#seriously the thirst traps are driving me insane

[mythicalmaven]

Practice makes perfect - Landoscar (ONESHOT)

masterlist

Here is a little extra upload to celebrate me reaching 100 followers! <3 My first Landoscar smut! Couldn't help myself guys! I hope you like it, let me know!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x lando norris ↳word count: 6.4K ↳warnings: smut, 18+ content (MDNI!), handjob (both receiving), oral sex, coming untouched, feelings, fluff, talking about sex, kissing, praising, feelings realization, explicit sexual content, friends to lovers

↳summary: Oscar doesn't now how to seduce a girl & Lando is there to help. Lando is basically offering that Oscar can practice with him, while he teaches him his ways. Whatever they were doing, it wasn't supposed to make Oscar feel the way it did. After all, Lando was only there to help. Yet it evolved their once purely platonic relationship into something deeper.

The first time it happened was race weekend. Oscar lay on the couch in his drivers' room, frustration building as he stared at his phone. With a growl of exasperation, he threw it against the wall, grateful for the indestructible case that protected it.

It took no more than ten seconds before Lando barged into the room, not even bothering to knock. "What the hell happened?"

Oscar groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Nothing, just... I'm so frustrated, man."

Lando raised an eyebrow, taking a seat opposite Oscar. "Frustrated about what?"

Oscar sighed heavily, lifting his head to meet Lando's concerned gaze. "I was scrolling through my feed and stumbled upon this video. Some edited thirst trap of me, saying how hot I am. And it just... it got to me."

Lando frowned. "Why? People think you're hot, that's a good thing, right?"

Oscar huffed, leaning back against the couch. "It is, but it feels like a cruel joke. People can think that way about me, but I can't even get a girl to look at me twice. Meanwhile, you just look at a girl, and she follows you to your bedroom."

Lando chuckled, shaking his head. "It's not as easy as you think, Oscar. But seriously, it shouldn't be that hard for you. What's the issue?"

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. "I freeze, Lando. I see a girl, and I can talk to her a little, but when it comes to seducing her, I just... I can't. I get to the point of kissing, but anything more intimate, I freeze up. I'm scared of screwing it up, so I don't even try. But it's driving me insane. I just want to get laid."

Lando's expression softened. "You need to loosen up a bit. Try being sensual, use lingering touches, suggestive words."

Oscar shook his head, looking helpless. "I don't know how to do any of that. I don't know what to say, where to touch. I'm not a virgin; I've had girlfriends before, but one-night stands? I just can't figure it out. I want to be able to seduce someone, to praise her, but I don't know how."

Lando's eyes glinted with a hint of mischief as he leaned closer. "I could help you, teach you a thing or two."

Oscar looked at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

Lando's smile turned suggestive. "You can practice on me."

Oscar's heart skipped a beat. He hesitated, the idea making his pulse race. "Wouldn't that make things weird? We're teammates."

Lando shrugged. "It's just a way to help a friend out. Nothing more."

Oscar gulped, nerves making his hands tremble. "How are you planning on doing that?"

Lando's smile widened. "I have two ideas. I could show you how I'd seduce a girl and do those things to you, or you could practice on me, and I'll guide you."

The tension in the room thickened as Oscar considered it. The mere idea of Lando touching him that way stirred unexpected arousal within him. Was he even into guys? He'd always found Lando handsome, but he'd never thought of him in that way. He tried to push those thoughts aside.

"Alright," Oscar said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's try it."

Lando's hand moved to Oscar's thigh, squeezing lightly. "We can try both methods, but let's start with a little practice. Pretend I'm someone in a club you're trying to seduce. I'll guide you."

Oscar nodded, his throat dry. Lando's hand crept upwards, inching closer, causing Oscar's breath to hitch. It shouldn't make him feel this way, but it did. Lando's touch was both electrifying and comforting.

"Relax," Lando murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Start with a light touch. Girls like it when you're gentle but confident."

Oscar placed a trembling hand on Lando's arm, trailing his fingers lightly over the fabric of his shirt. The heat of Lando's skin seeped through, making Oscar's pulse quicken.

"Good," Lando said, his eyes darkening with something Oscar couldn't quite place. "Now, try touching my neck. Most girls love that."

Oscar's fingers traced up to Lando's neck, the skin soft and smooth. He could feel Lando's pulse beneath his fingertips, matching the rapid beat of his own heart. He brushed his thumb over the pulse point, and Lando's breath hitched.

"Like this?" Oscar asked, his voice barely audible.

"Exactly," Lando breathed, his eyes half-lidded. "Now, compliment her. Tell her what you like about her."

Oscar's mind raced, struggling to find the right words. "You look... really good," he said, his voice shaky. "I like your eyes."

Lando chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down Oscar's spine. "Try to sound more confident. Mean it."

Oscar took a deep breath, steadying himself. "You look amazing. Your eyes are captivating."

Lando's hand moved higher up Oscar's thigh, and he bit back a moan. "Better. Then, try kissing her neck. Just lightly."

Oscar hesitated, then leaned in, his lips brushing against Lando's neck. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he felt Lando's breath catch. He kissed softly, trailing his lips up to Lando's jawline.

"That's it," Lando whispered, his voice rough with arousal. "Keep going."

Oscar's confidence grew with each kiss, his hands exploring Lando's body with increasing boldness. He could feel Lando's arousal mirroring his own, making him bolder. His hand trailed down to Lando's chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

Lando's hand moved to Oscar's jeans, palming him gently. Oscar gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily. "How does that feel?" Lando asked, his voice thick with desire.

"Amazing," Oscar managed to say, his voice strained. "It feels really good."

"Tell me what you like," Lando instructed, his hand working Oscar through his jeans.

"I... I like the way you touch me," Oscar said, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "It makes me feel..."

"Feel what?" Lando prompted, his hand squeezing lightly.

"Hot. Aroused," Oscar admitted, a moan escaping his lips. "I like how you look at me, how you make me feel."

Lando smiled, his eyes dark with lust. "Good. Now, let’s take it a step further. Guide my hand, show me what you want."

Oscar's hand trembled as he placed it over Lando's, guiding him to his zipper. The sound of it opening was loud in the quiet room, and Oscar's breath hitched as Lando's hand slipped inside. The warmth and firmness of Lando's hand wrapped around Oscar's hardness, sending a shiver through him.

"Tell me how it feels," Lando whispered, his hand starting to move slowly, teasingly.

"So good," Oscar moaned, his hips bucking into Lando's touch. "It feels so good."

Lando's movements were slow and deliberate, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through Oscar's body. He could feel himself nearing the edge, his control slipping. "Keep talking," Lando urged, his own voice strained with desire.

"You’re so good at this," Oscar managed to say, his voice breaking. "I can’t... I can’t hold back."

"Then don’t," Lando murmured, his lips brushing against Oscar's ear. "Let go, Oscar. I’ve got you."

Oscar bit his lip, trying to hold back the tide of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. He placed a trembling hand on Lando's wrist, stopping his movements. "Wait," he gasped, his voice hoarse. "Slow down a little, or I’ll come already. I don't want to yet. You need to teach me more."

Lando chuckled softly, a deep, throaty sound that sent a fresh wave of arousal through Oscar. "Alright, let's take it slow." He pulled his hand back slightly, easing the intensity. "While she's touching you like this, you can do things to drive her wild too. Try pulling her hair, kissing her neck, whispering in her ear."

Oscar nodded, his breath coming in short, heavy bursts. He reached up, his fingers tangling in Lando's hair, pulling gently. Lando's sharp intake of breath and the low moan that followed made Oscar's heart race.

"Good," Lando said, his voice rough. "That feels good, Oscar. Keep going."

Oscar's confidence grew with each response from Lando. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Lando's neck, kissing lightly. The feel of Lando's skin under his lips, the taste of salt and musk, was intoxicating. He nibbled gently, earning another moan from Lando.

"You’re doing great," Lando murmured, his own arousal evident. "Now, try whispering something in my ear. Tell me how good I make you feel."

Oscar's breath hitched as he moved closer to Lando's ear. "You make me feel incredible," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I've never felt like this before."

Lando's hand resumed its slow, deliberate movements on Oscar's hardness, drawing out the pleasure with expert precision. "And while you're doing that," Lando said, his voice a seductive purr, "keep touching me. Show me what you want."

Oscar's hand moved down Lando's body, trembling fingers finding the edge of Lando's shirt and slipping underneath, feeling the firm muscles of his abdomen. The sensation was dizzying, his own arousal mirrored in Lando's heavy breathing and darkened eyes.

"Lando," Oscar moaned, his hips bucking into Lando's hand again. "I need... I need more."

Lando's eyes gleamed with a mixture of lust and satisfaction. "Tell me what you need, Oscar. Don't hold back."

"I need you to touch me more," Oscar gasped, his control slipping further with each stroke of Lando's hand. "I need you to make me feel good."

Lando's hand moved with purpose now, each stroke precise and demanding, driving Oscar closer to the edge. Oscar's other hand found its way to Lando's jeans, mirroring Lando's earlier actions, feeling the hardness beneath and squeezing gently.

Lando's groan was deep and resonant, sending a fresh wave of desire through Oscar. "That's it," Lando encouraged, his voice thick. "Touch me like that. Show me what you want."

Oscar's movements became more confident, his hand working Lando's jeans open and slipping inside, finding the heated length of him. The feel of Lando in his hand, the sounds of his pleasure, pushed Oscar closer to the brink.

"Feels so good," Oscar murmured, his own voice raw with need. "You make me feel so good."

Lando's hand sped up, matching the rhythm of Oscar's strokes. The room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, the wet, slick sounds of their arousal. Oscar could feel the tension coiling in his stomach, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.

"Lando, I..." Oscar's words were cut off by a moan as Lando's thumb brushed over the sensitive tip of his length, sending him spiraling.

"Let go," Lando whispered, his lips brushing Oscar's ear again. "Come for me, Oscar. I've got you."

With a final, shuddering cry, Oscar let himself go, the pleasure crashing over him in waves, his release spilling over Lando's hand. Lando's own release followed shortly after, his groan of pleasure mingling with Oscar's moans.

They collapsed against each other, their breathing heavy and uneven, the room filled with the aftermath of their shared pleasure.

"See?" Lando said softly, his hand gently stroking Oscar's back. "You just needed to loosen up a bit."

Oscar nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely audible.

"Anytime," Lando replied, a smile in his voice. "Anytime."

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

The second time it happened was less than a week later. This time they were lounging together in Lando's hotel room, each a ps5 controller in hand, trying to beat each other in a game of Fifa.

Lando nudged Oscar with his own shoulder "Soooo.. Max mentioned that he saw you making out with a girl last night" he started, sending a cheeky wink his way "Have you tried to use your newly achieved skills?"

Oscar sighs. He did, he tried. Did it work? No. Was it because of the reason Lando expected it to fail? Also no. Was he gonna tell Lando to truth? Absolutely not.

"Yeah, I tried. But I froze" this part was true, he did freeze up the minute he was kissing the girl he met in the club, but not for the reason he expected "I just couldn't do it, you know"

Him failing to seduce the girl this time had nothing to do with the initial problem. It had to do with a certain boy with beautiful curls and captivating eyes. In all honesty, he couldn't stop thinking about Lando ever since he helped him out.

Oscar was conflicted with himself, confused about how he felt. He was at war with himself, trying to convince himself that he wasn't into Lando like that. He couldn't be and he shouldn't be. After all, Lando only helped him out to do him a favor, nothing more, nothing less.

Yet thinking about that curly haired boy was exactly why he failed to seduce the girl, or actually, why he pulled back and came up with a lame excuse as to why he had to go.

*flashback*

Oscar stood in the dimly lit club, the bass of the music thrumming through his body. The atmosphere was electric, filled with people dancing, drinking, and losing themselves in the night. He had decided that tonight he was going to put everything Lando had taught him into action. He had found a girl—blonde, beautiful, and more than willing to make out with him in a secluded corner. As they kissed, Oscar tried to remember all the tips Lando had given him: be confident, use lingering touches, whisper seductive words.

To anyone watching, it looked like Oscar was succeeding. His hands moved over her body with practiced ease, his lips tracing along her neck just as Lando had shown him. But inside, Oscar was a mess. Every touch, every kiss felt wrong. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lando. In his mind, it was Lando he was kissing, Lando he was trying to seduce. The girl’s hands were too soft, too feminine, and they did nothing to arouse him. He hated himself for wishing they were Lando’s hands, rougher and more familiar.

He tried to push the thoughts away, focusing on the girl in front of him. His hand tangled in her long blonde locks, a gesture that normally would have excited him. But tonight, it just felt empty. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it wasn’t Lando’s hair slipping through his fingers. Each moment felt like a betrayal, both to the girl and to himself.

They pulled away from the kiss, and Oscar felt a wave of guilt crash over him. Guilt for how he was feeling about Lando and guilt for leading this girl on. He looked into her eyes, trying to muster some genuine enthusiasm, but all he felt was confusion and regret.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?” she asked, her voice hopeful and soft.

Oscar swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, his voice shaky. “I don’t want to do something I’m not sure about.”

The girl looked slightly disappointed, but her expression quickly softened. “It’s okay,” she said kindly. “I appreciate your honesty. More guys should be like you.”

Oscar forced a smile, relieved and yet more guilt-ridden. “It’s really not about you,” he said sincerely. “You’re beautiful, and you deserve to spend the night with someone who really wants it.”

She smiled warmly, her eyes full of understanding. “Thank you for saying that. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

A thought immediately made its appearance: I'm afraid I already did

With a polite nod, they went their separate ways. Oscar watched her disappear into the crowd, feeling the weight of his guilt settle deeper. He felt guilty for misleading her, and even more guilty for his feelings towards Lando. He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t.

As he walked through the club, the sounds and sights fading into the background, Oscar couldn’t help but think about Lando. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he knew the truth. His feelings for Lando were more than just friendly admiration. And that realization terrified him.

*end of flashback*

"It honestly surprises me how one F1's biggest hotshots isn't able to get with a girl" he chuckled, while scoring a goal in Fifa against Oscar's team "I expected girls to just get on their knees for you without you even having to say a word"

Did he just call Oscar hot? He did, didn't he?

Oscar shrugged "I'm not even that attractive tho" he retorted, speaking in all honesty.

