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sescoups · 6 months ago

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favorite coworker - choi vernon

masterlist

word count: ~5.3k (i'm so sorry)

summary: vernon is your favorite. he just gets you. of course you can't resist him - not that you would ever want to.

a/n: this is definitely NOT proofread, and i'm sorry. idk i just have the fattest crush on vernon, honestly i can't be held accountable

18+, MDNI!!! warnings under the cut <3

warnings: oral (m. receiving), making out, creepy old man (he doesn't do anything, he's just a creep), mention of vomit, lmk if i missed anything! <3

“Wait so hang on, you mean to tell me you’ve never what..? Gone down on a guy?”

“Oh yell it out, why don’t you,” you groan, smacking your forehead into the counter. Thank fuck you just cleaned it.

Vernon is your coworker at the record store in the middle of the city. He’s super chill, does what he’s supposed to but doesn’t stress out or get pissy if you’re having a bad day and work slowly. He’s great. He’s just… a bit unaware of his surroundings, a lot of the time. You’re lucky only two people are in the store at the moment, or you would have simply passed away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I just kinda can’t believe it? I mean, you’ve had sex for sure, right?”

“Yes, Vernon.” You roll your eyes and glare at an old man who is shamelessly looking you up and down. “I’ve had sex before. Just not a lot, I guess. And why is it so hard to believe?”

Had he been looking at your face, your raised eyebrow might have tipped him off to the fact that he should drop the topic and back off. Unfortunately, in typical Vernon fashion, he was doodling nonsense on a notepad, so he missed it completely.

“Well I mean, you’re hot,” he said before finally looking up at you. He started tapping his pen against the counter, leaning his weight on one hand against the counter. “You’re also pretty open about your life in general, so I just figured two plus two equals one, you know.”

“What the fu- Vernon. Think about what you just said.”

“Oh fuck. Yeah I deserved to fail math in high school.”

You burst into laughter at his words. This is exactly why you love Vernon, and why he’s your favorite coworker. You’re laughing so hard you barely manage to greet the new customer who just entered the store. Your coworker is smiling, satisfied with his ability to make you laugh.

The old man who is still eyeing you, now with extra focus on your boobs, comes up to the register just as you manage to sober up from your laughing fit. You clear your throat and turn to face him, giving him a tiny smile in the spirit of customer service. Apparently a mistake.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” he starts, running his tongue over his front teeth in what you suspect is supposed to be a seduction attempt. “Would you mind maybe showing me some of the records you have in the back?”

The smile leaves your face immediately, and you’re about to absolutely emaciate him when Vernon cuts in to make sure you do not lose your job over some smarmy geezer.

“She cannot, sir. It’s store policy. Soz.”

You hold your snort in, but barely. The old man huffs and glares at the man next to you, crossing his arms over his chest. Honestly, you’re curious at this point. You’ve never seen Vernon handle confrontation - again, very chill dude - but you also know he is very protective over his friends.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the old man says with an eye roll. “I was talking to the pretty young lady.”

His smile sends a shiver down your spine, and you take a deep breath. The old man watches your boobs rise and fall. Seriously, fuck this guy. You force the customer service smile back on your face because you actually really like and need this job, and decide this sack of shit isn’t worth it.

“He’s right, sir. It’s against store policy, and I’m currently on register duty. If there is a specific record you wish to see, we can look it up in the system.”

“I’ll keep looking for a while… in case you change your mind.”

The way he winks at you makes your blood boil, and it’s a wonder your teeth don’t crack from the pressure of your jaw. The man walks away, and so does Vernon. He can’t really kick the guy out unless he does something physical, so you don’t know what he’s trying to do. Soon, though, your confusion melts into amusement and glee as you watch your coworker follow the man around the store, loudly dissing his music taste whenever he picks up a record. He keeps walking just a little bit too close for comfort, and after about three minutes, the man gives up.

You take huge pleasure in the way the man skulks out, hands in his pockets and back hunched over as if he’s trying to get away from something - or someone. Returning to the register, Vernon grins to himself and resumes his doodling without a word. You shake your head in amazement before going to help the other two customers in the store.

The next time you’re working with Vernon, you have the closing shift. Usually only one person is supposed to stay back after closing and clean up, but you just received a large shipment of vinyls that need to be sorted and placed into protective sleeves, so the two of you are working overtime together.

It’s a pretty slow shift, and the two of you pass the time by playing music for one another and guessing the artist and the title. You’re much better at it than he is, but only because you’re good at memorizing things; he has a far more varied music taste than you, and would easily have won had he remembered more than two song names and five artists. As per the terms of the game, the loser has to go out to get the dinner you preordered from a restaurant down the street. It’s not far, but it’s raining, so you’re glad to be exempt.

While your colleague is gone, you close out the register and sweep the floor so you only have the vinyl sorting left after you’ve eaten. The break room smells like wet dog and Doritos, so you bring two chairs out together with the foldable table that you’re going to use to sort the vinyls. Since no one is in the store anyway, you can people watch through the windows while you eat.

Vernon comes back in just as you finish setting up, soaking wet from the pouring rain. You coo at him when he shivers, and he shoots you a playful glare. He ends up holding his glare for all of two seconds before a wide smile stretches across his face.

“I left an extra shirt here at some point, do you think it smells like teenage boy?”

You escape the break room with two plates and some utensils in hand, laughing at his question and probably unfortunate fate.

“Because of the proximity to the break room? Probably. That shit is unavoidable.”

He grimaces before taking his jacket off, hanging it on a hook behind the register. He disappears to change while you plate the food, humming to yourself. You try not to think about how he’s probably half naked right now, and turn your attention to the fact that he most likely will smell atrocious to keep your head on straight.

You do love Vernon. He’s a great coworker, obviously, and he’s a great friend too, but that’s not really the full extent of it. You’ve been battling your crush on him for months now, because it’s pretty clear that he isn’t interested in you. Besides, if you ever did date, things would get awkward at work if you broke up. No, he is one of those people who should stay firmly at arm’s length. Unfortunately.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud bang, making you jump a good foot in the air.

“What the fuck, Nonnie?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, checking that the door he managed to fling directly into the wall hadn’t done any damage. “I tripped.”

“Only you, Vern,” you sigh. “Well, food is ready to go. Let’s eat!”

The meal, consisting of some kimchi jjigae, rice and side salad, passes by in relative silence. You occasionally hum in content, and Vernon often slurps his jjigae really loudly which prompts you to giggle. He always looks glad to have amused you, and you need to look away often in order to control your emotions.

“Dude,” he groans after his third serving, “I’m so fucking full.”

“I’m not the one who got an order for five people, genius,” you groan back, your own stomach feeling like a water balloon. “So good though.”

“So good,” he nods earnestly.

You can’t stand to look at him like this; you need something to do with your hands. So you stand up and stretch, which actually does help the food settle in your stomach a bit. Your hair, tied in a bun to avoid getting any food in it, comes down to release some of the pressure on your scalp, and then you feel ready to get started.

“Take all the time you need, man, but I’m gonna start on the first box. I want to get home before dawn, if I can.”

He flashes you a thumbs up and slumps against the table to enter into a food coma. You scoff at him and shake your head before clearing the dishes from the table. Thank God you have a dishwasher in the break room.

You bring out the first box and start sorting it, referencing the list you have as you go to take inventory. It’s repetitive work, but it’s kind of soothing, too. You do your best to make the plastic of the vinyl coverings crinkle as little as possible, wanting Vernon to rest for as long as he needs to. Three servings of kimchi jjigae would make anyone drowsy.

The first sign that he is still alive comes ten minutes later when he starts drumming a random rhythm on the table. You snort when you recognize the rhythm, pausing with a vinyl halfway into its covering.

“You can’t drum the melody to Dun Dun Dance, Vernon.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he protests weakly, cheek still pressed firmly against the table surface. “But nicely done. What about this one?” He drums out another rhythm, and now that you know it’s a melody he’s following, you recognize it quicker.

“That’s Candy by H.O.T.”

“Nice.”

“You gonna work or rest, bud?”

Vernon whines at your words and rolls his head to rest his forehead against the table instead. You wait patiently as he gathers the strength to sit up properly and kick a box of vinyls over to him when he seems more alive.

“Life isn’t fair,” he pouts, “I just did so much work eating all that food, and now I gotta do more?”

“It’s like that,” you agree absentmindedly, marking off a stack of vinyls on your list. “Can you turn on some music, please? The silence is creepy.”

He nods and connects his phone to the store speakers, choosing the playlist the two of you created together on a similar night of overtime. After that, the two of you slip into a rhythm together, unpacking vinyls, checking the list, and then putting them into a protective sleeve. It’s mostly silent aside from the music, and sometimes Vernon drums along to the beat on the table, but it’s comfortable. You kind of don’t mind spending a few hours like this.

When you’re two thirds through the stack of boxes, you both decide to take a break. Your saint of a colleague brews some coffee, and you hop onto the checkout counter to browse through your phone while your brain cells take a well-deserved rest.

“Bless you,” you say as you accept a mug full of coffee. “We’re making pretty good time today, eh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, taking a sip and wincing at the scalding temperature. “We haven’t really been talking, so.”

“That jjigae really took you out, huh?”

“Oh yeah.”

You grin at him and blow gently over your coffee. It’s still too hot to drink, as evidenced by the steam rising from it, but the smell alone is kind of waking you up. Vernon grabs your attention by clearing his throat gently, and you turn to look at him. He’s fidgeting a bit with a pen left on the counter close to your thigh.

“I, uh… I wanted to say I’m sorry about that dude the other day. The creepy one. I probably should have kicked him out, but I didn’t know if I could…”

Your heart melted a little in your chest. It was obvious he had been carrying this around with him, mulling it over and worrying about it. About you. It was endearing, and dangerous for your heart. You bit your lip and placed your coffee mug on the counter next to you.

“It’s okay,” you say earnestly. “He sucked, and I was uncomfortable, but you still made him leave. I didn’t feel like I was in danger or anything, so don’t worry about it.”

“I just feel like it’s partially my fault, for kind of yelling about the fact that you’ve never sucked a dick before.” You’re incredibly grateful that you weren’t drinking coffee at that moment, because you definitely would have spat it out all over the floor. His bluntness never ceased to surprise you. It was unbearably adorable. “I should be more aware of my surroundings, especially when talking about something sensitive like that.”

“Well,” you start, pausing thoughtfully. “I don’t really think that man would have acted differently either way, to be honest with you. Men like that are just… like that. I also don’t really care who knows I’ve never given a blowjob before. It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day. I haven’t done it because I haven’t slept with anyone who’s dick I wanted to suck, and that’s all. I just wish I knew how sometimes, you know?”

He shuffles his weight around at your words, shifting from foot to foot. He’s still fumbling with the pen on the counter, but now his fingers are clumsier than usual. You glance up at his face only to find him staring into empty space in front of him. You figure you made him uncomfortable with your oversharing.

“Sorry. That was TMI.”

“No,” he answers quickly. “We share everything. I told you when I threw up on Seungkwan’s lap and cried because I felt bad, didn’t I?” You smile at the reminder and nod. He finally meets your eyes again. “I was just thinking, you know.”

“What about?”

Vernon’s mind is the most fascinating thing to you. The way he thinks is so out of the box and different, and so beautiful. He has shown you the lyrics he writes for his friend Jihoon sometimes, and they’re so poetic you find yourself turning them over in your mind for days afterward. And the best part about it is that he always answers you when you ask what’s going on inside his head. He grants you access to his thoughts and feelings, and it’s the greatest gift you’ve ever received.

“Well. I don’t know if this is going to come off as creepy or not,” he warns, “but I was thinking like… Maybe you should just get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” Your eyebrow rises as you ask the question, and his furrow in response.

“I just mean that you could know how to give a good blowjob, if you wanted to. You could just… pick someone to sleep with. And ask them to teach you. You know?”

“Nonnie,” you start, and your bewildered tone makes him shrink a little. “You really believe the best of people, don’t you?”

“Well- I mean yes, but I didn't mean you should just sleep with anyone. You could just pick someone you already know.”

His words give you pause. You have plenty of friends in possession of a penis, but the thought of sleeping with most of them feels kinda gross. The one exception is… Well, Vernon. And you sincerely doubt that he is offering himself up. So you do what you always do and make a joke to force your mind away from the thought of sucking on your friend’s dick until he cums for you.

“What, are you offering?”

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs.

You stop breathing. He is actually, genuinely offering to teach you how to suck dick. More specifically, his dick. The one that has been the star of many of your more illicit fantasies. You want to say yes so badly, want to finally get the experience of being something more to him, but you also don’t want to get ahead of yourself. But…

The room is silent while you’re thinking. You feel his eyes on the side of your face, feel the way he’s cataloging every emotion that overtakes your features, and you swallow harshly. Your heart is beating out of your chest and your hands are shaking, and your brain is running a mile a minute with no end in sight.

Then Vernon places his hand on your thigh. His touch is warm but light, ready to pull away as soon as you want him to, but it’s enough to bring your soul back into your body and get a grasp on your thoughts and feelings. You bite your lower lip and breathe in deeply before letting it go. Yeah, you’re doing this.

“I uh, I’m going to need some guidance,” you say, and you almost miss the way your friend’s eyes widen at your words.

“O-Of course. And if you want to stop at any time, just like, tell me, yeah?”

You smile at the comfort his words bring you. “Yeah.”

There is silence once again, but this one is heavy with a different kind of tension. You both know what’s happening, but you don’t know what your next move should be. Technically, you should be working and saving any… other activities for your own free time, but you don’t think waiting is something you’re capable of at this point.

He is the one to make the first move, placing his half-empty mug on the counter and placing himself between your legs. His hands find a place on your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt slightly. Sitting on the counter means you’re a little bit taller than he is, but you really don’t mind it. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before his left hand lifts to cup your face.

“Are you okay with kissing?” His voice is a bit deeper than normal, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make heat pool between your legs. “I understand if not, but-”

You interrupt him with a gentle kiss. His lips are pillowy against yours, smooth and plump. You thank your past self for bullying him into using chapstick, because you can honestly say that this might be your favorite kiss ever.

Vernon’s hand moves from your jaw to rake through your hair, and you moan a little when his fingers catch a little in the back. He responds by stepping even closer to you and sliding his entire arm around your back, your chest pressing against his deliciously. The only thought going through your mind is the fact that you are kissing your favorite coworker, and how you really, really want to bury his cock in your throat.

He chases after you when you pull away slightly to catch your breath, and you don’t even mind that the oxygen deprivation is making you dizzy. You slump against him a little when he tugs on your hair again, and you move to return the favor. As soon as you pull on the hair at the back of his neck, he forces himself to pull away and gulp down some air.

His eyes are glazed over, his lips slick with a mix of your and his saliva, and his chest is rising and falling where it’s pressed against yours. It's painfully attractive. He rasps out a quiet groan and leans his forehead against yours. You love the feeling of his harsh breaths hitting your face and answer back with your own.

You feel like you’re in a bubble, because the world around you feels muted and time feels like it has stopped moving. You wouldn’t be surprised if the earth had stopped spinning.

“Sorry,” he breathes. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales your scent. “I just really wanted to do that.”

“Stop apologizing,” you respond, bringing your hand onto his head to scratch at his scalp. “I liked it. Maybe a bit too much.”

Your words bring a whine out of Vernon, and he squeezes you tighter. You’re still on top of the counter, but you can feel his bulge against the inside of your thigh. It twitches against you every time you tug at the ends of his hair, and it makes you smile.

One of your hands snakes down and cups him through his jeans. He reacts strongly despite the thick material separating you. His willingness to show you how good you make him feel make you fall for him all over again. As if he wasn’t already perfect enough.

“Y/N,” he gulps when you move your hand against him, “we’re taking this at your pace, and I can go as slowly as you want to, but I think I might go insane if I don’t get these pants off.”

You giggle breathlessly as you pull away from him, and he forces himself to take a step back from you. You lean back on your hands, your knees still spread from where he was standing previously. He’s distracted for a few seconds before he finally remembers to unbutton his jeans and tugs them down his legs.

The bulge had been apparent through the jeans, but you can truly tell how hard he is when they come off. The way he twitches in his boxers is so obvious you almost feel bad for him. You decide it’s time you follow through and receive your lesson.

You hop off the counter and slide onto your knees in front of him. It’s unfair how attractive he is even from this angle, you think, and slide your hands up his thighs. You’ve given handjobs before, so it’s not exactly your first time touching a dick, but the goal is different now. This time, your hands are just the warmup and not the main event. You’re just hoping you can bring him some sort of pleasure in spite of your inexperience.

“Tell me how to start,” you whisper up at him. He blinks a few times at the sight of you before sucking in a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he rasps. His throat is already dry with anticipation. “I uh, I mean everyone is different when it comes to this stuff, so uh-”

“Just teach me what you like, Nonnie.” Your hands are massaging his thighs, nails digging into his skin every now and then. Whenever they do, you can feel him shudder.

“O-Oh, okay,” he breathes, sounding broken already. “I prefer skipping the handjob first, I guess. I really l-like the feeling of licking, especially at the tip, and uh-” He is becoming redder by the second. “One step at a time. Uhm, start by removing my boxers.”

You nod obediently and slide your hands up to his lower tummy, watching the expressions of pleasure as they take over his face. You assume you will never get to do this again, so you do your best to burn it all into your mind for later use on lonely nights spent with your vibrator. He shudders again when your nails scratch his skin lightly. Your fingers curl around the hem of his underwear and tug.

His cock is beautiful. It’s pretty long, curving slightly towards his stomach, and the tip of it is a perfect shade of peach. Your mouth waters at the thought of getting to taste it, and you eye the drop of precum spilling from the tip. You gently shuffle closer, but he stops you.

“Sorry, you’re fine, I just need something to lean against,” he explains when you look at him in fear of having done something wrong. He maneuvers you both so that he’s leaning against the counter you were sitting on not five minutes ago, and you’re in front of him.

“What now, Nonnie?” you ask, his eyes shutting and chest expanding to accommodate a deep breath.

“You should probably just uh, stroke me a few times first. Then uhm, then you can do whatever you want.” You blink at him a few times, trying to indicate that he’s supposed to be teaching you how to do this. For once, he gets the hint. “Like I said, I uh, like licking. When you take me in you just have to make sure not to like, bite me. Other than that, you can take it at your own speed and depth - for your comfort, of course, but I’m also not picky.”

You admire the flush decorating his cheeks and neck. He looks so good like this, towering over you and looking at you like you hold the answer to his ultimate pleasure. You try to convince yourself that you do, that you will be able to listen and follow his guidance well enough that this will feel good for him. You decide that you will.

Raising your right hand, you grip him tightly in your fist. It makes him suck in a breath, and you feel the muscles in his thighs tense up. You pump him a few times, going slow and using his precum as lube. It’s not enough, of course, but you will move on soon.

“Fuck…” he heaves, leaning back onto the counter even more. He looks into your eyes and swears again. “Please, sweetheart, as soon as you’re ready, I-I want-”

You cut him off by pressing your tongue against the head of his dick. The flavor is salty and a little bit bitter, but it tastes like heaven. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you continue kitten-licking at his slit, and he lets out a winy moan. You open your eyes and look at him, only to find him with his head tilted back to look at the ceiling.

“How is this?” you pause to ask, continuing before he’s had time to answer.

“Good, baby,” Vernon answers through his labored breathing. “So, so good. Keep going, you’re doing great.”

