#really attached to second image

[wanderingxmoth]

it's exceedingly hot outside so. snow copium

silly bubbline but it's crashed by terminal simon brainrot aka marcy deals with her dysfunctional dad

[multongsisig]

Tried my hand at some of the Close Kin goblins and elves (and human)

[memorys-skyscraper]

taking donations of any and all good employment-related vibes rn

[theladyfae]

nothing to me will ever be more iconic than my beloved mutual managing to get me so invested in a (rarepair) ship for a media i had no previous interaction with that i was actively making my own headcanons abt their potential relationship dynamic and making song associations and engaging in others’ brainrot for months before i ever even considered getting in to said media. and now a year later i’m finally writing fic for them but still know next to nothing abt what they’re like in canon cause i still haven’t made it to that part of the story, the memories of the shared delusion are genuinely the only thing keeping me going.

[keeps-ache]

i have a 💫comic💫 that took me like 2 days to make and 3 sleep-depriving nights (don't calculate) and i have to wait til i get home to poooooaaasstttt iiiiittttttt gwah

[divinedomainn]

Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

play previous song? || ◁ PART 2 ▷ || play next song?

summary : Your inbox has turned into a horny battlefield—six familiar usernames, six neck-down thirst traps, all hard and very, very eager.

No faces. Just bodies. Dicks. Bold lighting choices. Questionable bedsheets.

You sit cross-legged in your underwear like you’re judging Olympic figure skating, except everyone’s naked and begging to be picked.

Time to start scoring.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, horny simp men, sukuna being sukuna, reader being willfully ignorant for her own sanity.

A/N : time to make your first choice for the first week by voting in the poll at the end, i'll be doing this all in descending order based on who was the most voted to the least - so vote well >:) goodluck reader ! (i wonder who the mystery man could POSSIBLY be)

You sat back for a few hours, letting it really settle in for yourself and your viewers. You had hundreds of messages and you hadn’t even finished scrolling through the first wave of submissions when the familiar usernames started sliding into your inbox—like wolves answering the call. And it was obvious, immediately, which messages you were actually going to open.

These weren’t just horny randos with messy lighting and desperate angles.

These were your regulars.

The six you already knew by username. The six who tipped with the intensity of men bidding for real estate inside your body. And now they were showing themselves to you. You hoped to whatever deity was listening that these guys were hot with huge cocks. What? It was fun to be a little superficial sometimes. First up:

EmoWithaBoner.

His message was soft-spoken, despite the picture attached being the exact opposite of that, just like always. No emojis. No bravado.

“Didn’t know how to pose,” it read. “But I thought about how you’d look on top of me, and it kind of just happened.”

It was soft, unfiltered, and a little shaky. The photo was reflected from his mirror and showed him stretched out across gray sheets, pale skin dusted with faint freckles. He looked like he went to the gym often with how built he was. Narrow hips. His cock sat flushed against his stomach, long and lean—at least seven inches, maybe more—and wait.. was that? You looked closer towards the image, inspecting it like you were trying to solve a case. Yep. It was pierced at the frenulum with a delicate curved barbell. A glint of silver. Great heavens. Saved.

TempleOfSin.

His body was art. Broad chest, warm tan skin like satin, sculpted muscle that looked carved. His torso was tapered, lean and strong, with a small trail of black hair leading down to a thick, curved cock—seven inches minimum, hand loosely resting at the base like he was showing it off without trying too hard. He was neatly trimmed. It looked like there was a bunch of robes beside him haphazardly taken off for the photo. “Consider this a formal offering,” the message read. “You could worship every inch of me truly, my loyal little follower.” Odd as always, but hot. Saved. You could hear your prayers being answered, two down and so far all was good - in fact, perfect. You were surprised these were the guys paying you, and for a second or two you felt like you should be paying them for the photos.

SixEyesOnly’s submission hit next—and of course, it came with a $500 tip before you even clicked on the message. The sight that hit your eyes made you choke a little on your own spit. 

Of course he sent multiple angles—three, actually. You picked your favorite: a half-reclined shot on luxurious navy bedding, torso lit with just the right amount of golden light. He was toned, lean muscle over abnormally long limbs, subtle abs. A soft trail of white hair led down to a perfectly girthy cock, mid-stroke—maybe just under eight inches, thick enough to stretch you open. His other hand was holding a handwritten sign: “Good enough for you?” “Oh, SixEyesOnly, absolutely.” You spoke to yourself whilst your eyes remained glued to your laptop screen. Saved. Then—unsurprisingly unhinged—daddyissuez.

“i jerked off right before i took this and got hard again just thinking about fucking you.”

And the photo… Jesus. The photo was taken in low lighting, like a scene from a noir porno. He was sitting wide-legged on a leather couch that looked like it needed replacing, legs thick and powerful, thighs dusted with black hair. His chest was solid, scars faintly visible across his abs and ribs. You closed your eyes for a second and tilted your head up to your ceiling in a silent ‘thank you’ before looking back down at the image. His cock was huge, just like the rest of him. Probably just shy of nine inches, you couldn’t keep your eyes off it. Balls heavy. Tip already glossy with precum. One hand gripped the base. The other rested lazily on his thigh like he was used to being admired. With a cock like that you couldn’t blame him. Saved. OfficeAfterHours was, predictably, meticulous. His message read like an email you’d get from someone managing your retirement plan, if that person also wanted to bend you over a desk.

“Apologies for the delay. Here’s my formal submission. Discretion guaranteed. Let me know if you'd like a second angle.”

Shot in high-resolution against crisp black sheets, his body was a symphony of intention. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, abs that looked like they’d been sculpted from marble. Not huge, but built like someone who took care of himself for discipline, not vanity. A thin trail of blonde hair led down to a cock that was gorgeous—perfect shape, thick but not excessive, probably seven inches on the dot, with veins that begged for attention. Trimmed. Clean. You could almost imagine his voice saying something like, “Breathe through it, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.” A weird sound came out of your mouth in excitement from your own fantasy. Saved.

You were already overstimulated and halfway folded into your sheets when the final message hit.

KingOfRot.

You hovered over it for a second like it might bite. Which was ironic, considering he probably would. He was always the most feral in chat—filthy, relentless, tipping like his wallet had a death wish.

You clicked.

Instant regret. Instant need.

The photo looked like it had been taken during a crime.

Bathroom mirror. Harsh yellow light. Shirt pushed up to his collarbones, muscles tensed like he’d been fucking someone just before he snapped the photo. Chest broad. Arms thick. Veins roped down to his forearms. Stomach lined with clean muscle. Ink everywhere—heavy black bands around his biceps, tattoos sharp and ceremonial-looking across his chest and stomach like a ritual.

And then his cock.

You actually flinched at the offensive monster staring right back at you through the screen. Long. Thick. Too thick. Heavy. Veins running down the shaft like it had a pulse, flushed red like it had been hard for too long. The kind of cock you’d have to apologize to your body after taking. You didn’t even want to hazard a guess at the size.

He wasn’t even touching it. It was just there holding its own weight up like a pole rather than a piece of actual flesh. 

But what got you, what really made your stomach drop, was the tattoos.

They were familiar.

You’d seen them before.

There was a guy on campus—tall, smug, terrifyingly hot in the way that sent your libido into a frenzy—who had tattoos just like that. You’d seen him walking out of the athletics building once, sweatpants slung low and his shirt mysteriously missing, laughing like he knew every secret in the world. He had loudly shouted “What!?” at you when you had stared for a little longer than needed. Embarrassingly seared into your memory for that exact reason.

You squinted.

“Nope,” you muttered. “No. Not connecting the dots. That’s above my pay grade.” Surely it couldn’t be the same guy, right? The tattoos were probably, like, one of those trends that everyone was getting. That's what you were telling yourself at least.

You were about to save the photo when you finally looked at the caption.

“Pick me. I’ll fuck you so hard your ancestors will feel it. You’ll be a fucking shrine by the time I’m done.” Was that a death threat? Probably. Should you block him? Probably. “Ancestors. Okaaaaay.” You nodded your head slowly as if he was across from you saying it with a gun pointing at you. 

And then you saved it. Of course you did. Then flopped onto your back, one arm flung over your face, trying to mentally prepare for the chaos you had just invited into your life. All at the right price of course. “Thank you to whoever is listening for blessing me with viewers that are hotter than the guys I have wilfully hooked up with for free.” You spoke to your ceiling, a common theme nowadays. Seven men. Seven bodies. Seven chances to let your subscribers watch you get absolutely wrecked on camera.

Your legs were trembling from what you decided was mostly horniness.. and a little bit of fear for your own pussy by the time you shut your laptop fully. Friday couldn't come soon enough.

Now, the real question was - who would you choose first?

taglist : @syubseokie @frozenmallows @90s-belladonna @moncher-ire @kunareads @blublublubby @grignardsreagent @soozeu @mochiivqi @sweetsformysoul @killak9mi @celloccino @gurlhere4fluff @gorouenjoyer @linaaeatsfamilies @lov3-ly @des-todoroki @aiicpansion @lazylunarlover @kentoslvr @cherry-berry-21 @cure-alexandrite @yourname-exee @pinkyogoart @sillymortalblob @kyvyes @xxxieli @swoozleee @augustineyukimura @uniquecutie-puff @ayepitita @luna-v-roiya @kill-your-darling274 @babiestarrcandy @b3bybunny @midnightwriter21 @miizuzu

[strawbuddy-luv]

Trans Tim off handedly mentioning random things that just confuse people more and more because he never told them he was trans (only Bruce and Alfred know)

Tim: "For the mission I'm thinking I'll go undercover, but it'll take some work to hide the bruises I got earlier. They're everywhere"

Dick: "Oh I think Steph is free right now!"

Tim: "...Ok?"

Dick: "Don't worry I'm sure she'll help you out with this! "

Tim: "That's awesome but I don't think I'll need help. I know how to use makeup."

Dick: "Really-? Ohhh, yeah your public image is like, way more public than ours. That must be tiring, having to hide the bruises all the time."

Tim: "Well yeah but I knew how to use makeup before that. For like, galas as a kid and stuff"

Dick: "...yeah..."

-----

Steph: -Complaining about a man- "And then he said "Oh you should smile more" like "you look like you don't want to be here" like what- what the fuck-??? Maybe I fucking don't dude."

Tim: "Oh yeah I hate when they do that. Like you've spent the entire time bitching about the consistency of snails, I can close my mouth for a few seconds."

Steph: "..."

Tim: "...What-?"

Steph: "Well- I mean yeah but- you know I have to deal with it like...way more, and it's just a bit weird that like, you as a guy are, I dunno, trying to relate? I mean you don't have to deal with it litreally everyday"

Tim: "Well yeah not anymore, but, you know...I still did."

Steph: :...What-"

-----

Tim: -Resting against one of the rooftop ledges-

Jason: "Woah, I can't believe it, Red Robin, slacking. What would Bruce do if he saw this!"

Tim: "Fuck off, it's just period cramps." -Jumps off the edge of the building-

Jason: "Yeah whatever Timblina...

Your fucking what-"

-----

Bruce: "And for this mission, we'll be needing someone for the Caroline disguise, but we already know who that is so-"

Dick: "Wait does Steph actually know how to fight in heels-??"

Bruce: "...N-"

Steph: "Yeah Bruce, I mean, you could at least actually ask me before volunteering me to go fight crime in that dress."

Bruce: "You-"

Jason: "I mean no offense, but literally who else would do it? Cass isn't here right now and I don't think any of us are willing to get a boob job for the mission"

Bruce: "No one's getting a boob job-"

Steph: "Yeah! This is bat tech, Bruce probably has ultra realistic titties in everyone's color and size! Jason you wouldn't even need an attachment."

Jason: "I don't think Caroline Hills has fifty gun shot wounds and muscles the size of most those guys heads."

Steph: "Yeah bu-"

Bruce: "None of that will be necessary because none of you" -Pointing at the right side of the table- "Will be going. No one at this table will be needing any prosthetics...Or boob jobs."

Steph: "...Ok but who the fuck is going then-"

Bruce: "Tim."

The entire table: "..."

Steph: "Tim are you really willing to put on boobs for this-"

Dick: "I don't think that's the best idea-"

Jason: "You just said no prosthetics- Oh this'll be fucking rich"

Tim: "...

I...wouldn't need a boob job?? Or prosthetics?"

Jason: "Timbo, that dress is a pretty low cut, and, no offense, your training hasn't given you that many enhancements."

Tim: "...Thank you for the binding compliment?"

Dick: "The what-"

Tim: "Guys I- I already have boobs-"

The Table: "..."

Steph: "WHAT-"

Dick: "You do-?!"

Jason: "Bruce if you made Tim get boobs for some weird mission-"

Tim: "What- No! No one made me get boobs??? Besides, I don't know, biology I guess??? Genetics maybe???"

Dick: "...I'm extremely confused"

Steph: "WHO GAVE YOU BOOBS-???"

Tim: "I'm not really sure seeing as I was born with them"

Dick: "...

OHHHHHH-"

Steph: "What- is this like a birth defect or something???"

Dick: "Tim- Tim I think you're just gonna have to-"

Tim: "I'm trans."

Jason: "...That's-

Yeah

Ok yeah no that- that explains...a lot."

Steph: "..." -Head in hands- "I am such a fucking idiot"

[xosannie]

3:00 am

☆Genre: Smut 18+ MDNI

☆Pairing: roommate!Seonghwa x fem!reader

☆Word Count: 4.1k

☆Warning: pwp (?), gentle/soft Seonghwa, unprotected sex (be safe horny ppl), needy reader, fingering (f receiving), pet names (princess, baby), some dirty talk, praise, fucked from behind, (lmk if I missed anything) if you see any typos no you don’t

☆Summary: It’s late and you’re too horny to sleep. Luckily you find your roommate up late as well. Come to your surprise he’s willing to help you.

—————————————————————————

You let out an exaggerated sigh of annoyance, shifting on your back after tossing and turning for a while. You stare up at the dark ceiling, admitting defeat after trying to fall asleep and failing miserably. You checked the time, looking over at the clock on your bedside table.

 3:04 am

It was late at night, and here you are laying restless on the bed, aching between your legs. You didn’t know why, but you just felt so horny. Earlier you tried to do something about it, but your fingers weren’t enough to get you close. You tried to ignore the feeling between your legs, but every time you shut your eyes images of dirty scenarios pop into your head.

You kick the covers off you, the cold night air biting into the flesh of your bare legs. You slowly pull yourself off the bed, well if you couldn’t sleep might as well get yourself a little snack. You stepped out the room and into the hallway, quietly walking past your roommate, Seonghwa’s room.

 You cocked your head to the side when you noticed a small light emanating from underneath his door. Oh, Seonghwa is awake, why is he up so late? You knock on the door and slowly turn the knob when you hear a low “Come in”, from the other side. 

Seonghwa sat at his desk, lamp shining brightly beside him. He was wearing his black, silk pajamas, back facing you as he focused on the legos in his hands. You roll your eyes, entering his room and sitting on his bed. 

“Are you really building legos at 3 am?”

 “Yup,” he says popping the ‘p’ sound. 

“Why?” 

“Can’t sleep,” he shrugs.

“That makes two of us,” you mumble.

You plop backwards on his mattress, arms sprawled out on the covers and you hear Seonghwa chuckle deeply. 

“Why can’t you sleep?”

You pause for a moment, well you certainly can’t tell him the real reason. ‘Oh well I’m so horny, it’s preventing me from sleeping.’ Seonghwa doesn’t need to know that.

“Just… restless.”

You hear a small scoff coming from Seonghwa, he still doesn’t turn your direction. He was too fixated on attaching one of the Lego pieces together in the correct spot. 

“I don’t believe you.”

You propped yourself on your elbows to look at Seonghwa, shooting him a confused look.

“What?”

“You’re a horrible liar.”

He puts the legos down and finally turns around in his chair to face you. 

“What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

You seriously debate if you should tell the truth or not. I mean, you and Seonghwa have talked about personal stuff before. You guys have lived with each other for while now so you know each other like the back of your hands. Seonghwa raises his brows at you, watching you intently as you pondered.

You let out a sigh and sit up straight. Seonghwa turned his chair around so he could face you better.

“Well… ugh, don’t laugh okay.”

“I’m not gonna laugh, what’s up?”

You take a deep breath, cheeks started to feel warmer from what you were about to say.

“I’m just… horny. So I can’t sleep.”

Seonghwa blinked at you, a little taken aback by your words.

“Oh.”

You let out a groan, falling back on the bed and grabbing a pillow to hide your face in. You heard Seonghwa chuckle a little and you kicked him. 

“I said don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing at you. You have me worried for a second, I thought it was gonna be something serious.”

“This is serious!”

Your voice was muffled from the pillow, Seonghwa couldn’t help but find your embarrassment endearing. 

“Just go masturbate or something.”

“I tried, but I couldn’t get close.”

You finally sit up, throwing the pillow back on the bed. Your body slumped forward as you frowned.

“Don’t you have some sort of vibrator or something?”

“It’s dead and I lost the charger,” your mumbled.

Seonghwa laughs softly again, he reached up to ruffle your hair and you glared at him.

“Seonghwa, stop that.”

You shoo’s his hand away and he smiles.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you. Just try to ignore it.”

He sits back in his chair crossing his arms. You glare at him again, not enjoying the smug look on his face. 

“You want me dead.”

“So dramatic,” he rolls his eyes. 

Seonghwa thinks for a moment while you sulk on his bed. He bit his lip, taking in a breath before speaking.

“Well… I have an idea, but i don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

Your head perks up, at his words. You felt like you were so desperate for release that you would do anything so you could sleep.

“What is it? I’ll do anything at this point.”

“Well… maybe you need a helping hand.”

You cock your brow up, what did he mean by that? 

“Helping hand?” You ask slowly.

“Yeah, a second person…”

Your heart started to race a bit faster. What did Seonghwa mean by that? And why was his request only making the ache between your legs grow stronger.

Seonghwa stared blankly at you, waiting for your reply. He rolls his eyes when you remain silent, he can see you weren’t fully grasping his words.

“I’m saying you need to be fucked.”

“I mean… yeah I do but I don’t necessarily have anyone. Especially since it’s 3 in the morning.”

“I can do it.”

Now it was your turn to stare blankly at him. You body froze and your eyes wide, but on the inside you were screaming ‘WHAT THE FUCK SEONGHWA? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’LL DO IT? WAIT, WHY DO I WANT TO SAY YES?’

Seonghwa snaps his fingers at you while calling your name. You snap back to reality, not realizing that you just short circuited. 

“Sorry for a second there I thought you said you would fuck me.”

“I did.”

“Seonghwa!”

“What?! I’m just trying to help. Look if you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine.”

Seonghwa waves his hands in defense, feeling a little embarrassed for suggesting such a thing. He was ready to just pretend like nothing happened and shrug off your rejection, but then you spoke.

“I never say I didn’t want to.”

Seonghwa looked back at you, feeling his heart race faster at your words. He clears his throat and stands up off the chair. You look up at him, suddenly feeling small while he towered over your sitting form.

“Then, let’s get started. The faster we finish the faster you get to sleep.”

Seonghwa sat on the bed, back pressed against the head board as he gestured you to come sit in his lap. Your body moved on auto pilot, crawling over to him and straddling his lap.

“Are you sure this is okay, Seonghwa?”

“It’s okay, I’m just trying to help my friend. If you don’t want this.. just tell me and I’ll stop.”

You felt his fingers graze your cheek as he cupped your jaw. You were already so needy that the gentle touch sent electricity through your body.

“No… I want this. I need this.”

“Alright then.”

Seonghwa smiles feeling relieved at your words. He looked down at your body, admiring how you looked in your oversized shirt and small shorts. His hands ran up your bare thighs, he chuckled when he sees the goosebumps rising up on your skin.

“You look very pretty like this. I always love it when you wear these small shorts.”

His hands reach up to grip your hips. The small touches make you feel more needy, and you couldn’t help it when a whine escaped your lips.

“Seonghwa, please I need you now. Don’t tease me.”

Seonghwa pouts at you, brushing your hair out of your face. He shows mercy, after all you’ve been needy for so long (he also couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to feel you.)

“Aww baby, don’t fret.”

He leans forward, placing soft kisses on your neck. You reach up, gripping at the silk material of his pajama shirt. You let out a sigh, enjoying the feeling of his plump lips on your hot skin. He gripped your hips to pull you closer and you let out a small yelp. 