Lando rolled his eyes “Yeah right, and I'm six feet tall,” he objected, shaking his head. “Come on, Osc, look in the mirror. You're handsome as fuck. Don't be so insecure.”

Oscar sighed, trying to distract himself by focusing on the game he was playing. “Whatever,” he muttered, still not really believing what Lando said. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, you know? I just can’t do it.”

Lando paused the game and turned to face Oscar, his expression softening. “Maybe you just need more practice,” he suggested. “How about another session? I can show you exactly what I would do if you want.”

Oscar's heart skipped a beat. He barely nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Lando scooted closer, their knees touching. “Alright,” he began, his voice low and soothing. “First, let’s start with the basics.” He placed his hand on Oscar’s thigh, his touch lingering. “When you’re with a girl, it’s important to make her feel wanted. Touch her like this.” His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on Oscar’s thigh.

Oscar’s breath hitched, his body responding to Lando’s touch in ways he hadn’t expected. Lando continued, his voice a seductive whisper. “Now, when you kiss her neck, don’t just peck. Use your tongue, but gently. Like this.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against Oscar’s neck before planting a soft kiss. “Most girls love it when you kiss their neck. It’s sensitive.”

Oscar shivered, his eyes fluttering shut. He tried to imagine he was with a girl, but all he could think about was Lando. “What else?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Pull her hair, but gently,” Lando instructed, his hand sliding up to Oscar’s hair. He gave a gentle tug, eliciting a soft moan from Oscar. “See? It’s about being in control, but also being tender.”

Oscar’s mind was spinning. He was aroused, confused, and desperate for more. Lando’s touch was driving him wild. “Lando,” he breathed, “I… I can’t…”

Lando smiled softly, his hand reaching up to cup Oscar’s face with a tenderness that made Oscar’s breath hitch. “It’s okay,” Lando murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “You’re doing great.” He leaned in closer, their lips almost touching, the warmth of his breath mingling with Oscar’s. “When you’re ready to kiss her, make it count. The way you use your hands, the way you use your tongue… it can make a world of difference.” His eyes locked with Oscar’s, a glint of mischief and confidence in his gaze. “Can I show you what I mean?”

Oscar, heart racing, could barely manage a whisper. “Yes.”

Lando closed the distance, his lips brushing softly against Oscar’s in a kiss that was both gentle and teasing. The initial contact was light, just a whisper of sensation that sent shivers down Oscar’s spine. Lando’s lips moved with deliberate, slow caresses, exploring the contours of Oscar’s mouth with a finesse that was both sensual and instructive. He traced the shape of Oscar’s lips with his own, occasionally grazing them with the tip of his tongue, sending jolts of warmth and anticipation through Oscar’s body.

Lando’s hand slid behind Oscar’s neck, fingers splayed as he pulled him closer. The intimacy of the touch made Oscar feel like he was floating, his heart pounding so fiercely it felt almost painful. Lando’s tongue danced against Oscar’s in a languid, practiced rhythm, coaxing and teasing with an expert touch. It was a kiss that spoke of patience and precision, drawing out the nuances of every movement, every flutter of the tongue.

When Lando finally pulled back slightly, his lips still hovering near Oscar’s, he met his gaze with a playful glint. “See, the key is to start off gentle, to let the kiss build up. It helps you gauge how she responds, and it makes the moment feel more intense when you decide to deepen it.”

Oscar’s eyes were wide, his breath ragged from the previous kiss. “It felt… incredible.”

Lando’s smile widened as he leaned in again, this time with a more intense purpose. “But you can also kiss her like this.” His lips captured Oscar’s once more, but this time with a fervor that was anything but restrained. The kiss was fiery and unrelenting, every touch of Lando’s tongue bold and demanding. He explored the inside of Oscar’s mouth with an urgent passion, as if trying to consume him with the intensity of the moment.

Oscar’s response was immediate and visceral. He moaned softly into the kiss, the sound muffled but filled with a raw, breathless need. His hands tightened on Lando’s shoulders, his body pressing closer, overwhelmed by the sensation. The kiss was a whirlwind of heat and sensation that left Oscar gasping, his mind momentarily blank as he tried to keep up with the intoxicating rhythm.

When Lando finally pulled away, his eyes were dark with satisfaction. “That’s the kind of kiss that leaves a mark, something she’ll remember. It’s not just about technique—it’s about making her feel every bit of passion you’ve got.”

Oscar was breathless, his lips tingling and his chest rising and falling rapidly. The kiss had left him reeling, his emotions a tangled mess of excitement and confusion. He looked at Lando, still trying to process the overwhelming rush of feelings.

Lando chuckled softly, his thumb brushing across Oscar’s flushed cheek, his lips grazing Oscar’s as he spoke. “Touch me,” he instructed. “It makes it easier for me to show you how to praise a girl"

Oscar hesitated for a moment before his hands started to explore Lando’s body, sliding under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. “Your hands feel so good, Osc” he murmured, his voice trembling.

Lando's hand moved to palm Oscar through his jeans, causing him to gasp. “See how good that feels?” Lando whispered. “Tell her that you love the way she's responding to you. Tell her how much you like it.” He pressed his palm more firmly, eliciting a louder moan from Oscar.

“Lando… I need… I can’t…” Oscar stuttered, his body trembling with arousal, still trying to fight against the feelings he developed for his teammate.

Lando smiled, his hand continuing its slow, torturous movements. “You can, Osc. You’re doing amazing. Just let it happen.” He leaned in to kiss Oscar’s neck again, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “It’s all about making her feel desired, cherished.”

Oscar’s moans grew louder, his body arching into Lando’s touch. “Lando, please… I…”

“Do you want me to stop?” Lando asked, his voice husky.

“No, just… slow down a bit,” Oscar pleaded. “I don’t want to come in my pants like a fucking teenager”

Lando chuckled softly, his hand slowing its movements. “Alright, we can take our time.” He guided Oscar’s hand to his own crotch. “Touch me now, Oscar. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Oscar’s hand trembled as he began to touch Lando through his jeans. The sounds Lando made in response sent shivers down Oscar’s spine. “You’re doing great,” Lando praised, his voice breathless. “Tell her how much you want her.”

Oscar tried to form coherent sentences, but all that came out were stuttered words and moans. “You feel… so good, Lando. I want… I need…”

Lando took Oscar’s hands and gently slid them under the hem of his shirt, guiding them to his back. “Feel my back with your fingers, Osc,” he murmured, his voice a blend of encouragement and intimacy. “I love it when someone touches my back like that. It’s like a spark of connection, you know?” He paused, a hint of color rising to his cheeks as he realized his slip. With a sheepish grin, he added, “Uh, but yeah, you can definitely use the same touch on her too.”

Oscar’s fingers glided over Lando’s back, tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. As he explored, a smile spread across his face, touched by the unexpected intimacy of the moment. He couldn’t help but let out a soft, appreciative moan, both from the sensation and Lando’s accidental confession.

His eyes met Lando’s with a mix of gratitude and playfulness. “You know,” Oscar said, his voice warm and sincere, “you deserve to enjoy this as much as I do. After all, you’re the one helping me figure all this out.”

He continued his gentle exploration, his touch lingering as he enjoyed the closeness and the subtle shift in their dynamic. The connection between them felt deeper, a shared understanding making the moment all the more special.

Lando’s hand slipped into Oscar’s boxers, his touch deliberate and confident as he wrapped around him firmly. The sensation of Lando’s warm fingers gripping him sent shivers through Oscar’s body, heightening the intensity of his pleasure.

“You’re so vocal, Oscar,” Lando said, his voice a low purr of satisfaction. “That’s good. Girls love hearing how much they’re pleasing you.” He began to move his hand with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each stroke methodical and teasing. He varied the pressure, alternating between light caresses and firmer grips, making sure to focus on every sensitive area with precision "Do you like having my hands on you? Tell me how it feels, Osc"

Oscar’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, his body trembling with each calculated stroke. “Feels… amazing,” he managed to gasp out, his voice trembling. “So good…”

Lando’s other hand moved up to tangle gently in Oscar’s hair, his fingers brushing softly against his scalp as he pulled him closer. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice husky with admiration. “So responsive. It’s hot, Oscar.”

The praise and the careful, attentive touch only heightened Oscar’s sensations. His moans grew louder, each one escaping his lips in a desperate, breathless rush. Lando’s hand moved with a practiced rhythm, his strokes growing increasingly intense as he built Oscar closer to the edge. He varied the speed, sometimes dragging his fingers slowly and deliberately, and other times quickening the pace just enough to drive Oscar wild.

Oscar’s entire body was on fire, every nerve ending heightened by Lando’s touch. His hands gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white, as he struggled to hold onto his composure. The waves of pleasure were cresting higher, leaving him gasping for breath.

“Lando…” Oscar managed to whimper, his voice breaking with the overwhelming sensation. “I’m… I’m so close…”

Lando’s fingers tightened ever so slightly, his strokes becoming more focused and deliberate, drawing out the tension with a teasing, almost sadistic precision. “I know, baby. Almost, just a little longer,” Lando coaxed softly, the endearment slipping from his lips before he realized it.

Oscar’s head fell back, his moans escalating as he neared the peak. The build-up was relentless, every touch and caress pushing him closer until he was on the brink, unable to hold back any longer. “I-I can’t, Lan…”

“You can, Osc. I know you can,” Lando said firmly, his voice both encouraging and commanding. He continued his movements with a deliberate rhythm, his touch skillful and unwavering. The combination of gentle and intense strokes, along with the steady pressure of his hand, kept Oscar right on the edge of his climax.

Lando’s eyes were focused on Oscar, watching every shiver, every trembling gasp as he worked to drive him to the brink. He maintained a steady pace, every movement calculated to heighten the pleasure. “Feel it, Osc. You’re so close.”

Oscar’s body was taut with anticipation, each stroke and caress amplifying the intensity of his pleasure. His moans grew more urgent, more desperate, as he fought to hold on for just a little longer. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body shaking uncontrollably.

Lando, feeling the culmination of their shared moment, pressed his lips fiercely against Oscar’s, capturing him in a heated, passionate kiss. The kiss was fervent and consuming, Lando’s tongue dancing with Oscar’s as he continued to stroke him.

Oscar’s moans vibrated against Lando’s lips, the overwhelming pleasure and the heat of the kiss combining into a heady mix. Lando’s kiss was insistent and greedy, a way of anchoring their shared experience in a moment of pure, unrestrained intimacy.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, Oscar’s body convulsed in a powerful release, a shuddering climax that left him breathless and weak.

"F-fuck, Lando" he moaned as the waves of pleasure hit him, his moans were muffled but intense, his head falling back in ecstasy. His release spilling over Lando’s hand. He collapsed against Lando, panting and trembling, while Lando continued to stroke him gently, prolonging the lingering aftershocks of his orgasm.

Once Oscar had regained his senses, he looked at Lando with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. “Do you want me to help you out?” he asked, his voice still shaky.

Lando smiled, shaking his head. “I- Euh-" he stuttered a little, confident Lando norris, at loss for words "I-I already came,” he confessed, glancing down at the wet patch on his jeans. “You were so hot, I couldn’t hold back"

Oscar felt a strange sense of satisfaction and relief. He leaned in and kissed Lando softly, their lips lingering for a moment. “Fucking hell, that's so hot"

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

The third time it happened was during the race weekend in Miami. It started out innocent. The two of them texting the night before race day, before evolving into more after Lando claimed his maiden win.

*Flashback*

Oscar was laying in his hotel bed, his phone in his hands as he texted his teammate. Nerves pooling in his stomach, afraid to text Lando what he was planning on.

Oscar: I think I've figured out why I always fail to get a girl

Lando: 👀

Oscar: I think I might be into guys.

Lando: Well, I'm surprised you didn't figure that out sooner😂

Oscar: What's that supposed to mean?

Lando: Osc, you wouldn't have been able to get your dick up when I touched you, if you weren't into guys. Lando: And you most certainly wouldn't have spilled all over my hands, twice🤭

Oscar: Whoops🫠

Lando: Don't worry about it too much, Osc. There's nothing wrong with being into guys

Oscar: Don't get me wrong, I like girls, I really do. Oscar: But I think I prefer guys when it comes to one night stands🫣

Lando: Hey, that makes two of us then. Lando: Although I must admit that I prefer guys in general

*end of flashback*

Lando had done it; he’d actually won the race. The pride and elation surged through Oscar as he watched Lando on the top step of the podium, the victory sparkling in every corner of the grandstand. The sight of Lando, tears streaming down his face and a look of sheer relief, was a moment of pure emotion. Oscar’s heart swelled with pride and joy, mirroring Lando’s tears as he felt the victory was as much his as it was Lando’s.

After Lando had finished all his obligatory duties, Oscar awaited him in the driver’s room, sitting on the couch with barely contained anticipation.

The door finally opened, and Lando walked in, his racing suit hanging low on his waist, the fireproofs clinging to his body, drenched in champagne, his emotions visibly overwhelming him. He was surprised to see Oscar there, his gaze meeting Oscar's as he closed the door behind him. “Hi,” Lando murmured, the grin on his face as wide as it had been on the podium.

Oscar sprang from the couch and hurled himself into Lando’s arms, his voice a whisper of fervent pride as he buried his face in Lando’s neck. “I’m so proud of you, Lan,” he murmured, his hands wrapping around Lando’s waist, feeling the damp fabric of the fireproofs.

Lando smiled, pulling Oscar closer, his arms encircling him tightly. “I finally did it, Osc. I finally did it,” he whispered back, the joy in his voice palpable.

Oscar reluctantly pulled away from the embrace, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and desire. He guided Lando backwards until his back hit the closed door, trapping him between the door and Oscar’s body. With a purposeful, suggestive look, Oscar lowered himself to his knees, his eyes sparkling with a cheeky grin. “Can I?” he asked, his hands sliding to the hem of Lando’s race suit that hung low on his hips. “I wanna make you feel good. You deserve it.”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and curiosity crossing his face. “Is this because you figured out you're into guys? Do you want me to teach you how to give a blowjob, just in case you need it in the club next time?” His voice held a small pang of hurt, a hint of insecurity clouding his expression.

Oscar looked confused for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

Lando explained, “I realized we only focused on how to please a girl last time, so I assumed you wanted to do this for that reason.”

