#and a newfound fascination for games

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Thisclose to going to all the libraries in town and finding all the books I can on board games and tabletop games

[qingxin-dream]

“Whiskey”

summary | he likes this side of you. vulnerable. honest. eager to please. who is he to deny you in your time of need?

warnings | not proofread, profanity, possessive, smut [18+, MDNI], dubcon, female-bodied reader, reader wears a skirt, lots of teasing, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, grinding/panty-fucking, degradation + praise, rough sex, a sprinkle of dacryphilia, creampie

genre | smut (happy valentine’s day❤️‍🔥)

word count | 2k

pairing | wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓗umans are truly fascinating.

There’s this innate sense of wonder in those reflective violet eyes of his—one which begs to be satisfied. You can tell just by the way he looks at you with an imperceptible quiver of his soft lips that he may be debating on lashing you with another sarcastic remark.

You find yourself more enamored by the possibility the puppet might be persuaded to throw caution into the wind and finally give you that taste of him you’ve been so obviously craving. The slight aroma of whiskey piques his interest further.

After all, alcohol has a tendency to remove a human’s superficial barriers in expressing their true thoughts. Some even claim it to be an aphrodisiac.

Wanderer’s mouth curls up in amusement, enjoying the predicament you have presented before him.

Here you are, his precious little companion who guards her heart with awkward excuses and shy apologies, all tangled up with him against the wall. If you were a bit more sober, he’d delight in your typical reply—a small shriek of embarrassment followed by a deep, pink flush of your whole face.

This time, however, you are the one to plead for his touch.

“Scara… I mean, W-Wanderer,” you whine into his collarbone, beginning to grip his white robe just above his belt. You liked feeling the contours of his body, but not openly. No, you’ve tortured yourself with a game of accidental touches and fleeting brushes of skin. Every time it’s as if you get another piece of the puzzle to his silhouette, sparking your imagination as to what the full picture might look like.

“What? A little alcohol and you can barely call me by my name,” Wanderer muses in a low tone, his hand drifting to the dip of your waist where it perfectly slots into your form. His other hand is presently preoccupied, nearly pinned to the wall behind him and fingers lazily intertwined with yours. “I never cared for titles anyway, but… Master has a nice ring to it.”

“Dick,” you curse instinctively, rolling your eyes. Your displeased scoff trickles over his sensitive collarbone. Out of spite, you seriously consider sinking your teeth into his neck to leave a bruised mark on his pretty skin.

Archons, you don’t even recognize your own impulse anymore.

“Not yet,” he tuts, unable to resist the smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips. The hand on your waist slips away, taking his warmth with it. Wanderer leans in close enough so your noses are nearly touching, a newfound fire in his eyes. He waits a beat, his words drawn out in a slow, breathy whisper in an attempt to mask his own desperation. “I want you to cum all over my fingers first.”

The puppet’s eyes are trained on you like a predatory hawk, reveling in all the ways your body responds as he hooks his fingers on the hem of your underwear, yanking it down just below your skirt. Before you can protest, his long, slender fingers dipped into your needy hole, dragging your wet slick towards your clit to lubricate your folds for him.

Your knees practically buckle on the spot with a little cry of pleasure and surprise. Blissfully unaware, you whimper and try to lean in further to silently beg for some semblance of affection. Something to keep your mind from reeling like crazy. Even just a kiss will do. As much as you hate him for reading you like a book so often, you couldn’t be more turned on by his willingness to indulge you.

Merely the thought of his cock filling you to the brim has your hole fluttering with anticipation and he’s only touched you once.

“Mm, it’s so good,” you whimper with need, slowly bucking your hips in rhythm with his fingers circling your clit. When you have the strength to open your eyes again, Wanderer is marveling at your delectable expression. Within seconds, he captures your lips in a gentle kiss that burns like a candle—patiently but passionately.

A soft moan escapes you, swallowed eagerly by Wanderer’s tongue slipping into your mouth. He wants to hear it again, though the sound of his fingers in your pussy is a close second. He grunts with a bit of laughter as a particularly delicious thought crosses his mind. The puppet keeps rubbing your puffy clit at a steady pace, occasionally slipping two fingers barely at your entrance.

The instant his fingers teased your core, you melted into him, chasing after that sensation once more. “Oh my god… it’s so fucking hot. Please…”

“Please what, baby?” Wanderer coaxes you with a tender but playful undertone, feigning innocence to your question. He quiets you with a few more decadent kisses, maintaining that pressure-building pleasure concentrated on your clit.

You struggle to maintain what little composure you have left. You’re trying your damnedest to be good for him, but you can’t help the shaky whine purring deep in your throat. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to say it. “F-fuck me. Please.”

“Mhmm,” he moans freely and heavily onto your lips, nodding into another kiss with excitement. The puppet hears you. He knows you are beginning to feel a wave swelling in your lower stomach at his ministrations, ready to crest over in a magnificent release. “But what if I want you to cum all over your panties, hm? I want you to earn it first.”

Wanderer pumps the tips of his fingers into you just to bring you closer to the edge before quickly returning to your overly-sensitive nub. You can’t take it anymore, you’ll do anything to convince him otherwise. Biting your lower lip, you mewl, “Why don’t you cum in them instead? I-I just need to feel you…”

He chuckles lightheartedly at you, finding your desperate state to be cute. The glassy look in your eyes as if you could cry at any moment is the cherry on top. Perhaps he is feeling merciful today. You yelp with surprise when the puppet replaces his index and middle finger with the wet slap of his cock against your pink folds, grinding it between them.

“Fuck, yes,” sighing heavily, you relax against Wanderer, sucking in a breath with each thrust of his tip that reaches your entrance. You’ve completely surrendered to the intoxicating image of his cock pushing into your tight hole, cursing under your breath. All your needy moans are his for the taking, swirling his tongue against yours in a steamy exchange.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, it’s pathetic,” the puppet chuckles, but his words are hardly degrading. Rather, his low baritone is steeped with lust. Without warning, he removes your panties entirely to lift you by your hips, pressing your back flush to the wall and sheathing the leaking tip of his cock inside your warmth repeatedly. “Is this what you wanted? Huh?”

“A-ah!” your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape at your lover’s unexpected but very much welcome intrusion, looking down at how your pussy is taking him in by the inch. There’s already a ring of fluids beginning to gather around his tip. “Yes, mm, please… more. Fuck.”

A snicker resounds from his throat as he slowly sinks himself into you, watching with utter fascination as you struggle to adjust to his girth. Cooing sweet nothings into the shell of your ear, Wanderer shifts so that you’re pressed to the wall entirely by his pelvis. Your spongy walls flutter and throb around his thick length, spurring him to grab your face firmly by the jaw. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Look at you, so pretty for me. Kiss me.”