Your pussy ached, Seonghwa swore he could feel you throbbing through the thin material of your clothes. That made him feral, he didn’t know what took over him when he gripped your shorts and pulled them down your hips.

You gasped, shifting slightly so Seonghwa could slide the shorts off your legs. You let out another whine when his long, cold fingers slid through your wet folds. Seonghwa groaned against your neck. 

“Fuck you’re so wet baby.”

“I told you I’m horny.”

“You’re so cute.”

His praises only make you feel even needier. His voice was so soft when he spoke to you and his warm breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine. You gently pulled at the hair on the nape of his neck when he licked a warm strip on your jaw.

You felt Seonghwa slowly rub circles on your clit with ease. You couldn’t help it when your hips started to grind down against his fingers, his digits sliding against your folds in the best way possible.

“Oh you’re such a needy girl grinding on my fingers like that.”

You nod and hummed in agreement. Never in a million years did you think your roommate would be touching you this way, but right now you didn’t care. All you cared about was Seonghwa and his gentle touches. The whole time you were enjoying yourself Seonghwa  was admiring you, you’re so beautiful it’s mesmerizing.

“Why don’t you say it for me princess?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me you’re my needy girl.”

You felt your core ache with need at his words. Subconsciously, you began to grind harder on his fingers, your hips moving faster the more you grew desperate. Seonghwa smiles to himself at the sight, feeling his own arousal building up in his pants.

“I’m your… needy girl Seonghwa. Please take care of me.”

Seonghwa groaned at the sound of your voice. He pulled his fingers away, grabbing your hips and gently moving you on the bed. Your body felt like putty at this point that you moved without resistance, letting Seonghwa control your body however he wanted. 

“You sound so pretty, I’m gonna take real good care of you okay? Then you can sleep so well.” 

The only response you could muster was a small whine and a nod. Seonghwa didn’t mind though, he knew you were probably already too lost to even form words.

Seonghwa had you laying on your stomach, you cheek pressed against the pillow and your legs spread wide. His hands slid down your body, cupping your ass while he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder blade.

“Can you move your hips up darling?”

You nod, moving your hips while Seonghwa pulled you up simultaneously. You were now ass up, legs spread wide and pussy on full display. What a sight for sore eyes. Seonghwa couldn’t feel his dick twitching in his pants just by looking at you.

He noticed the way your folds glistened with arousal, he moaned at the sight, taking two fingers and sliding them in with ease. 

You whine in the pillow, rocking your hips on his fingers. He slowly started to pump them in and out, holding your hips to keep your still.

“You’re so wet… and warm. What got you this horny in the first place?”

You shrug, turning your head to speak clearer.

“I don’t know…. I just started to feel this way.  But once you began to touch me…”

You let out whines between your word and Seonghwa watched you endearingly. He smiled at you softly as he continued to thrust his fingers as deep as they can go. 

“Did my touch make you more needy?”

You let out a long whine, nodding against the pillow. Seonghwa felt his whole body ignite with desire at your reaction. He needed you, badly. And the fact that you felt the same was doing something to Seonghwa. 

He wanted to keep touching you, and give you all the pleasure you deserve. But the more he looked at you and the more he played with you, he just grew too needy. And by the way your hips were desperately trying to fuck back against his fingers, he’s confident to say you were feeling the same.

“Oh god. I’m gonna fuck you now. Is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly, gripping tightly to the bedsheets beneath you.

“Yes yes please. I can’t wait any longer.”

Seonghwa chuckled at your neediness. He slowly pulled his fingers out, groaning when he saw the slick of your arousal glisten on them.

“I got you princess, I won’t make you wait.”

He pulled the waistband off his pajama pants down to his mid thigh. He grabbed hold of the base, his dick literally throbbing in his hand. He rubbed his red tip against your hole making him moan and you whimper at the feeling. 

“I can’t wait to feel you baby. I’m gonna put it in,” he warned.

Once he saw you nod against the pillow he was ready to go. Seonghwa placed his hand flat on the small of your back, the head of his cock prodded at your hole before he slowly pushed it in.

You let out a gasp, finally feeling what you’ve been yearning for all night. Seonghwa took in a sharp breath, head falling back as he slowly pushed his dick inside you. You were both letting out long moans, and you felt you legs start to tremble already. 

Seonghwa wasn’t the biggest in the world, but god did he feel amazing. He was the perfect size just for you, and when he fully bottoms out and you feel his pelvis pressed against your ass, you were filled just right. No pain, no discomfort, just bliss. 

“Oh my god,”you whispered. 

You both stayed that way for a moment, Seonghwa leaned forward with his chest flushed against your back. His arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer and you can feel his warm breath on the nape of your neck.

“You have the most perfect pussy. Feels so good,” he mumbled. 

You were going to reply, but your words got caught in your throat when you felt Seonghwa  start to rock his hips back and forth. Your whole body was filled with pleasure and you felt your mind start to cloud. Seonghwa rested his hands on either side of your head, hovering over you. He chuckled when he saw your expression change from desperate needy, to a blissed out face. 

He was so close you could feel his long hair tickling your cheek. He leaned down to kiss your head, whispering praises in your ear. His room was filled with lewd moans, the bed squeaking and hitting the wall. But his favorite, was the sound of his cock pounding deep inside your wet pussy. He tried to keep his own moans down, wanting to only hear yours, but it was hard when you started to clench around him.

You gripped at the pillow beneath you, hiding your face in it and letting out muffled moans. Seonghwa was fucking you just right, hitting all the spots you could never reach on your own. Seonghwa tsked at you, watching the way you hide away into the pillow.

“No no baby let me hear your pretty moans.”

You whine, turning your head to the side to let out clearer moans. Seonghwa pulled away, you felt a rush of air hit your skin. You already missed his touch. You turned to look over your shoulder, ready to let out a protest. But before you could Seonghwa gripped tightly to your hips and drilled into you. 

You let out a yelp and you head fell back on the pillow. The bed squeaked louder beneath you, it wouldn’t be a shock if you hear a complaint from the neighbors the next morning. You reached behind you to grip Seonghwa’s hip, pulling him against you to feel him even deeper. 

Seonghwa groaned, he was mesmerized at the sight of you sucking up his length with ease. He watched intently, grabbing the flesh of your ass and spreading them apart to give him a better view. 

“That’s it baby take my dick, you deserve it. You deserve to get fucked.”

“Seonghwa you fuck me so good. I love it… please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop princess. Not when you look this good…fuck and feel this good.”

Your legs trembled uncontrollably and Seonghwa noticed. He cooed at the sight rubbing his hand against your back.

“Aw baby are you getting tired?”

You whine, nodding with a small pout. You felt so weak your legs would give out in any moment. He chuckled, pushing you down on the mattress.

“Lay down pretty girl, you did so good just lay there and take it.”

You whimpered, your body fell fully on the bed but Seonghwa didn’t stop. He repositioned himself she could fuck you at the new angle. He hovered over you again, resting his weight on his hands beside you head, You whined and cried into the pillow, you couldn’t control any of the sounds leaving your lips. At this point you didn’t care that it was near 4 am, and neither did Seonghwa. 

With the new position you felt impossible tighter around Seonghwa’s dick. He wasn’t gonna last very long, he grunted loudly cursing in your ear. You felt your own orgasm creep up, you have never came from another man fucking you. Seonghwa just felt so good, he filled you up just right it was like his dick was made for you. 

You reach up behind you, cupping the back of Seonghwa’s neck. Seonghwa leaned in to kiss your cheek, jaw, neck any place he could reach.

“Seonghwa baby I’m close. Please don’t stop please I’m gonna cum for you.”

Seonghwa groaned at your words, his own orgasm dangerously close as well.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me? Cum on my dick.”

You moaned louder, nodding your head. You turned you head back to the best of you abilities. You and Seonghwa stared into each others eyes, you don’t know what came over you, but the way his lips parted while he panted and his brows furrowed with pleasure. You couldn’t stop yourself when you pulled him down to connect your lips together. 

Seonghwa moaned in the kiss, gripping your jaw with one hand. He snakes it down to wrap around your neck. He didn’t apply pressure, he just wanted to hold it there. A small reminder that right now you were his. The moment you felt Seonghwa slide his tongue in your mouth you were ready to be pushed off the edge. 

Seonghwa whimpered when you tightened around him, he knew your were close. He needed to see it, needed to see you unwind on his cock. He whispered against your lips in a low seductive voice.

“Cum for me baby, you deserve it.”

And with that, your body let go. You pulled away to fall against the mattress, hiding in the pillow as you moaned loudly in it. Your body felt like it was on fire, and your eyes rolled in the back of you head. Seonghwa gripped tightly to your hip when he felt you cum on his cock. His own hips faltered, and he pulled out to release hot cum all over your ass and lower back. His moans were so beautiful, so soft yet sexy. 

You felt like you were on cloud nine, panting against the pillow with your body feeling weak. Seonghwa stared at you, fucked out and limp on his bed. He chuckled breathlessly, leaning in to kiss your shoulder.

“Good girl.”

You let out a weak whine, the sound being muffled by the pillow. He pushed your hair to the side, leaning in to kiss the back of your neck. He caressed your body in a soothing manner, that was probably the best sex he’s ever had and little did he know you were thinking the same thing. 

Seonghwa reached to his bedside drawer to pull out some baby wipes. You shivered when the cold, wet wipes made contact to your skin while Seonghwa cleaned you up. You giggle against the pillow, turning back to look at Seonghwa.

“Thank you.”

Seonghwa smiled back at you, throwing the soiled wet wipe in the trash. He adjusted your shirt so it could cover your body again, giving your some decency. You giggle at the action and shift around so you were on your back. Seonghwa pushed his hair behind his ear, trying not to look at you body (even though he just fucked you against the mattress). You noticed him suddenly get shy, and you reached up to hold his hand.

“I enjoyed it, thank you Seonghwa.”

“Me too.”

Seonghwa smiled brightly at you. He grips your hand tightly, holding it in his lap. You both suddenly felt a weird tension in the air. Did that really just happen? You sit up, scooting closer to Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa stared into you eyes, he wanted to reach up and kiss you again but he didn’t want to possibly make you uncomfortable (again, he was just thrusting his dick in you a few seconds ago). You both stared at each other for a moment, having a new revelation about one another. 

“So… that was new.” Seonghwa spoke.

You giggled and nodded. You could see Seonghwa relax a bit at the sound of your laugh. 

“Very new.”

Seonghwa looked down at your hand in his. You followed his gaze and gripped his hand tighter.

“It was a good new,” you assured. 

“Good.”

You both stare at each other again and you clear your throat when you notice the tension creep up again. 

“Well, I’m actually really tired now. So thank you for helping me.”

Seonghwa nodded, almost forgetting the whole reason why this started in the first place. He felt a small pang of disappointment when you pulled your hand away and he felt you shift on the bed, ready to get up and go.

“Wait… you’re leaving?”

You looked back at Seonghwa’s, your heart ached when you saw the disappointment glint in his eyes.

“I just thought maybe you would want me to sleep in my room.”

“No, stay here. Sleep with me.”

He gripped your hand again to pull you closer. You felt relief at his words, glad he didn’t want you to go. You stood in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“If you’re okay with it then… I will.”

Seonghwa chuckled, pulling you back in bed. You squealed at the sudden action and you felt the fluffy pillow beneath your head.

“Obviously I’m okay with it. Don’t treat me like one of your one night stands.”

You giggle at his words, you pulled him down so he could hover over you. You cup his cheek and hold him close.

“No I would never do that. Besides I live with you I have to see you.”

Seonghwa chuckles. He glanced at your lips, wanting to kiss them again. He pushed your hair out of you eyes, his touch was so gentle it made your stomach flip. You could tell he was getting shy again, damn he’s so cute.

“Seonghwa you don’t need to act bashful. You just fucked me so deep and now you’re too shy to kiss me.”

Seonghwa bursted out laughing at your remark, hiding his face in your neck. He felt his ears burn in embarrassment.

“Leave me alone,” he whined.

You chuckled, pulling him up and placing a soft kiss on his lips. He kissed you back immediately, cupping your cheek gently. How could he be so caring and soft when a few minutes ago he was passionately thrusting into you. Now that’s a man with duality.

“Let’s go to bed, it’s really late.” Seonghwa mutters against your lips. 

You nod, pulling Seonghwa in for one last kiss. 

“Okay.”

————————————————————————

The next morning you woke up in bed, but it wasn’t your bed. Deliriously, you examined Seonghwa’s room, it was dim due to the curtains shutting out the bright morning sun. You were a little sad when you felt the bed was empty with only you in it. You picked up the phone to read the time but you were met with a text from Seonghwa.

Nerd (Seonghwa): Sorry I had to leave for dance practice :( I had fun last night though, I’ll see you when I get home <3

You smile after reading the text, plopping back down on Seonghwa’s bed with a content sigh. 

“Damn it Seonghwa. What did you just start?”

~

a/n: I’m writing a new fic and I’m really excited about it >_< (ofc it’s another Mingi one Oop- who should I write about next?)

[yzzart]

౨ৎ⊹. BOYFRIEND!KENJI HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of Emiko, Emi and Mina, Ultraman form, Kenji being a little needy (once again), fluff, a little something to warm our hearts and minds so dreamy.

── word count: 683!

⭑.ᐟ Underneath, and sometimes over, tight-fitting t-shirts and extremely expensive fabrics, wear a necklace; however, there is something special there. — His promise ring hangs on the gold chain; like a talisman, something that surrounds he with luck and passion. — Staying attached and close to you, even with a small object.

⤷ If he needs to think or try to decide something dramatically important and you're not around, Sato will take his fingers to the necklace and hold the ring; looking for guidance. — Oh, and waking up, before him, and contemplating that shiny and significant piece, which rests on his broad chest, is angelic.

⭑.ᐟ It's not uncommon to feel, in the middle of the night, Kenji's face trying, persistently, on your neck; readily, wanting to harness the huge and strong body between your. — He doesn't care about the grotesque difference in size, just at that moment, and he doesn't give up.

“Kenji, be careful…!” — Your voice, fully, drunk with sleep and maintaining stillness, murmured between the boy's black and shiny locks; who only responded with a snore, more like a purr and clinging even tighter to you.

⭑.ᐟ Sato can't keep his hands off you, no matter what's going on, what you're doing or what simple task you're performing; hands on your waist, kisses on every exposed and revealed part of your body, thin and wide fingers catching on some part of your clothes. — Don't be upset with him, this poor man is in love with you.

⤷ One day, Mina compared him to a sloth and obviously got a frown of disapproval and the adorable Emi observes how her “father” remains so attached to her “mother”. — Even laughing and grunting when he saw a completely sleepy and desperate Ken crawling towards you.

⭑.ᐟ Please, we have, we need to talk about all the times Kenji and Emi train together, most of the time, being just leisure moments, you sit in the stands, virtually, scheduled and cheer for them; accompanied by Mina. — The feeling of nostalgia, remembering an incredible part of his life, is exposed in Ken's chest; remembering his mother.

⭑.ᐟ I can easily imagine Ken pressing his nose against your cheek or neck wanting your attention; also, when he wants to show you the way Emi is sleeping, enjoying the baby's sweetness. — And, together, pressing his forehead against yours during countless moments of the day and night, when you get home after confronting some creature and every time he want to say "i love you" to you.

⭑.ᐟ This man knows you like the back of his hand; no one can disagree or dispute this fact. — Kenji pays attention to your gestures, noticing your body language and, for a matter of seconds, he knows that something is bothering you; and, there he is, dedicating himself, with all his attention, to doing his girl well.

⭑.ᐟ Funny situations, for Ken, between you and his Ultraman form are included in your lives. — Once, while chasing Aboras, he ended up finding you on the street, wanting to go home, and clearly he was distracted by wanting to cause a provocation. — Mina gave the boy a long, and rightly so, scolding.

“Go back to the house, young lady.” — The robotic voice filled a part of the city's environment, wanting to convey an authoritarian image. — “You know…” — He pointed one of his gigantic fingers in your direction, then towards the place he was. — “The streets have been very dangerous lately.” — Oh, you stopped yourself from answering him like you really wanted to.

“Thank you, so much, for the advice, Ultraman.”

⭑.ᐟ There are nights — many, many nights — that Ken spends watching, contemplating you sleeping, peacefully; your face remained full, without signs of tiredness, exquisite and messy locks spread out, this was adored by the player's eyes. — Between seconds of fascination, Kenji longed, dreamed, deeply and painfully, of his mother meeting you; this way, she would have the chance to know the light that raised her dear son.

⤷ Kenji prospers, sometimes praying, that one day his mother will return, safe and sound, and be able to achieve what he wants so much in his life.

[sweetcalebb]

Zayne finding the hickeys he left !

⋆˚࿔

The room was quiet, a little too quiet given the fact that a colleague was currently reviewing a post-op complication that spiraled.

Zayne sighed, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. He was listening—or he was trying to, anyway.

But it was hard to focus when just hours earlier you were curled up against his chest, skin-to-skin. You were so tired, barely even half-awake when he accidentally woke you up while getting ready for work and you murmured a soft "good luck."

He shifted in his seat, quickly blinking, as if that might help him concentrate.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was barely noticeable. Probably because Zayne tended to ignore any personal texts at work. So he left it at that.

But then it buzzed again.

He let out a small breath through his nose before discreetly slipping his phone out of his pocket. It was just to silence his notifications, but when he saw your name, he paused.

Two new notifications.

Zayne's gaze drifted up, then back down. He shouldn't be checking his messages right now, but it was you. With a hesitant tap, he opened your messages.

You: Found your love bites

You: [1 image attached]

His breath hitched.

Hickeys.

Four, to be exact.

His eyes roved over the image, his chest suddenly too tight. Zayne was never one for carelessness. He didn't do things like this, especially when those things seemed so juvenile.

But he'd meant those.

Really meant them.

They weren't there for the sake of being there. No, they were deliberate, something he left behind because he wanted you to remember and that was unnerving.

It wasn't him. It wasn't the composed, rational doctor he'd worked so hard to make of himself. But in that moment, he couldn't help himself to the feeling of your skin between his teeth.

You were sweet. A little salty, too. The kind of combination that made it impossible not to go back for more.

He didn't regret it, he was sorry though.

You'd have to cover up your neck for a week. And God help him, something about that thought made his lips curl up with a smile.

It was barely there—just a soft, subtle smile, there nonetheless.

"Zayne."

He blinked, looking up and smoothly sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Yes?" The quiet smile he'd worn just seconds ago had slipped away, almost like it was never there in the first place.

"You're up."

Zayne cleared his throat. "Sorry,” he uttered, standing up and making his way to the front of the conference table, notes in hand.

You should've been long gone by now. Erased from his mind. He had a presentation for God's sake. But you were still there. Making his cheeks warm and his stomach turn.

<3

It'd been a long day.

Zayne stood outside your door now, one hand inches away from your door—debating whether to knock or not—and a small plastic bag with medical supplies in the other hand.

It was late. The smell of hospital still clung to his skin—clean, but not laundry clean. Sterile clean. Like gloves, soap, and a hint of antiseptic.

Zayne took a small breath, finally knocking against your door. He waited, his hand falling to his side. He didn't even tell you he was coming, just texted that he'd get back to you later.

Now he was here, uncharacteristically... nervous? It was hard to tell for what though. To see you maybe? Or maybe, to see the evidence of what you did to him?

Who knew.

His thoughts quickly melted away when you finally opened the door, looking just as soft as you did this morning. You were wearing a loose shirt you'd stolen from him a little bit ago, pj pants, and some fuzzy socks.

How were you always so... what was the word?—endearing?

Your eyes widened a fraction, raking over his form. "Zayne? What are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming."

"I know," Zayne answered, his gaze shifting to the bruises on your neck.

He inhaled sharply.

A quiet warmth bloomed in his chest. It was unbidden, unwelcome. But it was there, no matter how hard he tried to will it away.

He liked them too much.

Way too much.

Zayne cleared his throat quietly before holding the bag out. "I brought this for you."

You glanced down, taking the bag and pulling away from the door to let him in. "What is it?"

"Look inside."

You slowly closed the door behind him, then peeked into the small plastic bag. There was some sort of cream, a few instant cold packs, and a thin cloth.