Oscar stood up, cupping Lando’s cheeks with a sincere gaze. “Lan, can we please stop pretending that us being intimate is just about teaching me how to seduce someone else? We both know it stopped serving that purpose the moment you made me cum for the first time.” He rested his forehead against Lando’s, his voice soft but firm. “I don’t want you to teach me how to please someone else. I want you to teach me how to please you.”

Lando, his heart pounding, grabbed Oscar by the collar of his fireproofs and pulled him into a searing kiss. The kiss was intense, a wild torrent of emotions and need that surged between them. Lando’s lips crashed against Oscar’s with a fervor that spoke of their shared passion and connection. Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, exploring and grasping, the heat between them building rapidly.

Oscar’s hands slid up Lando’s chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath the damp fireproofs. He pulled Lando’s suit down around his ankles, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the anticipation and the intimate closeness. As he looked up at Lando, his voice was a hushed plea. “Please, let me make you feel good.”

Oscar, his hands steady but his heart racing, looked up at Lando with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Can you guide me? Tell me what you like and how to do it right? I've never done this before”

Lando’s eyes softened with affection, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Of course,” he replied, his voice husky with desire. “I’d love nothing more.” His hand gently cupped the back of Oscar’s head, guiding him with a tender touch.

Oscar’s hands continued their slow exploration, his fingers brushing against Lando’s exposed skin. Lando’s breathing quickened as Oscar’s lips made contact with him, the initial touch gentle and exploratory.

“Start slow,” Lando instructed softly, his voice a blend of encouragement and need. “Use your lips to explore first. Pay attention to how I respond. Feel what makes me shiver or moan.”

Oscar nodded, taking his time to follow Lando’s guidance. His lips brushed softly against Lando's thigh, his kisses light and teasing. Each touch was deliberate, a tender exploration that drew a soft gasp from Lando. He then slowly to the head of Lando's erection between his lip, the gentle pressure of Oscar’s mouth was met with a deep, approving sigh from Lando.

As Oscar continued, his confidence grew with every positive reaction from Lando. He varied his technique, experimenting with different pressures and movements. “You’re doing so well,” Lando murmured, his voice thick with appreciation. “Just like that… so good…”

Oscar’s nerves began to melt away under the weight of Lando’s praise. He took in every word, using it to guide his actions. Lando’s breath became ragged, his hands gripping Oscar’s shoulders gently but firmly as he guided him through the rhythm.

“Try using your tongue more,” Lando suggested, his voice strained with pleasure. “Circle it slowly, and then flick it lightly. I'll love how that feels” He demonstrated with his own movements, showing Oscar how to add variety and depth to the experience.

Oscar followed Lando’s instructions with dedication, his tongue tracing delicate patterns that elicited more shivers and moans. Each new technique he tried was met with further encouragement from Lando. “That’s perfect,” Lando gasped, his voice breaking slightly. “Just like that… keep going…”

The intensity of the moment built gradually, with Lando’s reactions guiding Oscar’s pace. The pleasure between them was palpable, a growing heat that enveloped them both. Oscar’s arousal grew alongside Lando’s, each stroke and touch fueling his desire to give Lando the best experience possible.

At one point, Oscar pulled back slightly, his breath warm against Lando’s skin. “You taste incredible,” he said, his voice hushed with awe and desire. The admission was honest and heartfelt.

Lando’s eyes widened in surprise, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “You can’t say things like that,” he murmured, his breath hitching with the intensity of his arousal. “Unless you want me to cum right here and now.”

Oscar’s determination only intensified with Lando’s comment. He leaned in closer, his mouth working with renewed vigor. The prospect of making Lando lose control spurred him on, his movements becoming more confident and focused.

The build-up continued, each touch and every movement Oscar made with his tongue driving Lando closer to the edge. Oscar’s dedication was unwavering, his hands and mouth working in harmony with Lando’s guidance. The room was filled with the sounds of their shared pleasure, Lando’s moans growing louder and more urgent.

As Lando neared his climax, he tried to gently pull Oscar away, his voice breathless and strained. “Osc, I’m close… You don’t have to…”

Oscar, however, was undeterred. He pressed on, his determination only growing stronger. “No, I want this,” he said, his voice filled with fervent desire. “I want you right here"

Lando, overwhelmed by the sensation and Oscar’s unwavering resolve, finally reached his peak. His body tensed and shuddered as he came, the intensity of the moment making his breath come in ragged gasps. Oscar continued to pleasure him, working Lando all the way through his orgasm.

Afterward, Oscar rose from his knees, his face flushed with both exertion and satisfaction. He captured Lando’s lips in a searing, passionate kiss, the taste of Lando mingling with his own excitement. Their kiss was a fiery connection, filled with all the love and desire that had built up between them.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other’s, both panting heavily. Lando’s eyes were filled with a mix of adoration and vulnerability. “God, I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Oscar’s smile was radiant, his eyes glistening with affection. “I’m in love with you too, Lan.”

Their words hung in the air, a testament to the depth of their feelings and the intense connection they had just shared.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

[boldlyvoid]

Scare Tactics

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: Surprisingly, Aaron agreed to a darker roleplay this Halloween.

Warnings: Ghostface role play, scene planning and negotiations, taking about safewords and limits, CNC, stalking, stalker phone calls, fake break-ins, handcuffs, oral (male receiving), deep throating, rough sex, degradation, name calling, slight pet/owner kink mentioned, begging, vibrators, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampies, domdrop, aftercare

Word Count: 6100

When he gets in that night, it’s late. Pushing midnight, late. That’s not really a shock to her, he’s always got something going on. Between driving his son everywhere he needs to be, working on the PTA and teaching night classes at the local college, Aaron Hotchner is a busy man. Always has been, and always will be.

She’s in bed, scrolling through things on her phone as she waits for him to arrive. She is just catching up on the newest trends and celebrity gossip when she hears his heavy feet coming up the creaky old steps of their century home. While it is a beautiful place to lay low in the middle of nowhere, the sounds it made— especially at night— were insanely creepy.

The TikTok she’s watching doesn’t help either… she’s been listening to creepy Reddit stories and looking at home footage of spooky happenings. The videos she’s seen the most tonight, however, are ghost face videos. Be it thrust traps or couples going to the store to buy a mask to enhance alone time later that night, she’s seen them all.

There’s one on her screen as Aaron opens their door, she quickly locks her phone and looks at him with a guilty smile.

His old profiler ways clock in on the awkwardness right away, “What were you doing?”

“Nothing,” she presses her lips together and shakes her head, pretending she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Wait… were you watching porn?” He asks. Eyes narrowed in on her, waiting to read her reaction.

She laughs, “no? Oh my god? I mean…. It’s not, but it definitely does something to me.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, “well, now you have to tell me?”

She sighs, thinking how she’s going to explain it to him of all people. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”

“Too late,” he teases.

She shoves him, “Seriously, it’s weird… I don’t even like the movies but—

“Oh, you were looking at thirst traps again?” He’s only recently learned that term.

She can’t help but smile, “Yeah… do you know the scream movies?” He nods. “There’s a trend right now where couples are having sex while the dominant partner has the ghost face mask on.”

“It is like a full role play? Breaking in? Phone calls? Knife play?” He asks as if they’re setting boundaries already, planning a kinky scene is something they’ve done a few times. He likes to know all the limits, the expectations and what turns her on about it before they agree to anything.

“Wait, you’d do it?” She asks, sitting up straighter. “Seriously?”

He nods, “if it’s something that’ll get you off, why not?”

She tosses the blankets back and gets to her knees, he pulls her into his lap and holds her by her hips. She cups his face and presses a quick kiss to his lips, “so you don’t think it’s weird?”

He shakes his head, “Not at all… mask kinks are incredibly common.”

“And if I did want you to pretend to stalk me and break in and overpower me…”

“I’d need some prep time, I’ll have to have a free day the next day and Jack can’t be in the house that night,” he explains his boundaries. “I’ll, of course, give you aftercare right after and when you’re okay, we can switch?”

She pets his hair and nods, “Of course, my love. I’ll take the best care of you after. I appreciate everything you’re willing to do for me.”

“You just have to get the mask and maybe we can talk about the specifics of a script or series of events for the night,” he whispers, brushing his nose against hers. “Maybe you can get something new to wear during it?”

She likes the sound of that, but she just has one question. “Black or red?”

—

He gets a burner phone a week before the scene is set to happen. He doesn’t tell her thats what he’s done but when he’s getting ready to leave for work one night he smirks from the closet and says “if you get a phone call from an unknown number… be sure to answer, okay?”

She knows he has a class tonight, he has Introduction to Legal Skills from 6-8 and then Trial Advocacy from 9-11:30. Jack goes to bed around 10:30, so she knows he’ll call sometime after Jack's in bed. Otherwise, he could hear the conversation and either be scared for life knowing his parents had kinky sex or grow concerned that his stepmom had a real stalker after her. And he’s been traumatized enough for a 17-year-old boy.

Sure enough, her phone rings at 11:45 while she’s in the living room, on her phone with the TV on in the background.

“Hello?” She answers, a fake sense of nervousness in her voice.

“What are you watching, Y/N?” He asks, his voice deeper than usual. Almost scarily deep.

“Excuse me?” She can’t believe he’s really doing this. “Who is this?”

“Have you never watched a scary movie before? You should know asking that is a death wish,” he teases. “But you never answered my question.”

“How do you even know I’m watching TV?” She asks, it’s not like the sound is up. She looks out the window to make sure he’s not out there, completely forgetting that they have security cameras inside and he can access them on his real cellphone.

“You’re on the couch, in a cute little black tank top and shorts… aren’t you cold? It’s October.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know a lot more than you think,” he taunts.

“Then shouldn’t I know something about you too?” She asks, turning it back on him. “Don’t you think that’s fair?”

“Hmm… I suppose it would, but isn’t part of the fun all in the mystery?”

“You must know my husband used to be an FBI agent so—

“Ah yes, agent Hotchner,” he laughs. “Retired, haunted, old man, Aaron Hotchner.”

“He can still kick your ass,” she assures. Both scaring this character and stroking his ego at the same time. “And enjoy doing it.”

“We’ll see about that.” He says before hanging up.

It makes shivers run down her spine and all the hair on her body stands tall. If she didn’t know this was actually him, it would be incredibly terrifying. Yet for some reason, she’s more turned on right now than anything.

When he gets home that night, she’s still in the living room. Waiting for him. He puts his bag down, kicks off his shoes and hangs up his coat before making his way over to her and crashing down onto the couch. He lays his head into her lap and she brushes his hair back, “tough class?”

He nods, “they asked so many questions. It’s literally not even that hard.”

“Awe,” she sympathizes. “Not everyone is as smart as you, handsome.”

“How was your night?” He looks up at her with a smile.

“Good, Jack drove us to get some ice cream tonight and he was actually really good at it this time and then I got a weird phone call…”

“Huh,” he raises his brows quickly. “Weird… do you know who it was?”

“No idea.”

“Well, just keep an eye on it,” he advises. The profiler in him wants to say don’t answer the phone again but the game was too fun. He wanted her to answer again, he wanted to tease her, he wanted to make it as real as possible.

This was going to be a fun week.

—

She gets a call every night that week. The calls last anywhere from a minute to 10, depending on how long she can keep him talking in his sexy deep voice. She switches into a cute little night dress before their next conversation and she sits on the couch facing their security camera with the hem of her nightgown pushed up a bit too high… giving him a show.

“So…” she asks, wishing she had an old corded phone to twirl around her fingers. “What do you look like? Are you cute at least?”

He snickers, “That’s your question today? Really?”

“Yep, I mean if you’re going to stalk me and find me and make me yours, you better be hot,” she teases him.

“I’m… average, I guess?” He struggles to compliment himself.

“I figured you wouldn’t be as handsome as my husband…”

He sighs, “I’m going to make you pay for all these comments.”

She laughs, “okay… I’m sure.”

“Taunting a psychopath is never a good—

“That’s a lie, I know from my husband that sometimes taunting them is what they need. Sometimes they’re such losers that this is all an act, pissing them off makes them slip up and expose themself… so is this all an act? Are you secretly a loser who needs attention? What, did your mommy not love you enough growing up? Or was it daddy beating you that made you this way?”

“You’ve got two days,” he reminds her. “I’m going to get you.”

He hangs up and she smirks, she loves riling him up like this. She knows that once he gets his hands on her, once he has that mask on, she’s in for the ride of her life.

—

Sure enough, the Friday before Halloween, Jack heads out to a party and says he’ll be sleeping over at a friend's house that night. His phone is charged, his costume is on and his ride is about to pull up to their driveway.

“You remember you can call either one of us, at any time of the night, and we will come get you,” she reminds him. “No matter what state you’re in… I understand that drinking is something you’ll probably do tonight, and I won’t tell your dad, but go easy. Have water between beers and don’t drink from a cup you didn’t pour yourself or one you left unattended no matter how much time passed. And if you feel weird, uncomfortable or you just want to come home, you call me.”

“I know, Mom,” he assures her, looking at her with that annoyed teenager look.

“And drugs… please, please be careful. Peer pressure is real, being curious is okay, but don’t do anything intense. Smoking copious amounts of weed before the age of 27 can stop your brain from fully forming and other drugs can literally kill you because you have no idea what they’re mixed with—

“Mom, I’m not going to do drugs tonight,” he cuts her off, looking as serious as his father can.

“Okay,” she lets out a deep breath just as the headlights shine through their stained glass front door. “Give me a hug,” she says, arms open and waiting for him.

He steps into her space and holds her tight, “I love you, be safe.”

“I love you too, I’ll text you when I’m on my way home tomorrow.”

“And before you go to bed too, please? Even if its just a heart emoji, I want to know you’re going to bed, I don’t care what time it comes in,” she stares him down before letting him pull away. “I love you.”

“Okay, okay,” he smiles. “I’ve got it, I’m going now. Have a good night.”

“Oh, I will,” she smirks.

“Gross!” He calls out as he heads out the door, skips down the stairs and heads out to his friend's mom's car. She waves at them, gets a wave from the driver back and then they’re gone.

She locks the door once he’s gone, turns off the lights downstairs and heads up to her room where she changes into the new lingerie she bought at Aaron’s request and she lights a few candles around her room. She grabs the mask from her closet as well as a black silk robe and black boxer briefs and she lays them all on the table in the entryway downstairs with a note that says “Wear me.”

She goes to the kitchen and gets them some snacks for after, a couple water bottles and his bottle of scotch with a glass in case that’s what he wants after. He needs to be able to relax and unwind and know he did a good job and he’s not a bad guy for divulging in this role-play for her. If anything, he’s the best man in the world being able to do this for his wife.