The praise bolsters your confidence, and you give a long lick from his base to his tip. The motion makes him moan again, so you repeat it a few more times. In no time at all, his cock is covered in a mixture of your saliva and his own precum. You decide it’s time to try and take him in your mouth - both because you’ve teased him enough, but you’re also too impatient to wait anymore.

His tip breaches the heat of your mouth , and you find you have to open your jaw quite a bit to accommodate him. A punched out groan leaves him, and one of his hands comes down to tangle in your hair. When a strand of it falls in front of your face, he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the back of your head.

You love the weight of him on your tongue, and dare to sink down a bit lower. He hits the top of your mouth. You gag around him, and he gently pulls you off of him to check on you.

“You okay? You don’t have to keep going,” he reminds you. It only serves to make you more determined to make him cum down the back of your throat.

“What can I do better?” you ask while stroking him in your hand. You still want to improve.

“Honestly?” he wheezes, his hips jumping of their own accord. “You’re doing great.” You glare a bit at him, and he smiles down at you apologetically. “Sorry. But you are doing great. Maybe try sucking a bit more? Not just placing me in your mouth.”

You nod and sink right back down on him. His noises of pleasure are never-ending, and they only increase in volume as well as frequency once you properly suck around him. You bob up and down on him, his hand clenching in your hair as he’s doing his best not to fuck your throat. You’re making it pretty hard.

“Please, baby, I’m gonna fucking- Where do you want me to cum?”

His voice is hoarse and strained, and his grip on your hair has grown so tight it’s stinging your scalp. You savor the pain and rub your thighs together, mewling around him. You grip his ass and push deeper to signal for him to cum in your mouth, and it’s not a second too soon because he immediately spills his seed into you.

Vernon cums so much that some spills out onto your chin, but you diligently swallow what you can. He tries to keep his eyes on you, but his vision quite literally whites out as he reaches his high, so his eyes screw shut without his permission. You, on the other hand, couldn’t tear your gaze from him if you tried. He’s beautiful when he cums, his eyebrows scrunched in what almost looks like pain and his jaw slack in awe. His thighs tremble, and you’re glad he’s leaning against the counter so he doesn’t collapse onto the floor.

“Fuck, how are you so good at this,” he heaves out when his vision returns. You just smirk up at him, some of his cum still covering your chin and lips.

“I had a good teacher,” you tease back. Your voice is raspy after bobbing on his cock, and he finds it painfully attractive.

He notices the way you clench your thighs together and realizes you’re still on the floor. He’s quick to bend down and help you to your feet. As soon as you’re in front of him, he’s kissing you. He doesn’t care about the cum transferring from your chin to his, nor the fact that his softening dick is still out in the open; all he can think about is that he wants to pay you back for what you just did for him.

“Nonnie,” you breathe between kisses, and instead of pulling away it makes him kiss you harder, faster, deeper. He loves when you call him that. He reluctantly pulls away when you push gently against his chest, though. “We should finish the-”

“I need to eat you out, baby. Please, please let me.” His interruption surprises you, and so does his suggestion. He must see your confusion, because he quickly clears things up for you. “I want to, because I like you so much. I promise to ask you to be my girlfriend after this, but please, let me eat you out first.”

“Okay, but Nonnie-” you say, but he interrupts you with a passionate kiss as he mumbles thanks against your lips. “Nonnie.” He sighs and pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes to stop himself from jumping you again, and you smile. “I’ll say yes right now. I want to be your girlfriend. Is that okay?”

He kisses you so deeply you lose track of where he starts and you end, but you’re just so glad to be kissing him again you probably couldn’t have figured it out anyway. You don’t talk much more that evening, and you definitely don’t get home before midnight, but at least you go home and fall into bed together. Maybe his inattentiveness was a blessing, after all.

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a/n: don't forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed this post! <3

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt vernon #vernon x reader #vernon smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #svt fic #svt fanfic #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #sescoups writes

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itaipava · 17 days ago

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— little hints f1 boys would give that they have a crush on you.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

he is interested in all your passions and hobbies: even if it is something he knows little about, he’ll ask you about your passions or things you like to do to have more to talk about with you and to get to know you even better. he also likes to research on the internet and send you videos that he finds about your favorite topics and, when you least expect it, he will start conversations about it, leaving you surprised but happy to know that he puts a lot of effort into connecting with your world.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

he always includes you in his plans: whenever he travels, he talks as if you’re going too, without even inviting you directly. when you ask him about it, he usually says, “well, you’re going with me, aren’t you?” and when you can’t go because of work, he gets really frustrated, but he makes sure to keep you updated. he’s also always saying “we should check out that new place together… when are you free?” or “wouldn’t it be fun if you go with me for the next race?” he loves planting the idea of future moments with you, and he loves it when they actually come true.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

he loves teasing you: he always looks for a way to tease you, but always with a touch of flirting, which leaves you wondering if it's really just a joke or if he means something with it. he also hates it when someone else does this and he doesn’t hide his anger, and it’s at this moment that you also don't miss the opportunity to tease him; and the look in his eyes tells you that in fact, he doesn’t tease you just for fun.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he always offers to help you with whatever you need: no matter what you need, he will do whatever it takes for you and to make your life easier. he will get you a coffee (and a sweet treat) in minutes when you say you want it. he will buy you something you said you needed but couldn't because you were too busy. he will come to your house to fix that broken drawer. he will always be there for you, even when you don't ask him directly, he will be there.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he always remembers little details about you: sometimes he'll casually mention something small that you've said in the past, like your favorite snack or a specific memory. and sometimes you're delightfully surprised by how accurately he tells you these things because you could swear he'd forgotten or didn't really care, but he's always paying extra attention to you and everything you say is important to him.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

he always compliments you a lot: but they’re not generic compliments that you always hear, he focuses on unique characteristics of yours that he really admires, like “you always have a way of making everything more fun and cool” or “you always seem to know the right things to say”, he’s always complimenting you, and he always means it.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

he always looks for reasons to text you: he likes to send you news about your favorite singers, bands, authors or something he knows you’ll like. it’s things like “you popped into my head when i saw this, and i had to share” or “doesn’t this remind you of that joke you made?” and he always tries to keep the conversation going, no matter what.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

he is always your biggest fan: whatever you do, he gives you all the support and help in the world. he is always the first one to show up when you need encouragement, whether it’s to wish you good luck at an event or send you a bouquet of flowers with a little note, or a brief message saying that he believes in you, and that he knows everything will turn out fine. he also loves talking about you to people like “did you see what y/n did? she’s amazing, right?” he is your biggest fan, and he doesn’t hide it from anyone.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he looks at you a lot: when you two make eye contact, you have to look at something else first because he can’t get enough of you - and he loves it when you get embarrassed about it. he also loves to admire you when you’re distracted and don’t realize he’s looking at you; he loves looking at you and learning your mannerisms. to him, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and even though sometimes you catch him staring at you and ask him with a smile what he’s looking at, he doesn’t stop or give you a serious answer, which creates a spark of curiosity in you.

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luvrxbunny · 1 year ago

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gullible

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Breeding

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, a lot of body descriptions, reader is on the curvier side, some grinding/dry humping, male masturbation (barely), ovulation, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 4.7k

A/N: lets say spider society is funded by the most rish spider-people and thats what the dinner was for. also this is long asf- i blacked out im so sorry

It’s a formality. This whole dinner party. It’s something Miguel gets invited to every year and every year he dreads going to it, having to play posh in order to get some extra funding from the higher-ups. Although, he doesn’t mind too much this year because he’s bringing you.

He’s fidgeting, and complaining about his collar when you come out of the bathroom, you’re asking him if you look okay and he knows his answer before he looks at you. He knows you look good, he tells you so before turning to you and only reassures you upon gazing at the outfit.

This dress is new, and you’re worried your tummy might be too big for it so you’ve thrown a coat over to hide it. Miguel knows what the coat is really for but doesn't mention it, not wanting to risk making you so uncomfortable you change out of everything. He compliments your new perfume instead, winning a confused smile from you. You’re fidgeting with the coat on the ride to the venue, saying that it’s itchy and you’re getting too warm. He suggests you take it off but you gently refuse and stop complaining.

He gets dragged away from you the moment he walks through the door. He hates leaving you alone at these things, he knows you don’t socialize well and he knows the men here want a taste of you. He’s anxious to get back to you for the entire hour these deep pockets talk his ear off. He hasn’t been listening, he’s thinking about you. He’s almost overwhelmed at the love he has for you, he’s never felt this way before. He’s missing you even though you guys are in the same place, even though he’s only been away from you for an hour. He can’t get out of there fast enough, shoving the doors of the conference room open and searching for you immediately.

When his eyes find you, they find that you’ve already taken your jacket off and you’re socializing with an entire group of people. They’re conversing with you comfortably. You bring a smile to his face as you laugh at someone’s joke. His eyes rake over your body, finally taking in your true outfit.

It has him stiffening in his pants. You’re wearing a dark red pencil dress, the same color as his suit. It hugs your curves perfectly, doing justice to your plush thighs, your ass and showcasing the curve of your back. His favorite part though, is the way it hugs your front. Your boobs look great, sure, but it’s emphasizing the little pooch that sits at the bottom of your stomach.

You hate it, saying it makes you look fat, that you wish you could get rid of it… but in Miguel’s eyes? It’s just proof you’re the perfect woman to mother his children. He came to this conclusion before he even knew about your tummy. He had seen your wide hips, your care toward others, how good you are with children, and decided he wanted you.

Once he got you to date him, to fall in love with him, he found out about your little belly fat. You’d been sucking it in as much as you could whenever you were around him, sometimes wearing higher pants than necessary in hopes of the jeans pushing your stomach down. It broke his heart to hear you so insecure but there was also a little flame igniting in his stomach.

The flame never left. He didn’t tell you about it, but every time he noticed your belly pushing against your tank top, or a tight shirt, whenever he felt your soft tummy on his hard stomach- through the t-shirt you insist on wearing while he fucked you- the fire raged brighter. He added it to the list of reasons you’d be an amazing child-bearer. He’s obsessed with the protective fat over your womb.

He watches you cover your stomach with your arm as you laugh, not even realizing you’re trying to hide his favorite part of you. He’s walking over to you before he plans out what he’ll say. He just stands beside you, inhaling your sweet perfume, and waiting for you to feel his presence, it doesn't take long. You turn to him with a surprised smile and give him an excited hug. “Miguel!”

His heart expands at your excitement upon his arrival, he wraps an arm around your waist and presses you against him. Your voice is muffled as you speak to him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” He’s not listening though.

To any outsider, it looked like Miguel just really missed you, when in reality, he was making sure you could feel what you do to him. You let out a pretty sigh into his ear once you feel his bulge press into you. Your eyes are on his as you pull away, searching them for a reason as to why he’s hard but all he’s too busy taking in every piece of you.

You’re both lost in your own world, you don’t realize the people you were talking to have moved on from your conversation, talking with some other people now and leaving you and Miguel to your moment.

His hands are resting on your hips before one slides behind you, pressing his open palm against the small of your back before the other presses against your lower stomach, right over your uterus. Miguel can feel your stomach tense under his hand as you suck in, tightening your muscles but Miguel just tuts and tilts his head at you, disappointed. “Don’t do that, cariño. I love her.” Your gaze is on the floor as you listen to him, he sounds drunk, his voice is distant and hazy.

His head is cloudy with fantasies. He can see your stomach, how it would grow and swell as you create his child inside you. He thinks about how beautiful you would look with your womb stuffed full of him. He swears she’s calling for him- your womb- begging him to fill her up, paint your walls white until his seed takes, maybe a little more after that just to be safe.

You can see his thoughts racing, you can tell he’s working himself up, you just don’t understand what is doing this to him. His hand on your stomach is making you a bit self-conscious, but your muscles have been too tight for too long, and they give out. Your soft tummy relaxes and presses into his hand, pulling a relieved sigh from Miguel. His breathing picks up and his eyebrows furrow before he looks up from your stomach, looking into your eyes instead. “You know I love this, right?”

He looks back down at your belly as he readjusts his palm, opening his hand wider to cover more of your pooch. You whine and shift uncomfortably, the way his hand is resting over your womb is hot, it’s turning you on but you’re barely aware of that fact because anxiety is overrunning everything. You’re waiting for Miguel to slip up, for you to see a crack in his lies. You appreciate the attempt at making you feel better about your body but you don’t- you can’t believe him.

Until you look up into his eyes.

They’re drowning in need, his pupils entirely blown out, covering most of the red in his eyes. He’s gazing at you as he slowly pulls you in and presses his plump lips against yours with a moan. You pull away quickly and look around, a few people looking your way at Miguel’s louder-than-safe moan. You look back up at him to warn him, tell him to keep it down but the words die on your tongue. His eyes are hazy and confused, still looking at your lips like he can’t figure out why you pulled away. You smile at him incredulously and pull his hand away from your back but he whimpers when you try and take his hand off your womb.

“Miguel, we’re public, baby.” Your voice is soft yet frantic, and his eyes are still begging you. “People are staring…” That gets a reaction, his face twitches and his eyes clear and harden a bit. He looks around the room with a snarl and you have to pull his gaze back to you.

“Hey! What’s gotten into you?” The question hurts him a bit as he thinks it over, he really is trying to pinpoint why this is affecting him so much. All he can focus on is you though, your scent enveloping him like a cloud. It smells like everything good, like flowers and honey, but also clean like soap and linen. It’s suffocating him, stopping all thought.

“You smell so good, amor. What is that? I don’t recordar buying este para ti.” His voice is muffled as he buries his face in the top of your head, looking for the source of your scent. You’ve had enough, he’s doing all of this in the middle of the party, and you’re starting to feel a bit embarrassed. You’re pushing him back, slowly walking him to the edges of the party. You feel people staring until you finally hit a wall, pushing a grunt from Miguel. “What is up with you?” Your tone is gentle but you’re getting concerned, you’ve never seen him like this.

His eyes are shut tightly as his brows furrow and he lets out a pathetic whimper. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t know.” His hand leaves your stomach to bury in his hair and you instantly miss its warmth. You take a step closer to him, waiting for him to say more. “Can we leave? I think we’ve been here long enough, yeah?” He’s already pulling your hand to the exit.

He’s silent in the car and on the drive home, constantly running his hand through his hair, and bouncing the leg that isn't on a pedal. You’re taking in his frantic state and notice that through all this, he’s still hard. “Miguel…” He gasps softly and turns to you for a moment. “What’s wrong?

“I don’t-” His eyes dart to your form. “ Your dress for one.” You glance down and wish you hadn’t, you see your stomach split into rolls, folding the fabric of your dress, accentuating the it’s softness. Your arms cross over it, trying to hide and Miguel groans.

“Don’t do that, I told you.” His voice sounds painful and strained. You look back at him to see a distressed look on his face and his hand palming his throbbing cock through his suit pants. “I fucking love her.” His breathing gets heavy, causing him to inhale more of your painfully sweet perfume. “What the fuck is that smell, baby?”

You can hear him take a big inhale of the air in the car and a shiver runs up his spine. “I’m…” You struggle to round up enough thoughts to answer him, too distracted by the way he crushes his dick against his thigh and the little moans that accompany his movements. “I’m not wearing perfume, Miguel.”

That's when it hits him. Why he’s so desperate for you, why your scent is clouding his every thought and taking over his mind… You’re ovulating.

A broken groan rips from his throat at the realization, he speeds the rest of the way home. When you guys finally arrive he parks in the driveway and unlocks the doors, but doesn’t move. “I need you to get out, bonita.”

You feel arousal settle in your stomach as you press your legs together. Miguel’s head falls back, and his hair falls with his head, revealing his red-tipped ears. His hips are still gently thrusting into his hand, the other is squeezing the wheel so hard you thought it might crack. “I- I need a moment, baby. I’ll explain everything, just go inside and-” He lets out a breathless curse and his hips stutter against his palm. “And go change and just- just wait for me, okay? I’ll be there in a moment, go.” You’re in a trance as he speaks but the force in his command shakes you out of it.

You leave the car silently and make your way to his place. You change out of your clothes in a daze, putting on a tank top and one of his sweatpants as you try to process what just happened. You grab a blanket and wait for Miguel on the couch.

It’s only a few minutes before you hear his footsteps approaching the door. You stand in front of the doorway, oddly nervous as you watch the knob turn. His eyes meet yours the moment the door opens, his eyes stay on yours as he ducks through the frame, and takes his shoes off. They only tear from yours to take in your new outfit, your lower belly is the first place his eyes land. He gets that weak look in his eye you’ve been seeing all night and his breathing picks up.

Miguel notices the way your stomach sucks in for a moment before relaxing, letting your body be as she is and it making him feral. He needs you so bad, he wants to just take you right here but he promised you an explanation. His eyes flicker up to you and he takes a shaky deep breath and tries to keep his voice steady. “Have a seat, hermosa.”

He looks nervous, he keeps wiping his hands on his suit pants as you walk over to sit on the couch, he seats himself at the other end, across from you. You’re turned to him, legs crossed and laying in his lap. He turns to face you more and accidentally places your legs over his bulge, you can feel his thighs tense as he folds in half, letting out a choked moan that he tries to cover as a cough. You let him think he got away with it, he leaves your legs over his bulge, giving him enough stimulation to think straight.

You’re looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain and he decides to just rip the band-aid off. “You’re-” Arousal stabs in his stomach at the sentence he has to utter. He bites into his lip and tries to regulate his breathing. “You’re o- ovulating.” Your legs shift in his lap as your expression falls, embarrassed. “And I can smell it.”

Your legs pull out of his lap quickly and you bring your knees to your chest. “What?!” You sit up and tuck your legs under you, sitting on your calves. “You can smell it? I’m- God that’s so- I’m so sorry.”

His mind is getting hazy again without your contact. “No. Cariño, not that. It’s not like that.” He sighs at your confusion, he wishes you understood how desperate he was, maybe then you wouldn’t ask him to talk so much, maybe you’d just let him fuck you already. “It’s more like pheromones.”

His hand slides across the couch cushion, wraps around your ankle and slowly drags you toward him. “It’s a change in your personal scent. Your body is trying to trick mine into breeding you, and guess what?” He’s pulled you straight and is crawling up your body, slowly lowering himself against you so his bulge is pressing against your pussy, right over your clit.

He’s so hard he’s able to split your lips, rubbing the cloth of his sweatpants against your naked pussy and you gasp at the feeling. Your hands slide up from his biceps to pull his head in, anxiously awaiting the rest of his sentence. He smirks at the eager look on your face and leans in, just inches from your lips, and whispers against them. “My body is so gullible for you.” You whimper.

You can feel your entire being heating up as he kisses you so intensely, like he’s trying to devour you. He’s groaning against your lips and licking into your mouth as he wrestles his jacket off. Your hands shoot to his belt and struggle to get it off, whining into the kiss when his belt gets caught on the loops. He smiles into you and his hands come to rest over yours. “Tranquila, bebe. I’m the desperate one, remember?”

You shake your head his words and let him take his pants off while you wiggle out of his sweats. He moans at your bare pussy and his arms give out for a moment, almost dropping his weight on you before catching himself. “N-no panties?” His fingers are on you, rubbing your clit and spreading your slick all over you, coating his fingers in it. He’s being downright messy.

“Miggy- Miguel, I need it so bad- need you so bad. I love you so much. You’re so-” Your mind is already gone as you grind up into his fingers, overwhelmed by the added pleasure of his desperation. He’s groaning into your ear as he humps himself against your thigh in time with his fingers.

