod in the direction of the door. "I’ll catch up with you,"

With a final nod, Spencer left the room, closing the door behind you. You tensed your fingers at your side and swiftly patted the sides of your pants. You suddenly felt intimidated by Hotchs presence. It made you incredibly panicky not knowing why he called you to stay behind. Hotch had always been someone you found hard reading.

"Whats up?" You asked walking up to him and gripping at the strand of your bag.

"Are you okay?" You furrowed your eyebrows, jerking back slightly. Now that was definitely not what you had expected.

"What..?" You asked, profusely confused as to where his question was coming form. He continued, organizing the files that were left on the meeting table.

"I asked if you were okay," He paused turning towards you. "If you’re going to be in conditions to work this case—“

You invoulintarily let out a laugh, to which you clamped shut in embarrassment at Hotchs unnamused glare. “Sorry..”

You shifted on your toes and sighed heavily. You understood that this sudden revelation may make people think this could effect your performance in the case. I mean, these were people you spent all four years of high school with and to any logical human being, in a sense, it would be emotionally impacting if ex-classmates were being executed one by one.

But Hotch knew very little about your past. No one did. So with a firm nod you looked over at Hotch. "I am perfectly capable of working on this case Hotch."

“I didn’t doubt your capability,” He stared at you intently. “I asked if you were okay to work on the case,”

You stopped, watching him slowly try to weave his way into the truth of what these people actually meant to you. But you quickly shot him a smile, blocking him out and preventing him from seeing what was going on in the inside of your head.

“Yes, I am.” His eyes scanned yours, and with a simple sigh he shook his head and finally dismissed you from the room.

The case did not effect you in the slightest, and you weren’t lying about that. It was just very shocking finding out that someone who used to be your best friend was slaughtered to death. But you knew that nothing— no even the people who used to go to school with you were going to put a halt to your job, much less when you love doing said job so much.

You said your final goodbye to Hotch and walked over to the door, exiting it carefully. When you turned your back to the closed door, you found Spencer sitting against one of the desks. You crossed your arms and glared at him.

"You should’ve gone home," You said. He pursed his lip, cocking his brows with amusement laced in his features. "I could’ve taken the train.”

You turned on your heels and allowed him to follow beside you. Spencer let out a laugh, throwing his head back. You beamed at his smile.

"That’s funny," He said, looking down at you as both of you made your way to the elevator. "Did you know that transit riders, especially women, are often victims of a wide range of offenses of a sexual nature that happen on, as well as at bus stops and train stations."

You looked up at him with an unamused look, knowing he was doing this just to prove a point. He opted to continue. "Verbal harassment is the most common form of harassment, with 41% experiencing "obscene/harassing language" and 26% being subjected to sexual comments. Among non-verbal types of harassment, 22% had been stalked and 18% had been victims of—“

"Okay fine!" You exhasperated. "I wouldn’t have taken the train anyways, I have my personal choufer with me."

You patted his arm with a smile on your face as you rolled your eyes at his triumphal grin. Once the elevator door opened you pursed your lips. "Can I at least pay those 25 dollars of gas?"

He looked forward as the elevator door closed, scoffing. "Not a chance.”

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