And she waits in her room.

The first call she gets is from Aaron, 10 minutes after his class ends.

“Hey baby,” she answers quickly.

“Are we still on for tonight?” He double-checked, making sure nothing had changed between his leaving for work and now.

“Mhm, I’m waiting for Mr. Ghostface to arrive,” she whispers, voice low and dark. Making sure he knows just how ready she is.

“And you remember the safe word?”

She hums again, “I do, and we can both use it, remember?”

“I will if I need to,” he says and she can hear the smile on his face. “Did Jack leave okay?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago,” she assures. “We’re all good to go unless he calls and needs to come home.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Aaron’s positive. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Sure?”

“You put my mask downstairs?”

“I did,” she smirks. “And an outfit…”

“Oh, okay,” he sounds so excited. “Can you put my handcuffs down there too?”

“Are they in the safe?” She double-checks, cause the last time she saw them they were in his bedside drawer…

“They are…”

She gets up from the bed, goes into their closet and presses her thumb to the sensor, he could probably hear the lock click as the door swings open. He has 2 guns and his cuffs right there, sitting on top of their important documents and her most expensive jewelry.

“I’ll leave them downstairs for you,” she says as she takes them out and shuts the safe once more. “Anything else you want?”

“Just you,” he teases.

“okay well, I’ve got another phone call I’m expecting, so I should let you go,” she says while heading back down the stairs.

“Can we just pause for a sec?” He asks.

“Mhm, what’s up?”

“So you still want me to pretend to break in? We’re still doing everything we talked about?” He asks again, obviously nervous.

“Hey, we don’t have to do any of it if you’ve changed your mind?” She assures. “I mean it, we can just do something vanilla tonight, we don’t have to do a scene.”

“I want to make you happy—

“I won’t have fun if you don’t,” she resets the boundaries. “You tell me what you want to do and that’s what we’ll do.”

“I’m going to call you from outside, I’m going to make my way in and I’m going to sneak up the stairs and find you in the bedroom where I’m going to restrain you by cuffing you to the bedpost and have my way with you,” he lays out the series of events. “We’ll have sex, I’ll free you, I’ll take care of you until you calm down and then I would like some cuddles.”

“I have water and snacks in here waiting for us to be done, would you like a bath after?” She asks.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” he says and she can hear him smile again. “Okay, good. Good, we’re ready to go.”

“I love you,” she whispers. “I’m so excited to try this.”

“I love you more,” he reminds her and then he’s off. They say their final goodbye and she heads back upstairs to her room to await her hell prince.

—

She sees his headlights as he pulls into the driveway but she doesn’t hear his door shut, they just go out. That’s when her phone rings again.

“You again,” she teases right away. “Let me guess you know I’m home alone and you just wanna ‘talk’?”

“I just wanted to hear your pretty voice one last time,” he says with his deepest voice, it’s almost a growl.

Chills run down her spine once more. He’s way too good at this.

“What?” She asks, fear on her tongue.

“I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”

“I’m not going anywhere?”

“You’re right… I’m coming to you.”

The line clicks and all she’s left with is the sound of her heartbeat in her ears… and her panties. Well, lack thereof. This set didn’t really leave much to the imagination. It was perfect to tear off. Easy to cut if need be. And currently, soaked.

Her ears feel like they’re on fire as she tries her hardest to listen to what’s going on downstairs. Either he’s being extra quiet or he’s not in the house yet. But he will be. He’ll change and he’ll climb the stairs and push her door open and take her. And she’ll take him. She’ll take him so good he’ll want to wear this fucking mask all the goddamn time.

And then the stairs of their century home creak, one by one as he climbs them ever so slowly. Slower than ever before. They creek and pop, they whine and echo down the hall towards her bedroom. There are only two times that these stairs sounding this awful are so helpful and it’s during role-plays like this and when their teenager sneaks out at night.

He makes his way down the hallway, towards the bedroom door and he looks through the crack. Mask on, that classic screaming, white face shines through the dark. He pushes the door open, making it squeal on rusty hinges. They really need to fix those.

“Aaron?” She calls out.

“Think again,” he teases, voice muffled behind the mask but still deep.

She scoots up the bed, drawing her knees in closer to her body as she cowers away. Checking him out in the meantime. The way he’s hard in his boxers, how his robe opens to show off his cute tummy and salt and pepper treasure trail… he’s delicious and all hers.

He creeps forward, “Don’t you know the rules to survival in a horror movie?” She shakes her head in fear. “Rule number one, sex equals death.”

“I wasn’t—

“But you were ready for it,” he points at her with his free hand and she notices how he’s gripping his cuffs with the other. He starts to twirl the cuff around his finger while chuckling deep from within. “What a shame he leaves a sexy thing like you home all by yourself most nights…”

“He’ll be home any—

“No, he won’t,” he taunts, and she can hear the smirk on his face. “I’ll be long finished with you by the time he comes back.”

He pounced on the bed, struggled with her to get a cuff on her one wrist and bring them both up to the headboard so he could loop the cuffs around the bars and trap her there. “You’re mine.”

“Please don’t do this,” she begs, trying her hardest to stay in character.

“Boo hoo,” he says, really not giving a shit what she wants or doesn’t. He straddles her waist and walks on his knees until his junk is right there near her face. “You’re going to take what I give you.”

She can’t help sticking her tongue out, wetting the fabric of his boxers as he presses his bulge against her face. Mouth watering, she can smell him under the fragrance of their detergent on his boxers. “Cock drunk already? You’re such a good little slut, no wonder that old man loves you.”

She whines, “Please Mr. Ghostface…”

“Say it,” he growls.

“Let me suck your cock, please? I need it,” she begs this time, watching him pull his boxers down just enough to expose his cock.

It stands tall, he grips himself by the base and taps it against her tongue a few times and she moans before licking at the head and taking him into her mouth. She drags her tongue along the pulsating vein on the underside of his perfect cock. He’s uncut and thick and her mouth is watering by the time she takes him between her lips. She relaxes her jaw, avoids her teeth, and uses her tongue around the head… all things he’s asked her to do for him in the past. This is the only cock she’s sucked and actually enjoyed doing it in her whole life.

The man above her grips her hair tighter and groans, “sweet christ… such a good little slut for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.”

She hums around him, so content already but the praise mixed with the degrading words… fuck, was it ever good? She gains more confidence, sucking this man's cock like her life depends on it. Wet and sloppy, she gets drool all over her chin and it drips down her neck to pool at the pillows but she doesn’t give a fuck. She takes him deeper, letting the man fuck her throat, breathing through her nose with her eyes shut, she gags slightly but it’s bearable, she likes it… Mr. Ghostface really likes it, too, if his moans behind the mask are any indication.

He drags his hand from her hair, down the side of her face and he cups her cheek as he pulls out, hearing her whine. “If I’m going to fuck you, I’m gonna need this back,” he teases.

She whines again, “but, but?” Her voice horse and her breathing heavy.

“But nothing, you’re going to sit there and you’re going to take it like a good little whore I know you are,” he taunts.

Getting off her and the bed, he lets his boxers go and he tosses off the stupid little robe he was wearing to complete the fit. Now naked except for his mask, he pulls her beside drawer open and pulls out her vibrator and the pocket knife she keeps there for… reasons like the time she couldn’t get the knots undone when she restrained him once.

He tosses the vibe on the bed and flips the blade out of the pocket knife. She squirms, “What are you going to do with that?”

“Cut these new panties off you… never saw these in the drawer the last time I was in here,” he says, building the story more.

“You’ve…you’ve been in my home before?”

He nods, “many times.”

“You’re a sick fuck,” she spits at him.

“Mhm and you’re going to love it,” he says as he climbs back between her legs.

He drags the tip of the blade from her stomach to her hip, down her thigh and back up. “Look at the way you quiver for me, how eager you are to spread your legs… don’t tell me your FBI boyfriend taught you to just give it up like this?”

“Husband,” she corrects him.

“Boring,” he taunts. “Husbands are useless, you get boring sex and boring conversations and then they die.”

He slips the blade under the elastic on her hip and starts to cut it off. Slowly, she feels the fabric snap apart and exposes her to him. He grips the hem on her other hip and pulls her panties off the one leg he didn’t destroy. He flings them off and tosses the knife onto her bedside table but he tosses it too hard and it slides all the way off, behind the table and almost takes the lamp out with it. “Oops,” he laughs from deep within.

He takes the vibrator back in his hand and turns it on, “I can’t eat you out without showing you my face, so I guess I’m going to have to make you cum a few times with this…”

“Fuck,” she whines, legs spread as she arches closer to the sound of the buzzing.

On the lowest setting, he drags the head of the vibe over her inner thigh and over her hip bone. Up her stomach and then onto her hardened nipple. She whines again, “please? Please Mr. Ghostface?”

He hums, “Be patient, slut.”

He runs it over her other nipple, watching as she tosses her head back and bites her lip, hard. She tugs at the cuffs, making them click against the metal bed poles as she soots down the bed, trying to get closer to him, begging for some friction where she needs it most.

He slowly brings the vibe back down her body and presses it to her clit a bit roughly, he presses the button to speed it up, putting it on the second speed and hearing her yelp. “oh my god?” She grinds against it, “holy fuck.”

“Don’t be afraid to make some noise, we’re all alone here tonight,” he assures. “And if we’re not… if your husband walks in on us I want him to hear how much of a slut you’ve been for me. Let him know what you want can’t be achieved by him.”

She moans again, it’s oddly hot pretending to cheat on him… he leans in closer to her, holding the vibe to her clit as he hovers over her. She leans forward, wanting to kiss him even though he’s in a mask, she whines, “Need you,” she whispers. “Please?”

“Cum for me first,” he says, shaking his head. “I want you soaked and trembling when I slip into you. And if you’re good, maybe I’ll un-cuff you for it.”

“Oh god,” she arches her hips again, pressing herself against the vibrator even more, “Oh please?”

“Close already?” He teases, pressing the button again so it can go as fast as possible. “Go on whore, you can do it. Cum for me.”

Her thighs are absolutely trembling as she gets closer. With her eyes tightly shut and her jaw dropped, she lets out breathy moans and rides the head of the vibrator. He’s so close to her, pressed to her side with his hard cock resting on her hip, “you’re doing so good, baby, come on, it’s right there,” he praises her, letting his character slip a bit.

She accidentally says his name as the dam breaks, she cums with a quake, “Oh my god, oh fuck,” she whines as he keeps holding the vibrator to her clit and she can’t pull away from him.

He snickers, “There she is, I love that noise you make when you cum on this thing.”

“How—

“You keep asking stupid questions,” he cuts her off. “What part of I’ve been stalking you can’t you get through your thick skull?”

“Please, please stop?” She begs. “S’too much.”

He pulls back just for a second, causing her to sigh and then he presses the vibrator right back to her. “You really thought I’d let you stop at just one? When I know you like to cum at least 3 times… that’s why you got this toy, isn’t it? Cause that old man you’re shackled to can’t go more than one round without getting tired.”

“Fuck you,” she spits, whining and grinding against the toy in her overstimulation.

“Oh, you will,” he whispers. “I’m going to get you all pliant and dumb and then I’m going to flip you over and fuck you senseless like the little pet that you are. Maybe I’ll even keep you forever? Get you a cute little collar and a leash and make you mine.”

She moans again, bucking her hips towards the feeling, he knows it takes her a bit longer to get to the second one sometimes. So he keeps talking. “I know just how much you like that, being fucked in doggy. You like being held down, feeling my balls clap against your ass while I fuck you deep and hard. When I push my weight against you… and when I wrap my hand around your throat to draw you in for a kiss.”

She doesn’t give any warning, she just comes right then and it’s clearly a shock to her too. She shakes like mad and not a single coherent sound leaves her mouth. She’s completely wrecked, cock-drunk and ready for more. He turns off the vibrator and lets her relax for just a moment, he runs his hand over her stomach and up to her boobs, cupping it and rubbing his thumb over her nipple, making her twitch again. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you…”

She just nods, trying to catch her breath, she can’t find any words to say.

“If I un-cuff you, are you going to run away?” He asks, watching her shake her head. “Didn’t think so… not like you could with your jello legs.”

She smiles, full of euphoria, “yeah…”

He heads over to his own nightside table, the key is in a little dish where he puts his watch and ring at night. Although, his ring is downstairs tonight, to add to the ambiance that this is a stranger fucking her and not her husband in a mask.

He’s quick to get her out of the cuffs and he soothes over the ache in her wrists. “You okay?” He asks, his voice soft and low, breaking character slightly.

She nods, “you? It’s not too hot in there?”

“It’s fine,” he nods too. “Ready?”

She lets him roll her over, he gets her on her knees with her ass in the air and pushes her face into the pillow. “It’s time for the ride of your life.”

He taps his cock against her ass cheek, making it jiggle. He loves her curves and her flub and the way she shakes and jiggles and how he has all this skin to hold onto while he fucks her like this. He grips her cheeks, spreading them apart to see how much of her cum has slipped down from one hole to the other, she’s glistening and wet and so, so ready for him to fuck her. He grinds his cock between her folds, using her slick to coat himself and glide back and forth, teasingly, before he sticks it in.

He doesn’t give any warning, he simply rams his cock into her, making her gasp. “Oh, you feel better than I imagined…” He pulls out slightly and slams back inside again and again, not giving her any time adjust to it. “Been obsessed with the idea of fucking this pussy from the moment I first laid eyed on you. Knew you’d take me so well.”

She whines into the pillow, reaching her hand back, he holds it and goes to reach for the other. Holding both her hands, making her hold herself up with her core muscles as he fucked into her. Her tits dangle and shake with the force of his thrusts, she makes the most whorish moans and gasps. When she gets tired, she pushes her face back into the mattress and arches her back even more.

She mumbles into the pillow and he grips her hair, pulling her back, “what?”

“Harder!” She eggs him on.

Chuckling, “Such a good whore…” he teases. He reaches for the vibrator and turns it on. He slips it underneath her and he pushes on her back so that she can grind against it as he fucks her harder. Absolutely ramming into her, she goes feral for it. Making noises he hasn’t ever heard from her before as the bed hits the wall at a jackhammering rhythm.