“I don’t know. I need-” You cut him off with a moan and he smiles as you apologize in between whimpers. “I think I’d need to cum in you, cariño. I need- My brain can only focus on-” He groans as you writhe against him, pushing your thigh into his crotch. His head lowers to rest against yours as his fingers speed up inside you. He can feel the way you’re coating them, soaking every crevice with your sweetness. He can feel the way they’re sliding inside you, the way your walls are squeezing him, it’s too much. “I can only think about cumming in you, bebe.”

Truthfully, his thoughts were more focused on what would come afterward, watching you swell with his child but you guys haven’t even had a conversation about kids yet.

“No.” You whine at him, he feels sadness shoot through his stomach but he tries to mask it. “Just fuck me, please?” You’re looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, your hands around his neck pulling his face impossibly closer as your lips try and lock with his. He nods at you gently, he wants to give you anything you could possibly want.

“Okay, amor.” He kisses you quickly before taking his hands off of you and starts unzipping his pants, pulling himself out of his boxers while you wait. You watch him for a bit as he gets undressed before a thought pushes into your head.

What if I took my top off this time?

You think it over for a second, you want to be yourself with him, completely and he’s explained his love for your tummy over and over again.

What could be the worst that happens?

Images of Miguel’s face twitching in disgust flash through your head. Unrealistic scenarios of Miguel pulling away, starting to reject your advances and your kisses plague your brain.

He wouldn’t do that.

You take a deep breath and bite the bullet, pulling your tank top over your head quickly and Miguel freezes, causing an abundance of discomfort on your end. You thought this was something he’d want, something he’d like, now that you’ve exposed yourself though, he’s silent.

You try to stand strong, but your hands are twitching at your sides to cover your stomach. You pray to whatever god there may be that you somehow gain the ability to read his mind, to see his thoughts, to force him to say something… anything.

His cock pulsing. He’s never seen you completely shirtless, despite being together for over a year. He never wanted to push you, too scared that he’d push you away. He’s seen you with no top but only with a towel over your stomach, or pants pulled over your stomach as you change. But now? Her full glory was on display, there’s a little curve underneath, separating your tummy from your pussy and he’s in love.

His eyes are zeroed in on your naked stomach and your hands come up to cover it, legs pulling inward as you fold into yourself. He can’t have that. “Don’t”

His voice is sharp and dark, a strong command but you don’t listen, covering your stomach fully. “It was a bad idea. I’m so uncomfortable, Mig. Can-” You let out a heartbreaking sigh. “Can you just pass me my top?” You threw it down just out of reach and your hands are occupied covering your stomach. Embarrassment is coursing through every vein.

How are we gonna move on from this? I fucking killed the shit out of the mood. Fuck. God, I hate this.

“No.” He’s moving back toward you, climbing up your body again, ignoring the obvious confusion you’re facing. You curl in even more which just upsets him. He grabs your leg and pulls, forcing you out of your ball before pinning it under his own. “Uh-” You let out a noise of surprise but Miguel pays it no mind as he reaches for your arms. He takes both of your wrists in his hand and pins them above your head, holding them there as he admires your tummy.

Your heart is racing but you don’t struggle. Miguel is looking at you like to most amazing piece of art and you’d do anything- anything- for him to keep going. You feel yourself leaking between your legs as he just stares. His breathing is slow and shaky and his brows keep furrowing, like he’s having an internal battle with himself. He takes another breath and exhales through his mouth, letting his breath fan over your face before releasing your wrists and leg.

He’s waiting for you to pull your hands back down, cover one of your most beautiful features… but you don’t.

Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. “Can you please, please, fuck me now?” His face twitches before he smiles, taking a deep breath as he pulls away. He kisses your chest as he slowly rises, his hand already on his cock, pumping himself gently as he aligns himself with your entrance. You’re gripping the cushions with all your strength as he works himself in.

He’s worried. You feel insane around him, the softest thing he’s ever felt, extra wet and open for him to breed you. His mind keeps wandering back to cumming inside you, even though you said no. He’s walking the line of some dangerous thoughts.

I am stronger than her…

He shakes the thought out of his head and focuses on you. The way you’re moaning his name like it’s the only thing you know, your hips are growing frantic as the grind up against him. “Miggy-“

“Amor.” He smiles at the moan that rips from your chest as you bury yourself in his neck. His hips speed up at the sounds of your moans right next to his ear, your breath tickling the shell of it.

“‘M gonna- “ Miguel cuts you off with a growl and his brows furrow. He doubles down on his thrusts, bringing his hands to the small of your back, gripping you hard and fucking you into his cock.

It’s going to take a serious amount of focus to keep his orgasm at bay until you’re done. “Go- Fuck. No, just wait, baby.” You let out a confused noise at his command. He’s never asked you to hold it before.

“Fuck! Mi- I don’t know how!” Your sentence turns into a sob as he watches your body tense up, pulling all your muscles tight and gripping the roots of his hair. “Haah- Miguel. Baby, I ca- an’t. Please let-“

A moan stops your sentence as Miguel presses onto your womb, forcing his cock against your walls, stretching you even more. You feel so full you don’t know what’s happening. Your eyes are wide as you stare at his hand, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. They’re frantic, desperate and wild when they meet yours.

His panting aggressively, intermittently pausing so he can try and regulate his breathing. You’re staring into his eyes, shocked at his reaction and a smirk pushes its way into your face before you moan at him again. He pulls his hand away from your womb like it burned him and pulls out, gripping the base of his cock so hard it must hurt.

You were so close, teetering on the edge, just hearing Miguel utter your name could’ve tipped you over… but he pulled out instead. “Miguel!!! Why? I- I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

Your desperate pleads are worsening his situation. He ignores your words and starts rubbing your clit, his fingers moving over the little bud lightning fast. “I’m not punishing you, bebé bonita”

You whine at the love name and grip his arm, trying to pull him closer to you. “No puedo correrme dentro de ti and I’m… I’m too close right now, cariño.”

You’re trying to push his hand away now, shaking your head and whining. “S’okay”

Your yanking at his arm, trying to get him back over you. “Cum inside, Miggy.”

His eyes widen and he doesn’t move. He honestly thinks he’s hearing things at this point, fantasizing without realizing but you’re look at him all shy and expectant. So you actually said something… “W-“ He takes a deep breath. “What?”

You whine at him and avert your eyes as your legs slowly spread for him. “You- You wanted to, right? I want it…” You whine at the thought. “I need it, Miggy.”

His vision blurs as he reaches out for you, lining himself up as quickly as he can. He can already feel his balls pulsing, tensing and preparing a load for you, for your pussy, your womb.

It’s worse than the first time he ever had sex with you. Every nerve is alight, he can feel every little detail in your pretty, perfect pussy. On top of that, you’re moaning like he’s never heard before, louder, more high pitched, more desperate than earlier and they’d already shocked him then. He can’t.

“Mm- Not- fuck. I’m not gonna last. Not even a min- shit. Oh my god, cariño. Not even gonna last a minute. Fuck me, niña bonita.” Your almost screaming his name at his words, his languid pace and the way he’s literally shaking for you. “Gonna- shi-it.” His words sound like broken sobs as his tip gently abuses your cervix.

You’ve pulsing around him, trying everything you can to wait for him so you can milk him while he pumps you full. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck. I’m gonna cum in- in you, baby. Voy a follarte un bebé, amor. Te dejaré embarazada, te mantendré llena de mí en todo momento. Mierda. Te verás tan hermosa, manteniendo a nuestro bebé protegido en tu grueso útero. Oh, joder"

(“I'm going to fuck a baby into you, love. I will get you pregnant, I'll keep you full of me at all times. Shit. You will look so beautiful, keeping our baby protected in your thick womb. Oh fuck.”)

Your eyes roll back and the coil in your stomach snaps as Miguel rambles, hips thrusting into yours gently, his gaze on the back of his skull. You’re fucking yourself on him as best you can in this position. It’s awkward and over-exerting but completely worth it when you hear a whine of your name and Miguel’s cock starts throbbing inside you.

Twitching once, twice, before hardening even more and pouring a torrent of cum into your waiting pussy. He’s the loudest you’ve ever heard. Moaning out your name on repeat, thanking you for letting him cum in you with a lot of other Spanish sentences in between.

His hand presses to your womb as he winds down but his cock twitches out another load as he pushes down, fucking into you slowly again. “Te amo tanto, mi querida. No puedo imaginar la vida sin ti. Una vida en la que no tendrás mis hijos, en la que no estemos casados…” His entire body shudders as he finally stops pouring into you.

(“I love you so much, my dear. I can’t imagine life without you. A life where you don’t bear my children, in which we aren’t married…”)

He leans down and kisses you slowly, eyes hooded but still focused on you. Your eyes are teary and trying to shut, exhausted from the entire night. Miguel keeps pressing kisses all over you as you drift off.

“Un mundo sin ti es uno en el que no podría vivir, amor.”

(“A world without you is one I couldn't live in, love.”)

Thank you so mcuh for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

4K notes · View notes

namjooningera · 5 months ago

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Ghost face Toji! and his little helper

Characters: Toji, y/n, victims

A/n: hehe. So I read some ghost face JJK ffs and I was just thinking that instead of y/n being the victim what if she helped ghost face instead? 😋 his lil helper. Also first time writing smut so :p

TW: ghost face, death of background characters (by stabbing), lowkey gore, reader is lowkey sociopathic/very much delusional, smutttt, cowgirl, size difference

“Nghhh! Toji! A-ah!” You whined, being bounced on his massive member, trying to claw at anything that would give you some comfort.

“Y-you can take it, yeah? And it’s ghost face, doll.” He gripped your hips and laid below you, as you bounced mercilessly on his cock.

Bodies laid on the floor near you two, blood seeping from them and staining the concrete floors. Beer bottles broken and medr over party supplies littering the floors.

You bounced on his cock around the dead bodies, the knife from your little hand dropping to the floor as you pressed your hands against his chest for leverage.

“Atta girl, that’s it.” He chuckled beneath you, breathlessly, his bloody mask halfway off while he fucked up into you.

You stand at the streets of Shibuya, behind chains led by security, watching as celebrities walk past on the red carpet.

You try to squeeze past, to see your favorite movie actors, singers, models, pass you by on the red carpet. Looking as dazzling as ever. You’d like to be them. You need to be them.

It’s been your only wish since you were a kid. You rush over around the squads of people and paparazzi, trying desperately to get the attention of the famous people.

You watch as their heels click on the red carpet, brushing past like the watchers were nothing but dust. No care in the world but their own fame, and you desperately crave that kind of life.

The cameras, the lights, the people. It’s all you wanted.

Ever since you were a little kid, orphaned young and too early. You’d sneak down in the basement of the orphanage where you lived, where a small tv was, and you’d sit in front of it criss-crossed. You’d watch the actors, musicians, models and famous people on the tv, when they’d walk the red carpet, appear in the gala, make their name and grow fanbases. The way the cameras zoomed on them, and the lights framed their faces. The paparazzi that chased them with cameras, flashing lights and the way the celebrities would pose.

You tried everything to be like them.

Signed model contracts, auditioned for background acting roles, you sang and danced, even uploaded videos on social media.

And nothing.

You didn’t get famous, you didn’t have cameras in your face, and you didn’t end up on tv or the news. Well, except once.

You ended up on the news. Once.

You remember it like it was yesterday. The way the other kids and adults taunted you. Telling you you’d never be famous. At first, they gave you the benefit of the doubt. A cute kid auditioning? You might as well get the part at some point. A commercial or some small acting role, something. But you didn’t. And they laughed. Told you to give up and your little dream would never happen. You knew it wasn’t your fault you didn’t get the role, the people you bypassed you were those with connections and nepo-babies. You didn’t stand a chance.

But their taunting never stopped, they probably would’ve if you gave up on your little dream, but you didn’t. You continued plastering celeb posters on your walls, drawing stick figures of you on the red carpet, and singing in the halls of the orphanage. All because you thought, no, you knew you’d be famous at some point.

So they ripped up your posters, your drawings, and would hit you every time they heard you sing or saw you dance. They all thought you were pathetic, and the adults who ran the orphanage started to as well.

At first they didn’t mind signing up some cute kid for these random positions, auditions. Maybe your fame would bring more money to the orphanage? But the more you asked and failed, the more you tried, they got pissed off.

At one point getting physical with you, after calling you a delusional freak they started to smack you around just like the kids. Telling you to give up, and just try to get adopted like any other kid.

But when the adults came in to adopt, they’d meet with the kids to see if they were allegeable.

They thought nothing could go wrong with a cute kid like you, but when they met with you, they lost patience with you, hearing you go on and on about how famous you were gonna be. Showing them photos of your favorite celebs and explaining that you’d make it farther than them. You were only a kid.

“Umm maybe something more realistic? How about a doctor sweetie? Or maybe a teacher?”

You looked at them weird. “Doctor? Teacher? I’m gonna be famous! Actor! Singer!” You sang. And their smiles dropped.

But soon adults stopped asking for you and you became shadowed. Didn’t matter how many cute faces you made or how mature you acted, they’d never choose you.

You watched as kids got picked by happy families, and you grew older as you were left behind. But this just made your dream grow. You know all the best celebs come from darker backgrounds, so you’d probably end up the most famous, right?

But the taunting never stopped. And as years went by it just got worse. It became the worse when you finally got your hands on a signed celebrity poster. A signed one. Your favorite celebrity. You had snuck out of the orphanage to get it signed, and the woman was so nice to you.

She told you she believed in you. And that was the first time you’d ever heard that.

But when you came back with it, shining, your face glowing and a smile wide and happy. They took your poster and ripped it to shreds.

Ripped your signed poster to shreds.

Told you, you were an idiot, and your favorite celebrity was an idiot, and you’d come to nothing.

And how you ended up on the news for the first time? You set the orphanage to blaze. Set it on fire. Years of taunting and torture, you’d burn it all to the floor. And rise above everyone.

You remember the news truck running to you, one of the only kids left standing. Pointing the mics in your face and camera straight at you, the news lady asking you to give a statement, to tell them what happened, how you feel.

Everyone was looking at you.

Everyone was awestruck.

Your remember that feeling like it was yesterday. And you remember the excellent way you played victim in front of the cameras.

All those auditions, those practices when you’d act by script in your little orphanage room, or you’d watch tapes in the basement on how to improve your acting. They all helped that day, that day where you shined on camera, acted your heart out and made everyone’s eyes tear up in how emotional you were. How you explained that a fire started and took out so many of your friends. That you were just some lonesome orphan, a victim.

That same week you got adopted. Well, basically. You were taken in as a foster child. Turns out one of the firefighters at the orphanage that day heard your little ramble, and their heart was quenched. Took you home to their little family and supported you. That’s when you realized how much you could change everything around you with something as simple as acting.

So you acted normal.

And continued playing house.

Now your an adult, void of any job or networking, really. You had a high school diploma, but it didn’t really mean anything in the kind of jobs you wanted.

You lived in the attic of some dweeb you’ve barely seen, rooming with some girl who’s barely around. All you know is that she’s extremely nerdy, and always at some Internet cafe or in her room coding.

You also, couldn’t care less. As long as you got that lone time to plan out your next move, your next plan on how to become famous, your golden.

But you’re starting to lose hope. Even your roommate who you barely see told you to get a real job, that your government funding for being a former foster kid won’t do you much, long term.

Alas, you continue. After having your fun following the celebs and running after the limos they drove off in, you skip your way home. However, passing by a sketchy alleyway, your pulled in.

“Why shouldn’t I kill your right now?”

A deep very gruffy voice asks you.

“You seem like quite a fan. A first kill being a fan might draw some attention hm?”

You look up at him. “Excuse me?”

A mask covers his face, he’s wearing a cloak that covers his head and hair. But did that muscly hand around your neck, and the other holding you around your torso. You could scream.. for other reasons then just murder.

“So… which one is she?”

It turns out, Ghostface, he calls himself, is quite the noob in celebs and fame, news and all that. But you, are an expert.

It also turns out he’s a hired killer, someone made to kill certain celebrities, someone to… send a message. But being someone so closed off he doesn’t know anything about them, and doesn’t feel like doing his research.

“She’s right there. The one in the grey sweatpants and faking her reps?”

He was puzzled when you told him about your expertise in celeb gossip and knowledge. The way you knew exactly where a celebrity would be at the moment.

“First kill.”

Now, you crouch at the window of some elite gym. Ghost face is extremely lucky of you, you’ve done this before. Stalked them, so you know where the cameras are and where the blind spots are, too.

“Wait here, pretty.” He tells you, and his deep dark voice makes you tingle a bit.

You stay crouching at the window, peeking through as you watch this masked man follow the celebrity into the showers. You hear a cut off scream, as if he had muffled her mouth right away. And then he steps back out with blood covering his cloak.

He jumps right out the window, but instead of greeting you like regular he shoved you against the wall, and puts a cloth over your mouth.

“Sorry, lil’ stalker. Can’t have a witness around. But I’ll keep ya alive, for yer’ help.”

And you pass out.

The next morning you awake in some random motel. You can’t help but think last night was some unfortunate weird dream. But by the drops of blood that aren’t yours that stain your shirt, the headache you have from inhaling those toxins, and the man at the counter that tells you your “boyfriend” had carried you in here. You know it��s real.

Now, you’re at another gala. This time, you made your way in. You pulled some strings, and you were able to make it in as a server, helpers to the caterers.

You still think about what that masked man said, about how he was planted to kill certain celebrities, and make a splash in modern media. Some kind of show he wanted to put on. And honestly he was quite good. His first kill, which you helped with, has scorn the news and surprised journalists and the paparazzi. Everyone was confused and concerned. The first kill being in such a private place it made fans worry of their own favorite celebrities. The police searched for clues and evidence, but due to your help in blind spots of cameras and ways to scoot past security, ghost face was never caught. People all over the internet mourn the celebrity’s death, but don’t expect there to be another kill. However you know the truth. The man’s words. How she wasn’t gonna be the last. His message to media.

But you try to forget, and instead focus on making connections. You know the people here are in the big leagues, and if your able to convince them, maybe you’ll be given a chance.

That’s when you overhear some celebs talking. The extremely famous ones. The ones you’ve seen on billboards and trucks, movie posters and more. Your curious, especially when you hear them talking about an extra exclusive party in the gala, one in a private room.

You need to sneak in. And you do. You find out more about it and realize that only the highest of the servers go to cater that small private event, servers who wear a certain outfit to show they that only serve the best. That’s how you’re gonna get in. So you do the unthinkable. Well, it’s not like there was extra uniforms ying around?

So you find one of these special caterers, and break a bottle over their head. You drag their unconscious but live body into a closet, stealing their collared shirt and tie, and that special brooch that shows your elite. You lock the closet and make your way to the private exclusive room.

This is your chance. Your chance to become elite like them, to get on the news again, to be famous.

But as you open the door to the elite room, you hear screams. ‘Please let elite room for celebrities not mean secret celebrity orgies please.’ You think. But as you peek into the door, you realize it’s so much different than that.

When blood seeps through the carpet and spills, as you hear screams and see a certain familiar masked man slash one of the elite celebrities necks, they fall to the floor as they convulse, holding their neck but the bleeding continues.

They all fall to the floor one by one, and you’re stunned. Before you could leave, leave and pretend this never happened, the door is swung open by one of the celebrities, one who is apparently trying to get away, and immediately they are slashed. The blood splatters onto you, and you hold your hands up trying to stop the blood from continuing its spray onto you.