Little did you know that the sweet relief of his plush lips on yours was but a distraction. While you wrapped your arms around his neck, Wanderer slides his cock out to your wet entrance, fucking just the tip inside you. The moment you began to show signs of protest, he plunged deep into your pussy with an audible smack of skin. You let out a cracked yelp.

“What was that, baby?” he moans into your mouth teasingly, a hand squeezing lightly on your jugular. It was just enough to make you a little dizzy and drunk on his cock. That much was evident as the puppet pulls out for the umpteenth time to overstimulate your hole.

“I-I…” you stutter out breathlessly, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Your mind was empty. Only the tantalizing sensation of his cock dragging against your walls could make your world turn once more.

With a sinister giggle, Wanderer silences with you with another sloppy kiss. When he buries his cock into you abruptly this time, you babble incoherent nonsense about cumming. He takes advantage of it, thrusting his hips at a fast pace and practically fucking you into the wall.

“Yeah? You wanna cum? Fuck… you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice morphs into a hiss as he attempts to delay his own impending orgasm. Your head rolls back in ecstasy, on the brink of release as Wanderer drills your cunt wildly, ripping loud moans from your parched throat.

Just as you were hurtled toward the precipice of your orgasm, Wanderer lifted you off of his cock and the pressure in your stomach dissipated. The emptiness inside your walls was unbearable. Marching into the bedroom, he positions your ass up on the bed and immediately splits your pussy open with his throbbing cock again and again.

“Shit, shit, yes. I fucking love it. I love you so much,” you growl into a pillow raggedly, a dreamy, fucked-out look in your eyes as he pounds into you.

The puppet yanks the pillow out from underneath you, wrapping your hair around his fist so he can make sure you don’t dare stifle your praise and moans from him. “You fucking like that? Being my little cocksleeve, yeah? Lemme hear you say it, baby. Mine… all mine.”

You are completely dazed by Wanderer’s cock fucking you as if he wanted to make a permanent impression of his curve in your soft pussy. He was ready to pump you full of his cum. His fingers tighten on your hair slightly, and you’re reminded that you were given a command. “Mm, mhmm! Y-yours…”

“My what?” he presses further, mesmerized by the ripple of your skin every time he thrusts into you from behind. His hand smacks your ass as a warning.

“Y-your cocksleeve!” you blurt out with tears beginning to pool in the corners of your eyes. The overstimulation at this point is the perfect concoction of pain and pleasure, driving you to the edge. Your eyes start to roll back a little, succumbing to the hypnotic sensation of his veiny cock burying itself in your core.

Wanderer releases your hair, possessively planting his hands over your hips to deepen his thrusts. “And what do good cocksleeves do?”

“T-take… your cum… a-ah, fuck. That’s it. That’s it. I’m gonna cum!” you reply with the last remaining ounce of your willpower. Your entirely body tenses and spasms with pleasure as a litany of profanities and prayers spill from your lips. You’ve never had an orgasm as intense as this, you can’t control your own bodily response.

Wanderer immediately pulls you in, his muscular chest pressed to your back, cooing and shushing you gently as he succumbs to his own orgasm. You can vividly feel his cock pulsating inside your warmth, spurting hot, thick ropes of his seed across your gummy walls. “That’s okay, cum for me, baby. I love you so fucking much, yeah. Shhh…”

The room is filled with heavy breaths and the smell of sex. Your lover’s grip never falters. Instead, the puppet gently kisses the crook between your neck and shoulder.

“I’ll take care of you. I promise. You’re my good girl.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

[tarotwithavi]

Your future lover : first meeting

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

This is a general reading. Only take what resonates and leave the rest.

MASTERLIST

PAID SERVICES

I will be writing from their perspective as a scene.

Pile 1

As I sat in the room, fiddling with my phone, boredom settling heavy on my shoulders, the door creaked open. My eyes darted towards the sound, and there she was - the sister of my friend, the one I'd only heard about in passing. "Man you look like you haven't slept in a year" my friend said mockingly. "Sleep is not an option when you seek academic validation" She said sarcastically, her hair in disarray, clad in mismatched pajamas. But there was something captivating about her, a rawness that drew me in. I couldn't tear my gaze away as she clumsily made her way across the room, seemingly unaware of her disheveled appearance and my presence. Suddenly her eyes, tired yet filled with a spark of curiosity, met mine briefly before she looked away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

In that moment, I realized that she was unlike anyone I'd ever met. There was an authenticity about her, a lack of pretense that intrigued me. Despite her unconventional appearance, or perhaps because of it, I found myself wanting to know more about her. And as she disappeared into the crowd, leaving me with a newfound sense of fascination, I knew that this encounter was just the beginning of something unexpected.

Random messages: popcorn, escapism, not paying attention, sleep deprived, games, cats, cup of coffee, sarcastic, fantasy, dark circles, hello kitty pajamas, Gemini, Pisces, cancer, S,G,Y,R and U.

I sense that you may meet this person when you will not be ready or let's say well dressed. They may be someone your family knows or you may meet them through family. I am also getting the message that you may not be paying attention. You may have just woken from a nap or there's something your hair being out of place. I see that this person will see you as someone who's a bit blunt but your quality will attract this person to you. I see that they may be an air sign or may be wearing black on the first meeting. There is an air of mystery surrounding this person. You may not know who this person is yet. This person will love the fact that you have a vision, a dream that you want to achieve.

Pile 2

I looked down at my glass of water standing in a room full of people, music playing in the background. My buddies, nudged me, pointing across the room with wide grins. "Gosh she's beautiful," my friend whispered, his voice barely audible over the lively ambiance. I followed their gaze and there she was, standing amidst the crowd like a beacon of light. She wore a stunning red dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her beauty. Her smile was like sunshine, infectious and radiant, as she engaged in conversation with her friends. My breath caught in my throat as I watched her, feeling as though time stood still. It was as if destiny had orchestrated this moment, guiding me to her side when I had no intention of being here in the first place. In that instant, everything else faded into the background, and all I could see was her. My heart swelled with a newfound determination as I made a silent vow to myself. I wanted her to be a part of my life, to share moments and memories with her. With each step I took towards her, the anticipation and excitement bubbled within me, driving me forward.

As I finally stood before her, my pulse quickened with nervous anticipation. "Hi," I said, my voice slightly shaky but filled with sincerity. And as she turned to meet my gaze, her smile widened, filling me with a sense of warmth and possibility. In that moment, I knew that she was someone special, someone I wanted to get to know better. And so, with a hopeful heart and a newfound courage, I embarked on a journey that would change my life forever.

Random messages: mirror, rings, wedding, red, pink, blue colour, stork, gathering, fresh, bubbly personality, observing, Leo, Taurus, libra, nose ring, red hair, shoulder length hair, mole on/near nose, B,P,S and W.