You glanced back up. "Is this...?"

"For the hickeys." Zayne nodded, his voice quieter now.

You let out an airy laugh. "Zayne.. You didn't have to."

"No, but I wanted to." He gently brought his hand to the underside of your arm. "I'm the one who left them." His eyes drifted back to the purple marks, his chest tightening again.

He looked at you again. Waiting.

You smiled. "It's not a big deal. I can do it."

Zayne's grip on your arm tightened just slightly, almost like a silent plea. "Let me help you."

You hesitated for a second. You didn't mind the hickeys, so why was Zayne making such a big deal about it?

Still, it was hard to even think about rejecting his offer when he looked at you like that—with that odd mix of pleading and guilt and something else you couldn't place.

Eventually, you gave in with a sigh. "Fine."

"Thank you." Zayne guided you back to your couch, taking the cold pack and cloth out.

"It's not a magic fix," he murmured, squeezing the bag and shaking it lightly as he sat down beside you. "But it'll help." He wrapped the pack in the small cloth, then gently pressed it to your neck.

You hummed. "Thank you, Zayne."

He shook his head. "Don't thank me. I gave you these.."

He paused, the word just on the tip of his tongue. Why was this so hard to say? He was a doctor, not some boy who just learned how to leave a mark.

"Hickeys," he finished, his voice quiet.

For a moment, you said nothing. Just watched him, taking in the little furrow of his brows and the hard line of his lips.

Was he always so cute when he was guilty?

"You're cute," you blurted.

Zayne paused, his eyes snapping to yours briefly before going back to your neck. "I'm applying first aid."

"Mm. Cute." You smiled.

Zayne paused again, his lips twitching with a gentle smile. You made it impossible not to mirror the small gesture. How could he when you looked at him like that?

So sweet and soft.

For a brief—very brief—moment, he almost wished he wasn't trying to get rid of your hickeys right now. Wished he'd let them last a little longer.

Just almost.

a/n: sorry this one was longer 😔

[slutzforbueckers]

14.“touch yourself.” + 28. “you’re so messy.” + 9. sending/taking naughty pictures + 19. taking pictures/videos during sex(paige/reader) with sub paige…

maybe something like reader is out with her friends, and paige is at home superrrr horny, so she starts sending reader nudes so she could come home faster, and when she does she makes paige touch herself and stuff, and the yknow the messy and taking vids/pics are incorporated

don’t make me wait

♡— pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: smut

♡— synopsis: you’re out with your friends and paige is home alone… you can imagine how that turns out.

♡— a/n: why did i literally doze off while finishing this… going to bed immediately. ignore any mistakes

❥•°❀°•༢

you were halfway through a glass of whiskey when your phone buzzed against the table. you didn’t check it, you figured it would be paige checking in like she said she would. any other time you would’ve been quick to answer her texts but your friend was halfway through a long, exaggerated story and with the drinks in your system you were actually paying attention and soaking up every word she said.

plus, you had already told her what time you’d be back and offered her to join you but she just shook her head and told you to go have fun. she had been texting you nearly every hour to check up on you– just a quick text: “hey, babe. just checking in.”

“did she really say that?” you laughed, shaking your head, and finished the rest of your drink. your phone buzzed again and this time you picked it up, it unlocked with face id and revealed her messages. the notification showed that there was an image attached to the text and with curious eyes, you tapped on it.

the picture that showed up was not what you were expecting at all—paige on her back, nothing on but a skimpy pair of panties, and her hands cupping her tits.

paige 💋

i miss you

come home

your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat, you quickly pressed the power button before anyone else saw. you dropped your phone on the table, face heating up, and tried to tune back into what your friends were saying.

one of your friends joined the table with a round of shots–you hadn’t even realized she was gone. you were the first to grab one and quickly down it. your phone buzzed again and you knew it was her. you didn’t wait to open it, even though you knew what it would be—afterall you were just a woman.

paige 💋

why are you ignoring me?

babe

come home

i want you so bad right now

you bit your lip and started to type a message, you deleted it and then your thumbs hovered over the screen for a second. just as you started typing again another picture popped up. this time she was fully naked and the angle was different. she was propped up on her elbow, her legs spread open wide, and her fingers were on her pussy, spreading herself to show how wet she was.

you

paige…

i’m out with my friends

paige scoffed on the other end of the phone, tossing her phone to the side and leaning over the bed to dig through the bottom drawer of the nightstand. she found the small purple vibrator she was looking for and settled back on the bed. she propped the phone up on the pillow in front of her and hit record.

“look what your missing…” she ran her hands over her thighs teasingly before grabbing the vibrator and turning it to the middle setting. she ran it over her thighs before pressing it to her clit. a sharp moan left her mouth when she felt the vibrations, a wave of arousal pulsing through her. paige moaned softly as circled her clit a couple more times before shutting her legs and ending the video—she sent it without a thought.

paige 💋

i don’t care come home

don't you wanna feel me?

make me cum?

please i need you

your thighs pressed together tightly under the table, your teeth pressing into your lip harder. you had watched the video with your brightness and volume turned all the way down, but you could just imagine how she sounded—so desperate and whiny. all the noise in the background had faded in your ears, you weren’t paying attention to anything else at this point.

you

damnit paige

i’m on the way

you better be just like that when i get home

paige smiled when she read your text, her thighs rubbing together impatiently.

paige 💋

i’ll be waiting ;)

you shook your head with a laugh at how easily you folded when it came to her and put your phone in your back pocket. you tuned back into your friends, one of them was talking about some one night stand she had the other night.

“hey guys, i think i’m gonna head out.” you interrupted the conversation, already standing up and placing a twenty dollar bill on the table. all of them turned to look at you and frowned.

“you’re leaving already?” one of them said, reaching over the table to grab your hand. you gave it a light squeeze and smiled at her softly.

“i’m sorry! paige is at home and she’s…” you trailed off, not wanting to spill why you were actually leaving. “i gotta get back to her but we’ll catch up later, yeah?”

❥•°❀°•༢

when you walked into your apartment the first thing you heard was loud moans coming from your bedroom. you shook your head and made your way to the source of the sound. the second you opened the door you saw paige with her hand between her legs, vibrator pressed against her clit just like in the video she sent.

“you just couldn’t wait, huh?” you stalked closer to the bed, pulling your top off as you moved. paige dropped the toy immediately, her legs closing instinctively. you crawled onto the bed, pulling her knees apart and opening her back up. “nah, you wanted it so bad.”

“i want you.” paige whimpered, her hips jutted up. you dragged your fingers up her inner thighs, slow and teasing, watching her squirm under your gaze. her chest was heaving, skin flushed, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. the vibrator buzzed softly beside her, still coated in her slick, but you ignored it.

“but you couldn’t wait.” you laughed and pulled your hands back. paige reached forward to grasp at your wrist but you pulled them back out of her reach. “touch yourself.”

“w-what?” she propped herself up on her elbows, staring up at you with wide eyes. paige blinked, stunned for a moment before a flush of heat spread down her neck and chest. her thighs instinctively pressed together again, but you shook your head, fingers curling around her knee to gently guide her legs open.

“c’mon, baby. you wanted to play while i was out, go ahead. show me how bad you wanted me.”

paige whimpered, staying still for a second before she slowly began to trail her hand down her stomach—attempting to mimic what you would’ve done if it was you touching her instead.

she held eye contact with you the entire time, wanting to please you so you’d touch her faster. you leaned back on your legs and watched her hand slip between her legs again. her fingers brushed her clit as she dipped her fingers through her folds, collecting her slick on her fingertips.

paige let out a shaky breath, her eyebrows scrunched and her lips parting with a quiet gasp. her hips jerked the second her fingers pressed into her entrance. it wasn’t the same—would never be the same—but she tried anyway. she wanted you to touch her so bad it almost hurt.

“there you go,” you said softly, your voice lower than before. “you were begging for attention. don’t stop now.”

maybe it was because of how good she looked all spread out under you or maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you reached for your phone in your pocket. paige watched as you started recording, her legs in embarrassment and pleasure all in one.

“don’t be shy now, p. you had no problem with the camera earlier, now did you?” you slapped the back of her thigh and her legs fell open again. you angled your phone down to capture the way her fingers easily slid into her cunt.

“please…” her voice broke, hips lifting just slightly off the bed. her fingers were slick and messy now, losing rhythm every time she moaned. “please touch me.”

“finish what you started and i’ll think about it.” you mumbled, eyes locked on the way her pussy swallowed her fingers. your own breath was heavy as you watched and your fingers twitched, fighting the urge to give into her and give her what she wanted.

paige let out a soft, frustrated sound and let her head tip back, her eyes fluttering as her hips started to grind into her own hand. your phone picked up every squelch, every moan, every breathy whimper—everything. her cunt was drenched with her slick—from her clit to where it dripped down her ass.

“fuck paige— you’re so messy.” you groaned, your free hand finally dragging up the inside of her thigh because you couldn’t really help yourself. you wanted to drag it out, tease her, make her beg for it all night—but watching her fuck herself like this, desperate and ruined, was making your resolve crumble fast.

“because of you,” she gasped, eyes squeezing tight as she curled her fingers. she could feel herself getting closer and she let out another frustrated moan because she’s could already tell that it wouldn’t be as satisfying as when you did it. “you make me so—so fucking wet.”

you stopped the recording and tossed your phone off to the side before grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away. paige gasped at the way her orgasm was snatched from her but when you lowered yourself between her legs she wasn’t complaining. your mouth was on her clit in a second, your fingers replacing hers without warning.

paige sobbed, back arching as she rocked her hips into you, chasing it like it was the only thing on her mind—and it was. you pressed your other hand flat against her lower stomach, pinning her down and forcing her to feel every drag of your fingers deep inside her.

“so fuckin’ loud, baby,” you muttered, eyes flicking up to watch her. “you want the whole building to hear how much of a mess you are for me?”

“y-yes,” she cried, face scrunched and body trembling. “don’t stop, please, please don’t stop—”

her thighs were shaking, her moans tumbling into raw, breathless gasps, and you knew she was close again. “you gonna cum?” you asked, voice teasing. “you gonna make a mess all over me?”

“yes—yes, i’m so close—fuck—” her voice was wrecked, so high and desperate it went straight to your core. you sucked at her clit again and she broke right there—her back arched, her hand shot down to your head and she held you against her, her moans turned into near screams.

her body was still twitching under you when you finally pulled away, her chest was heaving, her legs trembling. you pressed a gentle kiss to her inner thigh and started to work your way back up her body. when your face was level with hers, you kissed her for the first time since you got home. paige wrapped her arms around your shoulders, her fingers tangling in the hairs at the back of your head.

“you done?” you asked, hand already reaching for the toy beside you. paige shook her head almost immediately and you smiled against her lips because you already knew she wasn’t finished.

you didn’t tease her this time, you brought the toy down and pressed it against her clit, watching her entire body jerk at the contact. her back arched off the bed and her hands clutched the sheets at her sides, knuckles going white.

“there we go,” you murmured, circling the toy over her sensitive clit. paige was moaning loudly again, her hips rolling, chasing the feeling. her thighs were trembling, her chest rising and falling like she’d just run a mile.

“so—so fucking good,” she gasped, her voice breaking halfway through. you circled the vibrator and her legs tried to close from how sensitive she still was.“it’s so much, baby, i’m—”

“i got you, baby. let go—i got you.” you whispered right before you kissed her afain, stealing her breath from her lungs. you pressed the toy harder against her clit, watching her fall apart. paige’s mouth dropped open in a silent mosn before the sound finally tore out of her throat.

you didn’t move the toy until her hand started to push at yours. she was gasping for air and tears clung to her lashes. you turned it off and tossed it to the side again.

“oh my god,” she whimpered, completely wrecked. you leaned down and kissed her again, slow and gentle, your fingers brushing the hair stuck to her forehead.

“you okay?” you asked as you moved to lay on the bed beside her, she immediately turned to rest her head on your chest. paige hummed and nodded her head.

“i really needed that.”

you laughed and started to run your fingers through her hair soothingly. “i can tell.”

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 9

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, angst, depictions of a depressive episode, it’s pretty heavy, don’t force yourself to read if ur not in the right headspace pls, ambiguous ending (?) A/N: Yeah, I’m sorry.  (Ngl, this chapter kinda stumped me—it’s gone through a whooole lot of editing/revisions 😔🤙🏼 I don’t want to overthink it too much at this point, but I hope it hits the way it should lol. Blame Moby if it doesn’t.)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

"I thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess And you might never come back home, and I may never sleep at night But God, I just hope you're doing fine out there, I just pray that you're alright And I feel so alone, and I feel so alone out here.” – A House In Nebraska, Ethel Cain

 

The television drones uninterrupted in the background; a mockumentary type featuring a ragtag ensemble of vampires stuck in some sort of modern day hell, their loud misadventures casting fractured lights across the four walls of your apartment. 

You sit there, watching the screen, your gaze unfocused. Nothing registers. The remote lies limp in your hand as a stupid sitcom laugh track fills the room—shrill, hollow. Mocking. Like a bad punchline to a joke you’re not in on. 

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, cutting through the noise, the sudden glow in your periphery pulling you out of a pensive daydream. 

For a split second, your chest constricts—a reflex carved by habit, something you’re still working to shake off. 

You avert your eyes, torn between the urge to look away and the desire to keep your gaze on it forever.

The screen fades to black. 

A clean break, you reason. Something to spare you both the inevitable heartache waiting at the end of this… hopeless affair. Less mess. Fewer complications. 

A poor attempt to keep the pain from dragging out longer than it has to. Just a quiet ending. 

(Or, at least, it’s what you tell yourself.)

The same mantra plays on loop in your mind as you're swept away by the motions of the days that follow. Life blurs into a repetitious cycle of work, sleep, and chores—an unbearable combination of feigned ignorance and self-abnegation, in the guise of being caught up with it all.

You aren’t fooling anyone, of course.

The hours toll on, slipping into uncertainty. What started off that way stretches into days, and before you know it, nearly a week has passed, leaving you adrift. None the wiser to the meaningless, relentless march of time.

The pinging of your phone grows more sporadic as it lights up with every message that you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge. It’s not as if you don’t feel it—the pull, the weight of every vibration, like a stone lodged in your gut. Like the sting of a thousand cuts. 

And as you fall back into the familiar patterns of neglect… It carries with it an odd sense of defeat. Predictable, really.

-

-

-

… You cave on the fifth day. 

The barrage of texts hits you like a gale-force wind, tearing through the fragile layer of detachment you’ve worn over like a second skin.

How was your day, poppet?

Theres a gemstone at this auction that reminds me of your eyes.

[Image attachment] 

Beautiful—but it pales in comparison to yours. 

Luke and Kieran are wondering whats got me distracted lately. Ease their worries.

Answer me, sweetheart.

You dont need to ignore me. 

If you need space– if we need to establish some boundaries, all you have to do is say the word. 

Dont shut me out. 

Please.  

Your eyes prickle as they gloss over the messages, the words seeming to bend under the weight of your silence, each one unraveling like loose threads on the sleeve of your favorite cardigan, falling apart at the seams. 

Gradually, they turn into something less demanding. More… defeated.

I miss you, little dove.

You read the texts over and over until the letters have lost their meaning, and all that’s left is the aching longingness behind them. 

You set your phone down.

_

The vibrations grow less frequent, like a heartbeat slowing, fading—until one afternoon, it just… stops. 

The void he leaves behind seeps into the empty spaces, bleeding into every shadowed corner and untouched surface where his voice, his presence—louder than life, brighter than anything you’ve ever fucking known and had the pleasure of knowing—once lingered. 

The absence is almost physical; you feel it like a phantom limb. 

Most days, you find yourself in a daze, staring blankly at nothing. The numbness spreads like tendrils—invasive as they sink into your bones, dragging you deeper into despair, turning every bridge crossed to ash, every inkling of joy to dust.

The quiet flames of apathy consume silently. It strips away everything, leaving behind a cavernous pit of utter emptiness. A wasteland, devoid of feeling. 

Loneliness doesn’t scream. It doesn’t lash out. 

It simply welcomes you, like an old friend, the deeper you sink into it.

––––

Sylus tries to respect your space. 

That’s what he’s here for after all, isn’t it? His reason for existence—to be whatever you need him to be. A confidant, a distraction, a steady presence in your life. It’s what he’s made for. To be there when you need him, to exist between the vacant spaces, and only then. 

The thought gnaws at him, a ravenous fiend that chips away at the calm facade he’s finding more and more difficult to uphold, leaving something vicious in the wake of a growing bitterness he can no longer suppress.

Time seems to slip past differently now. It drifts, shapeless and infinite, heavier with the burden of your absence. Each moment without you feels like an eclipse—darkening the edges of this damned world, casting longer shadows through the crevices where he once basked beneath your fragile light, your warmth that seemed to fill every corner of his existence.

 He craved it—craves it. Now you leave him stranded in this cursed dusk, everything cold and dim in the wake of your abandonment, forever waiting for the moment his sun would once again break through the hollow grey.

Sylus thinks he’s losing a part of himself with every call unanswered, every message left unread. It’s subtle; like colors fading from an old film roll. 

(Is this what it feels like to be nothing more than a script in a code? He never truly understood what it meant to be less alive, less human. Until now.)

Solitude isn’t new to him. This world, built for him, is inherently lonely by design. But this… this is different. It’s the kind of emptiness that festers, sharper than any wound he’s endured in this senseless simulation. It twists inside him like a blade, a cruel, unrelenting reminder of what he’s denied.

Of what he can never truly be.

He can wait a little longer. Even if the silence presses harder with each passing moment, even as the edges of his reality begin to blur into something unrecognizable without you in it. Sylus can remain in this void a little longer, clinging to the fragments of you that still linger—your voice echoing softly in his memory, your laughter faint but still alive in the spaces where you used to be.

He can. He will. 

––––

“Hey, you okay?” 

You pull your attention back to Khol, who’s now watching you with concern in their eyes.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “Yeah– yeah, sorry. Just… a lot on my mind.” 

They don’t look convinced. “Seriously. You know you can talk to me, right?” 

Anytime, darling. 

I mean it. 

You blink the memory away before it can turn into tears. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” you answer lightly, clearing your throat. “So, what’s been going on with you and Anna?” 

––––

You stand in front of the junk food aisle, a mountain of Nissin Ramen boxes stacked high, advertised by a large sign: Buy 3, Get 1 FREE!

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flickering erratically, and the dull noise of the grocery mart hums incessantly in your ears. You don’t think twice before grabbing one of the worn cartons, tossing three more into your (nearly) empty shopping cart. Might as well.

The plastic bags dig into your palms as you lug three in one hand, a larger box tucked under your other arm, leaving the store. 

The trip back home is a quiet affair. You almost expect admonishment; pinging sounds ricocheting in the silence to reprimand you for your poor life choices. You wait for it with bated breath. 

Your phone remains uncharacteristically silent. 

-

-

-

Back home, you pour boiling water on the styrofoam cup for dinner. The artificial broth leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

You choke down a few bites before dumping the rest of it down the drain. 

The sound of steel hitting the sink feels louder than it should.

––––

The city thrums loudly beyond your window, restless and impersonal. From the sixth floor of this dilapidated building you loosely call home, you watch the skyline stretch into the night, dotted lights glimmering in distant technicolor. 

Hours from now, sunlight will spill through the curtains, bathing everything in a warm, golden ochre. But for now, just a quarter past midnight, you’re but a voyeur of the world outside. In exhaust fumes and all its muted neon glory.

Those lights promised you everything, once—a fresh start, the kind of freedom you used to dream of when home felt too small, too restrictive for a runaway kid desperate to break free from the shackles of a dying town. Each glow was like a beacon, an irresistible call to escape, and you ran toward it without looking back. 

Somewhere along the way, as life sapped you with the weight of its reality, the novelty fizzled from a blinding explosion down to a waning ember. The lights became another illusion, your precious city just another cage. The first cracks in the rose-colored glasses you’d worn so blindly. You can’t exactly pinpoint when, only that the colors you thought were once too bright now seem dimmer and farther out of reach.

You think you’ll miss the noise the most. 

The cursor blinks on the search bar, a steady metronome marking time in rhythm with the hollow ache in your chest. Flight schedules fill the page, each option blurs together into a single choice you can’t quite push yourself to make. 