“Well look who it is.” That familiar husky voice says, holding up the head of the victim he just slashed. The blood oozes from his slashed neck, his eyes bulging out his head, eyes rolled back and almost in its skull.

The masked man drops the victim onto the floor.

“I told you I didn’t want any witnesses.” He grabs you by the throat, pulling you into the elite room before slamming your head to the wall, pinning you there with his huge hand.

“W-wait! Wait don’t do this!” You beg. Your eyes scan the room and you see all the elites littered on the floor. Something in you pulses. Something you hope is fear or empathy, but it’s something different. Almost.. satisfaction. The people who’ve ignored you like the dirt on their shoes, people who you sweared to surpass. Dead, bloody, bodies on the floor like they were simple trash.

You accidentally let out a giggle.

“What was that?”

“Umm nothing, s-sorry.” You stumble, his hands increasing its hold on your neck. “W-wait! You- your doing this as some message to the public right?”

He stops, his hand still tightly around your neck, but he softens almost. “Yeah? So?”

“W-well I want.. I want fame. I can help! Like last time! If you let me live…”

You can’t tell what his expression is, hidden under the mask, but you can tell he’s confused, and a little amused.

“And what can you help with, little dove?”

“W-well I know all their info! Every celeb, really! I can nurse you.. I umm.”

“Nurse me? Info? I don’t need that, naive doll.”

“Wait!” You whine, fighting back. “I’ll spread your word. When they see me.. as the only one standing… the news will be everywhere. Asking questions.. and I’ll answer!” He stays quiet, and you know he’s considering it. “If you kill me- nobody will know it was you… but if I live, I can tell your story! How you killed all those celebrities in cold blood… The cold blooded killer Ghostface… I’ll relay whatever message you need me to say.”

His hand softens around your neck, but he still keeps a hold of you. The tip of his knife makes its way up your torso to your neck, right under his hand, where he pokes your skin.

“And what would you get out of that, little dove?”

“Fame. And my life… but fame. I’ll.. I’ll be on the news.” You sigh, almost of happiness at just the thought. “People will be looking to me.. the last standing victim.” ‘-like last time’ you wanna say.

He huffs. “As a victim, you don’t look very disheveled, do you?”

You look at him weirdly, confused, until he throws you down at the only spotless part of the carpet. You gasp, feeling your back thud against it, about to fight until he lands on top of you, pulling and tugging at your shirt.

“Yer’ sure cute. But look way t’satisfied with yourself to be a victim.”

“L-let me be your victim.” You sigh out, shakily. Hearing that, his hands rip your shirt off, and your arms go up to cover your lacy bra, whining at the intrusion.

He’s growling, obviously extremely satisfied with your little statement, and he’s shoving and tugging your pants down. “You’ll be way to disheveled after this- they’ll know you became my lil’ victim.”

“P-please.” You whine. You don’t know why, but his big muscly fucking body, that hand that had clasped around your neck had made you drip with excitement. He was just so big and so much taller, his biceps and muscles just busting through his cloak- god did it turn you on. He was like a monster. And you knew what was hiding in his pants was no less then terrifying.

He tugs down your lacy bra, bunching up your boobs as it bunches under your chest. He chuckles and tugs at your right nipple, smirking at your little whines and gasps as he continues to tug and twist. It leans down to swirl his tongue around your left nipple, giving it some attention, sucking softly and nibbling down a bit. If he’s this good with your nipples, you wonder how good he’d be with his mouth in other areas. However your getting restless, the biting and nibbling on your nipples becoming too much, as you slightly push him away so you can try and get a sense of what his figure looks like.

You start to claw at his cloak, which makes him chuckle, and he unclasps it to show off his tight shirt tucked into sweatpants. You force him to shrug down the cloak, staying around his elbows, as he pushes down his own pants.

You’re so excited. You’re basically day dreaming as he rubs you through your pink little panties. You just know that there will be thousands of news reporters and journalists wanting to interview you. Know your story, what happened. Then they’ll be the fans of the celebs who’ll look over to you for answers, who’ll go crazy at their favorites being murdered. But you’re there. There to anwser their questions and give false empathy, and hopefully, woo those fans as your own.

You’ll be famous over night.

“Come on doll, focus on me.”

You hadn’t even realized he had shoved your panties to the side, rubbing your clit and smooth tight circles. You whine out, back arching just a bit, you also noticed he had taken off his bloody glove, to touch you with his clean one.

His other hand, smears blood onto the side of your face with his bloody glove. He chuckles at how you grimace, the slimy substance dampening your cheek.

He rips that bloody glove off to rub at your nipples again, while his other hand rubs faster on your little clit, he chuckles watching you start to writhe more and try to push him off.

“Ah. Just wet enough, little dove.” His finger makes its way to your entrance, poking at it, gathering some of your essence before entering you. You whine at the intrusion. His fingers, are fucking big. And just one filled you up nicely. Grithy and tall, poking at your sides and your gummy walls.

“Cmon doll, open up.” He chuckles, starting to twist his finger. You whine and start to kick your legs, your head going to the side to try to avoid his burning stare, which you could feel through his mask.

Your eyes look at the bodies, the dead ones that litter the floors at your left. You look at one, recognizing his face. You remember when you had asked him for a photograph together last year. And you guessed perhaps you had pushed him too much, because he spat at your face and shoved you out the way. You grimace at the memory, but then smile at his dead body. He’s dead. And you’re getting finger fucked close to his corpse.

You cry out as the masked man adds a second finger and scissors it inside you, making room. You can’t help but wince at the thought that he’s making so much room inside you for a reason.

As he scissors you, he accidentally bumps into a spot inside you that makes you convulse.

“Ah? Right here? Little victim?” He stabs at the spot with his thick fingers, a bruising pace starts and you see stars.

“Don’t come. Or I’ll make you suck my cock, then you’ll have to explain to the cameras why there’s cum all over your face.” He chuckles darkly, almost amused at the idea.

“A-ah! P-puh-please!” You whine out, especially when his thumb dips into your wetness and starts to coat your clit, rubbing it softly.

“P-please..!”

You dont know his name. But you want to, you desperately want to, do you can scream his name.

“Toji, doll.”

“Toji!” You cry out, so close, almost there, your body quivering and pussy shaking. He wraps his hand around your throat, constricting your airways, chuckling as you claw at his hand that chokes your throat.

Tears start to leave your eyes at just how good he was making you feel, and at the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe.

“Atta girl. Nobodies gonna believe you without some tears.”

He finally takes his fingers out of you, slick covering them and a string of your essence connecting his fingers to your entrance.

“So wet for someone who was jus’ begging for their life.” He laughs, but your too busy to focus on breathing then his words when he finally takes his hand of your throat.

He pulls down his pants, and god do you gasp. His cock- no, a monster. Flings out of its confines and dribbles with precum.

“Hah.. I guess you got me a lil’ excited too, doll.”

He pushes the tip to your entrance, you can see the veins circle his cock, the angry tip gushing and the slight way it curves.

“W-wait! It’s not gonna- it’s not gonna fit!” You cry out, almost begging him not to ruin you.

“Shut it. I opened you up enough.” He rubs at your clit with his tip, making you kick at him some more. Which results in him grabbing your leg and pulling you towards him. “Nuh uh uh, no running away little dove.”

He nudged his tip in, sighing in the feeling of your pussy already trapping his cock into your tiny entrance. He slides in some more, you can feel every dip and vein and curve of his cock. You whine and claw at his big chest and biceps.

“T-Toji..” Your pussy is crushing his cock, enveloping it and sucking him in, as if you were milking his cock.

He grumbles and turns the both of you over, lying down as he slams you down on his cock, you straddling his hips. You scream out at the sudden full intrusion, and he chuckles, eyes rolling back.

“Come on doll. I’m exhausted. Be a good girl and break yourself on my cock, yeah?”

You whine out, but agree, moving your small hands to his chest, where you slowly lift yourself up and slide yourself back down on his cock. You both gasp, and you do it again. This time you try to add some rhythm, moaning out as you bounce on his cock.

The harder you bounce, the more his mask starts to slip, and that just adds to your excitement. The more you see it slip, the harder you start to go, crying and writhing as you jump on his cock but you just can’t seem to stop.

Your wet gushing insides pull him in, and he’s in a fucking trance. Watching you bounce up and down, looking for some sort of stability or comfort. He laughs, pushing the bottom of your thighs up before shoving into you some more, bouncing you up and down while also fucking up into you.

“That’s it… that’s it.. the cutest lil’ victim f’me…” He babbled, basically pussy drunk.

None of you want this to stop. However, you both feel that chilly feeling of your insides twisting and convulsing, knowing the both of you aren’t gonna last.

“Cmon doll. Come with me.” He holds your hip and your thigh as he fucks up into you. “You’ll be a good girl and come for me, yeah?” He’s basically babbling now, drool leaving his lips, and you can see that by his mask almost completely tips over.

You whine, clawing at his mask. “P-please.”

He chuckles, moving your hands away from his face.

“Fine, since ya asked so- fuck- nicely. And guess we’re teammates now, h-huh?” He stumbles on his words as he feels you milk his cock.

One hand goes down to your pussy, swiftly pressing down on your clit and rubbing fast, as his other hand shoved his mask off.

You gasp as you see his face. Dark lustful eyes, his lips adorn by a scar, his cheekbones and entire face harmony. The way you know with one look you’d pass away, he could kill you with that dark and sinister, evil look in his eyes. And you come at the sight.

Your body convulsed and you cried out, back arching as he tugged and pinched your clit meanly, following you soon after, pulling out and spilling onto his stomach and yours.

He gasps for air and so do you, you whimper as you fall forward onto his body, shivering and still slightly convulsing. You can feel his heart beat, the way it pounds against his chest and the way he heaves for a breath, a groan leaves his lips.

His hand brushed your hair and pulls you up. “Come on little dove. You’ve got a show to put on.”

He pulls you up, but lays you back down. Your still gasping for air, your eyes barely open and your body trembling. You feel your clothes being put on, even the ripped shirt. He cleans off his cum with what you assume is his cloak.

You open your eyes finally, to see him putting his mask back on, which makes you whine.

He laughs. “Don’t worry doll, you’ll see a lot more of me soon.” He carreses your hair, almost whisking you to slumber, your only half aware that there’s bodies littered around you.

He disappears, or rather, you’re too tired to notice he left.

When you open your eyes however, it’s because of unfamiliar people in your face, you’re still trembling, blood on your cheek that isn’t yours and lights in your face.

You’re on a gurney, being rolled away into an ambulance. Your eyes are a bit blurry but you see almost hundreds of people- and then there are the news reporters everywhere. They surround your gurney, the doctors weilding your not actually wounded body into the ambulance.

“Ma’am? Ma’am! Over here!” A man yells, pushing his camera in your face and lay the doctors, taking photos with flash on.

“Ma’am! What can you tell us about what happened? Ma’am?”

“Ghost… ghost face..” you breathe out, making all the reporters and journalists shiver with fright and widen their eyes.

“Ma’am? Ghost face? Tell us more about this cold blooded killer!”

There’s so many cameras in your faces, people talking, the cameras going off and flashing lights in your face.

“Ma’am! Over here!” A man snaps photos, a woman asks you questions, all the reporters and journalists following you and chasing you in the gurney until your put in the ambulance and the workers shut the truck doors.

The ambulance drives away, the siren rings and your ears and the workers ask if you can hear them, if you can answer some questions.

All you can think about was the lights. The people. The fame. How they all chased you down, like paparazzi.

“Am I.. famous?” You ask, a gasp leaving your lips.

“Well ma’am, you’re all over the news.” The doctor replied.

And you smile.

….

Thinking of doing a second part. But idk.

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pomefioredove · 3 months ago

Note

Can I pretty please have The housewardens (Plus Ruggie and Rook) with a kawaii metal singer? Like soft feminine voice and cutesy outfits and then on stage is just death screaming and gets embarrassed because apparently "Guys find it embarrassing when fem people metal scream."

interesting... I'll see what I can do!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kawaii metal singer

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, ruggie, azul, kalim, vil, rook, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral but implied feminine in the way they dress, reader is not specified to be yuu

imagine having a conversation about music with Riddle

he's pleasantly surprised!

he thought he had nothing in common with you

but you're a musician!

to him, mastering an instrument is akin to mastering a subject or acing an exam

and he'll talk your ear off about his favorite composers and concertos

of course, he's curious about what you play

so, you show him a song

and he's...

...well...

it's... music, he supposes

it takes the same skill to play (perhaps even more?) so he's still impressed. just... surprised!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona's reaction? yawn

a musician is just like a theater kid with a weapon

based on the way you dress, he can already guess

piano? pop? wannabe indie?

undoubtedly something upbeat and fast

that he has no interest in

it's not until he starts hearing the whispers that he gives it a second thought

funny enough, it's the other boy's dislike that draws him in

and, oh, was he wrong

the first time Leona hears you screaming, he's smitten

you've got some voice on you, that's for sure

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ruggie already associates femininity with strength

(whether you're girl or not, mind you)

so, he's not really taken aback or 'nothin

you show him a clip of one of your performances, and his reaction is more like:

"Cool. Nice chords. What's for dinner?"

he knows that not everyone is gonna see it that way

but to him, it's nothing to write home about

...unless he thinks you're gonna be a good provider for him

then he might tell his grandma he's bringing you home for break

"How much do you singers make, anyway?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Azul was captivated from the start

when Jade came back to him with intel on you, he wasn't expecting you to be a singer

how intriguing...

Azul is a musical person himself, so, of course he was curious

but it's not until he tries to strike a deal with you that he realizes he was very, very wrong

your voice in exchange for anything you desire...

...and you start laughing at him

"my voice? do you know what I sing?"

Azul is a little taken aback by your reaction

now, what's so funny?

eventually, you share a little of your work, and he...

...well, he's impressed, that's for sure

it takes a lot of vocal training to be able to do that

but unless Floyd takes up a new hobby, he has no use for a metal singer's voice

so, for now, he'll simply admire your talent from afar

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

People tend to see Kalim as this witless little flower who can't be exposed to anything "scary"

and, sure, he can be naive at times

but it actually takes a lot to freak him out

he's also been hanging out with Lilia Vanrouge for two years, so, you know

he'd just be impressed, if anything

"Wow, that's so cool! I wish I could do that, but my voice can't go that high, and Jamil doesn't want me to hurt my throat..."

I mean, really impressed

he'll beg you to show him all of your songs

and he might try to get you to one of his club meetings, too

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is more like,

"Well, I hope you're taking adequate care of your throat. You'll overexert yourself if not,"

...so, no

he's not even phased by it

Vil is a performer himself, after all

he's more concerned with your physical and mental wellbeing than you being "embarrassing"

the next day, he'll show up at your door with an armful

this is for your throat, this will keep your skin from drying out under the lights, this foundation is designed for stage...

he's always been generous, after all

and he certainly won't accept no for an answer

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

similarly, Rook doesn't think anything of it

he's simply taken by you

...your devotion, your energy, your heart!

sometimes he, too, feels like screaming for his passions!

you can expect him to be your number one fan

and be at each of your performances, whether small or big, on stage or just in your room

(whether you know he's there or not)

he always seems to know just what to get you, though. tea with honey? salt water for your throat?

he's thought of it before you even have to ask

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia is fangirling over it before he even meets you

listen, in his defense-

one of his favorite animes is about a kawaii metal singer!

and he was already familiar with the genre, anyway

so... no, it's not weird to him

if anything, he feels weird for never being able to talk to you about it

it's basically like talking to one of his idols IRL

whether you're a well-known performer or just make videos online is irrelevant to him

you'll be receiving a lot of anonymous donations from someone named gloomurai

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

when Lilia makes an offhand comment about your music, Malleus is intrigued

you'd never mentioned being a musician, after all

the next time you see each other, he asks

but, much to his confusion, you seem... embarrassed?

he quickly explains he only heard it from Lilia, and didn't mean to offend you, and-

ah...

that's why you're embarrassed?

you think he won't like you because others have said it's unbecoming?

humans are so strange, he thinks

it's only music, after all. it'd take much more to make him dislike you

besides, this is Lilia's foster son we're talking about. he's been exposed to every genre at least once

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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monzterbatz · 1 month ago

Text

thinking about the relationship between bot and mephone oh my god (analysis post)

so, it's known how it's heavily implied bot is mephone's favorite contestant in iii, right? there's quite a bit of evidence to back this up:

• "listen yinyang, you're great. possibly my second favorite contestant still here!" <- well, what's his first favorite?

• when bot gets eliminated: "any chance you'd... want to co-host?" mephone obviously wants them to stay and is upset when they DO leave:

• "that's what happens when two alliances get SO caught up in their own drama, that they force out the greatest player!" <- he thinks they were the greatest player out of everyone in iii

• + him standing up for them with the springtastic contract ofc ("i don't like how they treated you.")

well yeah, that's all nice and dandy, you may or may not have realised that already, but then you think about... why specifically is bot his favorite out of everyone? well...

what if it's because bot is the only contestant that mephone didn't make?

what if its because they werent restricted by his creativity and basic personality ideas/stereotypes like how the others were made, outside of the narrow mindset he inherited from watching just reality tv in his past? what if it's because bot is also a robot that was made for a specific purpose, just like him? what if he looks up to the fact bot found themself and CHOSE who they were, something that mephone always wanted to do but couldn't because of cobs?

mephone looks up to bot because they're something that he always strived to be; something unique. they might even have felt more alive to him subconsciously, which is ironic cause they're a literal robot, but that also makes them familiar to him in a sense; mephone grew up in solidarity next to a bunch of lifeless or barely sentient technology and no people from the outside world except for steve cobs (which is DEFINITELY not saying much) so to see another robot that's actually full of life must be something new to him, something special

oh yeah also the fact bot had actual good parental figures 😭 definitely something mephone wishes he has

it's honestly quite heartwrenching to see the parallels between the two, and the fact bot might be one of the only ones who survived after ii17 makes it hurt so much more considering both of them lost everyone else they cared about; they're both kinda in the same boat in some ways

but yeah thats abt it, thank you if u read this far lol 🙏 making analysis posts like these r rlly fun these two r silly

#inanimate insanity #analysis #analysis post #character analysis #mephone4 #mephone 4 #ii mephone4 #ii mephone 4 #ii bot #bot ii #ii 17 #ii spoilers #bat's analyses #<- cuz im gonna make more in the future prob

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angelbarelywrites · 19 days ago

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♡ slashers scenarios | your first time together is…your first time (part 2)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream, Dead by Daylight, Hannibal (TV) /Silence of the Lambs, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (og), slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Hannibal Lecter, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; graphic sexually content!!, mentions of vouyerism, documentation kink (yay Danny), manipulation, breeding kinkish content, lots of cumming inside, light pet play elements

♡ notes; seven babes in one post wowowowow! i’m just trying to get caught up with everyone else before i start doing new prompts. but! i have a big list of new ones do not fear

these weren’t written in one sitting like some of my other fics so i’m sorry if the quality wildly varies

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> It’s been gentle coaxing towards each step of the relationship with Jason

> And while you have the patience of a saint when it comes to that man, you’re also incredibly pent up. You’re just as much of a virgin as him and starting to wish he’d fix that.

> But you keep it to yourself, not wanting the pressure him into anything and getting yourself off when he’s not there. It worked well enough before after all.

> One day he comes home when you’re in the middle of mastrubating and you quickly scramble to hide the fact

> He knows somethings up right away, you’re covering yourself with a blanket and red faced…He’s repressed, not stupid.