I see that you may meet this person on a full moon or the moon could be significant. You may meet them in a social gathering and I see that communication will be involved in the first meeting. They will see you as someone who is outgoing and fun loving, they will love the fact that you can bring light to any situation. This person may have strong fire placements. They may have a tattoo somewhere on their body. I see that some of you may have in manifesting a meeting like this or you may have been dreaming of something related to this.

Pile 3

I walked into the café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee hitting me as I scanned the room. And then, I saw her. She was sitting by the window, her eyes lost in the rain tapping against the glass. I felt a tug in my chest, like something was pulling me towards her. As I approached her table, she looked up, her eyes meeting mine for the first time. There was a sadness in them, a pain that mirrored my own. We both carried the weight of past relationships gone wrong, wounds still fresh despite the passing of time. I pulled out the chair opposite her, and we exchanged tentative smiles. We didn't need words to understand each other's pain. It was there, written in the lines of our faces, in the way our shoulders sagged with the burden of heartbreak.We talked about trivial things at first, skirting around the edges of our pasts, afraid to delve too deep. But as the hours passed and the coffee cups emptied, we found ourselves opening up, sharing our stories, our fears, our dreams.

And in that moment, I felt a connection unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It was as if our hearts were speaking to each other, silently promising to be there for one another, to heal together. But we both knew we weren't ready for anything more than this fragile bond we had forged. We needed time to heal, to mend the broken pieces of ourselves before we could even think about being together. So we made a silent pact, an unspoken agreement to give each other the space and time we needed. And as we parted ways that evening, I couldn't help but feel hopeful for the first time in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for us to find happiness again, together.

Random messages: A, V, heart shaped things, cards, alarm clock, abandonment issues, zen, heart break, polar opposites but similar at the same time, 4, fall, halloween, healing, green, yellow.

I am getting the message that you may meet this person right after ending a relationship with someone or getting out of a toxic situation so you may not be keeping or focusing much on love or you may be trying to move on from your past or vice versa. There is a feeling of being a perfect match for Each other. I see that this person may view you as their perfect match or you maybe you them as your perfect match but I see that there is a sense of belongingness like you may feel as if you both belong with each other. Another message I'm getting is that this meeting may take some time however you may recall this reading when this happens with you.

[cardansriddle]

"You know how to ball, I know Aristotle" - (tom riddle x fem!reader)

Summary: Tom finds himself harbouring a small crush on the Slytherin Chaser.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff. As always, not proofread, so apologies for any mistakes.

A/N: First post in months, hi, hello, I'm alive!!! This one is heavily inspired by the lyrics "you know how to ball, I know Aristotle" from so high school by taylor swift (obviously). And we all know Tom is the nerd in any scenario.

༻♛༺

The players soared through the azure sky, their movements orchestrated with precision and grace as the game began. Quidditch had never held any allure for Tom; he deemed it brutish and an unworthy diversion from his personal pursuits. After all, he would rather spend his hours on research to further his magical skills, become the most powerful wizard of all time and accomplish his one ultimate life ambitions.

Yet he had been dragged to the game by his persistent, relentless Knights. Half of them had already taken to the field, while the remainder bellowed raucous cheers from the stands. That is, if one could call creative chants being hurled at the Gryffindor team cheering.

With a disdainful curl of his lip, Tom reached for the book nestled at his side, fully intending to pass the time by reading. Yet, before he could even read a word, a chorus of gasps pierced the air, followed by a rush of wind that tousled his dark locks. Startled, he glanced skyward, just in time to witness one of the Chasers of his house team swooping gracefully to intercept the Quaffle hurtling towards an unsuspecting bystander behind him.

She shot a cheeky smirk at whoever she had just saved before gliding away. Something within Tom stirred—an unexpected surge of fascination seized hold of his senses and he found himself tracking her every movement with a newfound intensity. For a moment his scholarly mind analysed her movements with the same meticulous scrutiny he applied to his studies. She moved with a fluidity that seemed to defy the laws of gravity, her every manoeuvre executed with a finesse that demanded attention.

As her lithe form weaved through the chaos of the game, Tom couldn't help but lean forward to pay attention to the game. He was transfixed, his gaze glued on her as she scored a goal after goal.

"See! I told you Quidditch was fun!" Orion Black exclaimed from next to him, hand moving to pat Tom on his back before realising who he was speaking to and forgoing the action all together.

Tom did not bother acknowledging the boy.

The game came to an end as the Slytherin Seeker deftly caught the snitch after a particularly intense dive, and soon enough the entire crowd of students were rushing to congratulate the victorious team. Just like that, Tom was snapped out of his daze. He gathered his belongings and decided to leave.

༻♛༺

The party in honour of the Slytherin team was in in full swing by the time Tom set foot in the common room. He cursed under his breath as he navigated the crowded space, desperate to retreat to his dormitory and escape the chaos that engulfed the room.

Pushing his way through the throng, he passed by the large emerald couch when his eyes caught sight of her. She sat with her friends in a small circle, an amused smirk playing on her lips. The boisterous energy of the celebration seemed to ripple around her. Tom's ears perked up as someone called her name, attempting to draw her attention. He quickly noted the name, etching it into his mind with the same precision he used for memorizing spells.

"It's your turn!"

She waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm good."

"Oh come on! It is not fair for you to give out the most ridiculous dares then run away when it's your turn. Come on, don't be a coward!" Her friend goaded.

"Perhaps if I were a Gryffindor I would be insulted." she replied with a shrug. Despite her nonchalance, her friends’ uproarious protest began to wear down her resolve. Tom could see the determination flicker in her eyes before she finally relented. "Okay, fine! I will play this once!"

"Truth or dare?"

Tom resisted the urge to scoff at the ridiculously childish game they were partaking in. He should have left right then, but he could not deny that something tugged at his curiosity despite his best efforts to remain aloof.

"Dare."

"What happened to you were not a Gryffindor?"

"I'm just trying to determine if I would be a lousy one or not."

Her friend’s eyes narrowed in thought, clearly plotting the perfect dare. Tom was about to move away when her friend's eyes landed on him, and he saw them sparkle in mischief. He was quick to turn away, pretending he could not hear them.

Just as the girl was announce the dare, a couple crashed into him in their impatience to get through, fingers weaved together, jostling Tom and forcing him to step aside. He grimaced as they hurried past, clearly headed for the dorm rooms. When he turned his attention back to the group, he noticed with a start that the girl had disappeared.