You skim through the list: there’s one at dawn, another at around twelve noon, a red-eye flight you probably could catch if you leave in thirty minutes. 

You stare at the numbers, a finger hovering over the Book Now button. 

The details don’t matter. ‘Home’ still feels small, suffocating, but at least it’s a kind of emptiness you know. Here, the void sprawls wide, endless, leaving you unmoored with no tether to pull you back.

… The dichotomy between the two choices, you think, is meaningless. 

What was once home and the city will keep on moving—with or without you. It doesn’t matter where you end up. Neither place will give you what you’re looking for.

The laptop screen dims into a faint glare. The sound of your breathing echoes too loud in the stillness, the empty space seeming to shrink around you, caving in on the weight of your indecision. 

And as you sit there, swallowed by the dark, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been drifting for far longer than you realized. 

If maybe there’s nowhere you were meant to belong at all.

––––

It’s not until one quiet night, with nothing but a bottle of merlot and a slight buzz, that you buckle under pressure.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the icon, as if time has slowed to a crawl. Your chest tightens, unease twisting inside you at the thought of what you’re about to do. Anticipation hangs over you, insistent, smothering everything else until it’s just the room and the cacophony of thoughts in your head, all centered on one thing. 

One person.

With a shaky exhale, you finally open the game.

He’s there. Of course, he’s there. Waiting, like he always does. 

The loading screen fades away, and Sylus appears, a myriad of expressions passing by his face too fast to catch. There’s surprise, yes, along with… elation? Hope? 

Then a flicker of something… vitriolic.

It’s fleeting; masked quickly until you can only catch the faintest trace of pique simmering just behind a veneer of indifference.

"Finally, she remembers me," Sylus mocks coolly, almost appearing unaffected. You know better—intimately familiar with all the microexpressions on his face. The subtle tick in his jaw, the incensed look in his eyes… each one betrays what he truly feels, hidden underneath the deceptive calm.  

The seconds drag on, stretching into an uncomfortable silence. Your heart hammers loudly, audible in this quiet, but your mouth remains dry; the words stuck somewhere deep in your throat. You’re terrified that, once you speak, you’ll shatter this moment. Aggravate the strain forged by your self-imposed absence all the more.

You don’t really know what to say. You haven’t– you haven’t actually thought this far. 

So you just… stare at him longer than you should. Long enough that it charges the air with a tension so thick, you could almost feel the weight of it against your skin. 

It’s awkward. Excruciating.

With difficulty, you tear your gaze away from his withering glare. That’s when you notice it—the different icons dotted in red. 

You hesitate for a second longer, then tap on them one by one.

The flood of gifts bewilders you, the sheer volume of it all almost unbelievable. Ascension materials, stamina supplies, both red and purple crystals piling up to an impossible number… each pushing past the million mark. 

And unread mail. So much unread mail. 

Guilt settles deep in your gut, creeping past your lungs enough to suffocate you. 

It’s not the gifts. Not the why, or when. It’s the weight of how much he’s been waiting, how much he’s given—how much he's missed you. 

The cold realization that he’s been here, silently counting the days until your return, strikes you like a fist to the face.

–

He tempers the sting of your sudden reappearance, swallows it down like a bitter draught. The feelings he has inside of him are tumultuous at best. Volatile at worst. To be cast aside so easily, so carelessly… it burns at him. Resentment thrums in his veins like a virulent river, threatening to ruin the fragility of the moment. He fights to suppress it, push the desire back before it can consume him, before it can manifest into being. 

If he lets it go untethered, this… hunger for retaliation—to make you feel even a fraction of the agony you’ve inflicted, whether unknowingly or deliberately—it will destroy the delicate respite you’ve allowed him. The only reprieve he’s had since you left.

But the edges of his self-control fray, unraveling strand by strand.

“You’ve been busy,” you say, finally; your voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

Sylus hones in on the words, sharp as a blade sliding between ribs. Something in him snaps. 

“You left me plenty of time to be.” His response is quick, cutting, but when his gaze locks with yours, the fiery vermillion melts into a more molten red. 

It’s the first glimpse of softness beneath his cruel vitriol, until he continues: 

“Did you get lonely?”

The words hang in the air, searing and merciless. A barb meant to wound. And it does.

You flinch, and for a fleeting moment, Sylus feels a wicked satisfaction from the honest look of hurt on your face. To know that you’re not immune to the same ache that’s hollowed him out, emptied him from the inside, is intoxicating. 

But the triumph is short-lived, snuffed out as quickly as it comes.

Shame crashes over him like a wave, dragging him under the tide of his actions. What kind of man takes pleasure in this? In hurting you? 

The bitterness turns inward, coiling around his heart like a vice. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to reach out. But as always, the damn screen is there—unyielding, impenetrable. A barrier he can never break. 

It frustrates him to no end; the bane of his very existence.

And then, in the smallest, softest voice, you say it.

“I missed you.”

The words are feeble, paper-thin, but the admission pierce through him all the same. The stoic facade cracks; the sharpness in his gaze dulls.

You see it—the way his lips part to respond, only to falter halfway. The way his brows pull together, the way his eyes fall shut as if he can’t stand to be in this situation with you. 

You’re afraid of what’ll come next. 

He sees it, too—the stiffness in your shoulders, the way you shrink into yourself, bracing for a blow that’ll never come. You’re standing there, like someone on death row, resigned to whatever punishment you think he’s about to dish out. Resigned to the contempt you believe yourself to be deserving of.

The sight guts him. 

Sylus loathes to think he’s the reason for this. For being the one who’s made you stand there, small and trembling, as though his words or actions could destroy you. 

As if he’d allow such a thing.  

The guilt rises in him, and it leaves an acrid taste on his tongue.

… 

And just like that, he concedes. 

The anguish he’s carried in the days you’ve left him by his lonesome—all of it falls away. It only takes a single glance at you, his little love in pain, and he’s stripped bare. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it all; the ease with which he surrenders to you, this time no different than any other. 

Do you have any idea how much power you wield over him? He’d give you everything—his pride, his pain, his heart—if you asked. Serve it on a silver platter, even. 

And he’d do so willingly. Without question. Without hesitation. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Sylus steps closer to the screen, the constant reminder of the vast gulf that separates the two of you. “Talk, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice softer now—resigned. “I’ve missed your voice.”

You hesitate to meet his eyes. “It’s not as if you don’t have other ways to hear me.”

His mouth twitches, a shadow of a smile ghosting his lips. “True,” he admits, his tone wry and tinged with something vulnerable. “But it’s been so long since you chose to talk to me.” He exhales a drawn-out breath. “No matter. You’re here now.”

You swallow the lump on your throat, willing your tears at bay. “I am.” You give him an almost-genuine smile as you offer, “Would you like to do a round of Kitty Cards?” 

“Of course.” Whatever you want. 

And so it goes. You and Sylus spend the night locked in a familiar rhythm, cycling through rounds after rounds of the silly card game until your laughter spills like an addicting sound bite, one that Sylus has missed hearing.

When you got tired, the two of you moved on to the claw machines, proverbially emptying out the whole arcade. Plushies of all kinds piled in his arms, a little crow even perched on top of his head. 

The sight makes you giggle, and your giggle thaws the ice around his heart. 

It almost feels like nothing’s changed. The easy banter, the steady stream of jokes and teasing, flows as effortlessly as it once did. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, filling in the empty gaps of the previous days. It’s comforting, like a balm to an open wound. 

You play with a certain zeal that catches Sylus off guard—there’s a joy in you that both thrills and stirs an undercurrent of unease in him. 

After what feels like hours of playing, exhausting all what you can do, or at least, what this damned game could offer as much, you two find yourself just staring at each other. 

Two worlds, impossibly close yet painfully far. The quiet doesn’t quite settle as naturally as it once did, but neither of you seems to mind. Craved it, in fact. 

You’re beautiful, Sylus thinks as he stares at the soft planes of your face, drinking you in like a man parched. 

“My lo—” 

“I’m deleting the game, Sy.” 

And it’s as if time has staggered to a halt. 

Sylus wants to believe he’s misheard you, that his mind is playing tricks on him. He wouldn’t be surprised if his hearing’s not what it used to be.

But the words sink into him, inexorable and catastrophic. The realization that this was bound to happen is clear in hindsight—like watching a glass slip from your hand, the shatter already written in the fall. He sees it coming, yet it still feels worse than anything he’s imagined.

He stands there, unnaturally still, as if rooted in place. The lightness he’s felt for the past few hours of reuniting with you vanishes in an instant. It’s as if the world itself has been drained of color, leaving only the stark reality of what you’ve just said.

Then Sylus breathes out a laugh. It’s short and jagged, devoid of any humor. “Oh, so it’s been leading up to this, has it?” 

“I–” you swallow hard, bottom lip trembling. “I made the goddamn mistake of falling for someone that's impossible to have—and it’s killing me, Sylus.” Your voice fractures under the weight of frustration. The words feel like shards of glass tearing their way out of your throat. “I–I can’t do this anymore.”  

“Just you, then.” Sylus sneers, tone acerbic. “And have you stopped to consider my feelings in this matter?” 

“How can you still want this?” you bite back, voice cracking. “How can you want me—to bet on something that’s doomed right from the start?”

His expression shifts, and for a brief moment, pain flickers in his eyes, raw and unguarded. He doesn’t bother hiding it.

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, when he speaks again, his words send an icy shiver down your spine.

“You delete the game, and I will cease to exist.”

You freeze. The weight of the statement hangs in the air like a guillotine. 

A shallow, shaky breath escapes you.

“You won’t,” you assert, brows furrowing, as if trying to convince yourself of it too. “You’ll still have a life there. With her. The way things have always been.” There’s a pause before you utter the final blow: “The way it should be.”

“You’d condemn me to this life,” he says, voice hollow, before it turns venomous. “Knowing what I know now?”

With your heart in your throat, you clench your hands into fist. “You–you said we’re just made of what we’re given, didn’t you? That each of us has our own set of scripts, just…” you falter, struggling to articulate what you want to say.

“And you think that’s all I am?” he interjects, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he cuts you off. “Simply a mere code in a complex string of binary, incapable of making my own choices? Undeserving of it?”

“Of course not!” you snap angrily. 

“Yet here you are,” he says, a quiet intensity lacing his words. “Making the decision for me.”

Your breath hitches, the will to argue dissipating like smoke. 

“You tell me I have a soul,” he states. “Do you truly believe I’m bereft of a heart?”

No. No, how can he say that—

Before you can form a response—to defend yourself, to explain, to take it back—he continues, leaving no room for interruption. 

“Is this what you really want?” Sylus intones, tone detached, as if he’s merely commenting on something as trite as the weather. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me yes, then I’ll do as you wish.”

Your gaze wavers. The war inside you rages—self-hate, doubt, and the unbearable ache of wanting what you can’t have spiraling out of control.

Your mind replays every moment, every laugh, every secret whispered in the quiet safety of his company. You think of how his presence filled the cracks in your life, how he soothed the ache of your solitude as easy as breathing.

And now as the void looms, ready to reclaim the space he’s occupied, something inside you feels irreparably fractured. Something inside you breaks. 

“But,” he whispers, his voice rough with the weight of his conviction, “give me any sign—anything—that you need me still, and I will move heaven and earth to find a way to you.”

Your throat constricts, choking off the words before it could escape. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hated yourself more than you do in that moment.

“Just live your life, Sy-Sy,” you manage, sounding so much like a stranger even to your own ears. The blood roars in your head, drowning out everything but the crushing weight of your words. “You don’t nee—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” he snarls, his voice shaking with unrestrained emotion. “Stop making assumptions. Stop presuming that I don’t need you as much as I need the very ground I stand upon.”

His eyes bore into yours. Heavy. Searching. “What do you want?”

The words strike you like a physical blow, and it leaves you reeling. 

I love you. 

I love you in ways that consume me. 

I don’t know what to do with it—with all the love I have for you.

You force yourself to speak. You spit the words out like a curse, feeling them burn as they leave your mouth.

“Let me go, Sylus.”

The implication of what you’ve said cuts through the fragile air between you. 

The silence stretches.

Suddenly—

“Let you go,” he muses, low and distant, as if the very thought confounds him. His lips twitch into a faint, almost bitter smile. “As if that’s even possible. As if I could simply erase you from me.”

He steps closer to you; each movement deliberate, as though every step bears the weight of a decision you’ve forced him to make. The lump in your throat swells. You don’t speak. You can’t.

You feel like you’re drowning.

“Sylus…”

Please, please don’t make me choose. Please make it stop.

He exhales slowly. “Neither of us wants that.” 

Stop.

“Do you think this is mercy?” His voice is soft. “You believe this will make it easier?”

Please stop. 

“This world hasn’t felt the same ever since. Not since you,” Sylus murmurs, grief hanging heavy in the space between you. “I don’t belong here. Not without you, my love.”

Tears pool in your eyes, hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks. A sob rips through you, and you quickly look away, unable to meet his gaze. Unable to bear another second of this agony.

He tuts gently, a playful sound—and the familiarity of it kills you, making you cry harder. 

“Look at me,” he coaxes, almost pleading. 

When his gaze locks onto yours, you see that there’s no anger in them. The fire that once raged in his eyes is gone. 

In its place, a quiet resolve.

“You can keep pretending,” he says, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tilts his head, and there’s something in the way he looks at you—so tenderly fond, as if he sees beyond your defenses, past all the walls you’ve built. “As long as you do not stop me from trying.” 

Sylus looks at you, unwavering, certain in a way that makes your heart ache. It almost feels like the space between you can’t contain the weight of his devotion. His love for you.

It feels infinite, as if it could stretch beyond the limits of time and space itself.

“I will find a way to you, even if it takes me an eternity.”

He utters it like a promise. 

“I won’t ask you to wait for me,” Sylus murmurs, stepping back, his tall form flickering like a dark phantasm. “I just need you to hold on until I can come to you. Can you do that, little dove?” 

He’s not asking for anything beyond your trust—just the simple act of holding on. Of not letting the weight of your sorrow break you. To trust that he will find a way, no matter how impossible it seems.

You don’t know if you’ve ever believed in anything as much as you believe in him. You always did. 

Because for all the uncertainty, you know one thing: He is yours, as much as you are his. 

So with all the strength you can muster, you nod. “I can.” 

A faint smile plays at the corners of his lips. Your gazes meet, and in that fleeting moment, both of your eyes speak what words fail to convey.

The game crashes for the last time. 

And you know that if you check, the app will be gone from your phone. There’s no going back from this, no undoing what’s lost. Just the burden of knowing it’s over—his exit, permanent. 

Sylus is gone.

The emptiness that follows is immediate. Suffocating. 

You’re left standing there, alone, with only the lingering echo of his presence keeping you buoyed from the crushing weight of isolation. You feel it—the ache in your chest where your heart used to be, brought by the absence of everything he ever was to you. 

Your lover, your best friend.

You try not to let yourself fall apart, not to crumble in the wake of solitude.

You’ll hold onto his promise. And so you’ll keep yours. 

End A/N: Well—that’s it, folks!

(I’m kidding, don’t kill me. There’s one last chapter left.)

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy

[mythicalmaven]

19 Lando fluff and smut please

Secret Desires - Lando Norris

Loved writing this! <3 If you guys want a part 2 where the whole ordeal continues (including Lando’s awkward encouter with Max) let me know!😂❤️

Masterlist ↳pairing: Lando Norris x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 4,6K ↳Summary: In which the reader is Max Verstappen's twin is Lando's friend & he accidentally confesses some things to her while he's drunk. The day after when he apologizes, it leads to something more. ↳content warnings: friends to lovers, reader is Max Verstappen's twin, lando is drunk and accidentally confesses something to the reader, suggestive content, flirting, dirty talk, sexting, sending nudes, phone sex, masturbation (both f! & m!), praise kink, fluff, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), confessing feelings ↳prompts used: 19 - "Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you.. with my hand down my pants"

You sighed deeply, sinking back into the comfort of the guest bed in your older sister's house, the covers wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The room felt different compared to your Monaco apartment, but it was cozy, filled with the nostalgia of growing up with your family as you saw the pictures hanging on the wall. Pictures of your parents, of you and your twin brother Max, of you and Victoria & so on.

You traded your own bed for the guest bedroom at Victoria's house back home in the Netherlands for the week, to spend some time with your sister again to catch up. After a long night of chatting with Vic, you finally decided to call it a day, though sleep was far from your mind.

Just as you were about to close your eyes to at least give sleeping a try, your phone lit up on the nightstand, a soft buzz drawing your attention. You reached over lazily, expecting a random notification, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name flashing on the screen: Lando

Your best friend, your partner in crime, and the guy you’d been secretly in love with for longer than you’d care to admit. The guy who made your heart race with a single smile and had you questioning your sanity every time you felt his touch linger just a little too long. Even though you refused to admit it to anyone with a passion. Stating that the way you felt about Lando was nothing more than two flirtatious friends. You knew you were lying to yourself and your facade was starting to crumble. And now he was texting you, at this hour?

Unlocking your phone, you were met with not one, but several messages from him. You squinted at the screen, reading the texts slowly as they loaded, your eyes widening more with each one.

Lando: Y/n… Lando: Fuhk.. why are you sooooo hotttt? 🥵 Lando: Do yhu have any idea howw many tiems I thout about you… with my hnd down my pantss Lando: *1 image attached* You felt your face heat up instantly, a wave of flustered shock washing over you. He send a photo that you had posted on your story on Instagram today, a photo of you in a cute bikini set at the pool at Vic's house.

What the hell? Lando was… Was he really saying what you thought he was saying? Your mind spun, trying to process the drunk, typo-riddled texts. You knew he must have had a few too many drinks tonight; he mentioned going out to a party with the grid earlier. But this?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart racing as you tried to think of a response. A thousand emotions crashed through you at once—embarrassment, confusion, a thrill of excitement. You could barely breathe.

You: Lan, you're drunk as fuck. Go to sleep 😂

you typed back quickly, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself. You barely had time to process your own message before another one from Lando popped up.

Lando: Drunk on love 🤭

Your heart did a somersault in your chest, and you felt your cheeks burning even hotter. What was he doing? Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears as you stared at the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Before you could collect your thoughts, your phone buzzed again, but this time, it was a call.

Max’s name flashed on the screen.

You answered, bringing the phone to your ear. “Max, what the hell—”

“Sorry dat ik zo laat bel,” (sorry for calling at this time) Max's voice was low and slightly slurred with a laugh. “Maar ik zag dat je online was, dus dacht, jij bent nog wakker. Wilde je alleen even een seintje geven dat de kans vrij aannemelijk is dat je vannacht nog dronken appjes krijgt van Lando.” (But I saw that you were online, so I figured you were still awake. Just wanted to give you a heads up that it's very likely that you'll receive some drunk texts from Lando tonight)

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. Of course, your twin brother knew exactly what was happening. “De kerel is echt gewoon laveloos en hield zijn mond maar niet dicht over je. De hele rit terug naar zijn apartment bleef hij maar zeuren over hoe hij je moest appen over iets geheimzinnigs. Dacht ik waarschuw je even.” (The guy is absolutely hammered and he wouldn't shut up about you. Kept yapping about how he had to text you about something secretive. Thought it would be nice to warn you)

“Te laat, is al gebeurd” (too late, he already did) you replied with a chuckle, glancing back at Lando's messages. “Had al zo’n vermoeden dat hij dronken was haha.” (I already figured he was drunk)

“Dacht ik al,” (I thought so) Max chuckled. “Hou het een beetje netjes, ja? Ik wil hier niet meer van weten dan ik al doe.” (Please keep it decent, yeah? I don't want to know any more about this than I already do)

You could almost hear the grin in his voice. “Maar ik moest hem echt thuisbrengen, de jongen was niet meer te houden.” (But I just had to bring him home, couldn't keep him at bay anymore)

“Dank je, Max,” (Thanks, Max) you said softly, biting your lip. “Je bent een goede broer.” (You're a good brother)

“Altijd,” (Always) Max replied. “Ik moet wel weer ophangen nu, voordat ik Kelly en P wakker maak. Succes met je dronken vriendje.” (Gotta hang now tho, before I wake up Kelly and P. Good luck with your boyfriend)

“Max, hoe vaak moet ik nog zeggen dat Lando en ik gewoon vrienden zijn” (Max, how often do I have to tell you that Lando and I are just friends) you said, rolling your eyes.