> You apologize meekly and expect him to walk away - instead he grabs the blanket and pulls you forward by your thighs

> “J-Jason- baby? Are you going to-?”

> He pushes his mask up and goes down on you like a man starved… he may or may not have been home earlier than you realized, listening to you whimpering and moaning his name

> And getting you off ends up getting him very excited- excited enough that he doesn’t care about anything but doing it again

> And if you want him inside you, he’s more than happy to oblige.

> You shyly straddle him and sink onto his cock, holding onto him tightly

> He hides his face in your neck as you slowly move, murmuring sweet words of encouragement to him

> “Jason, it’s so good- you feel so good-“

> After a bit he holds your hips, fingers digging in as you get him closer and closer

> You gasp as he comes inside by accident, too shy to admit you liked the feeling

> He doesn’t even pull out as he holds you, knowing that as soon as he can, he’ll be helping you ride him again

Bo Sinclair

> It slips out when you’re cuddling and watching but not watching some silly movie with copious sex scenes

> “What’s your favorite position, darlin’?”

> “Hm? Oh, I dunno?”

> “Top three then-“

> “Bo I haven’t even-“. You blush bright red as he slowly grins

> He doesn’t leave it along the rest of the day- he has cute little innocent virgin partner

> He likes it way too much- and you like his fixation on it too much

> When you get him alone again you huff and straddle him “Stop teasin. Show me your favorite position, then.”

> You don’t have to tell him twice- and he’s a gentleman, letting you ride his face before he finally fucks you

> He’s got chest against your back and hand between your legs as he slowly uses you

> “Fuck- you’re squeezing my cock so tight- pretty little fucking virgin-“

> His dirty talk gets you both off…again, and again, and again…

> He doesn’t stop until you start whining and pushing his hand away, overstimulated and sore

> “Fine, fine…we’ll try the other top two tomorrow,”

Vincent Sinclair

> Honestly, Vince isn’t huge on sex

> When you offhandedly mention you haven’t done anything before he doesn’t mind and he doesn’t get overly excited like some people.

> He let’s you make the first move

> …or at least he’s going to, but you don’t say anything about it for a long while

> He finally asks softly if you want him to touch you.. and meekly you say yes

> You’re not sure who’s happier- you as he makes you come with just his hand, or him getting to watch you

> After a few days of this you finally get the nerve to ask to do more- his good side goes bright red at the idea of you touching him and you giggle and praise him the entire time.

> But about halfway through he makes you stop and pins you- still gentle but very daring for him

> You giggle again “…wanna go all the way?”

>He nods eagerly and he positions you- very gentle missionary with his forehead against yours

> Even inside you he stops so he doesn’t cum, coaxing you over the edge twice before he gets too close

> The third time you cum you wrap your legs around him and make sure he can’t pull out

> He’s so apologetic after he cums inside- but quite pleased in the same breath

Danny Johnson

> The conversation comes up when he asks you to model for him- a boudoir shoot, naturally

> You’re his muse already- but he wants to shoot more than just your pretty face and the hickies he leaves

> He’s surprised when you’re shy and look away, mumbling that you aren’t pretty enough for that

> “Course you are babydoll- no way no one’s ever told you that. Unless you were screwing them with the lights off-“

> “Danny I haven’t screwed anyone.” You pout

> He tries his best to hide his perverse excitement and looks determined- he’s got an idea…Those usually don’t end well

> Next thing you know he’s pulled a mirror to face the bed and has you on his lap, kissing at your neck and feeling you up.

> He spreads your legs and makes you look as he starts to touch you- you’re not sure if it’s the lewd situation or just him that makes you cum faster than you have ever before

> He makes just as much of a show of cleaning up the mess you’ve made on his hand, and you can feel how hard he is against your ass

> You pull yourself together enough to pout and grind down on him- that’ll show him

> Your revenge quickly backfires as he manhandles you to your hands and knees, grinding against you in a much more expert manner

> It doesn’t take long before you’re babbling beneath him, begging to take him

> He takes his sweet time teasing you- once he’s finally inside you’re pushing yourself back against him, fucking yourself with him

> He lets you do the work- it makes it easier for him to enjoy the show

> At least until he’s about to cum

> Then he pulls you up, making you watch in the mirror with one hand and holding you against him with the other

> “Fuck- look at you- that’s my good fucking baby (/girl/boy)!”

> When he pulls out it splatters across the mirror and he grins and gets a picture- just your bodies in the reflection

> If you thought you’re getting away to rest though…you were mistaken- he had a lot more pictures to take, and a lot more methods to get you to make pretty faces for them

Billy Lenz

> Billy takes things fast. He’s depraved an eager man.

> You aren’t very far into the relationship when he lets his hands wander while you’re cuddling

> He frowns when you push his hands away insistently- you’d talked so confidently about this on the phone…

> “I wanna touch my pretty toy-“

> You mumble something he can’t hear- making you pout as he tilts his head and leans in closer curiously

> “You’ve never- oh.” His grin is huge and excited

> After some convincing you make it a game- how long can you two go without going too far?

> While you want to have sex with him, you’re nervous, so you figure that’ll buy you time to muster up enough courage

> But Billy being Billy, it isn’t long until he finds a shortcut- he bites and kisses and laps your neck and grinds up on you every single time he gets the chance

> If it was PG-13 before, you were heading fast to an R rating

> Finally you can’t stand it any more as he’s got you on his knee, pushing it up as he oh so innocently rubs your hips and kisses you

> “Billyyyy- please — I need it-“

> “Need what?” For once he’s acting coy- so you quickly show him as you undo his pants

> He’s all giggles and moans when you blow him- cumming down your throat quickly

> And before you can move he flips you, going down on you and to your chagrin already hard before you cum once

> But he’s not a monster- or maybe he is, because before he’s even got it in you you’re whining that it’s all too much

> He licks away your overwhelmed tears as he slowly pushes in, cooing softly for once

> Though as soon as your comfortable he’s saying the filthiest things in order to coax louder and louder moans out of you

> Without warning or real permission he cums inside, grinning at the mess and finger fucking whatever leaks out back inside as he coaxes you to another orgasm

> Once he’s finally done late into the night, he holds you tight and continues to coo praises - Billy’s baby was so good! -and he knew they’d be just as good for him in the morning

Hannibal Lecter

> Hannibal knows almost everything about you, especially if you ever began as his patient

> Even if you don’t tell him expressly, he has his theories- but he’s not trying to be too forward

> It’s going to be your idea when he shamelessly uses you :)

> He has it planned to the T as well- you’re having a sweet little date night in and he’s admiring you on the couch

> Perched on his lap you giggle and shiver as he gently brushes your neck, and your thigh, and your stomach- each a little “accident”

> Not that you’re complaining or he’s apologizing for the increasingly lingering touches

> “…darling? Ah- we’ve never done anything before but…”

> “But what my love?”

> “Can you pretty please touch me?”

> He’s so proud of his little pet and tells you as much as he lays you down right there, going a step forward and using his mouth

> Of course he wants, needs to taste you

> But he doesn’t let you come- not yet

> No, he makes sure you’re already riding him slow and deep by the time he makes you come for the first time

> He stops and showers you in praise before helping you move again

> He wants you to crave him inside- and by the way you’re already whimpering with every little move he thinks it’s working

> He’s territorial- coming inside isn’t even a question, even if he pretends it it

> “Good puppy…Very good. Master’s going to cum- are you going to let me cum in that pretty little hole?”

> As you manage a blissed out sound, you’re sent over the edge and he takes the moment to cum inside

> You only hum an acknowledgment as he pulls out and lays you down, practically tucking you in with him

> What a good pet you made…

Bubba Sawyer

> Bubba is so scared of sex at first…Well, small correction- he’s scared of having sex with you.

> I mean Drayton’s idea of sex ed was simply not telling him about it because he didn’t ask “Sex is- well nobody knows!”

> And from what he’s read in books and heard on the radio, it’s sinful and dirty and ruins you

> And he’d never want to dirty you. You were the nicest, cleanest thing in his life.

> So when you ask him if he’s had sex he vehemently shakes his head and you tell him you haven’t either. Good!

> “Well- ah- would you want to? With me, I mean?”

> He’s absolutely shocked- didn’t you know it was dirty?

> “We don’t have to- I just- I really like you. I wanna make you feel good.”

> Maybe he had some details wrong. That’s what he tries to reason as he lets you take his mask off and undo his pants. He’d try it, but if he felt wrong, he’d stop so you both stayed clean…

> It takes all his will not to immediately buck up into your throat when you put him in your mouth.

> You’re sloppy and clumsy and he’s just the same, groaning and whining and gripping the sheets. Before he can finish you pull off and he pouts.

> “C-can we- I mean- can I-“ You huff and get frustrated at your own embarrassment, starting to slip your shirt off and hoping he gets the message.

> He goes red and nods quickly, practically tackling you and kissing you sweetly before he moves into position

> You help him ease himself into you , whimpering and making sure he’s comfortable too

> “Oh my god- that’s it baby- just like that,”

> The praise makes him move harder than he means to but god you’re grateful

> When he does come he pulls out and paints your stomach- and as soon as he realizes you haven’t done the same he uses his hand to correct that.

> He holds you tight and doesn’t let go the rest of the night, keen on trying more in the morning

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kikyoupdates · 5 months ago

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Otherworldly Attraction | yandere!jjk x reader jujutsu kaisen, yandere, reverse harem, isekai, f!reader

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

also available on Ao3!

Leave Your Mark | bnha x reader my hero academia, reverse harem, isekai, f!reader

You didn’t accomplish anything in your previous life. Looking back on it, you feel nothing but regret, and you yearn for the chance to do things differently. As it turns out, your wish is answered, and you are reborn into your favorite fictional world. This time, you resolve to make a change, and you have the means to do it. You won’t be content with just sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass you by. You will live boldly and vibrantly, as if every moment is your last.

also available on Ao3!

Heartbreaker | bnha x reader my hero academia, reverse harem, isekai, f!reader

You awaken one day with virtually no memories. The only thing guiding you is some strange system that likes to dictate your every move, and for some reason, it insists that you make certain people fall in love with you. Desperate for answers, you decide to go along with its demands. After all, how hard can it be?

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Made to Destroy | bnha x op!reader my hero academia, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Bloodthirst | bnha x vampire!reader my hero academia, reverse harem, vampire reader, f!reader

As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood.

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Infatuated | yandere!bnha x reader my hero academia, yandere, reverse harem, f!reader

Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?

Love Bite | oc!vampires x reader yandere, reverse harem, vampires, original characters, f!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

also available on Wattpad!

Tears of a Villainess | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters, f!reader

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

Girlfriend-For-Hire | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, original characters, f!reader

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

Changing Plotlines | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters, f!reader

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

Bewitched | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, magic, witches, f!reader

Having awoken one day with no memories apart from your name, you are endlessly thankful when a kind family decides to take you in as their own. But it appears as though your fate cannot be so easily overwritten, and as you discover more and more about the person you were meant to be, the hearts of those around you seem to change in a sinister way.

also available on Wattpad!

Crushed Velvet | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, original characters, f!reader

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

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sports-on-sundays · 6 months ago

Note

Okay so 🤭 what if Y/N use to be with ( whatever Barca player you choose ) and they broke it off because they supposedly wanted to focus on their career and the reader was really heartbroken and omg to make it more better y/n is Carlos sister and then she sees or hear how they moved on already! And little by little she starts to be with lando and they announce their relationship when he wins in Miami!! Like full on hard launch. 😭🙌🏽

Also this got me motivated to think of more ideas ima write them down for the future 🤭

papaya girl / LN4

Summary: ex!Ferran x Sainz!baker!reader x Lando - After a devastating breakup with your footballing boyfriend, you think you'll never be able to date someone again.

Warnings: there's a golf scene and I don't golf so-!🤞, mention of sickness, foul language, sorry if some things are not accurate, headache, partying/dancing/drunkenness/clubbing, mention of getting so drunk you had no memory of what happened, implied getting drunk to dampen emotions, getting injured, vomiting, slight soulmate feel, a bit of suggestive talk, use of babe/baby/bae/baby girl/etc., I feel like every kiss I describe is exactly the same sooo- sorry about that! ✌

Requested?: YES! 😘

Author's Note: Do you ever write something so good that you wish you could make it into a movie? That's how I feel about this. I can imagine the scenes. Didn't plan it but I guess 24 is the magic number for this one. I made the request more dramatic because... I like doing that... 👉 👈 🥺 ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. PERFECT MIX OF ANGST AND FLUFF. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU! If you do have any more ideas and you're up for it, let me know!

When you met Ferran Torres, you were a Madridista with a passion for Ferrari. Being a Sainz, you've always been rooting for Real Madrid, but your favorite Formula 1 team isn't as consistent. Because before that, you were a McLaren fan. And before that, Red Bull. And everything else before that, too.

Wherever Carlos is, you're a fan of it.

You, quite literally, on the day you met Ferran, were wearing a Cristiano Ronaldo jersey and a backwards Ferrari cap.

And, well, he, a new arrival from Manchester City, liked that, apparently!

And it was beautiful. They way you slowly became closer and closer, growing to know each other more and more.

And then, maybe you just hit a point. Hit a point in your relationship where you wanted more, and Ferran realized that if any more was given by him, it would be too far for him.

And he cut it off. Said he was doing well in Barcelona. He had high hopes. You, a sold out Madrid fan, had been wearing his number on the back of a blaugrana jersey. And despite that blaugrana jersey, he ditched you.

He said his work, his career, his passions, his dreams, were more important than you.

But you can't complain, Y/n. That's fair. He was gentle in letting you know. He made it clear he didn't want any malice between you and him.

You roll over in bed, staring vacantly at your wall. There's a large Real Madrid flag hanging in the middle. A smaller Ferrari flag on one side. A few posters of bands and teams you like or events you've been to, signed by different celebrities. People who are more famous than 'Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister' or 'Ferran Torres's ex-girlfriend.' On one side, it seems silly to have a poster signed by Max Verstappen, but you do. On the other side of the flag, you have a peeling old McLaren poster, showing the younger versions of Carlos and his former racing partner, Lando Norris, looking just seconds away from breaking into a loud, hysterical laughter.

And next to that, you have a Barcelona poster.

You smile sadly to yourself.

I must look like such a conflicted sports fan.

You stand up, walking over to the wall. After gently peeling the Barcelona poster off the wall, you slowly trace the badge with your fingers, any hint of a smile now gone as tears begin to fill your eyes, threatening to fall.

"This is stupid," you murmur scornfully, your voice cracking softly. "This isn't even my team! It's not my city...!" You toss the poster across the room, leaving it in a place where you don't intend to pick it up anytime soon.

Let it gather dust and crumple. That's what Ferran did. He threw away our relationship like it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. And now I'm suffering the consequences.

You sigh. You're trying not to let yourself be bitter. You want to look back on everything you and Ferran had and be happy. Appreciate it. You still love Ferran. You don't want to be angry with him.

Someone said to you once, Hurt heals with time, as long as you let it.

You grab a bold, red Sharpie from your drawer and your notebook from a dresser. You scribble those words in all caps, rip out the page, grab some tape, and hang the piece of paper where the FC Barcelona poster used to be.

You sigh, but nod, before turning to get ready for your day.

You hate winter. You never hated winter before this winter, but now you hate it.

With the breakup, you've been avoiding anything La Liga like the plague, even if it doesn't involve Ferran Torres. It just reminds you too much.

And with Carlos on winter break, getting ready for the start of the season, he's not around much. Going on different trips, he's quite busy. Which you don't like. You and your brother have a strong bond.

It's not like you don't have anything to do. You just don't have anything interesting to do. You have a shop that you run, but you have enough staff hired to not have to be there all the time.

Yes, in a family of racing, you were never too into it. Your strong spot is in baking and business running, so that's why you opened up a bakery in Madrid.

And being a Sainz, of course it was a success.

Same type of thing as Charles Leclerc's 'LEC,' except you're not the racing driver Charles Leclerc, you're not doing ice cream, and you've always been doing this, for five years now.

You watch as a young, excited couple walks in, jabbering away in English. You can just tell they're tourists as they get in line to order. Once they get to the counter, the woman immediately leans over the counter in excitement, saying, "Is Carlos Sainz here?" in English.

You chuckle. Sounds American. "Which Carlos Sainz?" you tease.

They look blankly at you as if you're just about the dumbest individual to walk planet Earth. You chuckle and say, "Why don't you get to ordering? There's a line."

Towards the afternoon, as things begin to quiet down just a little bit, you look up at the doorbell jingles and freeze.

When he reaches the counter, you snap at Ferran, "Why are you in Madrid?"

"Am I not allowed to be? Either way, hello to you, too."

You sigh, licking your lips as you study the Valencian boy. "What can I get for you?"

He shrugs and orders, before seating himself down at one of the seats at the counter. "How have you been, Y/n?" he asks.

"Fine," you swallow, staring down. "And you?"

"I'm good." From there, he begins just talking, as if we're old friends or something, and not exes.

He seems so happy. So content.

To not be with you.

Suddenly, mid-way through one of his many sentences, you slip your hand over his, almost on impulse. He stops, staring to your hands, and then to you.

You breathe softly, "Why? Why did you come here to just talk to me? Aren't you moved on? Ferran, this is torture for me."

Lines crease into his face. You can see him swallow, looking at your smaller hand on his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I am moved on. I'm doing well. I just thought maybe we could be friends. I'd never want to date you again; I'm not in the place to date anyone. I'm happy single. But I just feel bad. I know you're hurt, and... I'd be happy to still be friends with you, is all?" He slips his hand out from underneath yours and takes his cup of coffee with it, taking a sip as he watches you intently.

You drag a hand over your face. Though you didn't want to admit it, seeing him come in to the bakery gave you hope. That maybe he wanted to try again. But those words that came out of his mouth? They cut deep.

"Listen, Ferran," you barely whisper. "I'm still trying to work through what happened. Everything. It's hard for me. But I appreciate it, and when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready, I'd love to be your friend. O- Okay?"

He nods slowly, staring down. "Alright... Fair enough."

"What's wrong?" your older brother, Carlos, asks. You watch outside the window as the world travels by.

You sigh. "Ferran."

"Him, again?"

"Carlos," you sigh. "Stop. It's nothing new. I'm just missing him. He wants to stay friends, but I said I needed time."

"Ah. Well, you know, I did tell you never to date-"

"-a Barcelona player. I know," you roll your eyes with a little smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurt heals with time, as-"

"-long as you let it. I know," you comment, smiling a bit wider.

"Exactly. It'll come."

You sigh. "I hope so."

As Carlos pulls into the parking lot, you say, "So. Is that why you decided to take me golfing with your friends? Just wanted to check up on me, but you never have the time to sit down over dinner these days?"

Carlos smiles as he shuts off the car. "No. I could have made time. But I wanted your company golfing."

"You know I'm not big on g-"

"Shut up," he grins. "Yes you are."

"I suck."

"Not as bad as some people I know. In fact, you're actually pretty okay."

Soon, you meet up with a bunch of Carlos's friends. They're all chatting, and you're just kind of zoning off, looking out over the grassy hills, when suddenly you look up when Carlos says, "Ay! Lando!"

You blink in complete and utter shock. "Why is Lando Norris here?"

As Lando approaches, he eyes you, saying teasingly, "Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Y/n Sainz."

"Lando was just around, so he made the drive to meet us here," Carlos quickly fills in.