Trying ignore the bizarre pit of disappointment in his stomach, he turned on his heel to head up to his room for the night. He had already lingered more than enough. Just as he turned, another figure crashed straight into his chest. With a string of colourful curses under his breath, he automatically grabbed to steady the person. Tom had lost all his patience, and he was about to snap with something mean when his gaze landed on the Slytherin Chaser.

Whatever sharp words he’d been preparing evaporated in an instant. His focus shifted entirely to the pair of wide, doe-like eyes staring up at him innocently. Too innocently. His instincts told him it spelled trouble.

"Oh, Riddle! I'm sorry, I tripped over my own feet." She said with a sheepish smile, a feigned apology dancing on her lips. Tom narrowed his eyes. She was an athlete, her entire existence on the pitch was defined by her precision and grace. He knew well enough she wasn’t the type to stumble over her own feet.

He opened his mouth to retort but she beat him to it. "Did you watch the game today?"

"Yes," he responded curtly, his gaze never leaving hers, trying to decipher her game.

"Really? I thought you never attended the games. Well, what did you think of it?"

The corner of Tom's lip curled as he replied. "First and last time. Your Quaffle almost disfigured my face."

She raised a brow. "No, the ball almost disfigured Adrian. Your charming smile was in no danger, I assure you."

"My charming smile, yeah?"

A delicate blush crept up her cheeks, turning them a pretty shade of pink under his teasing gaze that she was trying—and failing—to conceal. Tom felt a wave of smug satisfaction at the reaction he had drawn from her. Slowly, he twirled his wand between his long fingers, savoring the moment, letting the tension simmer in the air between them. His movements were slow, deliberate, before he lifted her chin ever so slightly with the tip of the wand, the cool wood brushing against her skin.

"Well, in any case, congratulations on your victory," he murmured, his voice low as he held her gaze firmly in his. "Disfigured smile or not." Then, with the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, Tom broke away to walk past her, heading toward the dormitory.

He was halfway across the common room when a sudden shout rang out amidst the loud crowd.

"Tom!" Her voice rang out, and just as he was about to glance over his shoulder, a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, turning him around with unexpected force. His brows knit in confusion as he looked down at her, words forming in his mind but never reaching his lips. Before he could react, her arms were around his neck, pulling him down in one swift motion. Her lips crashed against his, bold and unapologetic, her kiss catching him entirely off guard.

Tom stood frozen, momentarily stunned, every thought, every calculated plan vanishing in the instant their lips met. For a man who prided himself on control, it was the first time in a long while that he felt completely unmoored. The kiss, with its suddenness and intensity, left him reeling in ways he hadn't deemed possible.

He tuned out the instant cheers and whistles breaking out in a wave of noise at the display, his thoughts consumed only by the soft lips moving over his own.

But the moment was over a moment far too soon. her breath uneven, eyes gleaming with nerves. Tom’s heart, which had betrayed him for just a moment, slowly began to settle back into its steady rhythm.

She bit her lip, a sly smile forming as she met his gaze again. "Sorry… I was dared to do that," she said, almost apologetically.

Tom’s expression didn’t falter, but a flicker of irritation crossed his mind. The kiss, the boldness—it had not been her choice. “Of course,” he replied coolly, his voice measured as he ran a hand through his hair. "A dare.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Tom leaned in just enough to let his words hang in the air between them, lips brushing against her cheek, his voice low and filled with a subtle challenge. “Then… I dare you,” he began, his gaze locked on hers with a teasing intensity, “to do it again.”

He smirked as her eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by his response. Her gaze flickered to his lips for just a second before she pulled back, her smirk widening. "Careful what you wish for, Tom. You might regret it.”

"Only if it results in your Quaffle flying at my face again."

"If you refrain from reading your book at my game, I promise to keep it away from your vicinity next time." She rolled her eyes, but before either of them could speak again, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again, this time softer, slower, the lingering laughter fading into something sweeter.

[elladreams]

The Perfect Setup (Zandvoort) // LN4

summary: Zandvoort '24. A young engineering prodigy, recruited by McLaren to solve complex F1 challenges, grapples with media scrutiny and an undeniable chemistry with driver Lando Norris. As tensions rise during a crucial race, they must balance professional duty with their growing personal connection.

warnings: she/her reader, smut (18+), unprotected (shower 😳) sex, size kink.

words: 6.9K

The roar of engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision that reverberated through the paddock. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline mixed with the salty breeze from the nearby coast, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that signaled another race was about to begin. The McLaren garage was a hive of activity—mechanics making last-minute adjustments, engineers poring over data, and drivers mentally preparing for the challenge ahead. Amidst the controlled chaos, you stood, a pillar of calm in a world of speed.

You have always stood out, a prodigy in a field where experience often outweighed talent. But here you were, at the heart of one of the most prestigious teams in Formula 1, your hands and mind guiding the finely-tuned machinery that could make or break a race. At just twenty-two, you were already a respected figure in the paddock, known for your brilliance in engineering and your unyielding dedication to the sport.

Your family had sacrificed so much to help you reach your potential. You were always miles ahead of the other kids. While they were playing with dolls or video games, you were more interested in how those things worked. At six years old, you were already taking apart remote control cars, not to play with them, but to understand the intricate systems that made them move. By the time you were ten, you were building small engines from scratch, fascinated by the power and precision of mechanical systems.

Your parents quickly realized they had a prodigy on their hands. They encouraged your curiosity, enrolling you in expensive science and engineering programs meant for kids much older than you. You thrived in these environments, always eager to learn more, to push the boundaries of what you could create. By the time you were a teenager, you had already won several national engineering competitions, earning a reputation as a young genius in the world of mechanics.

When you first discovered Formula 1, everything changed. The speed, the technology, the sheer complexity of the cars—it captivated you like nothing else. You devoured everything you could find about F1 engineering, learning about aerodynamics, power units, and the delicate balance between speed and control. While other teenage girls were dreaming of prom dresses and much older boyfriends , you were dreaming of being in the garage, fine-tuning the machines that drove the world of motorsport.

Your parents knew that pursuing a career in F1 was a long shot, especially for a young woman, but they supported you every step of the way. They worked multiple jobs and sacrificed their own dreams so that you could chase yours.

Thankfully, your talent didn’t go unnoticed. By the time you were 16, you had caught the attention of several top engineers in the F1 world, earning an internship with Mercedes. You quickly made a name for yourself as a technical genius, capable of understanding and improving complex systems that seasoned engineers struggled with. The paddock buzzed with stories of the young girl who was instrumental in Mercedes' dominance.

With your newfound fame came an onslaught of media attention. Reporters from major news outlets were relentless, hounding you for interviews and prying into every aspect of your life. They asked invasive questions about your personal relationships, sought your opinions on the sport's latest controversies, and even pressed you to address misogynistic rumors linking you romantically with certain drivers. The spotlight, once a place of professional pride, had become a battlefield where your every word was scrutinized, and your achievements were often overshadowed by baseless gossip.