She grips the sheets like her life depends on it, drooling into the mattress where her face is pressed, she screams as he hits her cervix hard. She’s so close, he can feel it by the way she clenches and sucks in him deeper, the sounds she’s making and the way she trembles. It’s intoxicating. He’s fucking addicted to it. He’s going to need to do this to her more often if she likes it this much…

She feels so good, but it’s everything else that’s got him so close to cumming deep inside of her. His rhythm changes as he gets closer. He ruts against her faster, making her ass shake even more as he chases his high. He’s breathing heavily, at a loss for words, but he knows how much she gets off on his voice. “Right there,” he pants. “Right fucking there, take it. Take it, whore. Oh, fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good for me.”

She says his name again, chanting it this time, “Aar!” She screams as she cums for the 3rd time tonight.

He fucks her through it, right there with her. He can feel her getting wetter than ever before like she’s managed to squirt and that gets him. He starts to cum, feeling it rush through his body as he fills her up. She lets out another moan, feeling him fuck his cum deeper into her a few times before he drops down onto her. She’s strong enough to push herself up and scoot up a bit so she’s not trapped on top of the vibrator and they both sigh. He takes off the mask and throws it to the side, slipping out of her, he lays on her side with his arm slung around her. She turns to the side, crawls over him and cups his face in her hands. She kisses him, hard. His hands roam her back as she swipes her tongue over his bottom lip, silently asking for more.

She’s always been a kisser during sex, it really killed her to not be able to kiss him during that. It was so hot… it was everything she wanted and now it was her turn to thank him. She pushes his sweaty hair back and hums into his mouth, she kisses the side of his lips and then his jaw over to his ear. “That was everything…”

“I did good?” He asks, fucked out and dropping slowly.

“So, so good, baby,” she praises. “I loved every second of it. You’re so good to me, you always do what I ask for. I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispers back, holding her closer with his big hands cradling her back. She kisses his neck once more and goes to sit up but he wants to cuddle just a little longer. “Stay.”

“Okay,” she rests against him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. “We’ll clean up when you’re ready.”

He runs his fingers up and down her back, she traces a heart over his chest with her nail and smiles. She’s so relaxed, so tired and so, so happy to be with him. “You’re amazing, Aar-bear.”

“You’re… you’re everything,” he says at a loss for words. “I can’t believe how loud you got?”

She laughs, a little embarrassed, “well, we usually have a kid in the house so I can’t get like that… and if we hit his wall like that at night he’d lose his mind.”

Aaron laughs, “Yeah, I’ve gotta check and see if we chipped the paint…”

“When he goes to college we’ll have to put some foam on the back of the headboard,” she teases. “We can fuck like this all the time next year.”

He lets out a sigh, “Yeah… we definitely need to do more role plays.”

“And you can pick them too, you know?” She says, sitting up to look at him. “Anything you want, we’ll do that next.”

“Right now I just want to have a bath with you and then change the sheets and go to sleep,” he says with a smile.

“Okay,” she agrees. She gets up carefully, a little sore and she’s definitely going to be feeling it tomorrow… she takes the vibe off the bed and finally turns it off, throwing it back into her night table to worry about later. There’s a huge wet spot on the bed where it was. “Did I…”

He smirks, “I think you did… it was hot.”

“Wow,” she’s shocked and amazed.

“You go start the bath, I’ll strip the sheets,” he offers. “Put in whatever you want.”

“Do you want a drink?” She asks. “I brought your scotch up, too.”

“You really are the most perfect woman,” he praises with a smile.

She picks up his mask from the floor, it landed pretty close to where her underwear ended up. She gathers all their clothes and tosses them into the dirty laundry, but his mask… his mask goes into the closet where it will stay until they need it again.

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch

Ghostface Hotch

@hotchsbookshelf @hotchsdoormat @emberfrostlovesloki

[russic]

Gojo Satoru Boyfriend Headcanons

Warning: 18+ Under Cut 

Requests: Click on this Link.

SFW 

Gojo Satoru: the man, the myth, the ledged.  

This man drives you insane. 

Wherever Gojo goes, people will approach him. Women often ignore your presence, but men are interested. 

If anyone asks for your name; Gojo responds, “Mine.” 

Must constantly be the center of attention. 

“Hey, pay attention to me.” 

Before you began dating, Gojo always flirted with you. Your boundaries between friends and lovers remained “too blurry.” Gojo did not spend a minute away from you. You complimented each other; matched outfits, cooked together, and slept in the same bed numerous times.

You were convinced Gojo thought of you as a friend until he kissed you one night before falling asleep. Since that kiss, you two have created a healthy relationship that cannot be broken. 

EXTREMELY CLINGY. Gojo’s love language is pestering you 25/8. 

Both you and Gojo are extremely cocky. You acknowledge that you two have the perfect relationship everyone strives for. 

When Gojo’s best friends, Toji and Geto, invite Gojo anywhere, they respond, “Bring y/n.” 

Gojo is convinced Toji is in love with you. Toji asks to see you more often than Gojo. 

Gojo’s friends enjoy your presence. You aren’t considered “Gojo’s girlfriend,” you’re one of their best friends. 

“If you two break up, we’re ditching you, Gojo.” 

SOCIAL MEDIA FAMOUS. Who isn’t obsessed with Gojo? He has over 50K followers on each of his social media platforms.

Mostly posts thirst-traps. 

Videotapes new social media trends with you. 

Asks you to buy him flowers. Gojo acts surprised saying, “No way, for me, baby?” However, he told you which flowers to purchase yesterday. 

Asks ridiculous questions to capture your attention... 

“If I was a worm, would you love me?” 

“If I was a flower, what would I be?” 

“Do you still like me?” 

“If I was someone else, would you still adore me?” 

Gojo is always making you laugh. If you’re in a bad mood, you’ll find Gojo. He puts a smile on your face. 

However, Gojo is constantly making you mad, but you can’t be mad for long. Within minutes, he’s making you laugh again. You’ll forget why you were angry. 

Pranks! 

Unfortunately, most of your pranks do not succeed due to Gojo’s ability to control infinity. 

CONSTANTLY LATE for EVERYTHING. Don’t expect Gojo to be on time for anything. 

For dates, you’ll purposely tell Gojo an hour earlier. 

Gojo loves to bake. He enjoys making half-baked chocolate-chip cookies. 

You’ll remind him, “Babe, we can’t eat that.” He responds, “But they are better this way, baby.”

Random visits and gifts - Gojo will surprise you with coffee, food, cards, and jewelry. 

(Speaking of gifts) This man SPOILS YOU. Seriously, Gojo’s constantly receiving Amazon Prime packages. If someone knocks on your door, you’ll respond, “leave it on the porch.” 

Enjoys shopping with you. Gojo’s favorite store is Victoria’s Secret. (I think you know why...)

“Hey, let’s go shopping.” 

“Gojo, I can’t wear lingerie outside.” 

You’ll leave candies around the house for him to eat. Gojo’s always eating mochi or sucking on a blue raspberry lollipop.

Strictly orders Frappuccinos at Starbucks.

You’ll never comprehend how Gojo is so fit; he should be over 500 pounds. 

All doors must remain unlocked in your house. If a door is locked, Gojo will bust it down (this includes the bathroom). 

BISEXUAL. The only other person Gojo flirts with are his best friend, Geto. Gojo will touch his butt and threaten to kiss him. He openly admitted that he wants to be in a relationship with you both. 

Asks you wear his glasses on your head. If Gojo needs to remove his blindfold, he will grab his glasses out of your hair and hand you his blindfold. You’ll tie it around your wrist. 

Gojo will not hesitate to do anything for you... If you give him something in return. 

“I will do it if you kiss me.” 

His favorite feeling is when your fingers run through his hair. He will ask you to play with his hair after he lays his head in your lap. 

Steals ALL of the covers. 

He snores too. 

If Gojo is leaving for a mission, he will hide small love notes around the house for you to find. 

“I can’t wait to see your smile when I get home.” 

“I miss you, beautiful. Don’t sleep too good without me.” 

“I love you.”

NSFW

Our handsome fella is a SWITCH. 

Gojo hates degrading you; he loves praising you. 

“You’re such a good girl - sitting patiently waiting for my cock.” 

Remember how Gojo loves shopping at Victoria’s Secret? Well, he buys whatever he wants you to wear in the bedroom. Sadly, Gojo’s money is wasted because he rips them right off of you. 

“Fuck me. You look stunning, baby.” 

Expect tons of NUDES. You are weary about opening Gojo’s messages in public. 

On a coffee date with your friends, you Gojo sent you a snapchat video knowing you were in public. Thinking he was going to say, “hello,” to your friends, you sat your phone in the center of the table. However, you immediately hid your phone once a video of Gojo masturbating began playing. Everyone was shocked. 

“y/n, how do you take that? Its huge.”  

He’s the person that has fun during sex. You’ll find yourself laughing as you’re riding his dick. 

FOOD PLAY. Gojo has brought ice cubes whipped cream, chocolate syrup, ice scream, and strawberries into the bedroom. Eating food off the most sensitive parts of your body to elevate your senses and heighten your arousal is Gojo’s favorite. 

HUGE HICKEYS. Gojo’s hickeys are BIG and dark. It’s impossible to hide them. Since men enjoy flirting with you, Gojo must “mark his territory.” 

“Maybe that will show them which lucky fuck buries his cock inside of you every night.” 

Enjoys giving more than receiving. Gojo enjoys begging you to sit on his face. 

Sit. Don’t hover. 

Considering you love Gojo’s eyes; he will force eye contact as he is eating your pussy. Seeing your lover devour you with his mouth and his eyes is an indescribable feeling. 

If you’re dominating Gojo, you’ll grab his jawline and force eye contact as you’re riding him. If Gojo’s dominating you, he will force you to stare into his eyes as you’re cumming. 

“Yes baby, roll your fucking eyes back. Take my cock like a good girl.” 

Uses toys. He enjoys handcuffing you to the bedposts as you beg to be played with. However, he loves when you tie his hands together with a belt and forcefully burry his face between your legs. 

“Use me, baby.” 

What a TEASE. If you are talking with your friends on FaceTime, Gojo will start teasing you. He moves between your legs; pushes your thighs apart; tears your panties; and devours your pussy until you’re forced to end the call. 

Eats ass and expects you to return the favor. 

Gojo does not enjoy using toys meant to hurt you such as whips or belts. 

Expect to be fingered anywhere and everywhere. 

If you’re at dinner sitting across from your parents; expect it. If you’re cleaning the kitchen countertops; expect it. If you’re at the gym, Gojo will pull you into the bathroom and bury his fingers inside of you. (Literally - I repeat, anywhere and everywhere)

Gojo loves seeing you ride his cock with his back pressed against the headboard. Watching you utilize his body to gain your release is the most gorgeous sight.

“Fuck angel, you’re doing so good.” 

Gojo MOANS. He’s loud and he knows it. 

Gojo records your sex sessions and uploads them to the internet for others to watch. He enjoys seeing people comments.  (Of course, your identities are concealed).

“Fuck, this is so hot.” 

“I’d love to have a threesome with you both! Message me, please!” 

MIRROR SEX 

Gojo had ceiling and wall mirrors installed for his pleasure 

Loves cumming on your stomach, breasts, or inside of your mouth.

If Gojo’s cum escapes your mouth, he will wipe it off your lips with his thumb and make you suck it off. 

Barely any aftercare. Gojo immediately falls asleep. He’s sleepy after 4+ rounds. 

[ohmightydevviepuu]

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 7

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter seven [7/12]

AO3

--

i know i keep joking and gushing about @profdanglaisstuff and her tendency to save stories, but reader, i promise you:  i sat and stared at this chapter--at its running outline and general lack of cohesive words--for almost a month before she asked me the simple, elegant question that let all of it unfold and led to the rest of the story.  

to @thisonesatellite and @katie-dub for that weekend of sprints, tea and very loud music that left my hands sore for a week as i rewrote this bit--all 5k of it-- three times in one day to get it the way i wanted it.  (and then tried to make them read it all three times.)

to the @captainswanbigbang team for excessive awesomesauce.

--

cw: canonical character death rating: T/M (implied violence, language) word count:  ~5.1k AO3 chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six

–

chapter summary:  

In which we answer the question:  What’s crazier than seeing and not believing?

Emma has to make some choices. (Maybe they do make a good team.)

--

She couldn’t open her eyes.

Her head was pounding.

Her cheek was against something flat, cold and hard.

“There’s no need to be rash,” a voice was saying. She knew that voice. “We can discuss this.”

The floor. Emma was face-down on the floor.

“Your pretty face buys you a lot,” a woman answered, “but my time is too valuable.”

“Ooooh,” the male voice said. Hook’s voice.

And his pretty, pretty face.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

God, her head was spinning.

The woman laughed. Cora. They sounded, somehow, far away, their voices drifting around the pain in her head, settling with her on the floor.

Her wrists were cuffed, Emma realized suddenly.

“It seems more fitting to leave you here,” Cora said, “with your thirst for revenge unquenched.”

There was a pause and a grunt of pain. “You think you care for her,” Cora said, “but you know she won’t trust you.”

Emma did not hear him answer before she passed out again.

Her head was pounding.

Her cheek lay against something flat, cold and hard.

“What in the bloody hell did you think you were doing?” Hook’s voice, again--and this time, flush with emotion instead of careful and detached. He sounded closer, too, and Emma took a deep breath, trying to move, trying to wake up, to--

There was a feeling of pressure against her leg, just for a second. She started to move again; the pressure became insistent. Obediently, Emma went limp.

“I’m doing whatever it takes,” a man said in an unfamiliar voice. “Whatever it takes, Hook, to break this curse.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Hook insisted.

“You’re one to talk,” the man said. “After everything you did to end up here?”

The silence was so sudden and so stark that Emma could almost feel it, as if it had texture. Beside her, she felt Hook go completely rigid.

“And what do you know about that?” Hook asked.

“I know the lengths you were willing to go to ensure your revenge, once upon a time,” the man said. “And I know that you’ve never followed through on your intentions. That is a mistake I will not make.”

“There was no need for you to drug or kidnap anyone,” Hook said.

“There was no need,” the man sneered, “for you to kill anyone, and yet you did. Anyway, she’s fine--aren’t you, Savior?”

Emma felt a kick against her boot, and opened her eyes. She tried, and failed, to sit up. She was cuffed, her hands behind her back, on the floor of a large living room in what seemed to be a large house. Emma rolled over and had a view of a high ceiling, and of Hook.