Soon, you're all off. After a round, as you're walking back to the cart to go get lunch, Carlos says, nudging Lando, "I think my baby sister is better than you."

Lando laughs. "You fucking muppet; what are you talking about?"

You grin, falling in step with Lando and Carlos. "I'm a better golfer."

"That is just wrong," Lando says, glancing at you. "Downright wrong."

"It's a Sainz thing," Carlos puts in. "There's no way for you to beat us, Lando. You can't. Winning runs in the family."

Lando rolls his eyes, reiterating, "Your baby sister is not better than me."

"You have no right to call me a baby," you put in indignantly. "I'm probably older than you."

Lando looks at you, his nose all scrunched up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Hah! Same age."

"That still doesn't mean you get to call me a baby!"

"Her birthday is in January; different year than Lando's. Lando, you can call her a baby; you're older," Carlos says.

"Carlos!" you snap. "Don't give him permission!"

Carlos grins and shakes his head as he breaks off to chat with some of his other friends and get on the cart with them.

Lando grins, giving a discreet pat on your lower back as he murmurs, "Sorry, baby."

And for some reason, that makes you feel things. You decide to blame it on the fact that Lando's just good-looking.

Once you're all seated down with your lunch, you comment, "So what's with the whole..." your hand goes to your chin, referring to his facial hair, as you look at Lando expectantly.

Lando slams down his fork, saying lightheartedly, "Sick of people asking me that!"

You smirk. "Makes you look like you're forty."

"Whatever, baby."

"You know, I have a picture on my wall of you and Carlos when you were just babies, too."

As soon as Lando raises an eyebrow with a smirk, you know it was a mistake to word it that way. "You have a picture of me and Carlos on your wall?" he asks, mock condescendingly.

"No, no. I mean, I do, but- It's just an old McLaren poster." You immediately look down.

"What, are you a fan of mine?" Lando teases further.

"No! I'm a fan of Carlos, and you just so happened to be his teammate at that time. The point is that you two look like pipsqueaks in that photo! Lando, you looked so awkward, with all your acne-"

"What, Lando, you think she's a McLaren fan? She's sold out for Ferrari," Carlos interrupts.

"Literally! I deck myself out in red every Sunday!"

"Today's Sunday," Lando starts like the stupid idiot he is, "And I don't see you wearing red."

You groan, leaning back, covering your face in your hands. "Carlos, how are you this guy's friend? He's so annoying! Why'd you invite him for? How do you put up with him?"

Carlos just smirks, patting your shoulder, and says, "I'm used to having to put up with irritable people, after having to grow up with you."

You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile as all the guys around you at the table laugh out loud.

On the car ride back, you're mostly silent, your thoughts swimming with one thing and one thing only.

Lando Norris.

And there's a soft smile on your face as you think about your morning with him.

But Carlos can tell you're deep in thought. Usually, you'd be yapping away right now. "Anything on your mind?" he asks carefully.

You sigh. "Not much."

"You're bad at lying. You're staring out the window dreamily. What's on your mind?"

You sigh. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."

"I'm not stupid, though. I can already guess what it is."

You gulp. "How?"

"For the whole day, the only person you talked to was Lando."

You feel your stomach drop. "It's nothing serious, Carlos. He's just funny."

"You said something like that to me about Ferran Torres right before you officially started dating."

That makes you feel a bit sick. "Carlos, I won't let that happen again."

"Don't. And don't be getting interested in anyone until you're over your ex. And we both know you're not. And please don't be getting interested in someone like Lando."

"Why?" You eyebrows scrunch together. "I thought you two were buddies."

Carlos grins teasingly. "If you somehow got yourself with him, there would always be two annoying people in one place."

"You're intolerable!" you snap, laughing.

"You are too, hermana."

It strikes Carlos as strange when the first thing Lando says to him the weekend of Bahrain, before even a hello, is: "Is your sister here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Lando shrugs. "She's nice."

"No... She'll be coming to Australia, though..." Carlos can't help but feel suspicion fill his chest. He's always been somewhat protective of you, being his little sister and all.

"Perfect," Lando grins, and he's off.

In Australia, like any other race, you're decked out in your red. Ferrari hat, Ferrari jacket, red jeans. Ferrari earrings. Even your black shoes have a stripe of red on the sides.

Carlos always tells you it's dumb. But it's become a part of your whole thing, since you spend a huge amount of your life following Carlos around and going to Grand Prixs.

It's fun sometimes, being Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister!

But when you see a shock of papaya in your red world called Ferrari's hospitality, you squint, slipping your sunglasses up on your hat, and say, "Who said you could walk in like that uninvited?"

"No one," Lando grins, "but I'm only here to see you."

Your eyebrows raise as you stand up. "Wha-"

"Come with me. I'm going to barf if I have to breathe Ferrari air any longer. Just your terrible get-up is making me nauseous. I guess I'll be free from seeing that stupid outfit next year when Carlos isn't in Ferrari-"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, but follow him with a grin on your face.

"So you broke up with your Barcelona man?" Lando start, cutting straight to the chase.

"Uh-" you swallow. "He broke up with me."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You're not sure why Lando wants to know, and he certainly doesn't have any reason to know, but still you say, "We had been dating for a while, you know? I wanted something more. You know, to go deeper. Someday, I'd love to even maybe get married. But, Ferran... well, he didn't want to go the step deeper. Said he wanted to focus on his career. He broke it off. We're on fine terms, though."

"Ah..." he nods slowly. "That sounds like a tough breakup."

"Yeah... Yeah, it was."

He continues nodding, and catches your eye before saying, "So I'm assuming you want to... you know, you won't be up for any more relationships any time soon? Lot to work through?"

You suddenly feel your face begin to heat up. "Uh, well- depends on who it is, I suppose," you blurt without thinking.

"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, considering the fact that your face is just about as red as that Ferrari hat on your head, I'm wondering what you think of me."

You swallow, feeling even more embarrassed. "Are you suggesting...?"

"If you're up for it, the night after the Grand Prix, you can meet me at my hotel room, and we'll go from there. Text me if you decide 'yes,' for the details."

"I don't have your numb-"

He gives a cute little smile and opens his hand to reveal a folded up piece of paper. "Now you do. See you later, Miss Sainz!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as he jogs off.

"Oh my God, Carlos! Well done! So well done! Oh my God!" you scream in the midst of your strings of excited swear words, in both Spanish and English. "Did you actually just win the Australian Grand Prix?!"

He grins as he kisses your cheek, patting your back and saying, "Yes, I actually just did."

You hug your older brother tight, resting your head on his shoulder. "Love you. You did amazing. After everything you've been through. You're going to be leaving Ferrari next season and with your surgery and everything and-"

He smiles a bit. "Want to let me go now? Can't squeeze me too tight, remember?"

"So you can drive a race car and win the race, but you're too fragile for me to hug you!" you laugh, but release him from the hug.

He laughs out loud. "Yes, pretty much."

Hours later, you stand in the lit, mostly empty hallway, knocking on the white-painted door. You've change out of your Ferrari red head-to-toe fit, and are now wearing a black t-shirt with the F1 logo in red on the left side, black sweatpants, and your hair held back by a headband.

Lando probably isn't here, you think as you wait. I look so stupid. He doesn't care as much as he acts like he does. He's probably out partying or something. He got a podium. Carlos won. There's no way he's just sitting around in his hotel room-

You look up in surprise as the door clicks and swings open to reveal Lando Norris standing before you.

You beam and say a bit too loud, "Lando!"

He laughs. "Hey..." He's dressed in a white button down, dark blue jeans, and his regular assortment of jewelry. "Want to come in for a bit?"

You nod. "Were you... just out?" you ask slowly.

He chuckles again, plopping down on the sofa. "If I were just out, I wouldn't be looking this neat."

"Oh... Oh?"

"Come on. Sit down next to me," he encourages with a wave of his hand. "Something funny- I've had my eyes on you for a while now."

You look up in somewhat shock. "That's why you're so confident about this?"

"That, and that I'm just the peak of all confidence," he jokes, clearly mocking cockiness.

You roll your eyes.

"But really. I've been flirting with you for a while."

This time your eyes widen. "No way."

"Just little. I knew you were dating that Torres-"

"How?"

He smiles. "Doesn't take much to find out. Anyway, I think you just blocked it out because you were dating someone else. Shows you're a loyal girl."

"Hm..." you nod slowly. "I... I suppose...?"

Suddenly, he takes your hand in his. "So, you like me?"

"I think I have for a while. Like you said- I blocked it out because I was dating someone else." You didn't even know that until now, hearing the words coming from your mouth.

He smirks. "Even better. So..."

"Yeah?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes.

"I'd like to know what the hell you're wearing."

Suddenly, your face falls. "Uh- I'm sorry- I- I thought we- Um-"

Lando laughs. "Y/n! I'm teasing!"

"O- Oh!" you laugh nervously.

"I was just thinking... Maybe you'd want to go out and celebrate with me?"

"Oh-" you nod. "Right."

"So, do you want to get changed? I'll text you where we'll meet in a half hour?"

You grin, standing up. "Sounds good."

"See you then."

"Holy fuck, man," are Lando's first words when he sees you. You're wearing sunglasses, a form-fitting sequin shirt, and flattering white jeans.

"What?" you ask anxiously. "Is it too much?"

"Too much? Y/n, you're gorgeous."

You sigh in relief. "Alright good... And- one thing."

"Hm?" Lando asks, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know if we... could we say we're... that you're my..."

"Partner? Boyfriend?"

You swallow. "Sure. I think... I think I'm good with that. At least for tonight."

He nods.

"But let's not make it clear here. I don't want the way for everyone to find out about this being, you know, by nightclub pictures on the internet."

He smirks a bit, nodding. "Fair enough, then. Let's go."

"Rise and shine! Let's hit the grind, Y/n!" an unfamiliar voice wakes you up.

You roll over to see Lando's handsome face looking down at you. You're in his hotel room, in the one bed. He's all dressed and ready to go, and towering over you, looking like a giddy dog.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. "I've got a killer headache. What happened last night." You feel disgusting, and wrinkle your nose as you get a whiff of the alcohol scent radiating off of you.

He grins. "I learned that you have no tolerance whatsoever."

You frown. "Unlike you, Norris, I'm not getting drunk all the time! Now, tell me what really happened!"

"Nothing much. Just a lot of fun," he sits down next to you, "and it's a shame that you can't remember any of it." He chuckles a bit, saying, "You got fucking wild. You were more fun though before you got absolutely drunk out of your wits."

"You didn't do anyth-"

"No, no!" he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Carlos was there. I wouldn't dare. You at least remember Carlos, right, being there?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, of course I do."

"But you really did completely black out? You don't remember anything?"

You swallow nervously. "No... I don't really remember anything... I mean, I guess..." You close your eyes, thinking hard. "Just dancing... music was super loud, but... that's not anything specific. I don't feel well at all now, though..." You start to feel a bit dizzy at the energy you're putting into trying to remember.

You open your eyes and look at Lando.

He smiles. "Well, it was fun, nothing more. Want me to bring you back to your hotel now?"

"Yeah, I guess..." you nod, cradling your head in your hands. "That'd be great..." You see the wine stain on your jeans. You can feel an ache in your ankle. You just need to clean yourself up.

Lando helps you limp to the car, assuring you that you just tripped. Saying your ankle is fine; it'll feel better in a few days' time.

You're not so sure.

As Lando drives, he knows he should tell you the details, like Carlos said.

But it still feels like you'd be better off not knowing at all.

Nine hours before

Though every single one of Lando's molecules in his body told him not to, he had to keep pushing you off. He sat talking away with some other dudes, and you sat his side, drunkenly trying to wrap your arms around him.

You blubbered softly about all kinds of stuff, a strange mixture of being utterly devastated and overly romantic.

Lando knew. You didn't get drunk this often.

A part of him felt bad. A huge part of him. He didn't think he had pressured you into anything. Certainly not intentionally. And you were the one who kept drinking more. But maybe he did...

Maybe it was his fault you were the mess you were now.

"Lando..." you murmured, your hand gripping his bicep. You leaned closer. "You're so sexy in that shirt." You reached over to unbutton another button of his shirt.

He gently pushed you away for the millionth time. "Remember, Y/n? You don't want anyone to know you're into me this much," he whispered lowly to you, running a hand through his hair. "Remember that, baby."

You pouted. "Ferran broke up with me and made me sad. Can't you make me happy now."

"Not now. I won't be doing anything when you're this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk..."

Lando snorted. "Whatever you say, lovely."

All was going as fine as it could be going. But then Carlos showed up. "Hey, Y/n-" he had started.

But you had interrupted him by slapping your hand on Lando's shoulder, leaning into it, and giggling giddily, "Look at this pretty boy."

Immediately, Carlos's eyes flashed with shock. And then vague panic. And then anger.

"Lando, how drunk did you get her?!" he snapped, raising his voice even more than he already was. The flashing lights on the Spanish man's face helped Lando's anxiety no more.

"I didn't get her drunk at all! I tried to stop h-"

"Yeah, fucking right. Come with me Lando-"

"No!" you had snapped, standing up to grab Lando's sleeve before your older brother could drag him away.

You were clearly biting back tears. "Lan didn't do anything..." You stumbled drunkenly into the British man, who steadied you gently, before helping you sit down again.

Carlos's face remained hard and steadied on Lando, but he spoke no words, as if he was battling in his head what to do.

Lando sighed. "Listen, Carlos. She won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. Let's just not bring this up again, yeah? It was a mistake. Stuff happens. She got wild and had one too many. We've all had those nights."

But Lando genuinely didn't think Carlos had had one of those nights before.

Lando certainly had, though.

"She deserves to know."

"Maybe she shouldn't, though. She's gone through a lot with her ex breaking up with her and everything. And I'm sure your career up in the air isn't helping her cause much, either. She loves you more than the world. And think about how worrying it was for her to see you go into surgery like that, and race right afterwards? The good emotions just hit her, man. But it's probably a lot. She's just going through a lot. She doesn't need the guilt of getting too drunk and acting a little stupid, yeah?" Lando ranted, intently studying the older Spaniard's eyes.

Carlos's eyes slowly softened. "Alright... I won't tell her what's happening once she's sober. Only if I can make a deal with you."

Lando bit his lip, running a hand through his messed up hair. "What is it?"

"I won't say a word to her, as long as you promise to stay away from my sister. I know you're interested in her."

Lando's eyebrows creased together. "What does that men? Why?"

"Quit trying to get with my sister, and then it's a done deal."

Lando let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding. "Alright, then. Whatever. It's a done deal."

Of course Lando didn't intend on following through with his end of the deal.

But when Lando turned around to check on you on the couch, he froze when he saw you were gone. "Where'd Y/n go?" he immediately asked the other guys and girls sitting around.

"The hot Spanish girl?" one guy asked in a painfully slow Australian accent.

"Yes, her!" Lando demanded, his buzzed brain filling with irrational panic and overwhelming confusion.

He lazily gestured and responded, "Went to go dance, I reckon."

And before Carlos or anyone else could react any faster, Lando tore into the crowd, shoving people aside and squeezing through gaps that weren't there, in search of you.

She's drunk out of her mind! What the hell was she thinking!

That's right. She wasn't thinking.

And then, he spotted you, just for a moment. Moving your hips, stumbling about, thinking you were just about the sexiest thing in the room.

"Move out of my fucking way," was Lando's polite way of shoving two guys out of the way.

He could see the sweat glistening on your face. He could see the dumb smile on your face, your high giggles. He could see fresh wine spilled on your white jeans. He could see hands on you; he took no energy to see who they connected to as rage filled his entire being.

And he watched, almost in slow motion, as your ankle rolled on your black stiletto, and you stumbled to the floor with a brain rattling, painful cry.

Immediately, Lando shoved his way to your side, slipping his hands under your body. "My God, Y/n!" he nearly screamed over the music. "You idiot! You beautiful, fucking stupid, idiot! Tell me why I fell in love with you! You're going to be the death of me!"

"Hi Lando," you murmured through tears. "My ankle..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see. Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding as Lando tucked your hair behind your ear. He lifted you to your feet and let you lean on him as he helped you limp out of the club.

"I'm sorry, Lando..." you had muttered hoarsely.

"Hey, don't worry," Lando had responded. "Never apologize for having nothing but a good time."

But he, Lando Norris, disagreed with the words coming out of his mouth. That was his motto, his excuse, all the time. But as soon as soon as he saw you, someone he genuinely really loved, really cared about, living like that?

It made him sick to his stomach.

Speaking of that, as soon as you were outside, you stumbled away from Lando. He steadied you with one hand and held your hair back with the other as you doubled over and vomited, your previously red face impossibly pale.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah..." you gasped after about a minute.

"Alright. Okay. Let's get to my hotel room now."

Lando could barely understand your slurred words as you responded, "As long as we're getting away from here."

Now

You were going to go to the Japanese Grand Prix. But you just wanted to stay home. With a sprained ankle that confines you to crutches and an illness you've picked up, there was no way you were going to fly across the world for a Grand Prix, especially with the potential jet lag.

You lay on your couch and text Lando. You've been thinking, and you let him know that though you really do want to go places with him, you want to go slower.

You still don't know what happened on that night in Melbourne. For some reason, you can't get anything of significance out of Carlos or Lando. But you know more than what they're saying must have happened that night.

You asked Charles, because he was there. He provided a bit more information, but not much. He said he wasn't really hanging around you that night, but that he did see you cuddling with Lando.

When you asked Lando about it, he said you were drunk, it was just you not thinking, and it only happened once. That you stopped after he pushed you off.

And social media shows no one caught it on camera, or anything that night, for that matter.

So at least there's no fans going crazy over anything.

Lando texts you back, saying that he thinks it's best to go slow. Just let yourselves ease into whatever your relationship is going to be.

It's a relief to see he agrees with you on that.

But then he sends another text, asking you to try to keep it a secret. Even from your family, including Carlos.

You ask why, and he responds saying he simply agrees it's good to be private, and he doesn't want Carlos judging.

Though you're not sure about it, since Carlos is not only your favorite (only) brother, but also your best friend, you still tentatively agree to it.

Lando probably has a good reason.

Right?

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix comes around, though your foot is still in a walking boot, you're over your illness, and decide you're going to go for it and make the trip halfway across the world. After all, you've never been to China!

It's true that your walking boot doesn't look the best with your shades, shining silver jewelry, and overalls, but oh well. The most annoying part is literally everyone who even half knows your name (the Sainz part) keeps asking you what the hell happened to your ankle.

And you have literally no response but, "I fell," because you have no more of an idea than them, and there's no way you're about to say, 'Hah I just got drunk with Lando and got so fucking crazy that I twisted my ankle and sprained it! Anyway!'

Yeah, no way.

So "I fell," is the best option you have.

But the most concerning thing to you is that you haven't even seen Lando yet, all weekend. Though you haven't seen each other in a while, you've been calling, texting, and face timing often, your relationship growing a lot.

You chew your lip as you limp towards the McLaren garage. You peek in, scanning for Lando, but only see Oscar.

You limp to him.

"Whoa- What happened to your-"

"I fell," you say, thoroughly exasperated with this. "Anyway, is Lando around?"

"Lando? Uhhh..." he looks around.

Dude, hurry up. I'm not supposed to be here, your thoughts practically scream.

But then he walks in himself, and you grin, waving, "Lando!" you call.

He walks over to you, smiling. "Aw. Look at my little injured girlfr- uh, uhm, mate. My injured mate." He glances nervously at Oscar.