Zak Brown fought tooth and nail to bring you to McLaren, recognizing that you were the missing piece they needed to conquer the new regulations. When it became clear that the team was struggling to master the latest specifications, he knew they needed someone with your unique blend of technical expertise and innovative thinking. Zak saw in you a mind that could bridge the gap between theory and practice, someone who could not only understand the intricacies of the new rules but also translate them into real-world performance on the track.

But today, on the day of Max Verstappen's home race, there was an unmistakable charge in the air—tensions were higher, the stakes more personal. It wasn’t just another race; it was a proving ground, not only for the car but for you, the team, and especially for the driver who had become both your greatest challenge and your fiercest ally: Lando Norris.

Lando, the young, fiercely talented star of McLaren, had a natural charm that made him a media darling, but it was his relentless drive to win that truly defined him. From the moment you joined the team, your relationship with Lando had been anything but smooth. Your strong wills collided over every detail, every decision. He saw you as a nuisance, someone who constantly questioned his instincts and pushed him beyond his comfort zone. To you, Lando was stubborn, even arrogant at times—a driver who needed to understand that perfection on the track wasn't just about raw talent but about achieving the perfect synergy between man and machine. And today, that’s exactly what you were trying to achieve.

Standing in the garage, you reviewed the data on your tablet for what felt like the hundredth time. You had pulled an all-nighter, fine-tuning an experimental setup that you believed could give Lando the edge he needed on this notoriously challenging circuit. But convincing him to trust your untested approach was another matter.

Lando stormed into the garage, the top part of his race suit hanging low on his hips revealing his fire proofs, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, glancing at the setup specs displayed on the screen. “This is what you’ve been working on all night?”

“Yes,” you replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. “This setup could give you the downforce you need through the corners without sacrificing speed on the straights. I’ve run the simulations a dozen times—it works.”

“Simulations?” Lando scoffed, running a hand through his curls in agitation. “Simulations aren’t the same as the real thing. We can’t afford to take risks like this, not here, not today.”

“This isn’t a risk, Lando,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the tension. “This is a calculated decision based on hard data. I wouldn’t be recommending it if I didn’t believe it would make a difference.”

He crossed his arms, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to recognize all too well. “You’re asking me to trust a setup we’ve never used in a race, in front of Max’s home crowd, no less. What if it doesn’t work? What if it costs me the race?”

“And what if it wins you the race?” you countered, stepping closer to him. “You know as well as I do that playing it safe isn’t going to cut it against Verstappen on his home turf. We need every advantage we can get, and this setup is that advantage.”

Lando stared at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. But you didn’t waver. You believed in this setup, and more importantly, you believed in him.

Finally, he relented, nodding slowly. "Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I swear I will never let you live it down."

“It will” you interrupted, a small tired smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll be right there with you, making sure it does.”

A ghost of a smirk played on his face, his eyes betraying the glimmer of a sparkle. For a moment, the garage was silent, the two of you standing closer than you realized, caught in the intensity of the moment. The intoxicating blend of his dark, amber-scented perfume mingled with the unmistakable and familiar scent of the paddock, created a heady aroma that threatened to cloud your senses entirely.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a fraction of a second before flicking back up to your eyes. You could feel your cheeks burning as his gaze caressed you.

Lando cleared his throat, breaking the spell and stepping back.

"Well, let's get this done." he said, his usual light tone returning as he ran a hand through his hair again. "Wouldn't want to keep the adoring crowd waiting." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, thankful for the change in energy.

You both turned back to the screen to finalize the setup adjustments. As you worked side by side, the air between you felt different—not just charged with the usual tension, but with a deeper, more intimate connection. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped, and you had moved from being teammates to something more.

The race was minutes away, but for the first time, you felt like you were truly part of a team—Lando’s team. And that, more than anything, was what mattered. The moments before the race were a blur of final checks and hurried conversations. You stood by Lando’s car, your heart pounding with adrenaline, not just from the intensity of the race but from something deeper—something you were trying desperately not to acknowledge. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Zandvoort Circuit, you caught Lando’s eye. He was already in his race suit, helmet in hand, but there was a softness in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you’d both been dancing around for months.

The starting grid was tense with anticipation. Lando had secured pole position in a spectacular qualifying session, and the team was buzzing with excitement. But everyone knew this race wouldn’t be easy—not with Verstappen starting right behind him, eager to impress his home crowd.

The lights went out, and the roar of the engines filled the air as the cars launched off the line. Lando got a good start, but so did Verstappen. As they barreled into the first corner, Verstappen made a daring move, diving down the inside and taking the lead. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sea of orange on its feet as their hometown hero took charge.

“Hold steady,” you whispered under your breath, your eyes glued to the screen. Lando had lost the lead, but the race was far from over.

The next few laps were a blur of precision and strategy. Lando stayed close to Verstappen, not letting him get away, but it was clear that the McLaren’s setup was allowing him to conserve his tires while maintaining pace. The tension was palpable, every corner, every straight a testament to the fine-tuning you and the team had worked so hard to perfect.

As the race approached its midpoint, an opportunity presented itself. Verstappen, pushing hard to maintain his lead, began to show signs of tire degradation. You watched the data closely, your fingers gripping the edge of the console.

“This is it, Lando,” you said over the radio, your voice steady but laced with anticipation. “His tires are gone. You’ve got this.”

Lando didn’t respond, but you knew he’d heard you. His driving became more aggressive, more precise, as he closed the gap to Verstappen. And then, on lap 47, the moment you’d been waiting for arrived. Lando set himself up perfectly coming out of Turn 9, using the slipstream to his advantage. As they approached the hairpin, he made his move, diving down the inside with the confidence of a driver who knew his car—and his own abilities—were more than a match for the challenge.

He retook the lead, and this time, he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Nicely done, Lando!” you cheered into the radio, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. The entire team erupted in applause, but your focus remained on the car, on the driver who had just reminded everyone why he was one of the best.

The final laps were a masterclass in control. Lando maintained his lead, keeping Max at bay and managing his tires to perfection, while also building a substantial gap. As he crossed the finish line, taking the checkered flag, the McLaren garage exploded in celebration.

“You did it, Lando! You won!” The words burst out of you, the relief and joy evident in every syllable.

Lando’s voice crackled over the radio, filled with the same emotion. “We did it. The car came alive.” A flush of pride warmed your cheeks. This was your win, too—your idea, your hard work, your dedication to perfection.

As Lando pulled into the pit lane, the world seemed to slow down. He stepped out of the car, removing his helmet to reveal a smile that lit up his entire face. You had joined the team to celebrate alongside Lando. Before you knew it, he was walking toward you, his eyes locked onto yours. The team was cheering, clapping him on the back, but Lando didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. He reached out, taking your hand in his, the contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you.” He said simply, the words full of meaning.