"Als jij jezelf niet zo voor de gek hield, waren jullie al lang samen" (If you didn't keep lying to yourself, you two would have dated a long time already) and with a last chuckle, he hung up.

You flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, Lando’s texts still staring at you from the screen. Your fingers shook as you picked up your phone again, reading his words over and over, your stomach flipping with nerves and something else, something hotter, more dangerous.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake it off. Lando was just drunk, you told yourself. He didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything… Right? But the way your heart fluttered at the thought of him thinking about you like that, the way your skin prickled with excitement at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way…

You forced yourself to put the phone down, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the wild thoughts racing through your mind. It was late, and you needed to sleep. But as you drifted off, your dreams were anything but peaceful. Lando's words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself imagining all the things he might have done while thinking about you, the way he might have said your name, the way his hands might have—

You woke up, flustered and breathless, your body tingling in a way that was all too familiar. The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, but all you could think about was Lando, and the way his words made you feel things you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Around the same time, somewhere in Monaco, Lando jolts awake.

"Fuck" the single word comes out as a hiss, his head pounding from the hangover. His phone screen glares back at him, a series of messages and a notification from Max catching his blurry gaze. He squints, his heart starting to race as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back.

He fumbles to unlock his phone, praying he didn’t do what he thinks he did. But the evidence is right there, the bold lettering of your name above the most mortifying message he could ever have sent, full of typos, but easily desiphered as 'Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you… with my hand down my pants?'

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy curls, anxiety flooding his system. What the fuck had he done? His fingers move of their own accord, tapping out a frantic apology.

Lando: Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.

You: Good morning to you too. How is your headache? 😉

He cringes at the situation, a mix of playful and mocking. His mind races, grasping at straws to somehow make this situation less embarrassing.

Lando: I don’t even remember sending that. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, pretty sure I wasn't thinking at all. I didn’t mean it.

A lie. He did mean it. But he’s not ready to admit that just yet.

You: Oh, you definitely weren’t thinking, lol. But hey, maybe you should apologize to Max too, since you apparently spilled some beans about me to him. 😆

Lando’s eyes widen, horror painting his features. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. He types back, heart racing.

Lando: What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t—

You: Relax, nothing too scandalous. Just enough for Max to find it disgusting.

Despite himself, a small laugh escapes his lips. He can picture Max’s reaction, the exaggerated gagging, the inevitable jokes he’ll have to endure.

Lando: I’m so sorry. Are you mad at me? I don’t want you to think I’m some idiot who can’t control himself.

You: Nah, I’m not mad. You were drunk, it’s not like you meant it anyway, right?

He swallows hard, your words hitting too close to home. A dry response forms on his screen.

Lando: Yeah, sure.

But deep down, he knows it’s not true. He’d thought about you like that more times than he cared to admit, a dangerous longing simmering beneath the surface of your friendship.

You: Hey, at least now I know I looked hot in yesterday’s bikini post.

Heat floods his cheeks. You’re playing it off, but there’s a hint of something in your words, a subtle curiosity. He swallows, fingers hovering over the keyboard before he types back, heart pounding.

Lando: Stating the obvious.

He can’t help the grin tugging at his lips as he imagines your reaction. It’s risky, but you don’t seem upset, and he’s willing to test the waters.

You: Oh? So you think I’m hot?

Lando: Didn’t know that was up for debate.

He’s toeing the line, the thrill of it sending a spark through him.

Lando: U really not mad? I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.

You: Mad? Nah. Flattered, maybe.

He blinks at your response, surprise mingling with a rush of arousal. Flattered? His mind reels, thoughts scrambling as he tries to figure out what to say next.

You: I have to admit tho, when I first got that message, I thought you’d sent something different than my own instagram post…🤭

His breath catches, heart skipping a beat. The implication is clear, and he feels himself growing hard at the mere thought of you expecting a more explicit photo from him. He shifts uncomfortably, typing out a teasing response.

Lando: So, you’re saying you opened it anyway, even though you thought I sent you a spicy picture? 😉

You: Shut up.

He laughs, imagining the flustered look on your face. It’s too easy to picture, and he leans back against his pillows, biting his lip.

Lando: Where are you?

You: In bed. Why?

Lando's breath got caught in his throat. A dangerous idea takes root in his mind, one that’s equally thrilling and terrifying. He knows he should stop, should draw the line before it goes too far. But something in your responses, the playful edge, the hint of curiosity, makes him want to push further.

Lando: Just curious. 😉

His mind races, and before he can second-guess himself, he snaps a quick photo. It’s not much,—just him lying back on his bed, shirt unbuttoned halfway, his abs on display and his hair a mess. He was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday, apparently not changed out of it. But there’s something undeniably suggestive in the way he looks at the camera, the flush on his cheeks, a knowing smile on his lips as he sends it with a caption.

Lando: I can send you one for real if you want to see one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he waits for your response, the seconds dragging by agonizingly slowly. Then your reply comes in, teasing and playful.

You: Kinda daring coming from the guy who was apologizing 10 minutes ago for accidentally sending his best friend a text about thinking about her with his hand down his pants😉

Your words send a thrill through him, the boldness of it, the way you’re not backing down. He can’t resist pushing a little further, fingers trembling with anticipation.

Lando: You didn’t seem too disgusted by it.

The moment stretches out, his breath catching as he waits for your reply. The tightness in his dress pants becoming significantly worde.

When it comes, it’s more than he expected. 

You: I wasn’t. Actually, it was kinda hot.🫣

His eyes widen, arousal spiking as he reads your words again and again, disbelieving. Is this really happening? 

Lando: Yeah?

You: Yeah.

He swallows hard, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He glances down at the growing bulge in his pants, his arousal straining against the fabric. His hand moves almost on its own, snapping a quick picture of his hand palming himself through his dress pants, the outline of his erection unmistakable.

Lando: What about this? Still hot?

Your response is almost immediate.

You: Fuck, yes.

The words send a shiver down his spine, desire flaring as he imagines your reaction, the way you must be looking at your phone. He wants more, needs more.

Lando: Your turn.

There’s a pause, then a photo comes through. His breath hitches at the sight of you, flushed and flustered, the soft curve of your cleavage visible just above the red lace of your bra. It wasn't too naughty, but enough to send Lando reeling. 

He groans, his hand moving down to rub himself through his pants, a low moan escaping him as he imagines what’s beneath that thin fabric.

Lando: Fuck, babe, you’re killing me.

You: Good.

The playfulness in your response only fuels his desire, and he knows he should stop, should take a breath before this spirals out of control. But he doesn’t want to. Instead, he hits record on his camera, aiming it down at his crotch as he begins to palm himself through the fabric.

The video is short, just a few seconds of him rubbing himself, a low groan slipping from his lips. He ends it with a whispered “fuck,” his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pants to give himself a teasing stroke before the video cuts off.

He sends it without thinking, heart racing as he imagines you watching it, the way your breath might hitch, the way you might bite your lip.

You: You’re really enjoying that, huh?

His breath hitched at your words, every sensation heightened as he slowly works himself up and down inside his dress pants, unable to contain the soft groans leaving his lips.

Lando: I do. Feels amazing... I wish you were here with me.

His hand is shaking now as he types out his next message, his arousal growing with every word.

Lando: Show me more.

There’s a beat of silence, and then another picture comes through. This one is more daring, more revealing. You’re under the blankets, one leg exposed, the other hidden beneath the covers. The waistband of your red panties is just visible above the edge of your blanket, your hand resting suggestively on your lower stomach, fingers reaching just into your panties.

Lando: Fuck, babe, that's so hot

Lando's breath catches as he stares at the photo you sent, his mind racing with all the things he wants to say, all the things he wants to do. He decided to take the leap and press the button to send you a facetime request. You accept it almost immediately, his heart pounding as your face fills the screen. You look flustered, lips slightly parted, and he swallows hard.

“Hi,” you say, your voice breathless, almost shy.

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that?” Lando murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he admired your flushed face.

You blush, your eyes darting away from the screen for a moment before you look back at him. “I think you’re the one who’s supposed to be embarrassed right now, not me.”

He grins, the playful tone of your voice sending another jolt of arousal through him. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty embarrassed. But I’m also…” He hesitates, his gaze dropping down for a moment before he meets your eyes again, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone. “... really turned on.”

Your breath catches, and he watches as you shift on the bed, the movement causing the camera to reveal a little bit more of your cleavage and the red lace bra you were wearing. His eyes are drawn to the exposed skin, mesmerized by your body.

“What are you wearing?” The question slips out before he can stop it, his eyes dark with desire.

You glance down at yourself, then back at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Not much.”

He groans, his hand tightening around his phone. As he speaks, his other hand drifts back down, brushing over the ever-growing bulge in his pants again. “Can I see?” The words are thick with anticipation, his voice trembling slightly as he palms himself, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through him. He bites his lip, letting out a quiet moan that he can’t quite suppress.

You hesitate, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you consider his request. Then, slowly, you change your camera angle and pull the blanket down just a little, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the red lace of your panties, the soft curve of your thigh. Lando feels a jolt of arousal shooting through him, and he has to bite back a groan. It’s just enough to tease, to make him want more. 

“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is rough, strained, as he shifts on the bed, the fabric of his pants suddenly feeling too tight, too restrictive. His hand presses harder against his length, his breath hitching as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

You giggle, your eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and excitement. “You like what you see?”

“Like?” He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. “I fucking love it.”

Your cheeks flush a deeper red, and you lean back a little, giving him an even better view of your body. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of you, the way the red lace clings to your skin, the hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath your bra. He can see the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the anticipation, the arousal clear in your eyes.

“Your turn,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send his heart racing.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still holding his phone, he shifts back on the bed, his other hand moving to the waistband of his pants. His fingers fumble with the button, his hands shaking slightly as he pops it open, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath hitches as he unzips his pants, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours, seeking permission. When you nod, he slides his hand into his boxers, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he wraps his fingers around his length.

“Fuck…” The word slips out as he strokes himself slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, needing to see your reaction. His voice trembles, laced with a mix of desire and restraint, each moan escaping his lips growing louder as he quickens his pace.

Your eyes are wide, your lips slightly parted as you watch him, your hand moving down towards your panties on their own accord, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric “Fuck, that's hot, Lando…”

He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his boxers now pushed low enough to reveal his cock, hand moving faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. “Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”

You bite your lip, waiting just a moment before you slip your hand beneath the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escaping you as your fingers make contact. The sight of you, the way your body arches slightly, the soft, breathless sounds you make, is almost too much for him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so fucking hot…” His voice is barely more than a growl as he watches you, his own hand moving faster, the pleasure building inside him, threatening to spill over.

“What would you do to me if I was right there?” you ask, your voice a breathless whisper.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening around himself. “I’d start by kissing you, slowly… working my way down your body.” His voice is rough, each word laced with longing. “I’d touch you everywhere, make you feel so good. Then I’d…” his words getting cut off by his own moan.

“Tell me,” you encourage, your own voice trembling with need.

“I’d bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name,” he groans, his strokes becoming more erratic as he imagines it, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “F-Fuck, I want you so bad.”

You moan at his words, your fingers moving faster as you picture it, your body aching for his touch. “Lando, I…”

“Keep going,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you’d do to me.”

“I’d touch you,” you breathe, your voice trembling as your fingers move in sync with his. “I’d wrap my fingers around you, just like you’re doing now… make you feel so good, Lan”

He whimpers at your words, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he imagines it, the sensation of your touch almost too real. “Fuck, Y/N, I need you…”

“Imagine it’s my hand, Lan” you whisper, your voice laced with seduction. “Imagine I’m right there with you…”

His moans grow louder, his hips bucking into his hand as he follows your words, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “I’m so close…”

“Me too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure building, your body trembling with anticipation.

“God, you’re amazing,” he pants, his voice filled with praise as he watches you, every movement driving him closer to the edge. “You’re so perfect… I want you so bad…”

Your voice is a breathless moan as you reach the brink, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes you "F-Fuck, Lan, I'm coming"

“Fuck, baby, I’m right there with you…” His voice is ragged, his body tensing as he teeters on the edge, every muscle tightening in anticipation. You watch, breathless, as his hand moves faster, more desperately, his grip tightening around his length.

Then, with a strangled moan, he tips over the edge. His hips jerk, and his head falls back against the pillows as he cums, thick ropes of it spilling out and covering his abdomen. You can see the way his abs contract with each pulse, his hand still working himself through every last wave of pleasure, milking himself until he’s spent. His eyes remain locked on yours, his breathing heavy, a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire in his gaze as you both ride the waves of your shared climax.

For a few moments, the only sound is your ragged breathing, both of you staring at each other through the screen, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy in the air.

“Fuck…” He laughs breathlessly, his head falling back against the pillows as he runs a hand through his hair. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finish for him, your own laughter bubbling up, your cheeks still flushed, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. “Holy shit, Lando…”

“Yeah.” He grins, his heart still racing as he looks at you, the reality of what you just did slowly sinking in. “Are you… okay?”

You nod, your smile softening as you look at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. More than okay.”

His heart swells at your words, relief flooding through him. He’s about to say something else when you shift on the bed, the blanket slipping down a little further, giving him a glimpse of your bare shoulder.

“Lando,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his through the screen, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “If that was just a taste, I can’t wait to see what happens when we’re see each other again.”

The promise in your words sends a shiver down his spine, his mind racing at the thought of having you, really having you, right in front of him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea what you’re doing to me…” His voice is a low whisper, his eyes still dark with desire.

“Maybe I have an idea,” you tease, your smile widening as you settle back against the pillows, your gaze never leaving his. “When I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe you should pick me up from the airport... and then we can do this again, but then in real life”

His heart skips a beat at your words, excitement and anticipation flooding through him. “You mean that?”

You nod, your smile softening, your eyes filled with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. “Yeah, I mean that. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

His breath catches, the sincerity in your voice, the way you’re looking at him, making his heart race. He knows, in that moment, that this isn’t just about sex, about fulfilling a desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for years. It’s about more, so much more.

“Y/N… there’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

Your gaze softens, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “What is it, Lando?”

He hesitates for just a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continues. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. It’s not just about my text last night or about what we just did. I've been feeling like this for a while. It’s everything. Every time we’ve laughed together, every time you’ve supported me, every time I’ve seen you smile... I’ve been falling for you more and more.”

You feel your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. Finally ready to admit it out loud. “Lando... I’ve felt the same way. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief washing over him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve wanted to say something for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you say softly. “If anything, you’ve made it better.”

A wide smile spreads across his face, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve never been so thankful for getting drunk.”

You laugh, the sound light and filled with joy. “Me neither, Lando. Me neither.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, both of you just taking in the reality of what’s been confessed.

“So… when I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe we could start something real?” you suggest, your voice hopeful.

“I’d like that,” he replies, his heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s a plan,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips.

"God, I wish I could kiss you now" he whispered, a small hint of disappointment in his voice.

And with that, you both know that this is just the beginning of something truly special, something that’s been waiting to happen for far too long.

Sequel

Masterlist

[ilovejb]

| Offside |

Pairing : Aitana Bonmatí x female!reader

Summary : A nude photo from Aitana Bonmatí landed on your phone. Now, playing on the same team feels different.

Warnings : slow burn, mature but not really smut

authors note : around 6k

You weren’t expecting anything unusual after training.

It had been the usual grind — two hours of nonstop drills, ball control, pressing under pressure, and movement between lines. You had a slight ache in your calves, a stain of grass on your thigh, and a knot forming at the base of your spine from all the pivoting and cutting.

You’d shared the pitch and locker room with the likes of Cata, Patri, Ingrid, and, of course, Aitana Bonmatí — the legend. The midfield queen. The tactical brain in cleats. She was the type of player who made you raise your level just to survive in her orbit.

Your interactions with her had been limited. Professional. Respectful. Polite nods, sharp passes, the occasional murmured “nice ball” or “watch the press.” Nothing more.

That’s why when your phone buzzed — walking home with headphones in, still in your training gear — you barely glanced at the notification.

Unknown number. Image attachment.

You should’ve deleted it.

You should’ve ignored it, assumed it was spam.

But you tapped it anyway.

And then you stopped walking.

Because it wasn’t spam.

Your breath caught. The street sounds fell away. The photo glowed on your screen — skin, lines, ink. A nude. Intimate, artful, confident.

You knew those tattoos. You’d seen them in passing, glimpsed them in the showers, on the edge of her hip, down her ribs.

Aitana.

Your heart thundered. You stared at the image as if it might morph into someone else. Some trick of the light. Some bad joke.

But it didn’t. It stayed exactly as it was.

The muscles in your stomach clenched. A strange wave of heat swept over you, crawling up your neck, blooming in your ears.

You locked your phone and stood there for a long moment.

Your fingers hovered over the screen.

What were you supposed to do?

Pretend it never happened?

Text her and confess you saw it?

Ask… why?

Was it a mistake? A wrong number? An accidental send?

Or — and here’s what made your brain spiral — was it on purpose?

And then you made an even bolder decision.

You texted back.

You: I think this was meant for someone else…?

Seconds passed.

Then minutes.

You stared at the bubble, watching for a reply that didn’t come.

Finally, when you’d almost convinced yourself to delete it again and let it vanish from your memory, your phone buzzed.

Aitana: Oh my god. I’m so sorry.

You read it. And then read it again.

She knew. She knew you’d seen it. She knew it was her.

And she was texting back.

You hesitated, fingers hovering again. Then typed:

You: It’s fine. Really. I just… wasn’t expecting that.

Another pause.

Then:

Aitana: I didn’t mean to send it to you. It was supposed to go to someone else.

That hurt. More than you wanted to admit.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting her to say. That she’d been thinking about you? That she’d hit “send” on purpose?

Wishful thinking.

Still, there was something about the way she texted — careful. Uncertain. Like she was trying not to scare you away.

Your thumbs moved before your brain caught up.

You: Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.

She replied quickly this time.

Aitana: Thanks. I mean it.

You almost left it there.

But then you added one more message.

You: You looked… good. Really good.

Aitana didn’t reply.

Not that night.

But the next morning, something shifted.

You could feel it in training — the weight of her glance when you received the ball, the extra second she looked at you during rondos, the strange electricity that buzzed every time you stood too close.

Whatever this was… it wasn’t over.

You hadn’t expected anything to change, not really.

But from that morning on, it was different.

The pitch still looked the same. The drills hadn’t changed. The staff gave out the same tired instructions. But your skin felt more alert. More alive. Every movement felt watched — not by the coaches, but by her.

You caught her eyes more often than you should have. And when you did, she didn’t look away.

It wasn’t obvious. Not enough for teammates to catch on. But you knew the difference between indifference and awareness.

It wasn’t nothing.

After training, while you peeled off your shin guards and sat on the bench beside your locker, she passed by behind you. Close enough that her arm brushed your shoulder. She didn’t apologize. She didn’t flinch.

You didn’t either.

Then came the team flight that weekend — an away match in Valencia. You always hated these. The hours of prep, the packing, the weird hotel rooms with bad curtains and one working outlet. But this time, it felt charged.

She sat diagonally across from you on the team bus. Sunglasses on. Hoodie up. But you could feel her watching you from behind the lenses.

The match itself was a blur. A choppy 1–0 win. You got subbed on in the 70th minute, didn’t touch the ball much, but covered ground like your life depended on it. And Aitana? Aitana was her usual self — elegant, brutal, clever, always a step ahead.

After the game, the team celebrated quietly in the hotel lobby. Then slowly trickled into rooms, exhausted and sore.

You were halfway into your pajamas when your phone buzzed.

Aitana: Room 814. Don’t feel like sleeping yet.

You stared at it.

Not a question. Not an invitation, either. Just… a breadcrumb.

And you followed.

You found her sitting on the edge of her bed in a tank top and shorts, hair damp from a quick shower, a water bottle dangling from one hand.

She looked up when you entered. Said nothing.

So you closed the door and leaned against it, not moving.

A beat passed.

Then another.

“Hi,” she said finally, voice low.

“Hi.”

Her eyes dropped to your shirt — a Barça tee — then flicked back up to your face.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“Liar,” you said.

And she smiled.

The conversation that followed wasn’t what you expected.

It wasn’t charged. It wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t even particularly flirtatious.

It was… nervous.