But the Australian just smiles, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Lando nods gratefully, before leading you to a more private place. "Hey," he says softly once you're alone, his hands resting on your waist. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright... Ankle's getting better, slowly but surely."

"Oh, good," he almost looks relieved. "That's so good to hear. I'm so glad you made the big trip to be here, Y/n."

You smile softly. "I was starting to miss you."

He grins. "I was missing you, too, baby... I think I could make some time for you this weekend, too. We could just get take out, hang out at my hotel room, you know. No more partying, even if I win, right?" he teases gently, gesturing to your foot.

You snort. "Yeah. Yeah, no more partying for now for me."

Later that night, you lay next to Lando in his hotel room. His arms are wrapped around you, his hand rubbing your back. "Look at me," he murmurs sleepily.

You look up to see his soft eyes looking at you, with so much, tenderness, so much...

love.

You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Lando, how did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, I would lie awake in bed, dreaming about and missing Ferran. I was so lonely. Now here I am. Two months, and I'm laying here, in your arms."

He grins a bit. "I bet it's because we're meant for each other."

"That's cliché."

"No, it's not. I really mean it. You know, I had a crush on you even back when Carlos was in McLaren, you were around a lot more, in papaya."

"No, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" he laughs softly. "I really did. The day I saw you in the paddock. The day Carlos pointed you out as his sister. The day you flipped your hair and looked at me with those warm brown eyes. And then looked away from me, because in my first season in McLaren, I was the farthest thing from attractive."

You giggle at this. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not! That was the day that I knew- I knew- that someday, I was going to make you mine," he murmurs, his eye half-lidded as his hand gently caresses your cheek.

"Lando!" you squeak, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't you dare make me cry for no reason!" You wait a minute, before saying softly, "Well, maybe, just maybe, back then, though you were a pipsqueak, you were kind of cute... And I've always gotten butterflies from your jokes and teasing, even all those years ago, before I was even dating Ferran."

He laughs. "Awww... So you've always had a little bit of a crush on me, too!" You can see by his blushing cheeks and beaming eyes that just this fact is making him feel warm inside.

You roll your eyes, giggling. "I guess, maybe...."

He flicks your nose gently, playfully, holding you even closer. You lay there in more silence, before Lando says softer, even more tenderly, "Hey, Y/n... can I talk to you about something...?"

"Of course, Lando..." Your eyebrows knit together.

You watch as he swallows. Nods. Sighs. "Okay... Something has been bugging me..." He pauses. "I... I feel like I never should have brought you out that night in Australia... you know? Like, beyond the sprained ankle."

Your eyes flash. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You just got so drunk, and... I feel so bad... Like, somehow, it's my fault... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, or to drink that much... I just thought we'd have fun. Like I always do with my friends. And you're my girlfriend; supposed to be my closest friend..."

"Lando," you murmur shakily. "Did you try to get me that drunk? You didn't encourage it, did you?"

He looks nervous. "I genuinely don't think so, but I'm nervous I did... I tried to tell you enough was enough, but maybe I should have looked out for you more... Maybe I should have worked better at keeping you from getting that drunk... But we were having so much fun and I figured you would know your limit... I shouldn't have assumed."

"Lando! Don't blame yourself! It was my fault. I got too drunk, I fell and sprained my ankle. The sentiment of you wanting to look out for me is nice, but when push comes to shove, I'm in charge of myself, just like you're in charge of yourself, and it was my fault. My mistake. M'kay, Lando...?"

He nods slowly, still looking a bit unsure. "Well, Carlos isn't mad at you about it. He's mad at me..."

"Carlos is what?!"

"Ah, fuck. Forget I ever-"

"Lando Norris, explain."

"Whoa, that's sexy," he laughs.

"What?!" you exclaim in exasperation, yet you're still unable to keep your stomach fluttering by Lando's sudden spoken intrusive thought.

He grins, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know. Full name, in such a firm voice? Like, yes, mommy, order me around. I'll do whatever you want me to," he says in a low, goofy, teasing voice.

You can't stop your face from heating up. "Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, your voice cracking awkwardly as you flick him in the nose this time. And you flick his stupid nose harder than he flicked yours earlier.

He giggles evilly, rolling over. "Look at yourself! You liked that! You're a blushing mess!"

"No, I didn't. What a stupid way to flirt."

"Oh, well, I can show you even more stupid ways to flirt. Because, apparently, it doesn't quicken your heart rate at all."

You groan. "You are so annoying."

He leans over, giving you a peck on your lips. "I know. And you know you love me for it."

You forget to ask him again about Carlos.

"Baby, c'mere," Lando says, nodding for you to join him in his driver's room.

"Dude, watch what you call me when there's listening ears around."

Lando shrugs. "It's only Oscar in the other room."

"So? What makes you trust Oscar so much, anyway?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good guy. And he's not gossipy, like me."

You laugh. "You are, are you?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a fucking gossip girl."

You laugh out loud at this as Lando shuts the door of his driver's room behind you.

Lando grins. "Anyways, Oscar is trustworthy because he's not the type of guy to have any desire not to keep a secret."

You frown, crossing your arms. "Alright. Whatever. Anyways, why'd you bring me in here?"

Lando shrugs, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "Sit down, babe."

You blink. "Where? On the fricking floor?"

"Uh, no," Lando rolls his eyes jokingly, as if this is the most obvious thing. "On my fricking lap, Y/n. Come on now. Duh."

You can't help but find yourself blush at that as you slip onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You smile, leaning into him as you ask softly, "So why'd you bring me in here? Just for kicks?"

He grins. "I need my Y/n fix before the race. You know, it'll make me drive better."

"Oh? Is that how it works?" Suddenly, though, before Lando can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You slip it out and sigh. "It's Carlos, asking me where I am. I feel like I'm under surveillance."

Lando blows a raspberry before saying, "Just ignore it, bae. You're a twenty-four year old woman; Carlos needs to get over it."

"Get over what?" you ask, an eyebrow raised.

"You not being his baby sister anymore. You're my baby now," he murmurs into your shoulder, pulling you closer to himself.

You laugh. "I still can't decide whether you're the worst flirt I've ever met or the smoothest. But right now, I'm thinking the worst."

"Oh, well!" he says, looking up at you with innocent eyes, batting his lashes. "Doesn't matter to me, because either way, you like it! Anyway, back to before Carlitos had to interrupt-"

You giggle as he begins kissing your face and say, "Carlitos? I'm not even allowed to call him that without him going psycho man on me-"

"Mmm... Can you talk less? It's cuter when you do that giggle thing," Lando murmurs between kisses.

This causes you to laugh out loud. "Sometimes, Lando, I think you're so weird." You realize, in a strange way, though, Lando is right. Because of the giddy feeling of literally having your boyfriend shower you with kisses and love, you're just kind of trying to find anything to talk about.

But maybe you should just take one moment to shut up.

You lean into the kisses, exhaling slowly. Contently, despite your pounding heart and sweating neck.

Finally, you feel as though your face is absolutely, completely covered in Lando's kisses. You sigh, contented, as Lando kisses the tip of your nose, and then pecks your lips.

You giggle, opening your eyes to gaze into his.

But his eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck. And his lips meet yours again, this time in a real kiss. You shut your eyes, enjoying those lips on your own, sending tingles throughout your whole body, causing your breath to grow heavier and heavier. Desire pulses in every beat of your heart, causing the passion in the kiss to build and build. Your right hand falls into his chest as the other knits itself in his curly locks. You feel Lando's hand on your hip as his fingers snake under to grip your ass gently. You can feel his hot breath on you, in you, apart of you, as his other hand gently stroking your neck, giving you little twitches of longing for more. Your tongues find an art of lingering exploration, Lando's hunger seeming to never be satisfied as his tongue and lips tease your nerves, the emotional and physical connections between you seeming stronger than ever. His hand slides down your neck to your back, pulling you closer to him, so your chests are pressed into one another.

Suddenly, though, there's a pounding on the door of Lando's driver's room. Your eye cracks open. Lando's squeeze tighter shut, his eyebrows creasing together, as if he wishes so much that this never has to end.

Lando grunts, finally pulling away. Oscar's voice on the other side of the door saying Lando's name seems to be in another, insignificant world. You're both gasping as you study each other's eyes in a certain awe.

A soft, mischievous smirk appears on Lando's lips. Those lips that now you can't stop staring at. "Was your first kiss with Torres that hot?"

You let out a breathy laugh. "Definitely not."

There's a pause, of just softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes, before Lando breathes, his eyes half-lidded, "My fucking God," He gently, slowly strokes your warm, pink cheek. "Did I ever tell you how head over heels I am for you?"

Before you can respond, Oscar's voice says again from outside, "Lando, if you don't respond, soon, I'm coming in."

Lando groans again, leaning his head back, "You can't! The door's locked!" He then adds under his breath, "Fucking Osc, interrupting as soon as I was going to take it to the next step."

At this, you blush even deeper. "You were-"

Lando waves his hand dismissively. "I would have checked with you first."

You nod, breathing deeply.

"Alright, baby," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up a bit. "Let's go see what the hell Oscar wants."

When the door swings open, Oscar can't help but chuckle how how much, in that moment, you two look like some snarky super villian duo, about to give him some cheesy monologue. You both stand, arms crossed, practically back to back. Lando wears a scornful grin and you display a glare as hard as stone. Even your clothes- Lando's racing clothes and your head-to-toe Ferrari red, finish off the silly look.

"What's so funny?" you demand upon seeing the Australian's laughter.

"Nothing, nothing. But I hope you guys know: These walls are not soundproof."

"What are you suggesting?" Lando snaps. "You couldn't have possibly heard anything, you idiot!"

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't! I'm just saying!" Oscar says, going on the defensive, putting both hands up. "Me and my girlfriend don't lock ourselves in my driver's room before the race, losing track of time and forcing you to go get us!"

"You and your girlfriend are probably going to buy a house with a white picket fence and have 2.5 children and a golden lab! Oscar and Lily is bad enough, but I'm surprised it's not John and Emily!"

"Whoa," Lando says, laughing as you walk out of the driver's room together and he shuts the door. "Shots fired. Calm down, Y/n; jeez."

But Oscar's laughing, too, so you know there's no need to apologize.

"Lan... You know I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I won't go out, right?" you say nervously as you walk into his hotel room, rolling your suitcase from your own hotel room.

"Yeah, I know you weren't. I wasn't kidding, either."

"So... What?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "You're planning on going alone? Then why did you bring me to your hotel room-"

"Y/n," he suddenly says, leaning down to gently grab your chin and look you directly in your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying right here."

Your jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris? Because that man would never miss an opportunity to party."

This makes Lando let go of you and break into a fit of laughter. "Y/n!" he breathes. "What the hell are you talking about? Before that, I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you."

You stare. "Okay, actually. I'm being serious now. What did you do with Lando?"

You watch as your boyfriend chuckles, sitting down next to you. "Baby. I'm not going to go out clubbing while you sit in a hotel room alone. And there's no way I'm taking you out again; my guilty conscience can't take that, and neither can your sprained ankle. So why not celebrate P2 here, just you and I, hm?" he says in a low tone.

Immediately, at this suggestion, you blush. "Oh, uh, Lando... I, uh... I don't know if I'm ready for something... you know... for that... right now... Not yet... You know, it's too early for me in our relationsh-"

Lando suddenly breaks into laughter again. Oh, that sweet, silly sound. "Y/n! My God, what a dirty mind you have! I wasn't thinking that at all-!"

"You, Lando Norris, are saying I have a dirty mind?! I bet you really are his doppelganger!"

He crosses his arms. "Only reason why I wouldn't suggest that is because I know you're not ready. Which is more than one hundred percent fine with me. I wasn't even thinking about that, anyway."

"What were you thinking, then?"

He smiles with his eyes. "Well, let's both get ready for bed," he begins pulling his shirt off over his head as you absolutely bear your eyes into him, "And once we're both ready, I'll meet you back... here...?" His confused face slowly turns to one of teasing nature when he sees your eyes trained intently on his bare chest. His perfectly toned abs. His perfectly shaped pecs. His strong, straight, tan back. The little brown beauty marks sprinkled all over his torso. You would love to kiss every single one of them. "Why don't you take a picture?" he smirks stupidly. "That way, it'll last longer."

"Oh, shut up," you murmur, licking your lips as you tear your eyes away from his bare middle. "You can shower first," you murmur.

Once you're both all clean and ready, you snuggle up under the blankets, only to find your arm brushing against Lando's bare skin.

You feel your heart flutter as you murmur, "Are you not wearing a shirt just to bother me?"

"What, no," Lando says, overly innocently. "I never wear a shirt to bed. Just like I'm sure you never wear a bra...?"

If you were embarrassed before, now it's ten times worse. You specifically decided to wear a bra, to avoid... that. And now here Lando is, bringing it up like it's the weather.

"Uh..." you begin.

"Anyway!" Lando says, apparently seeing the vaguely panicked look in your eyes. "Wanna just watch a show or something?"

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Lando turns some stupid show on his laptop, and as you snuggle and it gets later, you become more relaxed. You lean your head on Lando's shoulder as he plays with strands of your smooth, wet, dark hair. Your hands begin softly feeling his chest, just drawing circles and feeling the shapes of his abs.

Everyday, you seem to get to know Lando more and more- inside and out.

He sighs, contented, and murmurs sleepily, "That feels nice."

You smile, nuzzling into him.

"I saw Barcelona and Madrid played today," he comments as your fingers continue stroking the abs under Lando's soft skin.

"Yeah... El Clásico..."

"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would. I thought you were big on Madrid."

"Yeah, I am... Just having been keeping up with La Liga lately, I guess."

"Hm... Well, would you like it if I could find some way to watch the game...?"

You smile softly. "Hm. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be so bad..."

Lando nods, and soon, you're cuddled up with your boyfriend, watching your favorite team play against FC Barcelona/your ex's team.

It feels weird, but you like it.

You decide your bra isn't very comfy and slip it off under your shirt before tossing it across the room.

"You're finally over being embarrassed with me?" Lando teases.

You smile softly, shutting your eyes. "At least for now. Too sleepy to care."

He smiles back. "You're cute when you're sleepy. Cuter."

Soon, though, Lando is gently shaking you, murmuring, "Look. Your ex was subbed on."

"Hmmm? What about Fer?" you murmur with a yawn. You must have dozed off for a bit.

"Fer?" Lando asks, his nose scrunching up. "Yeah, Ferran Torres."

Your eyes flutter open to see your ex-boyfriend running onto the pitch. You feel a sudden, unexpected pang in your chest. When you and Ferran were still together, you watched him do that so many time, with a sense of pride and excitement.

But now, you don't feel much at all. It's no different from anyone else going out there to play.

But, like a train, memories of the past begin to hit you.

Going for walks with him. Cheering him on at finals. Hanging out with his teammates. Working out with him. Bringing him to the Barcelona Grand Prix. Exchanging gifts on birthdays and holidays.

Just all the little things you used to do.

Like snuggling with each other on late nights after Barcelona won.

Not unlike what you and Lando are doing right now.

Suddenly Lando's arm around you tightens, and he says, "You okay?"

"I- yeah..."

Lando leans forward to see you face. You try to turn it away. Lando doesn't let you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

"You're crying," he states softly.

"I guess..." you trail off, averting your eyes.

There's a few beats of silence before Lando states again, "You still miss him."

"I guess..." you repeat. "But... I'm happy to be with you... it just all happened so quick... It's a lot for me... I'm mostly over it- over him- by now, but sometimes things just... make me start to think. Reminsce of what's not anymore."

Lando slowly nods, and begins rubbing your shoulder. "I- Alright..."

"But don't worry. I'm way more happy to be with you right now than sad to not be with Ferran any longer."

"You're sure?" the Brit asks tentatively.

You nod, leaning into him once more. "I'm sure. One hundred and one percent."

"Hey, Lando," you grin giddily before the Miami Grand Prix. "Just drive your best out there, okay? Good luck, baby." You give him a high-five. You can sense he wants to give you a hug, but painfully knows he can't because of the ever-watching cameras and eyes all around you.

But he leans in close, until you can practically feel his breath on your face, and says softly, in just about the most heart-wrenching-in-a-good-way low voice, "Oh, baby... I'm going to go out there and win that race. For you."

"Oh, stop being such a romantic. You're going to make me cry."

He leans in, about to kiss your cheek, but you gently push him off, saying, "You better get going, Lan! Race is going to start soon!"

"Right! Bye bye, bab-"

"BYE!" you scream to overpower his stupid 'baby girl.'

And before you can even blink twice, it seems-

It's lights out....

And away we go!

"LANDO! FUCKIN'! NORRIS!" you scream as soon as you see him, running to him as fast as you can. Your eyes threaten to fill over their brims with tears as you leap into Lando's arms, immediately forgetting about hiding your relationship.

Right now, that just seems too silly to care about. It doesn't matter enough.

Your boyfriend is a race winner.

The racer winner!

He leans back with the most joyful, most romantic, most adrenaline filled, most glorious look in his eyes as they search yours. His hand slowly strokes your cheeks as he purrs, "I told you I would win it for you, didn't I?"

"Lando-" you begin in excitement, but are interrupted by Lando's lips on yours, aggressively, passionately leaning into yours, flooding all his emotions into you, sharing his dream coming true with you.

For some reason, you begin to cry. Flows of tears, flooding down your cheeks as you kiss each other, and your heart pounds at a million kilometres an hour. His hands grip your waist tight, and the moment-

It all seems so perfect.

Right now, you don't care about the fact it was supposed to be secret. You don't care about what Carlos will think or say or do, or what fans on social media will post. None of it matters.

In this moment, the only two people that matter are you and Lando, in a symphony of amorousness, standing on the top of the world.

In this moment, you and Lando, both in sync, know this is the right time. Though it's been merely three months of being in a real, serious relationship, it feels like several lifetimes.

You don't care about the shock of other people, or the cameras flashing and clicking and filming.

All the sudden, you're proud of it.

You want everyone to know, no matter how they'll react, that you're Lando's, and Lando is yours.

When you finally break away from each other, Lando's smile remains as he gazes into your eyes.

"Are you crying too?" you giggle softly as you spot a glint in his eyes.

"What? Me, crying? No, I'm not crying! Of course I'm not crying!" he says teasingly, hastily wiping at his eye with his thumb. "You're the one crying! But anyway-" He slips the papaya McLaren cap off his head and plops it on yours, saying, "Won't be needing this for the top step. Besides," he smirks, leaning in closer. "Enough with all this Ferrari stuff. I think it's finally time for you to admit: Papaya looks best on you. Papaya's your color."

As you watch him jog off after that, stunned, you feel pleased.

Finally, for once, content.

That's right. My color isn't white, or blaugrana. It's not Ferrari's red, either.

I'm a papaya girl.

His papaya girl.

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andriel-islife · 18 days ago

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Welcome to my TedTalk of my favorite aftg recurring event: people reacting to Neil’s languages.

First the monsters reacting to Neil’s French

“He wished he could take some satisfaction in the shell-shocked looks the language and his furious tone earned…It was an age before anyone responded. Nicky was too busy gaping at Neil to say anything, and Aaron was staring at Kevin as he waited for a translation. Andrew’s surprise gave way to what a fool might mistake for delight and he leaned forward on the desk. “Wow another one of Neil’s many talents. How many can one man have?””

This scene is funny because unproblematic and ordinary Neil Josten just busts into their dorm room with no explanation and starts speaking in angry French. (And Andrew’s “you’re interesting to me” without actually saying so.)