Your smile widened as you squeezed his hand, the rush of adrenaline and pride filling you with a new kind of certainty. In this moment, the only thing that mattered was him, and you. You squeezed his hand, your heart racing not from the adrenaline of the race, but from the intensity of the moment between you. “Thank you for trusting me, Lando.”

There was a brief silence, the noise of the celebration fading into the background as the world narrowed to just the two of you. Then, with a quick glance around as if to check that no one was watching too closely, Lando leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his breath warm against your skin.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he repeated, a whisper that sent your heart into overdrive.

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you. “And we’ll do it again.”

The race had been a victory, but this moment—standing with Lando, the connection between you undeniable—felt like something even more precious. It was the start of something new, something that went beyond the garage and the racetrack. 

—-

The podium celebration had been nothing short of electrifying. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, and the sight of Lando beaming as he hoisted the trophy high above his head was a moment you knew you would never forget. As the McLaren team gathered to celebrate, you found yourself on the podium alongside Lando, representing the team that had worked tirelessly to secure this victory. It was a whirlwind of emotions—pride and undeniable joy.

But as you made your way back to the garage drenched in Ferrari champagne, the adrenaline of the win still pulsing through your veins, you rounded a corner and nearly collided with Chiara, McLaren’s senior PR manager. Her usually composed expression was tense, and you could tell immediately that she had something on her mind.

“Great job out there,” Chiara started, her voice measured but tinged with concern. “The team couldn’t be happier, but we need to talk.” Your stomach sank as a sense of foreboding crept over you. Chiara had been your main point of contact for media communication since joining the team, and you knew that if she was this worried, it must be something serious. You felt a knot form in your stomach. The way she was looking at you told you that this wasn’t just about the race. “What’s on your mind, Chiara?”

She glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot, then pulled you aside into a quieter corner of the garage. “Look, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but we need to be careful about how things appear. The media and fans are already buzzing about you and Lando, especially after that little moment after the finish.”

Your mind flashed back to the celebration, to the kiss on the cheek Lando had given you, the way his hand had lingered on yours just a bit longer than necessary. It had felt private, special, but of course, nothing was truly private in the world of Formula 1, especially not when the cameras were always rolling.

“You know how it is,” Chiara continued, her tone softening slightly. “Fans are passionate, and the media loves a good story. They’ll spin anything to make headlines. I’m not saying you can’t have…whatever it is you have with Lando, but we need to manage the optics. The last thing we want is for this to distract from the team’s success.”

You nodded, understanding her concerns. The last thing you wanted was to give the press ammunition to turn your hard-earned victory into tabloid fodder. But the idea of keeping your newfound feelings for Lando hidden, of pretending there was nothing between you, felt like a bitter pill to swallow.

“I get it, Chiara,” you said finally, meeting her gaze with determination. “I’m not going to let them turn this into a scandal. Lando and I…we’re professionals first. We’ll handle this.”

Chiara smiled, relieved by your response. “I know you will. Just keep in mind that perception is everything in this sport. And right now, you both have the world’s attention.”

With that, Chiara gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before heading off to her next order of business. You stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment, letting her words sink in. The exhilaration of the victory still buzzed through you, but it was now tinged with the sobering reality of the situation. The weight of her advice pressed down on your shoulders, reminding you that nothing in this world came without its complications.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, dislodging tiny droplets of champagne that sprayed out like glittering confetti. The sticky remnants of the podium celebration clung to you, a tangible reminder of the night’s highs. What you needed now was a serious shower—something to wash away not just the champagne, but the lingering tension from your conversation with Chiara.

As you made your way toward the team’s private quarters, the hum of activity in the paddock slowly faded, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Chiara’s words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the reality you both lived in—a world where every glance, every gesture, could be dissected and spun into a narrative you had little control over. The media would indeed be relentless, and the fans, always watching, would be insatiable in their curiosity. But how could you distance yourself from something—or someone—that had become so central to your life, to your happiness? The chemestry you shared with Lando was undeniable, and no amount of PR maneuvering could erase what you felt for him.

As you reached the lockers, you turned on the shower, eagerly anticipating the soothing warmth of the water to ease the tension knotted in your muscles. The promise of relief was a welcome thought after the intensity of the day.

You let out a small sigh, beginning to discard your champagne-soaked clothes. The polo that had clung to your skin now felt heavy, both physically and metaphorically, as you peeled it off and tossed it into the laundry bin. The day’s victories and challenges seemed to weigh on you all at once. The exhilaration of the win, the tension with Lando, the quiet moments where everything between you felt so effortless—they all mingled in your mind, creating a cocktail of emotions that left you feeling both intoxicated and exhausted.

You stood there for a moment, stripped down to your underwear, the cool air of the locker room a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. Lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed Lando entering until you felt his presence, a subtle shift in the air that made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The realization of how exposed you were hit you all at once—half-naked and vulnerable in more ways than one.

Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but something in the way Lando looked at you made you pause. His eyes, darker now with an intensity that was impossible to ignore, roamed over your body, lingering on the curves and lines revealed by your lack of clothing. The heat that flushed your cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way his gaze set your skin ablaze. You couldn't meet his gaze fully, not when you were absolutely sure it would burn you from the inside.

He murmured your name, his voice low, vibrating with a tension that matched the fire in his eyes. The way he said it, the way his gaze traced over you, made it feel like a caress. “Look at me.”

There was a challenge in his tone, and you met it head-on, your breath catching as your eyes locked with his. In the fluorescent lighting of the locker room, his features seemed more defined, his jawline sharper, his lips fuller.

There was no mistaking the desire that simmered just beneath the surface, a reflection of the same need that pulsed through your veins. It was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the space between you crackling with a chemistry that had been building for far too long.

Lando took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, and with each inch he closed, the air around you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation. He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of his skin—champagne and amber with a hint of the adrenaline that still lingered from the race—filling your senses.

The silence stretched between you, and yet, it was as if an entire conversation was taking place, unspoken but understood. Every fiber of your being was attuned to him, the tension between you palpable. "I can practically hear that big brain of yours working overtime." he said, his voice even lower now, almost a rumble. His hand reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. The touch was gentle, but it was enough to make you shiver, your skin hypersensitive to every point of contact.

The last remnants of your resolve began to crumble, and you could see the same struggle playing out in Lando’s eyes. There was a flicker of hesitation, a silent question hanging in the space between you—whether to cross this line, to take what you both so clearly wanted.