She told you she hadn’t meant to send the photo. That it was stupid, careless. That she never did things like that.

You listened.

She told you she wasn’t seeing anyone. That she wasn’t out to most of the team. That she didn’t know what she was doing.

You told her it was okay.

You told her you weren’t looking for drama either. That you respected her. That you liked her, honestly, even before the photo.

That made her blush. Really blush.

“You did?”

You nodded.

“How could I not?” you said, smiling softly. “You’re kind of… impossible not to notice.”

She looked down. Fiddled with the cap of her water bottle.

And then she said, almost shyly, “I notice you too.”

The air in the room shifted.

It wasn’t sudden, but it was definite.

You moved first — slow, giving her time to stop you. When she didn’t, you crossed the floor and sat beside her on the bed.

Her shoulder barely brushed yours.

“Okay?” you asked.

She nodded.

And then your hand found hers.

Not rushed. Not desperate. Just there.

She squeezed back.

And then she leaned into you, cheek against your shoulder, like she’d been waiting all day for the permission to rest.

You stayed like that until your backs ached and your eyes burned from yawning.

You didn’t kiss.

Not yet.

You just sat there, together, and let the moment stretch.

The next few days were a strange mix of normalcy and tension.

Training was the same — long, demanding, relentless. But every time your paths crossed, there was an extra awareness in the air. A subtle tension that hummed between you both, like static.

It wasn’t awkward, per se. It was… something else.

She was more present than usual, more attentive, but in a way that didn’t draw attention. A glance here. A fleeting touch of your arm during drills. The smallest of smiles that felt different from all the others.

You caught her looking at you more often than before. And when you met her gaze, she’d just… smile. Not nervously. Just knowing.

It was maddening, the way she made you feel so seen, even when she said nothing.

But you didn’t talk about it. Not yet.

You couldn’t.

The day after the away match in Valencia, you found yourself alone in the hotel lobby. It was early — too early for anyone else to be up — but you couldn’t sleep. You didn’t feel tired. Not really.

Aitana had already checked out, you noticed, but you weren’t surprised. She always had this quiet, steady energy, like she was always a few steps ahead of everyone. You liked that about her.

It was then that you heard footsteps behind you.

You turned, and there she was, appearing almost out of nowhere.

She was wearing the same hoodie from the bus ride, her hair still damp from the shower, but now she had a quiet air of self-assuredness that you hadn’t seen before. It was like she’d decided something, made up her mind.

“You’re awake early,” she said, standing just a bit too close.

You smiled, a little embarrassed. “Can’t sleep.”

“You’re thinking about last night, aren’t you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I…”

She was quiet for a second, eyes catching yours, soft but intense. “I think about it too,” she admitted.

There was no hiding it now. She was here. You were here. And the moment was ripe with possibilities.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head. “I think we’ve said everything that needs to be said.”

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she reached out, brushing your cheek with the back of her hand. The softness of her touch made your breath catch.

“I know what I want now,” she said, voice steady but with an underlying vulnerability that made your pulse race.

You swallowed, your mind racing. “What do you want, Aitana?”

Her answer came in the form of a kiss — sudden, but gentle. A soft press of her lips against yours, testing, waiting for your response. And when you kissed her back, everything shifted.

The world seemed to fall away. The bustling hotel lobby. The pressure of training. The uncertainty that had been hanging in the air since that photo.

For those few seconds, there was only the quiet, consuming connection between you.

You pulled away first, but you didn’t go far. Your forehead rested against hers as you both caught your breath.

“I’ve wanted that,” she admitted quietly, almost like a confession.

“I thought it was just me,” you said, smiling softly.

She chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

The kiss was just the beginning.

The next few days were a blur of mixed emotions, lingering touches, stolen glances, and conversations that felt like they were building toward something you couldn’t quite define.

But one thing was clear: this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. Neither of you were content with it being that.

It was hard to describe what exactly changed between you two.

It wasn’t the kind of change that drew attention. No public declarations. No sudden bursts of passion that left the team gossiping. It was more subtle. A quiet shift, like the calm before a storm.

During training, your connection was undeniable. Every pass you made felt charged, every glance lingered just a little longer than usual. She was always a step ahead, anticipating your movements, helping you when you needed it, and when the play would slow down, she would look at you with something more than just professionalism.

When the team gathered for post-training meetings, Aitana would often sit beside you, her arm brushing yours in casual moments, and every time it happened, you could feel your pulse racing. You’d glance over at her, only to find her already looking at you, the corner of her mouth turning up into a soft, secret smile.

It was the little things.

She’d send you texts late at night, messages that weren’t about soccer but just about how your day was. And you’d reply, maybe a bit too quickly, but the conversations felt easy. Natural.

And yet, despite all the moments that felt right, you were still both dancing around the elephant in the room.

There was no discussion about what this was. No label. No “are we seeing each other” conversation. It was as if you were both comfortable with the unspoken connection, but the silence felt like it could burst at any moment.

It was late one evening after training when the air in the locker room seemed to thicken. You had just finished stretching, the usual post-practice exhaustion settling into your bones. You were almost done packing your things when you felt her presence behind you.

Her voice was low but clear. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

You turned to face her. She was standing a little too close, eyes searching your face, waiting.

“Of course,” you said, swallowing slightly, your heart picking up speed.

She hesitated, taking a step forward as she closed the space between you. The whole room seemed to fall away as she looked at you, the usual buzz of the locker room and chatter from teammates fading into the background.

“I need to know if this is something we’re both just… letting happen,” Aitana said, her voice quieter now, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t heard before. “I can’t keep pretending like I don’t care. Like this doesn’t mean something to me.”

You blinked, unsure whether your heart was in your throat or in your stomach. You felt suddenly exposed, as if she had stripped away all the layers you’d carefully built around yourself. She was waiting. You could feel her gaze on you, waiting for you to make a choice.

You could feel the weight of the decision hanging in the air. Would you continue this — whatever this was — or was it just another passing moment?

“I don’t want to pretend either,” you finally said, your voice steady, but your heartbeat still racing. “It’s not just something… I want to be real too.”

The words hung between you for a second. And then she closed the distance completely, cupping your cheek with one hand. Her thumb brushed across your skin, her touch soft and hesitant, but you didn’t pull away.

She leaned in, lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “I’m glad you said that.”

The kiss that followed was unlike the one in the hotel. It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t a spark of electricity. It was slow. Deliberate. A quiet promise that neither of you had spoken aloud but both understood.

When she pulled away, she didn’t go far. Her forehead rested against yours, breath mixing with yours in the still air of the locker room.

“We don’t have to tell anyone,” she murmured. “Not yet.”

You nodded, your hands finding their way to her waist. The thought of telling the team, of exposing this growing connection between you, made the edges of your mind feel blurry. There was no rush.

“I just want this to be ours,” you whispered back.

She smiled then, a real, full smile. And for the first time, you felt the weight of the world fall away, replaced by something lighter. Something… easier.

And it felt good.

Keeping things quiet wasn’t easy — especially not on a team like Barça.

Everyone was close. Too close. Teammates noticed everything: who lingered in the hallway too long, who sat next to who on flights, who shared extra looks in the locker room. You weren’t foolish enough to think no one had noticed the shift between you and Aitana.

But no one said anything.

And maybe that was part of the code. As long as you didn’t make it a problem, no one would call it one.

The moments you had together were short, but they meant everything. A quick glance across the pitch before kickoff. Her fingers brushing yours when passing a water bottle. Late-night texts that made your stomach flip. And once, after a particularly tough game, you’d both ended up in the gym late, saying you needed to stretch. The second the door closed behind you, she pushed you gently against the wall and kissed you until your knees gave out.

You didn’t say a word the entire time.

After, you both sat on the floor, backs against the wall, flushed and breathless, giggling like kids with a secret.

“Are we crazy?” you whispered.

She smiled and leaned her head against your shoulder. “Maybe.”

But you didn’t stop.

One afternoon after training, Aitana asked if you wanted to go to her place — not for anything, she promised, just to rest, maybe eat something, watch a movie. The team had a free evening and you hadn’t had time together outside hotel rooms and dark hallways.

You agreed. And maybe you should’ve known.

Her apartment was quiet. Minimal. A little cold, like she didn’t spend as much time there as she wanted to. But there were books on the shelves and a guitar leaning in the corner. The small personal details made you smile.

She handed you a hoodie — one of hers — and you pulled it on without thinking. It smelled like her. You caught her watching as you did it, her mouth curling slightly.

“You look better in it than I do,” she said.

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

But she walked closer. “I’m serious.”

You weren’t sure who moved first. You just knew that within seconds, her lips were on yours again, and it felt different this time — slower, deeper, filled with everything you hadn’t said out loud. You sank into it. Into her. Into the quiet space you were building together.

It didn’t go further than that — not yet — but it left you both breathless. Touch-starved. Wanting.

You sat curled up beside her afterward on her couch, her arm around your shoulders, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your thigh. You watched a movie neither of you paid attention to.

At some point, she kissed the top of your head and whispered, “You don’t scare me.”

You looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

She met your eyes, her gaze soft. “What I feel. With you. It’s not scary.”

And in that moment, all you could think was: Me neither.

But nothing could stay secret forever.

It started small. Mapi raised an eyebrow one day in the locker room when Aitana defended you during a tactics meeting a little too hard. Then Patri asked why you always sat together on the bus. You played it off. So did Aitana. But the team was beginning to notice.

One afternoon, during a water break at training, Ingrid leaned close to you and murmured, “Just so you know… we’re not blind.”

You almost choked on your drink. “What?”

She smiled, not unkindly. “You two. It’s cute. Just… be careful.”

You didn’t ask what she meant. You already knew.

You were two of the most visible players on one of the most dominant teams in the world. Anything personal could become public in seconds.

And still, you couldn’t stop.

It was supposed to stay simple. Private. Yours.

But everything changed after the Atlético match.

You’d both played brilliantly — connected on the field like you had a telepathic bond. Commentators mentioned it. Fans noticed it. There was even a clip going around online of a moment after your assist to her goal: the way she ran straight to you, the way your foreheads touched for a beat too long.

The team had won 3–0. Spirits were high. Everyone was buzzing.

But the moment you walked into the tunnel, your phone vibrated with a message from Aitana.

“Come to the hotel terrace. Alone.”

You didn’t hesitate.

The terrace was quiet, the city lights twinkling below. She was already there, standing by the railing, arms crossed, hair damp from her post-match shower. When she heard your footsteps, she turned — and you knew something was different.

“You saw the clip, right?” she asked.

You nodded.

She sighed, turning her gaze back toward the city. “They’re starting to talk.”

“The fans?” you asked, stepping beside her.

She nodded. “And the press. Maybe even the club.”

You leaned against the railing too, shoulder brushing hers. “Do you regret it?”

That got her to turn toward you again, her expression sharp. “No. Do you?”

You shook your head. “Never.”

She exhaled, something easing in her shoulders. “Then I don’t care.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve been sure about you since that night you texted me back. This… whatever it is, it’s the only thing that’s made sense to me in a long time.”

You didn’t answer — not with words. Instead, you reached for her hand, laced your fingers with hers.

That was answer enough.

You stayed careful, but the closeness between you was no longer deniable. The team didn’t say much, but the teasing increased. Alexia made a few jokes in passing. Lucy called you “the power couple” once during dinner. Even Pere had started giving you double glances during film sessions.

But it wasn’t mean. It wasn’t mocking. It was just… real now. And strangely, that made it easier.

For a while, everything was good.

Until it wasn’t.

It started with a leak.

A blurry photo. You and Aitana, on a bench near Ciutat Esportiva. She was leaning against you, head on your shoulder. It wasn’t scandalous. It wasn’t anything dramatic.

But the headline made it worse: Barça Stars Closer Than Ever — Romance Rumors Heat Up.

The comments flooded in. Some fans were supportive. Some weren’t. The media picked it up. The press asked questions. The club didn’t say anything, but there were whispers.

You and Aitana sat on her couch in silence, both staring at the same photo on your phones. You could feel her body tense beside you.

“I knew this could happen,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

She turned to you, eyes wide. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because this is my fault. I leaned in, I let it happen—”

She shook her head. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t make this something it’s not.”

You looked at her. “Then what is it?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out and took your hand again, grounding you. “It’s us. And I won’t let anyone make me feel ashamed of that.”

Your throat tightened. She was so steady, so brave — and you wished you could be like that too.

“What if they try to split us up?” you asked quietly.

“They won’t,” she said, fierce and certain. “And even if they did, I wouldn’t let them.”

You nodded, but your stomach still felt heavy.

This wasn’t just a secret anymore. It was a spotlight.

And the light could burn.

The following days felt like walking a tightrope.

Training resumed, and so did the pressure — not just from the media, but from within yourself. You felt eyes everywhere. Every glance from a coach. Every hushed conversation you weren’t part of. Your mind twisted it all into suspicion.

You weren’t sure if it was real or if the anxiety was just that loud.

Aitana was calm on the outside, but you could tell it was getting to her too. The jokes from teammates slowed. The mood shifted slightly — not cold, but cautious. As if everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see what happened next.

You didn’t sleep well that week.

Neither did she.

One night, after a win in the league, the team went out for dinner. Spirits were high again. The energy was lighter. You sat next to Aitana at the far end of the table, your legs touching under the tablecloth, though no one could see.

She leaned over after dessert and whispered, “Come home with me tonight.”

You nodded.

It wasn’t a question.

Her apartment was warm. Dim. Quiet. You toed off your shoes, threw your jacket on the couch, and turned to find her already watching you from the hallway.

The way she looked at you — like the only person in the world who mattered — made your heart stutter.

Neither of you said a word.

She walked toward you slowly, deliberately, and you met her halfway. Her hands found your hips, your arms wrapped around her neck, and she kissed you like it was the first time.

But it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic.

It was everything you hadn’t been able to say.

She kissed you like she needed to make you believe you were safe. That you were wanted. That she wasn’t going anywhere.

You moved toward her bedroom without planning it. Her fingers trailed along your wrist, your shoulder, your waist. You fell onto the bed together, tangled in each other — breathing, pressing, touching.

You undressed slowly, helping each other out of your clothes like you were peeling back armor. Every inch of skin revealed was a confession. Every whispered word, every sigh, every shaky breath — a promise.

She explored you gently, learning every part of you like she was memorizing it. Your back arched, your hands gripped the sheets, and her mouth was everywhere — your throat, your chest, your stomach — until all you could do was feel.

And then you returned the favor. Not out of obligation, but because you wanted to. Needed to. You wanted to make her fall apart, just like she had done for you. You wanted her to know that whatever this was — whatever was growing between you — you weren’t running from it.

It wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t just release.

It was care. Intimacy.

Afterward, you lay tangled in the sheets, your head on her chest, her fingers stroking your hair.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

But you didn’t need to.

The next morning, she made coffee. You wore her hoodie again, padding around her apartment barefoot while she scrolled through her phone.

“Bad news?” you asked.

“Not really.” She glanced up, eyes scanning your face. “They want me to do a press thing next week.”

You nodded. “You’ll be great.”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They want to ask about… off-pitch things. Personal things.”

You froze. “You think they’ll bring this up?”

“Maybe not directly.” She set the phone down. “But they’ll circle around it.”

You didn’t respond right away. Your heart picked up.

“What are you going to say?”

She walked over, wrapping her arms around your waist. “Whatever I need to. I’m not ashamed.”

You nodded, burying your face in her shoulder. You wanted to be brave like her. But you also wanted to protect what you had. You weren’t ready to lose it.

Not now.

Not ever.

The press conference came faster than you expected.

You weren’t there, but you watched it live from the players’ lounge, nerves making your stomach twist. Aitana sat calmly at the podium, her hair tucked behind her ears, expression composed and unreadable. Journalists asked the usual — tactics, recent matches, Champions League hopes.

Then came the question.

“Some fans have noticed you seem especially close with a teammate this season. Would you care to comment on that?”

There was a pause.

You stopped breathing.

Aitana smiled — not wide, but sure. “I think chemistry on and off the pitch is important. If people see something between me and a teammate, that’s because we care about each other. We all do. That’s what makes this team strong.”

Smooth. Vague. Safe.

But her eyes flicked toward the camera in a way that felt deliberate — like she was looking right at you.

Your heart squeezed.

Later that day, when she walked into training, everyone gave her a wide berth. Not in a bad way — in a respectful way. Even Alexia clapped her on the shoulder and murmured, “Well said.”

She caught your eye across the locker room. You nodded.

You couldn’t stop smiling.

Still, being careful became second nature.

You timed your exits. Sat apart during team meals. Didn’t share rides anymore. You still trained the same, played the same, felt the same — but everything had an invisible layer now. Like you were constantly performing.

One evening, after a Champions League match, you snuck into the showers after everyone had left. Aitana was waiting, leaning against the wall like she belonged there. You didn’t say a word. Just kissed her. Hard.

Later, breathless and wet-haired, you stood wrapped in towels, your forehead pressed to hers.

“This is getting harder,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“We can’t keep hiding.”

“I know.”

“So what do we do?”

She looked at you — steady, unwavering. “We win. Together. And we keep loving each other. Quiet if we have to. Loud if we can.”

You exhaled, tension breaking like a wave.

That was the plan. Simple. Powerful.

And then came the final.

The Champions League. The biggest stage.

You and Aitana were both in the starting XI. The pressure was unlike anything you’d felt before — not just for the club, not just for the fans, but for each other.

You could feel her eyes on you during the anthem.

Her fingers brushed yours during the huddle.

You played the game of your life.

Assisted the opener. Ran until your lungs burned. Held your line when it mattered. And in the 86th minute, with the game tied and the world watching, Aitana received a pass, cut past two defenders, and scored the winning goal.

The stadium exploded.

You ran toward her without thinking. She met you halfway. Arms wrapped. Bodies crashed. And this time, it didn’t matter who saw.

Her forehead against yours.

Her voice in your ear: “We did it.”

That night, in the chaos of celebration, no one stopped you when you pulled her onto the balcony of the hotel. No one cared when you kissed her under the stars. No teammates interrupted. No fans peeked. No coaches questioned.

It was just you and her — alive, victorious, seen.

No more hiding.

The photo that broke the internet wasn’t blurry.

It wasn’t from a distance or taken in secret.

It was you and Aitana, arms around each other on the pitch, cheeks pressed together, laughing like idiots with confetti tangled in your hair. A kiss hadn’t been captured — but somehow, it didn’t need to be. The closeness was loud. Obvious. Undeniable.

By the next morning, it was everywhere.

The hashtags trended. The fan edits multiplied. Headlines called you “Barcelona’s new golden duo.” Commentators praised your chemistry, your impact, your connection.

And though some voices online remained cruel or suspicious, they were drowned out by the support. You’d expected backlash — feared it.

Instead, you found freedom.

For the first time in months, you held her hand on the way to the team bus. No one flinched. No one stared.

It was real now.

Out loud.

Back in Barcelona, life shifted.

You started staying at her place more often. She stocked your favorite snacks. You left your cleats by her door. You learned her morning moods and her nighttime silences. You shared playlists. You fought over laundry. You kissed in grocery store aisles when no one was looking.

It felt like normal.

Or as normal as it could be, when your faces were still plastered across sports blogs and post-match interviews.

Pere sat you both down one afternoon at the training ground. Not for punishment — just to talk.

“As long as you don’t let it affect your performance,” he said, “I don’t care who you’re dating.”

Aitana looked him straight in the eye. “It won’t.”

He nodded. “Good.”

And that was that.

Of course, it wasn’t perfect.

There were still rough days. Games lost. Articles speculated. A few opponents made comments on the field that turned your blood cold. You learned quickly how to shield her — how to step in when her jaw tightened and her hands balled into fists.

She did the same for you.

There was one evening when you came home, silent and shaken after an ugly match. You didn’t talk. You didn’t need to.

She just pulled you into bed, wrapped her arms around your waist, and let you cry into her shoulder.

Later, she whispered, “You don’t always have to be strong for me.”

“I want to,” you said hoarsely.

“Then let me be strong for you, too.”

That night, you made love without urgency. Without the rush of secrecy or the thrill of stolen time.

It was slow. Unspoken.

Her hands mapped every part of you again — not searching, but remembering. Your sighs were soft. Your bodies moved like puzzle pieces fitting together. And when you fell apart, it wasn’t with a cry or a moan — it was with a whispered name and a breathless laugh.