“Easy, love,” Hook whispered, his lips barely moving. As best she could tell, Hook was similarly restrained, and his eyes were glued on their captor.

“Not that I don’t understand why you’d want to help her,” the man said with a leer. “I’m just not sure I understand the method behind your madness.” He kicked her boot again. “Get up.”

That’s when Emma recognized him--the man in the top coat, the one who had been following her. The one she had seen outside the diner.

The one who had come at her with a knife in the alley outside The Rabbit Hole.

“It’s you,” Emma said. “Why have you been following me?”

“Because,” he said, “you, Emma Swan, are the solution to all of my problems.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she said, “but if you hurt me--us--I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

“‘Us’,” he repeated. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

He looked at her with something approaching pity as he pulled her upright, until she was sitting next to Hook instead of sprawled on the floor. “I know what you refuse to acknowledge, Emma Swan,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, as if they were sharing a secret. He pointed at Hook and added, “Hook knows it too, don’t you, Captain?”

“Jefferson,” Hook said, his voice sharp. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want, Hook,” he said. “For the last twenty-eight years, I’ve been stuck in this house. Day after day, always the same. But she is going to help me, because she’s special.”

“You’re insane,” Emma said.

“Because I speak the truth? Perhaps you’re the one that’s mad. What’s crazier than seeing and not believing?” He looked at her with eyes that almost focused. “Unless--tell me, Savior, can you feel it in your dreams? Twined in memory’s mystic band?”

“What do you want, Jefferson?” Hook was impatient.

“I want her to get it to work,” he said. “She’s the only one who can get it to work.” He turned around and pulled something off of the desk that stood behind him: a hat. It was, Emma saw, one of many; they lined every shelf in the room.

“You want me to make a hat?” Emma said. “Because, what, you don’t have enough of them?”

“None of them work,” he said, as if that was supposed to mean something. “You have magic. Make one like this.” There was a pair of shears on the desk, and a folded piece of black fabric.

She turned to Hook. “The Mad Hatter? Seriously?”

“I hate Wonderland,” Hook said with some feeling. His eyes were still on the Hatter and he held himself tense and ready in spite of his restraints.

“My name,” the man said to Emma, “is Jefferson. And you and your friend are not leaving here until you make my hat. Until you get it to work.”

“We’re not friends,” Emma snapped, and Jefferson’s smile was slightly feral.

“I didn’t mean him,” he said, and left the room.

--

“He’s a portal jumper,” Hook said, his voice casual. “That’s what the hat does--it opens a portal by which one may travel to another realm.”

“Is what he’s saying even possible?”

“Aye,” he said. “It’s possible.”

“And that’s why he’s--the way he is? Because he’s been trapped in this house?”

“It’s quite difficult, Swan, living in a land where you don’t belong,” Hook said. “Knowing that--holding conflicting realities in your head--it could easily drive a man mad.”

“And he just--” Emma shrugged, shifting a bid from the movement. “He just expects me to wriggle my nose and poof, his wishes are granted?”

“No,” Hook said. “I doubt very much that is what he expects.” But Hook’s tone was contemplative.

“I’m not a genie, is what I am saying,” Emma grumbled. “Or a witch.”

He looked at her then. “I may not belong here, either, but I’ve been here for twenty-eight years,” he said. “I get things.”

Emma shrugged again, and Hook sighed.

“That’s what you’re not understanding, Swan. You are a witch--or, more precisely, you have magic. That’s what they want. They want your magic. They want you to break this curse.”

“Even Cora?” Emma asked, and Hook’s body went tense again.

“Especially Cora,” he said. “In fact--” He stopped, his lips pressed into a thin line. It was as if he wanted to say more, but felt like he couldn’t, and Emma realized Hook thought someone was watching them.

Cora.

It was Cora who had bailed him out, and Cora who had been in the house with them. Only--had she? There was no sign of her now; loathe as Emma was to admit it, even to herself, she had no idea if she had actually been conscious or if she had been dreaming.

It was not a new thought.

“Did you feel it in your dreams?”

Emma shook her head, trying to reset her focus. “So it was Cora,” she said, “who you used to work for, back in the--” Only she couldn’t say it--couldn’t make herself say the words Enchanted Forest.

“Regina,” Hook said, correcting her. “It was Regina who approached me.” His mouth twisted. “She had a job for me. She knew I was motivated. She sent me to kill her mother, whom I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

“I thought Cora was Regina’s mother,” Emma said, somewhat stupidly. “And Cora is definitely alive.”

“Aye. She gave me a better offer.” Hook sighed again. “We sailors have an old saying, Swan: ‘Any port in a storm’.”

“And you were in a storm?”

Their eyes met. “For a very long time,” he said. “When Milah died--”

Hook shifted his weight, breaking their eye contact. “‘Oft I have heard,’” he recited softly, “‘that grief softens the mind / And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.’”

“Right,” Emma said. “Obviously.”

“Shakespeare,” he said, smiling slightly when Emma rolled her eyes.

“Show-off,” Emma muttered, then realized something. “So who does Jefferson think you killed?”

“Perhaps he believes I succeeded in achieving Regina’s objective,” Hook said.

Emma raised her eyebrows. “You’re lying,” she said.

He shifted again. Emma had never seen him fidget before. “I’ve done a lot of unconscionable things, Swan,” he said finally. “But what I did to get here--what I did to my brother--that might be the worst.”

“To Liam?”

“Liam,” Hook said, “is not the first brother of mine to bear that name.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Emma leaned toward him, bumping her shoulder against his, and Hook opened his eyes. Surprise colored his features for an instant before another one of his masks slid into place.

“My father,” Hook said. “When I was quite young, he did something for which I could never forgive him.”

“He sold you,” Emma said, surprising him again.

“Aye,” Hook said. “And I killed him for it. In front of his young son, Liam. His son, Liam, whom he had named for my elder brother.” He sounded angry and confused, as if it had happened yesterday instead of decades ago. “I thought it was a dream--or rather, a nightmare. A spell contrived by Regina to reveal my weaknesses. You see, Swan, it should not have been possible for my father to be alive still, more than two centuries after I had seen him last.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Emma said.

“But all magic comes with a price,” Hook said. “Liam, it seems, was mine. When I began to Awaken, I realized who Liam was. I realized what I had done. He should not exist and yet he has lived as my brother for almost thirty years.”

“You love him,” Emma said.

Hook didn’t answer. He just--he looked at her.

“Right,” Emma said, resigned. “Well, I guess this is about the time for it.”

“The time for what?”

“The story of my life,” she said. She shrugged, feeling the weight of her restraints.

“I know a fair bit of it already,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Open book--storybook--whatever.”

“No, lass,” he said, his voice very low and very soft. “You should know as well as anyone that Lost Ones recognize their own.”

It was the tone of his voice that made her decide. She straightened up, clenching her jaw. It hurt, this part, but somehow she felt like she owed him.

Like maybe she hadn’t been wrong about him.

Emma nodded to herself and said: “Neal was a thief. But he was older, and charming, and it was wonderful. Except it was all a lie, and I wound up in jail, pregnant. Alone. Lost, I guess. I put the kid--Henry--up for adoption. And I haven’t seen him since. The end.”

“Baelfire left you?” Hook’s voice was sad, but somehow unsurprised. “To take the punishment for his sins?”

Emma nodded again, her jaw still clenched. “And now, all of this happens, and you’re telling me that Neal is a part of it and that his father is fucking Rumplestiltskin and my son’s mother is the goddamn Evil Queen and I don’t even know what my life is anymore.”

She slumped a little bit, hunching her shoulders forward. Hook shifted again, and then his entire demeanor changed as he adopted an air of forced cheerfulness. “Well then,” he said, “you’ll be glad to know that I’ve recovered something of yours.”

“Something of mine?”

“You must have lost it in the abduction,” he said. None of the words made sense, but nothing about them seemed to be a lie.

“What--what is it?”

He shrugged again, and his shoulder brushed against hers, an echo of her own tentative gesture. “Your ring, of course. I know that it was a treasured gift.”

The reason that I’m still alive… This reminder that I once had a family.

They had fought about the ring--his brother’s ring, Liam’s ring--only that morning. Emma could still feel the force of his anger.

She could still feel his breath across her lips.

“And you kept it?” Emma said with a wry smile, pulling at her restraints, trying to play along.

Trying to buy time.

“A pirate,” he said, “always keeps a souvenir of his conquests, love. But perhaps ‘tis better that you know it isn’t lost. You could do with a reminder that you have people who care for you.”

“Besides Graham, I don’t think I’ve ever been a part of anything,” she whispered. 

“But you could be,” Hook said, reaching for the chain that hung around his neck and pulling it off, dangling a ring in the empty space between them. “Keep this,” he said. “You could do with a reminder.”

He was lying--the words were literally false--and yet nothing about what he was saying was untrue. His voice was affectedly upbeat, but his eyes were serious and earnest.

All of her mental alarm-bells should have been ringing, and yet none of them were.

Emma suddenly understood: he still thought they were being watched.

But he wanted her to have--to know--

“You think you care for her." “But you know she won’t trust you.”

He leaned in and his breath was against her skin again; for an instant, in spite of everything, it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

Keep this. You could do with a reminder.

She understood, she--

“Our deal stands,” he whispered, the words tickling her ear. “Whatever hurts Cora helps me, Swan.” He didn’t pull back.

Emma exhaled, and nodded. But she didn’t pull back, either.

They lingered there, in the place between what was and ‘what’s next’, each bleeding over into the other’s personal space. And then--

There was a crash, and a noise, from elsewhere in the house.

“What the fuck was that?” Emma asked, hauling herself quickly to her feet and extending one of her freed hands to Hook.

He chuckled, dangling the ring from his outstretched hand.

His freed hand, with an open handcuff still hanging off of his wrist.

“Seriously?” Emma said.

But she took the ring, putting it around her neck while he sat there and waited.

“Pirate,” Hook said simply, before grasping her arm and pulling himself upright.

--

Emma had no idea what she expected to see as she and Hook pushed open the door between themselves and the noise--but it was not her roommate tied to a chair.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret said. “Thank goodness!” She struggled, pulling against her cuffs as Hook bent down next to her.

Tumblers, Emma thought to herself, remembering Neal Cassidy’s advice on the subject of locks. It’s all about the tumblers. She watched Hook and realized suddenly who, exactly, had taught Neal to be so adept at lock-picking.

He stayed with me for a time in Neverland.

“What is she doing here?” Emma asked, gesturing at Mary Margaret. “What are you doing here?”

“I was walking along the edge of the neighborhood,” Mary Margaret said. “Thinking about--well, you know. A man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me. Why are you here?”

“A man appeared out of nowhere,” Emma said, “and grabbed me. Us.” She waved a hand at Hook, who nodded his head in acknowledgement. Mary Margaret extended her arms and Hook stood up, offering her his own arm for balance.

“Milady,” he said, and winked. Winked.

Emma glared. “Why is she here?”

“Snow White has been a particular focus for both Cora and Regina for as long as I’ve known either of them,” Hook said. “I imagine no other reason was necessary, especially given her recent dalliance with the prince.”

“The prince--David?”

“Aye,” Hook said. Then: “Were you injured?”

“No,” Mary Margaret said, looking from Emma to Hook and back again. “Did you just call me Snow White?” Mary Margaret lowered her voice and leaned forward. “Why does he know about David?”

Hook smirked. “I’m missing a hand, milady. Not my hearing.”

Emma snorted.

“Are you talking about the storybook?” Mary Margaret asked. “The fairy tale of Snow White and Prince Charming?”

“Aye,” Hook said again.

“I gave that to Henry Mills,” Mary Margaret said, eyeing Hook with suspicion. “Why would you know about that?” She lowered her voice again. “Why does the bartender from The Rabbit Hole know about that?”

“Hook, milady,” he said, his voice an exaggerated stage whisper. “My name is Hook. And I own the bar, as it happens.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I--” she paused, pulling on the chain around her neck, searching for the words that would convince her friend. “I trust him.”

Lost Ones recognized their own--when she looked into his eyes, she saw herself.

“Okay,” Mary Margaret said, apparently satisfied.

“That’s it?” Emma said, surprised.

“If you trust him, Emma, that’s enough for me,” Mary Margaret said.

The tips of Hook’s ears were very slightly pink as he said, “Then we’d best be going, before our host notices our absence.”

“Who?” Mary Margaret said. “Who took us?”

“Me.” Jefferson’s voice trembled and his eyes blazed, bright and unfocused. He stood in the open doorway and did not look like a man completely in control of himself.

“I see you found your friend,” he said to Emma.

“Swan,” Hook snapped. It was a warning, and Jefferson’s face lit up.

“You’re smarter than you seem, pirate,” he said. “But I’m not her.”

“Her?” Emma said.

“Your not-friend seems to think that I am not who I say I am,” Jefferson said. The words were nonsensical, but Jefferson seemed unbothered by it. His voice pitched upward, almost in a sing-song: “Whoooo are youuu?”

“Who does he think you are?” Emma asked, trying to break the staring contest between the two men.

It didn’t work. “Cora,” Jefferson said, and the smile that stretched across his face was, if possible, even more unpleasant now. He didn’t take his eyes off of Hook. “She’s furious with you, pirate.”

Hook’s gaze flickered just for a second toward Emma as he said, quietly, “I have my reasons.”

“Reasons,” Jefferson scoffed. “Reasons are all well and good until somebody loses their head.” Jefferson pulled down the high collar of his shirt to reveal a scar that burned red and raw, as though it had been made yesterday.

Mary Margaret cried out as Emma asked, “What is that?”

“Let’s just say that Cora does not take kindly to being thwarted, Swan,” Hook said.

“Off with his head,” Jefferson added, running a finger across his throat in a slicing motion.

“And she can do that--” Emma said, pointing, “--here?”

“Oh, no,” Jefferson said, letting go of his collar. “Much as she might like to. That’s the issue with this world, you see: Everyone wants a magical solution for their problem, and everyone refuses to believe in magic.”

“Shame,” Emma said, but Jefferson missed the sarcasm.

“The Savior, though--she has magic. And she is going to help me.”

Jefferson turned to Emma as he spoke and Hook took advantage of the momentary break by rushing him, pushing him up against the wall between one breath and the next. In the space of a blink, Jefferson was pinned at the throat by Hook’s left wrist as his right hand lingered at his hip, as if Hook was grasping for a weapon.