Andrew and Wymack discovering Neil’s German. (Only Andrew reacts but it’s important to remember Wymack heard the German as well(for later))

“That wiped the irritation off Andrew’s face. It was forever before Andrew answered in German. “That’s unexpected. Did no one tell you I hate surprises?”…”how many languages do you speak, runaway?””

We love seeing through Andrews medication to his true feelings(surprise). And then this being followed by a civil conversation of Neil’s true past and Andrew’s reactions. Is this really the love hate(mostly hate)TFC andriel dynamic we loved for half a book.

The upperclassmen+Wymack finding out about Neil’s French (only Wymack's response but, again, important to know the upper classmen hear his French.)

He didn’t realize what he’d done wrong until he felt Wymack’s piercing stare. Andrew’s lot new Neil spoke French…But Wymack, like Andrew, had also heard Neil speak fluent German. Neil ground his teeth and refused to return Wymack’s look.”

Wymack hadn’t reacted to the German because of the situation but he probably also didn’t feel the need to respond to yet another one of his kids having a second language. But apparently bilingual is where he draws the line for languages. Neil “multilingual” Josten had Wymack questioning who he really was and why his second and third languages happened to be those already present in his team.

Upperclassmen, Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin finding out about Neil’s German (thanks to Andrew being Andrew)

““Oh shit,” Nicky said, switching languages in a heartbeat. “Since when do you speak German? Andrew, you knew about this? Why didn’t you tell us?”…Aaron looked at Neil. “When were you going to tell us?”…Down the hall the upperclassmen stared at them in disbelief. Matt was the first to get his tongue back, but the best he came up with was, “I thought you spoke French. That was French this morning right?��”

Aaron being the king of not caring about things concerning Neil.

Last but not least(if I remember correctly) Jean reacting to Neil’s French.

“Jean wasn’t expecting him to understand them and shot Neil a startled look.”

This startling Jean was funny. How can one be anymore scared when sitting next to Riko Moriyama. And Neil letting his attitude get the best of him in not only English but also French. He was on a roll and he wasn’t going to let a language switch stop him.

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ch6sos · 6 months ago

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more nanami headcanons (but as your bf !!!)

a/n: hey everyone! thank you for all the support on my last headcanon post. i never really expected it to go far, but somehow it did. it was my first time ever posting a "fic" you know? i was cringing the entire time but it was worth it, for you guys :) since it did well, here is some more!

i used third person by the way so you're referred to as his partner. tried to make this as gender neutral as possible cuz i love you guys

cw: slight suggestiveness (ooooh... but it's not extreme you sillies)

Extreme gentleman. He respects their wishes all the time. If they want space, he will give it to them. He will give them whatever they ask for.

Pays on the first date. He forbids their significant other from doing anything. He will pay because he wants to. He truly wants to, not because he feels obligated to.

Would be kind of shy about doing anything at first, especially Teen!Nanami. Even after a long period of dating, he would always ask before showing affection because he does not know if they feel comfortable or okay with it.

"May I please hold your hand? Are you okay with that?

"...We've been dating for a month."

"I know, but, I must ask, you know? In case it makes you uncomfortable.”

When he (as well as they) grow comfortable, the affection begins to become more "intense." Not intense, but he does it more frequently. He holds their hand more, gives more kisses, more hugs...

He would give the best hugs. He is a cuddle machine. He appears to hate them, but does he truly? Exactly. No, he does not. He loves them so much. He wishes he could give up his job to spend the entire day cuddling with his partner.

"Stay close to me, please."

"I don't plan on moving."

"Good. I wish life were like this every day." He hums, squeezing them gently.

Kisses with him are never short; even if he is late. He never leaves his significant other hanging. He craves and desires to kiss them. He enjoys giving his partner a passionate kiss, drawing them near to his chest, and placing his hand behind their head, leaving a memory of the kiss that is warm, tender, and unforgettable.

Genuinely feels like he could share his emotions with his significant other. Yeah, he is still serious, because it's who he is. He was raised in a family surrounded by serious people. Though, throughout the relationship, he learns how to express his emotions better. He feels like he genuinely could reveal all the emotions he has stored in him already around his significant other. If he's feeling upset, he would genuinely express that to them. If something ticked him off, he would sit down and talk to his partner about it.

Despite all of that, he still is more of a listener than a rambler. He prefers putting others first before him, and that also goes for who gets to talk. He enjoys looking at their partner with a loving gaze, as they talk nonsense. Whether it is about the new show they picked up, their day, or the latest gossip, he loves listening.

He would write love letters. I do not care if you find that corny. He is corny. He will write love letters. Nanami is romantic. I don't care what anyone says he is a romance god who does not get to show it off as much. He loves writing lengthy letters, showing the love he has for his partner. Describes their personality and how much he cherishes them, how much he thinks they're beautiful, and how he thinks that they are the stars in the night sky that stand out.

Playing with his partner's hair is (one of) his favorite ways to show affection. If they have long hair, he loves to try styling it and ruffling it. If they have type 4 coily hair, he starts learning how to take care of it so he can try protective hairstyles on them.

Another thing is lazy Sundays. He loves Sundays. Even though he has to go to stupid work the next day. The sensation of them being in his arms when he wakes up, his arms encircling their bodies firmly, the sheets covering them. He enjoys gently leaning in to kiss their shoulders, the top of their head, and the back of their neck. When they began to stir, he pulled them closer— not wanting to get out of bed. All he wants is to spend Sunday morning in bed with his lovely partner.

Gets flushed at compliments, but it is not as obvious. When their significant other says he is handsome, he smiles softly and thanks them, but on the inside, he is freaking out.

Cooks breakfast in bed for them. Always. He loves getting up just to make his significant other the tastiest breakfast ever; it is his specialty. He prepares a warm beverage and some fruit-flavored crepes topped with Nutella and whipped cream.

Before meeting them, Nanami was kind of an insomniac. He would not sleep; hence why he has dark circles. But after meeting them, he started sleeping more. Despite everything, he continues to get up before his partner to prepare breakfast for them.

Not only that but when he was stressed, he would drink his sorrows away rather than confide in someone. Since the fan book claims that he enjoys drinking, I think that, unfortunately, one of his coping mechanisms is doing exactly that. However, since meeting them, he has kept everything under control. He learned to express himself more freely and genuinely strives to avoid suppressing his emotions.

Bro is a simp. His mouth drops when he sees his partner dressed. His jaw falls to the floor. He is stuttering a bit too. I know he is supposed to be calm and collected but he would NOT be calm and collected around his significant other, people. He would go feral and be a simp for them.

He says I love you first. It was quite unexpected and seemed to come out of nowhere. He just blurted it out without waiting for the perfect moment or anything else. It was probably a simple morning, cuddling with him on the bed as usual, looking at each other fondly, and he said, "You know how much I adore you, right?"

When he realizes what he is saying, his eyes widen slightly, but then crinkle up when they tell him they love him as well.

He will do whatever his partner says. They could be 5'2 or around his height; he is a certified simp who immediately attends to their partner's needs.

Even if that includes forcibly doing silly TikTok trends. He pretends to hate it but he doesn't. He is a munch or whatever Ice Spice said.

He enjoys nuzzling his partner. Guys, I do not care. This man is a bundle of love wrapped up in a stoic-looking man. He enjoys sneaking up behind them, entrapping them in his arms, and nuzzling their neck and the top of their head. Wherever he wants, whenever he wants. And he utters sweet nothings. And leaves tiny, delicate kisses. He also wraps his arms around their waist.

He sometimes becomes overwhelmed, so he requires his own space. However, he does not simply distance himself from his partner. He properly expresses that sometimes he needs his own space. He still adores them but also needs some space. He does not want to cause conflict or misunderstanding because he is not that type of person.

Will be there for them when they are sick, even if they believe they look disgusting. He does not care; he believes they are the most beautiful sight he has ever seen in his entire life (which was cut short) (sorry, I am still coping). He will be there to care for them whether they are throwing up, crying, or whatever.

He cooks for them, he gives them medicine, he cuddles them even though he knows he may get sick...

And he does. Every single time. And he acts like a baby too.

Adorable tall, strong man Nanami acts like a baby when he's sick. He needs to be looked after completely. He starts off coughing (like a grandfather or a father). So his cough is obnoxious and loud, and he frowns. He then looks up at his partner, his expression reminiscent of a puppy who has been denied treats. It is an adorable sight. It's a turnaround from his usual chill demeanor. He then spends the entire day in bed, despite his attempts to do his routine tasks like cleaning and cooking for them, which they forbid. And he pouts about it like a big baby.

"Please let me take care of you. You took care of me, so now it's my turn."

"No, you're sick, Kento."

"That doesn't matter." He frowns.

“You always take care of me anyway.”

“But it is my honor to take care of you, my love.”

and then they end up having seven mental breakdowns

If they bring home a stray one day, he is reluctant on taking it but you know damn well he'd be like one of those dads that is hesitant about taking it at first but then ends up cuddling it the next day and then begging for them to not take it to the shelter.

Genuine sweetheart. Holds the door for their significant other, makes arrangements for them when they can not find the time, prepares meals for them, and if they come from a different culture, he starts to learn about it, particularly if they are involved in it.

...This guy is in no way aggressive. I have seen people mischaracterize him as a dominant "daddy" or whatever because he is serious, and Mappa blessed us with the hair-pulling scene. That scene was primarily caused by rage at Haruta's thoughtless harm to those around him and the fact that the man was going against two young girls. He would never act in such a way toward their partner, particularly when they were in bed. He is more of a gentle lover and is afraid of going too far.

Needs are needs, so if they ask, he will comply with some hesitation. He never seemed to get into it, so he tells them that.

That does not mean he is not into some stuff. Bro be praising. He praises hella and talks them through it.

"My love, doing so well for me."

"So beautiful, so gorgeous, all sprawled out for me like this."

“You’re mine. Until the end of time, angel.”

“God. My love, my everything. You drive me wild, you know that?”

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Want to see how breathtaking you are from here.” All in his deep, ragged and needy voice.

that made me cringe

help I'm crying at the cringe so sorry

His favorite dates with them involve going to a restaurant. Nanami knows some hidden gems, so he enjoys taking them to restaurants where they can eat delicious food. Being a food enthusiast, it goes without saying that he is aware of the good and bad places to go. Because of Nanami's exquisite taste, they have never had to worry about their food.

As I previously stated, he prefers traditional nicknames such as sweetheart, my love, darling, angel, and beloved. I do not see him calling his significant other "baby," "baby girl," or whatever; I believe he finds it cringe-worthy. This is self-indulgent oops.

Sings softly to them while they are sleeping. He sings a song while they are sleeping because he is too ashamed of his singing. His vocals are not bad; he is just shy. (Little did he know, they had several recordings of him singing in secret...)

He will sacrifice his blanket in bed just to wrap it around his partner if they're cold. Bro would give them 90004868787893 pillows, and 8 blankets if they said they were cold.

He exaggerates things. And when I say he exaggerates, I mean he goes to great lengths to win his partner over. If they enter a new niche, he buys *everything*. On date nights, he gives them large bouquets if they like that, and he treats them as if they were royalty.

"You didn't need to get me this entire figure collection from *series*... I feel so bad."

"Well, do not worry, I enjoy buying these things for you. I see how happy you are, and it immediately warms my heart.”

Arguments with him are not bad. He truly never gets upset to the point of yelling because that is not who he is—he is not a guy who yells and he does not want to cause trauma to people in general. Again, though, he seems composed, and it might be frightening. But he then does something right away that causes his partner to instantly give in. Bro could just breathe and they're like "OKAY" and yeah. I understand. I would fold so hard bro.

His love languages include quality time and acts of service. He loves spending every single second with his partner and is immediately angry at the world when he has to work overtime and can not have more time with them. He enjoys taking them on dates or simply staying at home on lazy days. He loves spending time with them. Furthermore, he expresses his love by doing things for his partner, such as assisting them with their work (if he could), giving them massages when they are stressed, cooking for them all the time, washing their dishes even when they beg him not to, eating the olives off of their plate if there are any... He is the king of acts of service.

He is not good at taking pictures. His large thumb keeps covering the lens, so they have to force him to take the pictures repeatedly. Despite this, he never becomes irritated because he gets butterflies just watching his partner pose in their gorgeous clothes.

Speaking of photos, he already had an Instagram account beforehand. (As much as he hates to admit it, Gojo is sometimes the one who takes the aesthetic photos on his page.) He was not active, but he has a few posts on it, but as soon as they got a partner, oh lord Jesus. Bro will post on his Instagram story every single second.

Even though this happens, he prefers to make his relationship private. Private but known, you know? He wants the world to know that he is lucky enough to date them, but still not reveal information or talk about his relationship to anyone. So he would take those private but not secret type relationship photos.

Captions are always complimenting them and are extremely poetic. He's just that guy.

"saw a breathtaking sight. the beach is also there."

“every aspect of you captivates me, body and soul.”

"we are all floating around with the stars and the universe, and it somehow led me to you."

cringes again

Off-topic but not, Nanami would NEVER, and I mean... NEVER, go for his student if he was a professor, even if their relationship is legal. I can't stand it when people do that. He understands that there's a power dynamic behind it and it's low-key creepy how much people enjoy it.

Along with stepcest. Why do so many of you like stepcest? Nanami is not touching any of his family members. I'm scared to say this and this is probably hella controversial for this app but he's not touching anyone even if they're not technically related.

Age gap too. He would not date someone extremely younger than him. He is not going to be 40 and dating a 19-year-old. I just can't see it.

Other than that, he does not have any preferences when it comes to appearance. He has turn-offs, but not in terms of appearance. He could care less about what someone looks like.

In terms of personality, he dislikes negative people. He despises that. He would feel guilty if he became involved with someone unconcerned about the world. He also dislikes immaturity and pettiness.

He prefers people who bring positivity into his life, you know? Someone much more outgoing than he is, but still a mature person with whom he could relate. The more extroverted they are the more they bring out of him. As long as they're not so overwhelming to him.

Even so, he simply enjoys people for their kindness and consideration. How willing they are, how passionate and motivated they are. He simply wants someone who is driven by their goals.

Texts them dad memes he found on Facebook.

“Look at it, it’s funny.”

“...lol”

“You laughed at least a little bit right?

“...No?”

“Okay. I apologize :(“

LAUGH AT HIS FACEBOOK MEMES PLEASE. THEY ARE NOT THAT BAD PLEASE.

When he met their family, he appeared calm and collected, but he was nervous. He was fidgety on the way to their house, something he had only ever done in high school. He experiences anxiety about whether he would be accepted by them or whether he would be good enough.

“Wow, I have never seen you this fidgety before.”

"I apologize. It’s just… What your family might think worries me. I am not sure if I will meet their expectations. I simply want to let them know how much I genuinely adore you for who you are and how much I want to be yours forever."

And they are like ??? because this man is perfect? He is the dream man anyone could ever ask for.

Do not take this man mini golfing bro he sucks ass… I know you guys think just because he is partly white he will immediately be good at golf but no. He sucks ass.

He would be protective, but not excessively so. He is devoted to his partner and will intervene quickly if someone upsets them, intimidating them with his composed demeanor.

"I advise you to distance yourself from them before I regretfully have to take action, okay? We wouldn’t want that, right?” Dumbledore says, calmly. While puffing out his chest. And mewing. And mogging. Whatever that means.

Okay fine, he will watch Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives, Love & Hip-Hop, etc with them. Pretends to hate it but he is invested.

Imagine just going to the bedroom and just seeing him in his reading glasses, sitting up against the headboard, immersed in the book in front of him. The only thing he has on is a simple white tee that does justice to his figure and pajama pants.

Yup feral.

Tries to get into the things their partner likes just so he can understand when they yap about certain things. He just wants them to talk about everything to him. He finds it adorable.

Allows their partner to give him a skincare treatment. He then begins to do it himself. Well, he would only use one product—a cleanser. That being said, he started using toner, serum, and other skincare products. And, yes, he allows them to put ridiculously cute facemasks on his face. And the cute little star pimple patches.

Do not take that man ice skating or rollerblading either. He would be so hesitant on going because he sucks at it. He just goes because his significant other told him to. He fell immediately.

“This sucks.”

“Stop sulking and hold my hand.”

“...You don’t even need to ask.” He says, all giddy.

Please show him the love and care he deserves.

When he works out he will flex on them on purpose. He thinks it is all funny to be all yummy. It is NOT funny.

Yup, he does push-ups while they’re underneath, each time he goes down he gives them a peck.

Yeah so imagine that with him in his compression shirt and shorts…

I could read your mind, people. You are not slick.

This man will not let his significant other have insecurities. He is the type to leave notes all over the bathroom, and every mirror, with encouraging words. Praising their looks and more. Plus he shows in…other ways (wink) how much he appreciates how beautiful he thinks they are.

If they are unhappy, he will truly be devastated. He is miserable when he sees them upset, so he does everything in his power to cheer them up. Whether that’s cooking something for them, taking care of them, trying to make them laugh, getting them something from the store, or sitting down and talking to them about their problems, he needs to make them feel happy.

When he drives, he would not put his hand on his partner’s thigh. He would much rather grab their hand, and put it on his lap, as he listens to them hum along to the radio. He purposely moves the mirror slightly toward them, just so he can see how pretty they are through the mirror. He also looks at them with a slight smile at every stop-light, occasionally leaving small pecks on their face.

Does not mind if they steal his clothes. Go on then silly. He could care less. He thinks it’s cute as hell.

Would teach them how to do things. For example, he will teach them to play an instrument if they do not already, especially if he knows how. He looks like a lovesick fool as he watches them replicate what he did. Unable to resist the urge, he kisses them without reason.

“What was that for?”

"I could not hold back. You are very tempting."

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes. You are everything I think about and want."

Butterflies all around people.

His only red flag is that sometimes he may prioritize work over his relationship. He unfortunately gets into the stress of work and begins to grind more at work. Call him out and he gets back into his senses.

Buys more storage space for his Samsung S24 Ultra to retrieve more pictures of them. His camera roll is nearly full. Just because of his significant other, his camera roll increased from roughly 150 images to over 13,000 images.

When he comes home from work, he immediately collapses on the couch or their shared bed, on top of them. He then looks like a sleepy puppy.

“Someone’s tired.”

“I hate overtime.”

“I know you do. I cooked something for you.”

“I could have just cooked for the both of us…”

“But I knew you’d come all tired from work. So no.”

“That doesn't matter, you know? I love taking care of you. Just to see that pretty smile on your face.” He pouts, once again.

He ends up making it up to them. You can interpret that however you want.

As soon as this man sees them in formal attire (or in general) it is OVER. His jaw is on the bottom of the earth, his eyes are slightly widened, a blush on his face.

“I have no words. God, I don't know how someone could get even more impossibly perfect, yet here you are, darling. No matter how many times I see you, you still manage to take my breath away.”

yup heart attack

Prepare for so many compliments daily. He talks like a true romance book. None of that Colleen Hoover stuff.

Talks about his partner like a true gentleman. He's not like those types of guys who just talk about their significant other as if they're his property. No. He talks about them as if they are an art piece.

Overall, he just loves his partner so, so much. He expresses it in a variety of ways, from taking care of them—to telling them every single second of the day. In his own words,

"Your presence in my life is like a breath of fresh air, keeping my heart full and content. I love you more than anyone could ever fathom, and I promise you, you have my heart for eternity."

i love him </3 NANMINPLEAEE BE RELALRHABADHDJSKDHSNEB

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