But then he stepped even closer, his hand sliding up your arm to your shoulder, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone. The touch was light, almost reverent, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid between you. His eyes followed the path his hand made, and when he looked back up at you, there was no more hesitation, only a hunger that mirrored your own.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, as though he was barely holding himself back.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, a familiar ache begging to be satisfied. With every brush of his fingers, you felt your resolve crumbling.

You tilted your chin up, your lips parting in invitation. The look in his eyes was pure need, a reflection of the desire coursing through you. He leaned in, his breath warm on your lips, his scent simply intoxicating now that it was mixed with the sharp fruity champagne.

It was as if time had slowed down, and all you could focus on was the heat of his body, the anticipation of his touch, the promise of everything that would come next. And then, finally, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

The feel of his lips on yours was electric, sending sparks racing across your skin. His mouth moved against yours, hungry and demanding, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. You opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of him. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before—the combination of the champagne, the adrenaline, and the sheer relief of finally giving in to the chemistry that had been simmering between you was enough to make your head spin.

As his hands roamed over your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever they touched, you could feel your body responding, the desire building with every passing second. He kissed you like a man starved, and you met his hunger with your own, matching his pace. Your hands found his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms, the heat of his skin drawing you in like a magnet. He was solid and real beneath your touch, and you pressed yourself against him, the sensation of his body against yours igniting something primal and uncontrollable inside you.

Lando’s breath hitched at the contact, his hands splaying across your back, fingers digging in just enough to send a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter between you, ready to snap.

“Lando,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more a plea than anything else.

That was all it took to break the final thread of restraint. There was no gentleness now, only the raw, urgent need that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever.

You kissed him back with equal fervour, your hands sliding up to tangle in his damp curls, pulling him even closer as his hands roamed over your back, your waist, every inch of skin he could reach. The heat of his body, the taste of him on your lips—it was overwhelming in the best possible way, drowning out every thought that wasn’t about him, about this.

Lando’s hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a practiced flick, he had it undone, the fabric slipping away as his hands moved to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp against his mouth. The sound seemed to fuel him, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he backed you up against the lockers, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat between you.

You could feel the solid press of his body against yours, his arousal evident as he pinned you to the lockers, his hands never ceasing their exploration. Reaching your panties, his fingers slid under the band, tugging them down in one smooth motion, his movements sure and confident, as if he knew exactly what he wanted. The sheer contrast of standing before him completely naked while he remained fully clothed amplified the raw vulnerability of the moment, making it feel intensely intimate and charged with a potent, almost primal, energy.

Your own hands moved lower, sliding down his clothed chest, his hard abs, until you reached the waistband of his pants. The feel of his muscles tensing under your touch sent another wave of desire through you, and you wasted no time in slipping your hand beneath the fabric, finding his impressive length and trying to wrap your fingers around him.

His forehead resting against yours as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes closing as the friction elicited a rush of pleasure that had him breaking the kiss to let out a curse. For a moment, he just stood there, his breath ragged, his hands tightening on your hips, as if trying to steady himself.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, and the raw honesty of it sent a thrill through you.

“Good,” you replied, your own voice husky with need, your hand beginning to move with deliberate strokes that had him groaning, his head dropping to your shoulder as he tried to keep himself in check. He reached for his fireproofs and pulled them off, his movements almost frantic. You helped him, pushing the fabric over his hips, revealing the perfection of his physique.

You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the lean, sculpted lines of his body, the taut muscles that flexed with each movement. You inhaled a sharp breath as your eyes finally landed on his cock, hard and swollen with desire. You were no stranger to the male anatomy as your hormones and curiosity had gotten the best of you in the past, but you were starting to become nervous about taking his impressive size inside of you.

Before your brain could spiral too far, you felt Lando's hands on you, his touch firm but gentle, his calloused fingertips sending shivers of pleasure through your body as he traced patterns along your skin, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. The chemistry between you had ignited into a full-blown inferno, and neither of you had any intention of putting it out. 

In a fluid motion, Lando lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you over to the shower that had been steaming in anticipation. You giggled as the warm water hit your skin, the tension between you melting away as the shower cascaded over you both.

"I've been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you," he said, his voice low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver of anticipation down to your core.

"Then don't make me wait any longer," you replied, a challenge and a plea, and the heat that flared in his eyes at the words was enough to make you burn for him.

He lowered his mouth to yours, the kiss slow and deep, a delicious contrast to the urgency. His hand reached between your legs, finding the wetness there and stroking with just the right amount of pressure, his thumb circling your clit and making you gasp into his mouth. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, and he used it against you, building you up slowly but surely, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every expert movement of his hand.

You clung to him, your nails digging into the slick skin of his back, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself against the waves of pleasure that threatened to consume you. He entered two of his thick fingers making you whimper at the stretch. His free hand was on the side of your face, tilting it up to capture your lips with his, kissing you with a tenderness that belied the urgency of the situation. You knew he was trying his best to prepare you for his cock, but it was a lot. He was a lot.

"I don't think you're going to fit," you whispered, feeling embarrassed, but he just smiled, his fingers still working their magic.

"Oh, I will," he promised, and you felt a jolt of desire shoot through you at the certainty in his voice.

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and you felt yourself clenching around his fingers, the pleasure intensifying as he stroked your g-spot with precision. Lando swallowed your moans, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the warmth of the water surrounding you, and the expert movements of his hand bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He was relentless, his fingers working you relentlessly until the pleasure became too much, the tension snapping and sending you crashing over the edge.

The orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling in its wake, and Lando held you close, his hands gentle now as he supported you. You were gasping for air, the feeling so intense it was almost overwhelming. He murmured your name, his voice soft and low, the sound of it making something inside you ache.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, the intensity of his eyes almost enough to make you forget how to breathe.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice full of emotion, and in that moment, you believed him.

Slowly, the haze of pleasure began to clear, and you became aware of the tension coiled in his body, the way his muscles were taut with restraint, the evidence of his own desire pressed against your thigh. He was still rock-hard, and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you, to experience that connection on a deeper level.

"I'm ready," you breathed, your voice laced with a need that you could no longer deny.

He nodded as he turned you around, pressing your face against the cool tile, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water. Your breath hitched as he lined up his cock with your entrance, the blunt tip already threatening to breach you. He gathered some of your moisture by rubbing his tip against your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, as his other hand grabbed your neck, forcing you to arch your back. He took a moment to burn this very image in his mind. He had thought about this moment countless times before, but now that it was happening, it was even better than he could have imagined.

With a slow, deliberate push, he was able to get the head inside. Your eyes shut as you felt the stretch, his girth much more than you were used to. You let out a whimper as you reached for the hand currently holding your neck, seeking his support. You could hear him mutter under his breath, the words too quiet for you to make out. You assumed it was a string of curse words, but you didn't dare look.