“What have you done to Liam?” Hook snarled.

Emma was still recovering from how quickly Hook had thrown himself at Jefferson, but Jefferson was laughing.

It didn’t feel funny to Emma--or at least, not, like, ‘ha ha’ funny.

“How did you know about him?” Hook demanded. “If you’re not Cora, how do you know?”

“You know how, Hook,” Jefferson said. “All these years, and I’ve had nothing to do but watch, and I put the pieces together. I’m mad, not stupid.”

“Debatable,” Emma muttered.

Just as quickly as Hook had moved, Jefferson struck, plowing a fist into Hook’s side and causing Hook to double over in pain as a grunt escaped him.

Just like in Emma’s dream. Fucking hell.

“Stop,” she said, surprising herself. “Stop.”

Both men turned to look at her. “I’ll help you,” she said to Jefferson.

The grin stretched from one end of Jefferson’s face to the other as he gestured at Mary Margaret. “Then you can tie her back up again.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said. It was, somehow, both a question and a reassurance.

“All will be well,” Hook said.

“It will,” Jefferson agreed. “If Emma does what I need her to do.”

Emma backed up and placed a hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder, easing her into the chair and pulling her wrists behind it to close the handcuffs once more.

“Hook,” Jefferson said, “you too.”

Emma looked at him. He nodded his agreement, brushing his fingers against hers as she clicked the open bracelet around the arm of Mary Margaret’s chair.

“You, Savior,” Jefferson said, walking toward the open door and ushering her through with a flourish, “follow me.”

--

The telescope caught her eye as she came back into the living room.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Emma said, pointing at the instrument. “That’s how you’ve been watching all of us.”

I have eyes everywhere, Miss Swan.

“You’ve been spying,” Emma said. “Reporting back on all of us to Regina--and to Cora, haven’t you?” She walked over to the telescope, peering through the lens, and was shocked to see that it was trained on the window of her office.

Swan and Humbert.

“They killed him for a reason, you know,” Jefferson said casually.

“I don’t suppose you know what that is,” Emma said.

“I don’t concern myself much with reasons these days. All I care about is getting back to my daughter. Her name is Grace.” He said it almost as if he was reminding himself. “Here, it’s Paige. But it’s Grace. My Grace.” He was pacing.

“You just want to take Grace home,” Emma said. “You want to take her back to your world.”

“It’s the one place where we can be together,” Jefferson said, sounding desperate. “Where she’ll remember who I am.”

“Here’s the thing I don’t understand,” Emma said, keeping her voice even and conversational. “What did kidnapping Mary Margaret have to do with Grace?”

“Kidnapping--kidnapping?” Jefferson was offended. “I didn’t kidnap anybody. I was saving her. I saved her life today by bringing her here.”

“Saving her from what?”

“You know,” Jefferson said.

“How about you remind me?” Emma smiled, small and tight.

“We both know what happens to people who leave Storybrooke,” Jefferson said, running his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think--”

“Then you shouldn’t talk,” Jefferson snapped. He was pulling at his hair, now. “The curse, it’s the curse, driving us all mad. We’re all mad here.”

“I’m certainly getting there,” Emma said.

“You must be,” he said, “or you wouldn’t be here. It’s keeping all of us trapped, in the world and yet not of it. We’re forever isolated, all of us--except for you.”

“And you really believe that? You believe that an Evil Queen cast a magic spell and sent everyone here, to a neighborhood in an ordinary city, and trapped them all in a world with no happy endings?”

“I believe six impossible things before breakfast, Savior,” Jefferson said. “And this isn’t impossible.” He pointed at the desk, the one laid out with fabric and shears. “Now fix my hat.”

Emma sat down. The shears were long and sharp, longer and sharper than any knife she’d ever seen, and it occurred to her to use them as a weapon--only her particular school of hard knocks had not included self-defense via craft supply. She made a few half-hearted attempts with the shears, cutting out shapeless blobs that frayed slightly at the edges when she pulled them.

“I know what it’s like to be separated from your kid,” Emma said, putting the shears down. “It can make you feel like you’re losing your mind.” She could still remember those first days after giving birth, chained to a bed in the prison maternity ward, torn between making herself forget any of it had ever happened and desperately trying not to imagine what her son looked like. And now she knew--he looked like Neal. All of the best parts of him in one tiny person, his hair and his eyes and his smile.

Henry had a beautiful smile.

“I’m not losing my mind,” Jefferson insisted. “I’m not crazy. My reality is just different than yours.”

Once upon a time, there was an enchanted forest, and its denizens included all of the fairy tale characters you think you know, until they found themselves in a place where all of their happy endings had been stolen. Time stopped, and everyone was trapped.

"Every story you’ve read, some version of it has actually happened.” “You’re going to bring back the happy endings. It says so in the book.”

“Maybe,” Emma said. “Maybe it is.”

Jefferson stopped pacing. “You believe?”

Emma Swan was not a believer.

Emma shrugged. “If what you say is true, that woman in the other room is my mother.” She paused, took a breath.

Her mother.

“And I want to believe that,” Emma confessed. “I want to believe that more than anything in the world.”

"You’re so much like her.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Emma said. “Maybe I need to open myself up more. Maybe--if I want magic--I have to start believing.”

Jefferson positively quivered with excitement. “Help me,” he said. “I know you can get it to work.”

Emma grasped the shears by their handles. “I can try.”

Jefferson turned around, and Emma struck. She jumped out of the chair, knocking the hat off the corner as she slashed at his back with the shears. She knocked him across the jaw with the handles and watched him fall, unconscious, to the floor.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, her breaths coming in gasps as she pulled the door to the hallway open again--

--to find Hook and Mary Margaret heading straight for her.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret was relieved, pulling her into a hug.

“Swan,” Hook said with a smile. “Depriving me of a dashing rescue, I see?”

“Sorry, Hook,” Emma said, and somehow, she was smiling too. “The only one who saves me is me.”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret said again. “Look out!”

Emma felt like her breath was pushed out of her body as Jefferson tackled her and they fell to the ground, taking Mary Margaret with them. The shears fell just out of Emma’s reach and she got an elbow in the face as Jefferson lunged for them, Mary Margaret pulling back on him as hard as she could.

“Hook,” Emma yelled. “How about that rescue?”

With the heel of his boot, Hook stomped on Jefferson’s wrist as he reached for the shears, and then took two steps forward to help Mary Margaret to her feet. Jefferson had Emma on her back and she could see the scar that crossed his neck again; behind him, Hook pulled something off the wall and tossed it to Mary Margaret.

Emma kneed him in the groin as she got herself off the ground, trying to haul Jefferson up with her.

“Off with his head,” Jefferson whispered, and, pulling a knife out of his coat pocket, he slashed at Emma’s face just as Mary Margaret hit him in the head with a croquet mallet. He reeled sideways, the knife still slashing, his eyes angrier than ever.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said, “push!”

And then kicked him in the ass, sending him flying out of the window.

“Are you okay?” Mary Margaret asked, completely unfazed.

“Yeah,” Emma said, breathing heavily and clutching at a stitch in her side. “I’m fine.” She took a step toward the window and faltered, using the wall to hold herself up.

“Really?” Emma said to Hook. “You’re not going to lend me a hand?”

Eyes twinkling, he shrugged, then offered his hand.

Emma smacked him, fighting the urge to stick out her tongue. Turning to Mary Margaret, she said, “Have you been taking kickboxing classes and not telling me about it?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “I have no idea where that came from.”

A commotion outside, and Emma heard someone--maybe several someones--heading up the stairs and shouting.

“Someone’s coming,” Emma said, trying to stand upright.

“Emma!” The voice was coming from the hallway.

Mary Margaret tilted her head. “That sounds like Henry Mills,” she said.

“EMMA!” There was worry in his voice, and Emma remembered in a flash that Henry and Liam had been sitting in the courtyard when Jefferson had done--whatever it was he’d done--to her coffee and to her. Henry must have seen what happened, and Emma felt a rush of sadness mingled with something else.

Maybe pride.

Definitely affection.

And shock--because the one thing Emma still knew for certain about Neal Cassidy was that he had never once come back for her, and yet his ten-year-old son had rushed headlong into danger without a second thought. Which, actually, was probably a bad habit for a ten-year-old to have, but they could discuss that later, over cocoa and cinnamon, and Emma was definitely going to have to add a little rum from Hook’s flask.

Just to hers, though--there was a limit on how many bad habits she could allow her ten-year-old son to have, she thought as he made it to the door and flung himself at her, as she found herself wrapping her arms around him and saying, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I was so worried,” he mumbled as he stepped back. “So was Liam.”

Liam didn’t look worried so much as nervous as Hook pulled him into an embrace.

“Emma.” Mary Margaret, who was peering out the window, had a strange expression on her face.

“What’s up?” Emma said, walking back to her friend.

“He’s gone,” Mary Margaret said. “And--”

Emma stuck her head out, feeling Hook at her shoulder as if to steady her. Then she saw what had Mary Margaret so confused. “Is that--”

“The hat,” Hook said. “Aye.”

There was no sign of Jefferson anywhere.

--

@kmomof4​ @shireness-says​ @stahlop​ @carpedzem​ @spartanguard​ @optomisticgirl​ @snowbellewells​ @captainsjedi​ @scientificapricot​ @mariakov81​ @searchingwardrobes​

[snickwrites]

quarantine hcs | song series edition

am i bored? yes, but i’ve also wanted to to headcanon how my song kids deal with quarantine. when i was washing dishes and really thought about it, i amused myself so now i wanna write it down.

ignore me, as per usual.

WENDY CAIN.

it would drive her absolutely mad

but shes also a little freaked out at the health connotations, so shes very serious about following health protocols, like she laminates them and spreads them all across the house + rooms

therefore, welcome clean freak wendy

obsessively cleaning surfaces, is seen furiously scrubbing and spraying

but she looks absolutely adorable whilst doing so; like, shes got a bandana on, shes in gloves, maybe a summer dress ( because quarantine hits just when its summer dress season ;-; ) if shes feeling up to getting dressed a bit

shed still do her regular walks, but keeps it around the house and liminal spaces she knows doesnt have much humans

she already does walk by herself even before quarantine hit so its ok

would start getting into the bread-baking trend

house is constantly smelling like freshly baked bread, mans in love all over again

would absolutely try and keep herself busy by planning through it and asking leon to join with some activities (if shes quarantining with leon, if shes not, she’ll video call him all the time, and isnt afraid to say how much she misses him)

if she is quarantining with him, they plan dates once a week and dress up all fancy

my girl will probably start sending letters like shes from a past century w/ gifts for friends

she’ll take up all kinds of hobbies too omg, baking being the primary (will obsess over making the best bread, like, legit. Michelin quality fucking bread, your honour), some sewing (enough to make a few clothes, cute), and even botanical (quits while she’s only kid one plant. my girl doesn’t have a green thumb, sad face)

if she’s not quarantining with leon, will cope better than his ass lmao

will prolly bond a lot with her parents, map out movie nights and game nights (her stepmother is competitve as fuck and its hilarious)

LEON SONG

mans ok with it honestly

doesnt leave the house much so??? sure might as well

also gives him an excuse to take long naps with wendy in his arms so-

as long as he has internet, books, and food, hes ok

seriously, this man would be ok

would seriously get fat tho, bc if hes quarantining with wendy, man wont forget to eat since shes in charge of the kitchen

if he’s not quarantining with her tho, oh boy

will absolutely break down, have wendy on video call 24/7 he doesn’t give a flying fuck

this man cannot function without her being phyiscally present

as soon as quarantine restrictions get a little less tight enough for him to leave the house, you bet your bottom dollar this man is rushing to get to her period. he’ll either take her to his house or he camps out at hers, he doesn’t care as long as she’s within reach

co-depent motherfucker

JAMES BRACKHAM

oh man, he’d go insane on the first week

he’d get into all kinds of crap

he’d replenish all the movies/shows he’s missed, would start cooking, be active on social media ( esp when he started working out; phew, mans horny, in need of release, send help )

honestly. would get ridiculously horny

would work the fuck out

mans gonna get built

will learn creative recipes tho and get really good at cooking food

built af? cooks well? H-word?

please, a thirst trap

QUINN FONG

would get back to teenage quinn: mangas, animes, shows, films, and prolly start webtoons herself

would send thirsty photos to james just for the hell of it

will dye her hair numerous times, pls save her poor roots

would get into makeup trends

will do the tiktok trend of like, cooking food from different eras

but will not cook ordinarily, still too lazy

will get into tiktok

both pranks + dances

will lose it after the first few months, she’d be so lazy

will video call all her friends bc she misses them

pranking government agencies get intense and more ridiculous

will befriend someone from each agency; cia, nasa, mi6, and even mossad

will start a dnd group w/ them

FARIS HAMEL

god, i see this man get bombarded with video calls from family members, pls save him

would lose it in a month but will not show it

will also become a gym nut

boi would meet the gang after quarantine looking jack as shit

oh my go,d he’d go into an online shopping spree addiction

and since he only really spends expesivenly on particular things, it gets out of hand fast

like, intervention status stat!

pls, he’d also start journaling

but he sounds like a mid century polish boy afraid of the plague outside of his house

gets obsessed with cleaning as well

CORDELIA SONG

another online shopping spree addict

will completely refurbish her house, pls

new !! outfits !!

will be that annoying friend/relative who wll constantly call/video chat bc shes vv lonely, no matter how close you are to her

she does this daily

will dress up everyday, regardless

social media presence? uh, yes pls

will probably start lives just bc

most likely to be drunk before 3 o’clock

BONUS:

+ KEI TANAKA

hes surprisingly ok with it too

he’ll start cooking more and more than going for takeouts, will shyly have a more social media presence, prolly get into a dnd group (Accidently gets on quinn’s tho whew), and go for the shows/films he hasnt got time to watch

will not walk away from online relationships tho

chill about it

will actually forget how much he misses human interaction until like, someone calls him or like, he passes by his neighbours

will pamper himself tho

buy some bathbombs, some bath salts, oof, get some face masks

mans coming out of this looking young as shit

will start a random hobby?

mixing cocktails? do puzzles?