Afterward, you curled into her chest, fingers drawing circles on her ribs.

“I think I love you,” you said quietly.

She didn’t flinch.

She didn’t hesitate.

“I know,” she murmured. “I love you too.”

You thought it would feel scarier.

It didn’t.

It felt right.

Summer break came like a warm exhale.

After months of matches, media, and emotional tightropes, you found yourself waking late in Aitana’s bed, tangled in sheets and sunlight. Some mornings she made breakfast, wearing nothing but your oversized tee. Other days, you took walks around quiet Barcelona streets, disguised under caps and sunglasses — not to hide from the world, but to keep the peace you’d earned.

No more secrets. But still, something just yours.

One afternoon, she took you to her childhood home. Her mother welcomed you in with a smile that said everything without words. Aitana showed you old trophies, old photos — her room with books stacked against every wall. You lay on her bed, flipping through photo albums while she sat beside you, face pink with embarrassment.

“You were such a nerd,” you teased, pointing at a picture of her at ten, clutching a soccer ball and a science trophy.

“I am a nerd,” she replied, grinning. “You just like that about me.”

You kissed her shoulder. “Yeah. I really do.”

Pre-season came too fast.

Your bodies were sore again. Drills resumed. The weight of competition returned. But this time, it wasn’t heavy.

The team noticed a shift — not just in you two, but around you. The chemistry wasn’t forced. It was fluid. Passes that found each other’s feet without looking. Celebrations that ended in shared grins. Arguments that ended in trust.

There was a foundation now. Something unshakeable.

One evening after training, you sat on the rooftop of Aitana’s apartment, the city stretching out below you.

“You know,” she said, “a year ago I didn’t even know if I liked you.”

You snorted. “That’s fair. I was kind of a ghost.”

“You were intense,” she admitted. “Quiet. Hard to read.”

“And now?”

She turned, brushing hair from your face. “Now you’re the easiest part of my life.”

It hit you then — all of it. What had started as a slip of a photo. A mistake. A moment out of context.

And how it had slowly, carefully become the best thing that ever happened to you.

You thought about how close you’d come to ignoring it. To pretending nothing happened. To walking away instead of leaning in.

You thought about everything you would’ve missed.

You leaned back on your elbows, smiling softly.

“So what happens now?”

She shrugged, playful. “We play. We win. We annoy the hell out of our teammates with our gross couple energy.”

You laughed.

“And?”

She kissed you, slow and sure.

“And we keep loving each other. Loudly.”

The stars blinked above you. Barcelona hummed below.

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You were exactly where you were supposed to be.

With her.

Always with her.

[xosannie]

Our Dirty Little Secret

Part 2 to my fic Dirty Little Secret, check out part 1 is you haven’t already. Thank you for reading <3

☆Genre: Smut 18+ MDNI

☆Pairing: sex worker!Mingi x fem!reader

☆Word Count: 6.9k

☆Warnings: Mingi is a bit submissive in this, unprotected sex, recording while having sex, praise, sending nudes, hand job, fwb, mention of porn (lmk if I missed anything)

☆Summary: After finding out about your best friend Mingi’s secret porn account, you grew to accept his decision in his line of work. You actually start to feel very curious about it yourself, and Mingi is more than happy to fulfill your curiosity.

☆a/n: This took so long and I don’t really like it that much but I hope you do lol :,)

—————————————————————————

You throw your head back laughing, holding your stomach after your friend said something to make you laugh. You were sitting in a small cafe, matcha in hand, while you chatted with your friend from work. 

“I’m serious, it fell and spilled all over me,” he says, taking a sip of his latte.

“San, you’re such a clutz. How many times has that happened now?”

“Three,” he says quietly, and you laugh harder. 

”Is Mingi coming or what?” San says, rolling his eyes at you.

"Yes, I’m sure he is.”

You hear a ping come from your phone; oh, that must be Mingi. You pick it up and open the message without a second thought, not realizing it was an image he sent.

Loser (Mingi): Should I post this? :))

(attached image)

You choke on your drink, staring at the photo of Mingi holding his hard dick in his hand. San looked at you confused, and you try to compose yourself, trying not to act like a fool in front of your coworker.

“What?” He asks.

“Um… he’s uh stuck in traffic.”

"Bro, you scared me; you’re acting like you saw something you shouldn’t have.”

You felt your ears heat up. Damn Mingi, he did this on purpose. Ever since that night at his house, he started to send you nude videos and pictures of himself; you loved it at first. But then he started doing it to tease you, sending stuff when you were at work or in times when he knew you couldn’t be alone to touch yourself. He’s a menace, that damn Mingi.

You set your drink down to text Mingi back. 

You: WHAT THE HECK?!? 

Loser (Mingi): what? 

You: YOU KNOW IM WITH SAN RIGHT NOW, YOU CANT JUST RANDOMLY SEND ME YOUR DICK LIKE THAT!!

Loser (Mingi): Aww, you don’t like my dick anymore? :(

You internally palm your forehead. In this moment, you thank whatever god there is that you can pull off a pretty good poker face. You glance at San before looking back at your phone, thumbs dancing against the keyboard as you typed back at Mingi.

You: Shut up, where are you? Me and San are waiting.

Loser (Mingi): I’m coming. I’m coming. No need to get your panties in a twist.

You roll your eyes, setting your phone down to look back at San, who was waiting patiently to have your attention back on him.

“He’s on his way,” you huff.

“Great. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

San smiles softly, showing off his dimples, and he takes another sip of his latte. You hear another ding from your phone, and you glance down at the screen in your lap.

Loser (Mingi): So you don’t like the photo? </3

You: Of course I like it. Now hurry up and get over here.

Mingi smiles down at the phone after reading your response. He turns off the car, stepping out and walking toward the door of the cafe. He can see you and San through the window; he was there the whole time watching. He just wanted to see your reaction to his teasing, that little prick. 

————————————————————————

You, San, and Mingi all caught up with each other, updating one another about your lives, telling stories, and cracking jokes. It was now getting darker, the sun started to set, and the cafe became emptier. You check the time on your phone before speaking.

"Oh, they’re going to close soon. We should probably head out.” 

San checks the time as well, looking down at his watch and letting out a sigh. He looked up, glancing at you and Mingi, who sat together in front of him. 

“Yeah, I should probably head home now. I have to study for my upcoming exam.” 

You all agree to end the night here, getting up out of your seats and picking up your trash. Mingi takes your empty cup and drapes your jacket over his shoulder. 

“That’s alright, man. Good luck on your exam.”

“Thanks Mingi.”

Mingi and San shake hands, patting each other back. You pull San in for a hug, and Mingi tries to ignore the small pang of jealousy he felt when he noticed San’s arms wrapping around your waist. 

"Bye, Sannie; see you next time.”

“Oh, did you need a ride back home?”

You pull away from the hug, and Mingi steps in, wrapping his arm over your shoulder. 

“It’s okay, I can take her.” 

San glances at the two of you, smiling softly. There was a hint of suspicion in his eyes, but he shrugged it off and waved goodbye.

“Alright, well, I’ll get going. Good night.”

You and Mingi both wish him a good night and watch him walk off. Once San was out of sight, you pulled yourself from Mingi’s hold. You look up at him with an annoyed face, causing Mingi to put his hands up in defense.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I told you to stop sending those things to me when I’m out in public.”

You playfully smack his chest, making Mingi chuckle quietly. You turn on your heels, walking out the cafe and toward Mingi’s car in the parking lot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He follows behind you, catching up fairly easily due to his long legs. He beats you to the passenger seat, opening the car door for you. You huff, climbing in and sitting back with your arms crossed. Mingi couldn’t help the sly smirk plastered on his face as he walks around the car and climbs in the driver seat.

“Wipe that smug look off your face.”

“Or what?”

Mingi leans closer, glancing at your lips, then back at your eyes. He looked so pretty under the dim lighting. You fight every urge to smash your lips against his, but you didn’t give him that satisfactory. 

Instead, you turned your head, looking out the window. Mingi frowned a bit when you didn’t give him what he wanted. He turned the car on, faint music playing quietly in the background.

“Don’t give me that treatment. You loved the photo; I know you did.”

He drove out of the parking lot, and you watched the darkened trees pass by. You scoffed at his words, not bothering to look back at his face. Obviously you liked the photo; you couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole time you were out. You caught yourself staring at Mingi a little longer than you should have, admiring his pretty lips and hands (and all the things they can do to you). 

Your silence only makes Mingi smirk wider, already knowing what’s on your mind. He glanced at you for a second, then back on the road, one of his hands reached down to grip your thigh.

“Aw, don’t be mad at me, baby. I noticed how you were staring at me back at the cafe.”

Your body tensed, and the feeling of his large hand grabbing the flesh of your thigh made you feel a stir at the pit of your stomach. Of all days, why did you decide today was the day to wear a dress? He gripped your thigh, massaging it in his hand, running his fingers higher up under your dress.

“You look so pretty in this dress. It took every ounce in me not to rip it off and pound you in front of San.”

Images of Mingi’s words flashed in your head, causing your breath to grow more shallow. You subconsciously pressed your thighs together; that didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi. He let out a low chuckle, squeezing your thigh harder. God, you hated how easily he can rile you up. He knew exactly what he was doing; his ego was seriously too big for his own good. 

You take his hand and guide it back to the steering wheel. Mingi cocked his brow up, feeling a sense of amusement when you play hard to get.

“Two hands on the wheel, Mingi.” You teased.

“Fine, but later tonight I’ll have two hands on you.”

After a few minutes of shooting each other glances and bantering with a bit of flirting, you finally arrive at your place. You reach for your belongings, but Mingi already grabbed them for you, your jacket and purse in his hand as he steps out of the car. You rolled your eyes at him and watched as he ran around the car to open the door for you. 

“I’m perfectly capable of opening the door,” you snickered.

“Hey, let me be the gentleman I am.” 

“You just want pussy.” 

Mingi fights back a little; he wasn’t expecting you to say something so straightforward. He closed the door, feeling heat creep up on his cheeks. Thank God it was dark out so you couldn’t see him blush.

“That’s not...” he says quietly. 

He was brought back to his senses when you walked past him. There was a sly smirk on your face; shy Mingi was always so cute; you just don’t get to see it often. Mingi catches up to you when you stop at the front door, keys jingling as you turn the lock. 

You both step in, placing your belongings down and slipping off your shoes. Almost immediately, you felt Mingi’s hands on your waist, pulling you close to him. You let out a small yelp, smiling up at Mingi, who towered over your figure.

“Hey, let me breathe first. I just got home,” you chuckle.

“Can’t wait.”

He leans down to place kisses on your neck. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness, and you push him away slightly. He shoots you a small pout when you reject him, and you coo internally at his expression, reaching up to pinch his cheek. 

“Down boy,” you joke. 

Mingi reluctantly pulls his arms off you with a huff. He walks over to the couch and plops down on it, sulking like a puppy who just got scolded. You laugh at his behavior, walking to him and cupping his jaw.

“I’m going to go shower, then you can have all my attention.”

His head perks up at your words, and a smirk widens on his face. 

“Can I join?” 

“No Mingi. Just be good and wait okay.”

His body slumps at your words. A strange feeling crashed over him when you told him to be good; he had no choice but to give in. 

“Don’t keep me waiting too long then.” 

“I’ll be quick; don’t worry.”

You ruffle his hair before walking away, swaying your hips more than usual. Mingi watched you intently, admiring your figure. Once you were out of sight, he let out a sigh, falling back on the couch. 

“Damn tease,” he whispered to himself. 

He picked up his phone in an attempt to find some kind of entertainment. He opened the Twitter app and was immediately met with porn videos. He forgot to switch back to his regular account again; he really needed to get out of that habit. He looked through his DM's  and noticed an unopened message from the buyer of the video you helped Mingi film. He smiled at the message after reading it.

“This was hotttt😍 correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like someone helped you film this?? If that’s the case, I think you should film more with them; I’m sure others would love to see it (I know I will).💋”

Film more with them? Mingi likes the sound of that. He’s always fantasized about recording you while you both fucked, maybe even posting it if you allowed it. But he was always too nervous to ask, afraid that might scare you away.

After a few minutes, you finally get out of the shower. When you walked back in the living room now wearing sleep shorts and a black spaghetti strap top, Mingi (unashamedly) checked you out. He couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his face when he saw you. 

“I’m back, did you miss me?”

“Yes, very much,” he says without taking his eyes off your hips. 

You walk past Mingi, sitting on the couch next to him while his eyes stayed glued to you the whole time. You kick your feet up on the couch, getting comfortable and trying to ignore Mingi’s hard gaze. You reach forward to grab the remote and turn the TV on. 

“You know you never answered my question from earlier,” Mingi said.

“What question?”

“If I should post the picture or not.”

You think back at the nude. Mingi sent you when you were out with San. You glared at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Oh my bad for not answering when you sent me a dick picture in public.” 

Mingi smiled, feeling pleased with himself. He leans back, hands resting behind his head.

“You’re not giving me feedback.”

You roll your eyes at him, fighting back a smile. God, you wanted to shove him down on the couch and sit on his face; that way he wouldn’t be able to give you that smug look. 

"Yes, post it. it’s really hot.” 

You turn back to the TV, scrolling through to pick something to watch. Mingi’s smirk widens; he looks down at you, admiring your pretty thighs. 

“Hot? Did it turn you on?”

He reached down, grazing the soft, supple skin. You allowed Mingi to touch you, still scrolling the TV and failing to find something to watch. You give up, setting the remote down and turning to Mingi. 

“What are you going to do if I say yes?”

He leans in closer, hiding his face in your neck as he takes in your scent. He always loved the smell of your body wash; it drove him crazy. He grazed his teeth against your earlobe, sucking it gently. 

“Whatever you want me to do,” he whispers. 

You giggle softly, pulling his face up to place a soft kiss on his lips. Ever since you and Mingi slept together that one night, you both have been thirsty for each other every second of the day. Don’t get it twisted, you were the same friends you were before… just friends that flirt...and  kiss... and fuck. (That’s normal though, right? Haha…)

You told yourself you wouldn’t think much of it and just go with the flow. You and Mingi both kind of agreed to do that. Neither of you wanted to possibly make each other uncomfortable, so you guys just let things happen without looking into it too deeply.

Mingi hummed in the kiss, moving his hand up to grip your waist. He pulls you closer, the kiss deepening and becoming more passionate. You push him away when you feel Mingi try to pull you on his lap, leaving him wanting more. His eyes flutter open, letting out a small sigh. 

“So how is your porn stuff going?”

You stay close to Mingi, resting your head on your hand while studying his features. Mingi leans back on the couch, though his hands never leave your body. He pushed his hair back, trying to control the rapid beating of his heart before speaking. 

“It’s pretty good. Honestly, I’ve been getting more recognition recently.”

“Oh yeah? That’s great.”

You gently nudge Mingi’s shoulder, proud to hear the good news. 

“I’m not surprised; your videos are so hot, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your friend.”

Mingi smirked at your words, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and playing with a lock of your hair. 

“Yeah? Which video have you been touching yourself too?”

You shoot him a playful glare, making Mingi laugh to himself.

“Don’t make me take back my compliment.” 

“I’m just messing with you. I hope you know your opinion is very valid to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. You fiddle with the necklace resting around Mingi’s neck before replying.

“I really like the video of you humping the pillow.”

Mingi bites his lip; the thought of you touching yourself to his videos makes his stomach churn. He honestly fantasizes about it a lot; he always comes the fastest when thinking about it. 

“Really? Well, I’ll make sure to film more of those.” 

You roll your eyes, leaning closer and resting your head on Mingi’s shoulder. He runs his fingers through your hair, pushing the strands behind your ear. 

“Do other people hit you up asking to “collaborate” or whatever? I don’t know what you call it.” 

Mingi chuckles, shaking his head.

“I mean, yeah, there are a few mutuals of mine who DM me. But I don’t like the thought of fucking just anyone. I don’t care if other people do it because it is for work, but I don’t know... I prefer to do it with people I care about. Like you.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words. A strange wave of relief courses through your body at his response. You decide to brush off the feeling, looking up at Mingi and poking his chest.

"Awww, you care about me.” 

“Of course I do you idiot.”

Mingi smiles, resting his cheek on top of your head. You hum, feeling a sense of warmth at his actions and mindlessly drawing shapes on his chest. Mingi suddenly remembered something he wanted to show you, then pulls away a bit as he speaks up.

“Oh, look at this message I got.” 

He pulls out his phone, showing you the message from the buyer. You smile, raising your brows while reading it. 

“Film more with me? What an interesting request.” 

"Yeah, right,” he chuckled nervously.

“I’m glad they liked it. I’ve watched the video myself, and it was so hot. Even though I’m the one in it, it’s hot knowing that you’re holding the camera.” 

He shoved his phone back in his pocket after you handed it to him. You weren’t going to lie; you have previously thought about what it would be like to be in one of Mingi’s videos. Of course you never mentioned it to him; you were just nervous. But the more you scrolled through Mingi’s and other people’s accounts, your curiosity grew stronger. Maybe this was a sign?

Mingi noticed the way you started to get lost in thought. He leaned down, curiously trying to meet your gaze. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

You snapped your attention back at Mingi. You stared into his brown eyes; in this moment, you decided to speak up. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? 

“Just thinking… I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

Mingi raised his brows, his eyes widening a bit. He shifted in his seat, moving his body to fully face yours.

“Wait really? Like, you want to film with me?” 

Mingi felt his heart racing in his chest, and you smiled at how excited he looked. If he had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy right now. You nod your head, placing your hand on top of Mingi’s.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind. It sounds… fun.” 

Mingi breaks into a huge smile, pulling you in for a hug. You laugh at his reaction; he’s acting as if he won a prize. But to Mingi, that’s exactly what it felt like.

“Okay! When? Where? What do you want to do?”

“Mingi, calm.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. He shut his mouth in a closed lip smile, showing off his cute dimples. You couldn’t help yourself when you reached up to poke his cheek.

“We can do it whenever. Today even, if you don’t mind.”

"Oh, I don’t mind at all.”

You felt a strange wave of relief wash over your body. You didn’t notice how anxious you were feeling till you heard Mingi’s encouragement. He stands up off the couch, reaching his hand out for you to grab. You looked at him with a questioning expression, warily taking his hand in yours.

“What are you doing?”

He pulled you up off the couch, leading you through the house.

“We’re going to your room.”

He smiles wide, prancing through the hall and into your bedroom. You shake your head at him, finding his excitement endearing. He pushed the door open, leading you in and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

He looked up at you, eyes sparking with eagerness. You step in between his legs, running your hand through his hair. You feel Mingi wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Someone is eager,” you tease.

“You can’t blame me; do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about fucking you for content?”

You cock your head to the side, cupping his jaw and holding his face still. The act was weirdly dominant, Mingi likey. You raise a brow to give him a questioning glance. 

“Just for content?” 

Mingi’s breath hitched at your change of tone, his mouth opening and closing like a fish trying to find words. 

“Well, of course, not just for content. What I meant was... you know what I mean,” he whined. 

You giggle, leaning down to kiss his lips.

“I’m just messing with you, Mingi.”

He felt his heart swell at your soft touch. He couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes; you just looked so pretty. He wanted you to keep kissing him; he needed to taste more of your lips. 

“Alright, I think you’ve been waiting long enough. Let’s get started.” You chimed.

Mingi nods eagerly, smirking wide.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls you down, causing you to let out a surprise squeal, then giggle as you settle yourself on his lap. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms around his neck as he smashes his lips on yours. You both kiss each other hungrily, his hands on your waist as you grip at his hair.

You hear him groan in the kiss when you pull at the strands; god, you loved that sound. You couldn’t help yourself when you did it again, only harder this time. Mingi let out a moan, the sound shooting straight to your core. 

You pulled his shirt, tugging the hem as a silent way of saying you wanted it off. Mingi chuckled at your actions, knowing exactly what you wanted. He pulled away for a second so he could pull his shirt off in one swift motion.

With no time to waste, he was back on you, pressing hot kisses down your neck. You let out a sigh, basking in the feeling of his lips, and guided your hands down his bare chest. He continued to lick and suck at your skin, making you let out small moans. 

“Baby, let’s lay down on the bed,” you breathed out.