+ DOMINIC PRINCE

man will prolly lose his mind

one week? nah, third day this man has given up on life

will be the MOST annoying; will call anyone who doesnt drop his calls bc he craves human interaction

will play music like a madman

start watching some musicals

sends rando ass gifts to his friends only to fuck with them, followed up by an actual decent gift

will legit start adopting left and right

mans found an ad and became feral

come end of quarantine, he introduces his 12 new children

[smokeybrandcompositions]

Intelligent Design

My little brother is dating a twenty year old. Like, fresh twenty. She turned twenty in October, i think. Chick was in high school two and half years ago. I graduated 18 years ago. Seriously, i’ve known my best friend since September of 1997; I met him a month before she was born! That mess is wild to me! My brother is only twenty-six so i guess the age gap is a bit more manageable for him but to me, she’s six. I refer to her as his “Child-Bride” and she hates that apparently. She thinks she’s an adult because she’s in her early twenties. Thin is, we live in California. Chick can’t even buy cigarettes here anymore. While i get that’s not much of a measuring stick or whatever, the fact that i’ve seen this chick throw herself on the ground into kicking tantrums over not getting rides to work, is. I’ve seen this chick pout for hours because i bought myself food and didn’t share. I’ve listened to her reason the fact she lost a job was because the hiring manager, a woman, was a corrupt b*tch that fired a pregnant woman because she couldn’t work the necessary hours rather than accept the fact that said manager just didn’t feel confident the Child-Bride could do the job.

My guy, she punched a whole in my wall over a goddamn bread stick.

Now, i know there are a lot of teenagers and twenty somethings on this site. I know what i have said so far might trigger their little butt hurt feelings or whatever but let me elaborate. I believe that there are three types of fundamental intelligence: Intellect, Wisdom, and Smarts. In order to be a true adult, a true, functioning, grown-up, all three of these things need to be active and working in sync in order to reach that end.

Intellect

Intellect is the information we accumulate through study. Basically it’s the sh*t you learn during school. This is more fact retention than anything. When cats tell me they’re bad at studying or math or some sh*t, all i hear is “i’m too lazy or cn’t be bothered to actively remember the stuff the state mandated curriculum forces me to memorize. I’m not mad at that. School is bullsh*t and you don’t learn anything but rhetoric there. That being said, you still need the core fundamentals in order to be able to function so, learn your ABCs and qw3s, ladies and gentlemen. Get a tutor if you have to but you need them sh*ts in order to build into the next type of intelligence. The Child-Bride excels at this aspect of intelligence. She’s intellectual as f*ck and that makes it easy to talk to her, more so than most of her dumbass peers. She’s smart as f*ck, man, i can totally admit that. But she is starved in the there two aspects of intelligence.

Wisdom

Wisdom is crazy tricky for kids. Seriously, wisdom is often the one aspect of intellect that no twenty year old has and that’s because it’s the fundamental understanding of a collected subject over time in contrast to the same subject, presented in society/the world. Be it yourself (self-actualization), Academic progress (Pursuing those higher, more theoretical degrees), Societal understanding (Understanding the concept of tact or becoming actually socially conscious and not just this pedestrian “woke” nonsense i hear all the time), Emotional (Learning to accept that people can be cruel but you can move past that without taking it to heart or just not punching a whole in my f*cking wall because you’re upset over f*cking bread sticks!), etc. Time has a funny way pf taking the fundamentals you’ve learned, and giving you brand new perspective. It essentially forces to to constantly examine and re-examine our positions, often allotting brand now outcomes as you ability to understand, grows. It;s why old people always seem so content. They’ve lived long enough to understand everything they need to. And it’s why kids are so f*cking ridiculous. They literally haven’t even started on that journey yet. It’s interesting wen you look at it broadly like that. In the beginning of your life, there’s an explosion of intellectual learning. you have to accumulate so much information just to be able to play the game of life. Age 1 to probably 18 is you learning the move set; you’re playing the tutorial. Literally everything after that, you’re trying to figure out the goddamn game. Every time you f*ck up, you learn a little something. Every setback you have, you adjust your course and try again. Those “lives you use” are the lesson which build up your wisdom. At 20, you ain’t got any of that. Not a lick, yo. You haven’t made enough moves or reached enough dead ends to have accumulated any semblance of skill just yet, even if you’d like to pretend otherwise.

Smarts

This one is another aspect of intelligence that the youth often lack. Smarts is the basically commonsense. It goes hand in hand with wisdom. It’s quite literally what you glean from everyday observation; hax so to speak. It’s the driving force that makes you work smarter, not harder. It’s those epiphany you get after trying something over and over again but this time, you’re inspired to try it in a different way. It’s the immediate understanding that you need to approach a problem differently in order to overcome it because hat you’re trying ain’t working. It’s the opposite of insanity and the breeder pf ingenuity. It’s Pollock, Van Gogh, and Picasso letting go of the rigid shapes or techniques taught to them in school, instead just letting the paint guide them where they needed to go. We got the wheel because of it. We learned how to control fire because of it. We domesticated the wolf using it. That spark is smarts. The ability to understand how to carry that spark into a blaze is wisdom. but none of it works if you don’t have the fodder to burn, which is intellect. Hand in hand, working together, you achieve a adult understanding about things. Children are still learning the tools necessary to even get to the starting line. That’s what school is for. The more you learn there, the easier it is to apply your sparks. you have all of the information necessary to carry that inspiration forward, to apply your intellect in new, unorthodox ways. And as time goes on, as you master your technique and understand how to achieve your goal more efficiently, that accumulated understanding becomes wisdom you can pass on to the next generation in order to give them that much more of a star from where you began your race. Hand in Hand. Working together.

Ol’ girl is a child and children are dumb. In every facet. They’re ignorant, immature, and have a legitimate lack of common sense. They dumb as rocks. But that’s not a bad thing. You’re suppose to be dumb you twenties. You’re suppose to muddle through. AS long as you‘ve accumulated enough intellect during your formative years, you spend the majority of your early adult years figuring that sh*t out in connection to reality, not just theory. If you put in the work. and that’s this chick’s problem. That’s most of these kids’ problems. They don’t want to do the work. In an age of participation trophies. instant gratification, and Wikipedia. it’s easier to just plagiarize and fake it then it is to actually try. It’s why we have become a medicated nation. You want to know why little Tyler is addicted to speed? you gave him Ritalin when he was six because if his ADHD. You want to know why Harriet is addicted to heroin? you prescribed her Oxy for a sprained ankle. You want to know why Aubrey constantly has panic attacks in public? it’s because the work is too hard. It’s because, in this current social climate, everyone else has to count for your development, not you.And that’s the Child-Bride’s problem.

I adore ol girl. I do. I love debating her. I find it amazing she has such unique talents. Her writing skill is quite riveting and fresh. But she throws kicking tantrums on my floor when i tell her No. She punches holes in my walls over bread sticks. She lies all of the time just to placate cats and actually cares what people think about her. She’s kind of a vapid, walking, thirst trap but i know she’s more than that. She just needs to put in the work to BE more than that. She refuses this though. said she’d rather kill herself because it’s too hard. I know it's not. It is hard, true, probably the hardest thing you’ll ever attempt but i know it can be done. My wife did it. She’s actively doing it now. I’m actively doing it now. That’s what it means to be an adult. Doing the work. Using your intellect to identify what needs work. Using your smarts tackle the problem in a myriad of ways. and using your wisdom when one thing fails but you’ve understood there is a different route.This is what it means to be an adult. Until she musters the wisdom necessary to even try, ol’ girl will always just be my brother’s Child-Bride.

[smokeybrand]

Intelligent Design

My little brother is dating a twenty year old. Like, fresh twenty. She turned twenty in October, i think. Chick was in high school two and half years ago. I graduated 18 years ago. Seriously, i’ve known my best friend since September of 1997; I met him a month before she was born! That mess is wild to me! My brother is only twenty-six so i guess the age gap is a bit more manageable for him but to me, she’s six. I refer to her as his “Child-Bride” and she hates that apparently. She thinks she’s an adult because she’s in her early twenties. Thin is, we live in California. Chick can’t even buy cigarettes here anymore. While i get that’s not much of a measuring stick or whatever, the fact that i’ve seen this chick throw herself on the ground into kicking tantrums over not getting rides to work, is. I’ve seen this chick pout for hours because i bought myself food and didn’t share. I’ve listened to her reason the fact she lost a job was because the hiring manager, a woman, was a corrupt b*tch that fired a pregnant woman because she couldn’t work the necessary hours rather than accept the fact that said manager just didn’t feel confident the Child-Bride could do the job.

My guy, she punched a whole in my wall over a goddamn bread stick.

Now, i know there are a lot of teenagers and twenty somethings on this site. I know what i have said so far might trigger their little butt hurt feelings or whatever but let me elaborate. I believe that there are three types of fundamental intelligence: Intellect, Wisdom, and Smarts. In order to be a true adult, a true, functioning, grown-up, all three of these things need to be active and working in sync in order to reach that end.

Intellect

Intellect is the information we accumulate through study. Basically it’s the sh*t you learn during school. This is more fact retention than anything. When cats tell me they’re bad at studying or math or some sh*t, all i hear is “i’m too lazy or cn’t be bothered to actively remember the stuff the state mandated curriculum forces me to memorize. I’m not mad at that. School is bullsh*t and you don’t learn anything but rhetoric there. That being said, you still need the core fundamentals in order to be able to function so, learn your ABCs and qw3s, ladies and gentlemen. Get a tutor if you have to but you need them sh*ts in order to build into the next type of intelligence. The Child-Bride excels at this aspect of intelligence. She’s intellectual as f*ck and that makes it easy to talk to her, more so than most of her dumbass peers. She’s smart as f*ck, man, i can totally admit that. But she is starved in the there two aspects of intelligence.

Wisdom

Wisdom is crazy tricky for kids. Seriously, wisdom is often the one aspect of intellect that no twenty year old has and that’s because it’s the fundamental understanding of a collected subject over time in contrast to the same subject, presented in society/the world. Be it yourself (self-actualization), Academic progress (Pursuing those higher, more theoretical degrees), Societal understanding (Understanding the concept of tact or becoming actually socially conscious and not just this pedestrian “woke” nonsense i hear all the time), Emotional (Learning to accept that people can be cruel but you can move past that without taking it to heart or just not punching a whole in my f*cking wall because you’re upset over f*cking bread sticks!), etc. Time has a funny way pf taking the fundamentals you’ve learned, and giving you brand new perspective. It essentially forces to to constantly examine and re-examine our positions, often allotting brand now outcomes as you ability to understand, grows. It;s why old people always seem so content. They’ve lived long enough to understand everything they need to. And it’s why kids are so f*cking ridiculous. They literally haven’t even started on that journey yet. It’s interesting wen you look at it broadly like that. In the beginning of your life, there’s an explosion of intellectual learning. you have to accumulate so much information just to be able to play the game of life. Age 1 to probably 18 is you learning the move set; you’re playing the tutorial. Literally everything after that, you’re trying to figure out the goddamn game. Every time you f*ck up, you learn a little something. Every setback you have, you adjust your course and try again. Those “lives you use” are the lesson which build up your wisdom. At 20, you ain’t got any of that. Not a lick, yo. You haven’t made enough moves or reached enough dead ends to have accumulated any semblance of skill just yet, even if you’d like to pretend otherwise.

Smarts

This one is another aspect of intelligence that the youth often lack. Smarts is the basically commonsense. It goes hand in hand with wisdom. It’s quite literally what you glean from everyday observation; hax so to speak. It’s the driving force that makes you work smarter, not harder. It’s those epiphany you get after trying something over and over again but this time, you’re inspired to try it in a different way. It’s the immediate understanding that you need to approach a problem differently in order to overcome it because hat you’re trying ain’t working. It’s the opposite of insanity and the breeder pf ingenuity. It’s Pollock, Van Gogh, and Picasso letting go of the rigid shapes or techniques taught to them in school, instead just letting the paint guide them where they needed to go. We got the wheel because of it. We learned how to control fire because of it. We domesticated the wolf using it. That spark is smarts. The ability to understand how to carry that spark into a blaze is wisdom. but none of it works if you don’t have the fodder to burn, which is intellect. Hand in hand, working together, you achieve a adult understanding about things. Children are still learning the tools necessary to even get to the starting line. That’s what school is for. The more you learn there, the easier it is to apply your sparks. you have all of the information necessary to carry that inspiration forward, to apply your intellect in new, unorthodox ways. And as time goes on, as you master your technique and understand how to achieve your goal more efficiently, that accumulated understanding becomes wisdom you can pass on to the next generation in order to give them that much more of a star from where you began your race. Hand in Hand. Working together.

Ol’ girl is a child and children are dumb. In every facet. They’re ignorant, immature, and have a legitimate lack of common sense. They dumb as rocks. But that’s not a bad thing. You’re suppose to be dumb you twenties. You’re suppose to muddle through. AS long as you‘ve accumulated enough intellect during your formative years, you spend the majority of your early adult years figuring that sh*t out in connection to reality, not just theory. If you put in the work. and that’s this chick’s problem. That’s most of these kids’ problems. They don’t want to do the work. In an age of participation trophies. instant gratification, and Wikipedia. it’s easier to just plagiarize and fake it then it is to actually try. It’s why we have become a medicated nation. You want to know why little Tyler is addicted to speed? you gave him Ritalin when he was six because if his ADHD. You want to know why Harriet is addicted to heroin? you prescribed her Oxy for a sprained ankle. You want to know why Aubrey constantly has panic attacks in public? it’s because the work is too hard. It’s because, in this current social climate, everyone else has to count for your development, not you.And that’s the Child-Bride’s problem.

I adore ol girl. I do. I love debating her. I find it amazing she has such unique talents. Her writing skill is quite riveting and fresh. But she throws kicking tantrums on my floor when i tell her No. She punches holes in my walls over bread sticks. She lies all of the time just to placate cats and actually cares what people think about her. She’s kind of a vapid, walking, thirst trap but i know she’s more than that. She just needs to put in the work to BE more than that. She refuses this though. said she’d rather kill herself because it’s too hard. I know it’s not. It is hard, true, probably the hardest thing you’ll ever attempt but i know it can be done. My wife did it. She’s actively doing it now. I’m actively doing it now. That’s what it means to be an adult. Doing the work. Using your intellect to identify what needs work. Using your smarts tackle the problem in a myriad of ways. and using your wisdom when one thing fails but you’ve understood there is a different route.This is what it means to be an adult. Until she musters the wisdom necessary to even try, ol’ girl will always just be my brother’s Child-Bride.