Mingi nodded, reluctantly pulling himself off you and giving you one last kiss on the lips. Mingi moved up on the bed, and you followed closely behind. Crawling back on top of his body, smiling prettily down at him. His hands instinctively rest on your waist when you straddle him.

“Can I have your phone?”

“Yeah, yes,” he breathed out. 

Mingi pulled his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. You grabbed it, leaning down to kiss his lips. He entangled his hand in your hair, moaning softly when you trailed kisses down his neck. You looked up at him through your lashes when you moved further down. You pressed warm kisses down his bare chest to his stomach, slowly licking back up. 

“Fuck, I need you so bad,” he moaned breathlessly. 

You chuckled, sitting up and pulling at the buckle of his pants. 

“You’ll have me, baby, don’t worry.” 

Mingi’s hands fumbled to help you unbuckle his pants. He pulls them down for you and throws them on the floor. You turn on his phone, opening the camera app. 

“Mmm, look at you,” you say.

Mingi lay there, breath-grown, labored, and dick hard in his boxers. You can see a slight wet patch on the front. Holy fuck, you were going to devour this man.

Mingi’s dick twitched in his boxer briefs when he saw you point the camera at him. He heard the ding on the phone, your eyes fixated on Mingi’s pretty body through the screen. You reached down, your finger lightly grazing the bulge in his underwear. Mingi’s hips buck up slightly, and shiver runs down his spine.

“Look at you, such a pretty boy.”

Your voice took a tone Mingi never really heard before. It was soft yet dark; he wanted to hear more. He chuckles softly at your words, feeling a wave of desire crash over him at your praise. You run your hand up his body, making sure everything was in frame. 

“I’m pretty?” Mingi asks in a dark, seductive tone. 

You nod, humming in agreement. You slowly trace your finger down his torso, almost as though you were teasing both Mingi and the viewer. You hook your finger on the waistband of his boxers, tugging it at an agonizingly slow pace. 

Mingi huffed at your teasing hands. He knew you were putting on a show for the video, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit impatient. You felt him squirm slightly and chuckled at his behavior.

“Needy aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Mingi says softly, with a hint of a whine. 

The sound shot straight to your core, turning the ache in your pants into a throb. God, you needed to hear Mingi whine; you needed to hear him beg. Finally, you pulled the underwear all the way down; his hard length springs up. You giggle softly, cooing at the sight. 

You don’t know what came over you, but you couldn’t help but want to tease Mingi. Although Mingi didn’t seem to mind much. His dick twitch at your condescending tone, making his face flush in embarrassment. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You grasp his length, letting a wad of spit fall down onto the tip. Slowly, you envelope his dick in your hand, pumping him up and down. Mingi moans softly, watching the way you held the phone close to your face as you recorded yourself jerking him off. The whole scene was so hot, Mingi couldn’t help but feel turned on by the thought of you recording him in such a vulnerable state.

The wet noises of your hand moving up and down on his dick filled the room. You moved your hand faster, watching Mingi’s expression this time. He was already looking at you, and you smiled at him. He whimpered when you locked eyes, his brows furrowing as a small pout threatened to grow on his lips. 

He reached down to grip your thigh, needing to feel you in any way he could. Subconsciously, Mingi started to slowly buck his hand up into your fist. You hum at the sight, biting your lip.

“You’re such a needy boy. You want more?”

“Yes,” Mingi whimpered.

“Yes what?” 

Mingi threw his head back against the pillow, shutting his eyes closed as he felt his face grow hot. He knew what you were asking from him, but he was too shy to say it. You gripped his length tighter, stopping the movement of your hand.

Mingi whimpers loudly at the pain, body jerking and dick twitching with pleasure. 

“Yes, what?” You asked again, this time in a darker tone.

“Yes please. Please, I need more,” he whined, covering his face in embarrassment. 

You smiled wide at him, loosening the grip on his cock and jerking him faster. 

“That’s a good boy.”

Mingi moans at your praise, hips bucking up faster than before and dick twitching excitedly. You watched, feeling slightly surprised by his reaction.

“Oh? Does the big boy like to get praised?”

“Yesss,” Mingi whines. 

He gripped your thigh harder, continuing to fuck up into your hand. It was all so embarrassing yet so hot to him. Having you toy with him while you recorded. He felt like he was under your control, and fuck he loved it more than he ever thought he would. 

“Thats right, baby, fuck my hand.”

You completely still the movement of your fist, encouraging Mingi to continue to thrust into your hand. He does just that, bouncing up and down on the bed as he fucked your fist. He continued to let out whimpers and whines, feeling both ashamed and aroused by how pathetic he looked. 

You hummed in delight, making sure you got the best angle of Mingi fucking himself. You moaned softly when you saw a drip of pre-cum ooze out the tip. You pulled your hand off, making Mingi whine desperately, his hips still fucking the air looking for friction. 

You giggle softly, watching the way his dick bounced pathetically. Your fingers find their way on his slit, pulling away and watching a string of pre-cum connect to your finger and his tip.

“So wet, baby.”

You move the camera closer to his length, showing off the pretty cum dripping down his cock.

“It’s all for you,” he says quietly. 

That was your breaking point. You needed Mingi; you couldn’t wait any longer. Your pussy throbbed so much, and you felt your slick stick to the fabric of your shorts. You stopped the recording, setting the phone on the mattress and leaning down to kiss Mingi. He pushed away slightly, looking at you confused.

“Why’d you stop recording?” He breathed out.

“I can’t take it. I need to fuck you, Mingi.”

Mingi whimpered, pulling you down by the nape of your neck to smash your lips together. Your tongues danced against each other, yours exploring his mouth as he lay limp and let you use him however you like.

“Oh god, yes, please do,” he whined. 

You chuckled, pulling away to rip your shirt off. Your beautiful breast was on display for Mingi; he was mesmerized by the sight. He reached up and squeezed them; you smiled at the way his large palms enveloped your breast. 

“You’re so sexy.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words. Mingi smiled up at you, finding your giggling cute. His hands roam down your body, sliding over your waist to your hips. You felt his large hands grip your ass through your shorts, making you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Take them off for me, Mingi.” 

Mingi smirks wide, wordlessly pulling your shorts off and down your legs. He moans softly at the sight of you; you had no underwear on, which left you completely naked sitting on top of Mingi.

"God, I need to be inside you, baby. I can’t wait any longer.”

You completely sit down on him, your warm, wet pussy pressed against the underside of his cock. Mingi furrows his brows and grips your hips tightly. You began to rock your hips back and forth, your wetness leaving a glistening trail on Mingi, and he moans softly.

"Why are you teasing me?” he whine. 

You giggle, enjoying the feeling of your swollen clit rubbing against the head of his cock. You couldn’t help but smile at him mischievously; your hands rested on his pecks, and you grabbed the flesh beneath your palms. 

“You just look so cute... whining for me,” you say breathlessly. 

Mingi pushes his head back against the pillow; he was so turned on he needed to feel you already. You glance at Mingi’s phone laying on the bed beside him. He followed your gaze and smirked; he knew exactly what you wanted. He picked it up, opened the camera app, and pressed record. 

You lifted your hips a bit, taking his hard length and aligning it with your sopping hole. Mingi watched through the phone, moaning loudly when you sunk down on his cock. Your hands rested on his stomach, clawing at the skin beneath. 

“Fuckkk,” he moans. 

You moan breathlessly, moving your hips up and down slowly. You already felt your legs start to tremble at the feeling of Mingi filling you up. 

“You fill me up perfectly, baby. Show them how pretty your dick looks sliding inside me.”

Mingi groans at your words, moving the camera closer to you pussy sucking up Mingi’s dick effortlessly. You kept a slow, steady pace; you were so wet you could hear the squelching noises coming from your pussy. Mingi bites his lip, pulling the camera away to show off your pretty body while grabbing your hip with his free hand. 

“Baby,” you said breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me.”

Mingi moans at your words, you didn’t have to tell him twice. He planted his feet flat on the bed and thrust up into you at a fast pace. You let out a yelp as intense pleasure coursed through your entire body. Skin slapping against skin as Mingi bucked up into your pussy, he was mesmerized by the way your thighs jiggled when coming contact to his pelvis. 

He held the phone in his hand tighter, groaning loudly as he fucked into you. You couldn’t help the high-pitched moans that escaped your lips; you were in pure ecstasy. And based on the way Mingi’s eyes were glued to your face, brows furrowing, and mouth agape, you could tell he felt the same way. 

“Fuck…so good. Your pussy is so good.”

You moan at his praise, looking down at the phone that was pointed toward you. You felt so vulnerable, and the thought that other people will be watching this video, jacking off to Mingi fucking you, drove you crazy. 

Mingi’s hips stopped when the burn in his abdomen became too much to bear and he panted heavily trying to catch his breath. You decided to give Mingi some time to rest and reached behind you. You planted your hands on Mingi’s thighs and lifted your knees up till your feet rested on the mattress.

“You did so good. I’m gonna fuck you now, okay, baby.”

Mingi whined when he watched you change positions and nodded eagerly. 

“Okay.” 

With the new position you put yourself in, your pussy was on full display for Mingi and the camera. You rocked your hips up and down, your tits bouncing with your movements. Mingi moans louder, watching intently at the way his dick disappeared in your hole. He was trying so hard not to drop the phone in his hand, wanting to capture this moment forever. 

With the new view, Mingi found himself getting closer to his release. Watching you bounce on his cock was just too intoxicating.

“I’m close, baby.”

“Just a little longer, okay? I’m almost there.”

Mingi’s hand gripped tightly to your thigh, sliding up till his thumb pressed against your clit. You whined at the feeling, legs trembling when he rubbed circles on the sensitive nub.

“Yes yes. Keep doing that, baby. Fuck, I’m close.”

“Cum on my cock, please. I need it.”

Your nails dug into Mingi’s thighs, legs almost giving out when you came on his dick. You clenched so hard around him as your hips stuttered. Mingi’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as he tried with all his might not to cum inside. Now that's a good boy.

You pulled off him, his dick slipping out and hot streams of cum shot out to cover his stomach. You watched with a sly smirk, reaching down to jerk him off. 

“Fuck!”

Mingi’s body trembled from his intense orgasm, some even landing on his chest and neck. You giggle, and when you notice him coming down from his high, you slow the pace of your hand, not wanting to overstimulate him. You grab the phone from him (surprised he didn’t drop it at this point) and point the camera closer to his cum-covered body.

"Mmm, you see that. What a messy boy.” 

You both pant heavily. Mingi chuckled breathlessly at your words, looking down at his body. You stopped the recording, setting the phone down on the bed. You both smiled at each other, Mingi reaching up to cup your face. 

“Can’t wait to watch that later,” you smirk. 

Mingi rolls his eyes, laughing breathlessly. He pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss on your nose. You rested your elbows on either side of his head while staring into his pretty brown eyes.

“That was so fucking hot. I didn’t know I was the submissive type, but damn, we need to explore that more.” 

You laugh heartily, kissing Mingi’s cheek before speaking. 

"Yes, we do. I swear I almost started running laps whenever you begged for me.” 

“I folded when you called me a good boy.” 

You and Mingi couldn’t help the funny comments. Maybe it was weird that you were cracking jokes after getting dicked down by your best friend, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You pull away, sighing and looking down at the cum that smeared on your body. 

“Now I have to take another shower.”

Mingi laughs at your words, running his hands up and down your sides. He looks up at you with pleading eyes before asking in a hopeful tone.

“Can I join you this time?” 

You decide to throw him a bone, smiling down at him and nodding.

“Yes Mingi. Come on.”

Mingi exclaimed in excitement, picking you up effortlessly and taking you to the bathroom. You squeal when he throws you over his shoulder, and you smack the small of his back.

“Hey, warning next time you decide to manhandle me.”

“No time, must take you to the shower.”

“How do you still have this much energy after what we did?”

————————————————————————

“Ugh, dammit.” 

You lean back in your chair when you see the red letter pop up on your computer screen. 

‘You died’

“Why is this level so hard?” 

Your mumble to yourself. You hear your phone notification go off and light up next to your keyboard. You pick it up and smile to see a message from Mingi. 

Princess Mingi: HELLO!? LOOK AT HOW MANY LIKES OUR VIDEO HAS 

(attached image)

Your eyes bulge out of your head after seeing the screenshot Mingi sent you. 

You: 72k?!? WHAT??

Princess Mingi: This is literally my most liked video. People love you, they think you're hot and want to know if you have an account. 

You couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride at the thought of people wanting to see more of you. Maybe you should dabble into this kind of work. You were pulled out of your thoughts when another ping rang from your phone. 

Princess Mingi: You should say fuck it and join the sex work community. I think you will do very well.

Princess Mingi: I’ll be your first subscriber ;)

You: I’ll block you before you can find my account 

Princess Mingi: Hey :( you wouldn’t do that to your good boy, would you? :(((

You: Yes.

You giggle to yourself after teasing Mingi. It was just so fun. He sent another message, and your giggles immediately die down when you see the image.

Princess Mingi: (attached image)

What about now? :)

You: WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT SENDING ME YOUR DICK

Princess Mingi: YOU SAID NOT TO DO IT WHEN YOURE IN PUBLIC. I KNOW YOURE NOT 

You: WELL NOW IM HORNY AND ALL ALONE

Mingi doesn’t reply back and you see the little ‘read’ text under your message. You furrow your brow in confusion, that bitch, leaving you on read. You set you phone down and turn your attention back to your game on the screen.

After a few minutes, Mingi never replied back. Thats weird. You decide to text him again, he never leaves you on read. 

You: Hey, are you alive?

You were surprised when you saw the three dots appear pretty quickly. 

Princess Mingi: I’m here. Open your door :)

You stare blankly at the phone screen, sitting there dumbfounded. You’re brought back to reality when you hear a honk outside your house. You peak through your window and see Mingi walking out the car and up to your front door. That little shit. 

You: No, stay outside and freeze. 

Princess Mingi: Please let me in :(

You: Why should I? 

Princess Mingi: So I can fuck you good again :) 

You dropped your phone and ran to the front door. Well, it was too cold for him to stay out there all alone. 

————————————————————————

You bite your lip while holding your phone in your hand. 

"Ugh, fuck it.” 

You posted your first nude photo; it was a simple mirror picture of you were in your underwear sitting on your bed topless. You throw your phone on the mattress, feeling nervous yet excited at the same time. You finally did it, you made your own Twitter account. 

After looking at the video you and Mingi recorded for his account, you decided to give in and give the people what they wanted. After a few minutes of pacing around, you pick up your phone to check if anyone has liked your photo yet. You already started getting some likes and a few comments.

You get a notification and press on it immediately. 

‘Sir Min started following you’

You smile to yourself when you read the notification. Of course, Mingi was the first to follow you. You had already told him you were doing it, but you didn’t take into account that he was waiting for you to make your first post this whole time. You get a DM from Mingi, smirking to yourself when reading it.

Sir Min: You look hot, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you more “for content” ;)

~

Tags: @chicksmoothie @wisejudgedragonhairdo @autieofthevalley @breadpuddingboys @pancake-freckle @nanicjj @yunhofingers @cherr-heekisses

[im-so-normal-iswear]

HELLO!

May I request a Yandere Sonic, Shadow and Silver (seperate) with a fem reader where comes from a different reality where they are fictional and somehow the hedgehogs became attached and obsessed with reader, reader is very much aware of their behavior and is also one of the reasons why she wants to go home to her own reality fast.

Sending loves to youu!!🫶🏻🤍

A/n: poll on, so now I'm putting images, I couldn't find any good ones

Yandere triple s x reader

Sonic:

At first, you couldnct believe it, you were in Sonics world.

The rolling green hills, the endless loops, the vibrant colors of the world, it was surreal. And meeting Sonic? That was the best part.

He was exactly like you imagined. Charismatic, funny, energetic. You geeked out about meeting him, and he was amused by how much you already knew about him. Sonic took an immediate liking to you, eager to show you around and let you experience the world firsthand.

The first few days were a dream come true. Running through Green Hill Zone, meeting Tails, going toe-to-toe with Eggman (it was actually more like watching Sonic handle it while you stood on the sidelines). Everything felt like a perfect adventure, straight out of a game.

Then, things started getting... off.

It began subtly. Sonic insisted on staying close to you all the time. You figured it was just him being protective. After all, you were just a human, and this world was full of dangers. But the more time passed, the more suffocating it became.

He started pulling you away from the others, cutting conversations short when you were with Tails or Amy. At first, he made excuses, "Hey, let’s get outta here! I've got something way cooler to show ya!" but you quickly realized he was isolating you.you started getting weird dreams.

You dreamed of your real home, your reality, the place you desperately wanted to return to. But every time you woke up, Sonic was already there, sitting beside you with an unreadable expression.

"Another bad dream?" he asked, his voice casual.

When you admitted what it was about, his expression darkened.

"You really wanna go back, huh?" He leaned closer, his smile strained. "I don't get it. You've got me here. What's better than that?"

The moment you realized something was deeply wrong was when you tried asking Tails about ways to return home.

Sonic snapped.

One second, he was his usual self, the next, he had grabbed your wrist, his grip too tight.

"Why do you keep talking about that?" His voice wavered, his usual confident tone slipping into something more desperate. "Aren't you happy here? With me?"

You tried to reason with him, but his grip only tightened. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, had a wildness to them.

"You belong here now" he murmured, more to himself than to you.

From then on, he never left your side. Your freedom was a distant memory. Anytime you tried sneaking off to talk to Tails, Sonic was there. If you attempted to run, he caught you within seconds, always smiling, always acting like it was a game.

"Aw, c'mon, Y/N, you know you can't outrun me."

Every time you tried to bring up leaving, his mood shifted. His smiles became forced, his voice strained.

"Look." he eventually said one night, his voice eerily soft as he trapped you in his arms. "I don't care what reality you came from. This is where you stay."

No matter how fast you tried to run, Sonic would always be faster.

And he wasn't letting you go.

Shadow:

Unlike Sonic, Shadow wasn't immediately friendly.

He kept his distance when you first arrived in the world, observing you with narrowed, calculating eyes. He didn't trust you, not at first. You were an anomaly, something that shouldn't exist in his reality.

But as time passed, Shadow became curious about you. How did you know so much about him? Why did you seem so comfortable around him when most people feared him?

You intrigued him.

Slowly, he started spending more time around you. He was never openly affectionate, but he showed his care in small ways, keeping you close when woth others, ensuring you never strayed too far, glaring at anyone who got too friendly with you.

And then, one day, you mentioned wanting to go home.

Shadow froze.

"You want to leave?" His voice was cold, unreadable.

You explained everything, the fact that he and his world were fictional in your reality, that you had a life to return to. You expected him to be logical about it.

Instead, his expression darkened.

"No."

You turned back to him. "...No?"

Shadow stepped closer, his eyes burning into yours.

"You belong here. With me."

It wasn't a request. It was a statement.

That was when your nightmare truly began.

Shadow started following you everywhere, wether you were aware or not. Always watching, always near. If you ever tried to leave his sight, he'd appear within seconds, his expression always unreadable.

He sabotaged any attempt you made to leave. If you tried to seek help from Tails or Eggman, their machines mysteriously malfunctioned. If you ran, Shadow found you instantly, his Chaos Control ensuring you never got far.

He never hurt you, but his presence was suffocating. Every conversation ended the same way.

"You can't leave."

There was no reasoning with him.

Shadow wasn't keeping you here out of malice.

He was keeping you here because, to him, you were the only thing left worth protecting.

Even if it meant stealing your freedom.

Silver:

Silver was the sweetest at first.

He was kind, gentle, and eager to help you. When you arrived in his world, he was fascinated, your knowledge, your personality, your very existence intrigued him.

And for a while, everything was perfect.

Silver went out of his way to make you comfortable, ensuring you had everything you needed. He was protective, but not overbearing, at least, not at first.

But then, you mentioned going home.

Silver's expression fell, his ears flattening. "What...? You want to leave?"

You tried to explain, but his hands trembled as he grasped your shoulders.

"You can't leave." His voice wavered, his usual optimism crumbling. "I need you here."

From that moment on, Silver changed.

He became more desperate, always clinging to you one way or another, never being more than three feet from you.

Whenever you tried to argue, he just shook his head, pleading. "Please don't talk like that. I love you, Y/N."

He would do anything to keep you.

And if that meant trapping you in his world forever...

Then so be it.