With his hand gripping your hip, he pushed deeper, slowly but steadily, inch by inch. You could feel every vein on his perfect cock, the stretch dancing on the edge of pain and pleasure. He kept stopping, pulling back a bit and then pushing deeper again. You could tell he was doing his best to let you adjust to his size, but it was still a struggle.

Once he bottomed out, he groaned as you let out a sound that you've never heard yourself make before. A mixture between a moan and gasp. His hands traveled up your body, finding your breasts and giving them a squeeze, before settling on your shoulders. You could feel the water trickling down your back as the steam created a haze around the two of you. You were both panting, trying to catch your breath. You could feel his hot breath against your ear.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough, a mixture of desire and concern.

"Yes," you answered, not even recognizing your own voice, "I'm just a little...full."

He chuckled at that, his cock twitching inside you. He slowly started moving his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls lighting up every nerve in your body. You couldn't string two thoughts together as he started creating a torturous rhythm. One of his hands travelled down to your bundle of nerves, pinching it with every thrust.

"Fuck," you cursed, "fuck, fuck, fuck." You couldn't believe how drunk you were on him.

He chuckled as he grabbed you from the now warm tile, resting you flat against his front. The new angle allowed him to reach deeper, making you whimper and whine with every thrust. His hands reached for your jaw, tilting it so he could stare deeply into your eyes. He was watching every reaction, every change in your expression.

"Tell me what you feel." he demanded, his voice hoarse, and you forced yourself to open your eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity of his stare was almost enough to send you over the edge again, but you clung to the last threads of your self-control, desperate to prolong this moment.

"I feel...I feel everything," you gasped, the words barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this b—"

He silenced you with a kiss, swallowing the rest of your words. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, a battle for dominance that neither of you could win. The heat between you was unbearable, the need for release consuming every thought. You knew he was close, could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his thrusts were becoming more erratic, less controlled. But you weren't ready to let go, not yet.

You pulled away from the kiss, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Please don't stop," you begged, your voice rough with need, "I need you, Lando."

That was all it took. His eyes darkened, and he let out a growl, his grip on your jaw tightening as he captured your lips again, the kiss almost violent in its intensity. It was as if a switch had been flipped, the raw hunger between you reaching a new level.

He fucked into you with wild abandon, his hips snapping as he chased his release. The pleasure was blinding, the sensation of his cock filling you, stretching you, sending you spiraling toward the edge. You could feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer hold back.

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs as your body shuddered in his arms. Your eyes closed, the white light behind your eyelids pulsing in time with the waves of pleasure washing over you. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only cling to him as you rode out the storm.

Lando buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips finding the delicate skin there, sucking and nibbling. You could feel the pleasure building again, the combination of his cock inside you, his hands gripping your hips, his lips against your neck sending you hurtling toward another climax.

"I'm close," he panted, his voice rough with need, "so close, fuck."

The words sent a surge of heat through you, and you clenched around him, feeling him shudder as his own release washed over him. You grabbed as his curls, forcing him to look at you, the intensity of his gaze pushing you over the edge again, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

"Fuck, I can feel you," he gasped, his cock twitching inside you as your core milked him, the sensation of his release triggering another wave of pleasure.

You both clung to each other, riding out the waves, the intensity of the moment rendering you speechless. You were both gasping for air, the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your bodies. Lando buried his face in your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the steady beat of the water as it cascaded over you. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so sated, so utterly spent.

Finally, Lando pulled back, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of emotions—relief, contentment, and a hint of something else, something that sent a thrill through you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"That was...fuck," he said, his voice rough, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You grinned, the joy and satisfaction evident in every line of your body. You could feel him slowly softening inside you, and you reluctantly unwrapped your legs, letting him slide out of you. You gasped feeling yourself become sore already. He chuckled as he noticed, turning off the water and wrapping you in a towel, gently drying you off before lifting you up in his arms.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, a spark of humor in his voice, and you laughed, the sound echoing off the tiles, the sound carefree and light.

You kissed him, slow and deep, the kiss full of promises and possibilities. This was only the beginning, and you both knew it. You pulled back, gazing at him with a mixture of awe and admiration, your heart full of the realization of what you'd found, the connection between you now undeniable.

"Get that perfect ass to media duty before they start sending out a search party," you teased, a chuckle escaping as you watched the realization of his looming responsibilities flicker across his face.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, giving you a quick peck on the lips before setting you down, "but just know, this was the best shower I've ever taken."

You smirked, unable to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind."

As he left, a sense of calm washed over you, the satisfaction of the moment lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. The memory of his touch, the weight of his body against yours, the deliciously filthy sounds he had coaxed from you, would stay with you forever, a private treasure. You sighed, reveling in the warmth and comfort that seemed to envelop you, the afterglow of your tryst still humming through your veins.

[alyrasturnz]

so highschool headcannons please!!! also i've been sending in so much anon msgs but u dont reply to them :(( whyyyyyy

 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎SO HIGHSCHOOL

❐ summary » in which, he knows how to ball and y/n knows aristotle..

❐ pairings » jock!matt x nerd!reader

❐ warnings » none

❐ a/n && w/c » i’m not responding to any anonymous messages that aren’t requests until i make a masterlist!! also double update YAY 😝 lmk if u guys like hcs more than actual fics with plots and stuff • 569

jock!matt who finds it adorable when you try to impress him with your newfound stick-handling skills, and in return, he tries to quote your favorite philosophers, often with hilarious results.

jock!matt who loves your late-night study sessions, where he sprawls out on your bed, tossing a basketball in the air, while you read aloud passages from your favorite poet’s works.

jock!matt who starts calling you "professor" as a cute nickname, and you call him "coach," blending your worlds of intellect and sports.

jock!matt who surprises you with a hockey-themed bookmark, knowing how much you love combining your passions.

jock!matt who enjoys your philosophical debates after a game, finding your insights fascinating and often trying to relate them to basketball strategies.

jock!matt who proudly tells his friends about your knowledge of philosophy, and they start calling you "the philosopher" in admiration.

jock!matt who finds balance and joy in your relationship, appreciating how your intellectual pursuits complement his athletic ones, making your bond even stronger.

jock!matt who loves when you analyze his hockey games, using your math skills to break down his performance and offer strategic advice.

jock!matt who gets excited when you create detailed charts and graphs, showing him how he can improve his shots and positioning on the ice.

jock!matt who appreciates your dedication, often saying, "you bring the brains, i'll bring the brawn," as he follows your calculated game plans.

jock!matt who enjoys your post-game analysis sessions, where you both sit down with a notebook, and you explain your findings, helping him become a better player.

jock!matt who surprises you with a custom jersey that has "math genius" on the back, showing his pride in your unique contributions to his game.

jock!matt who loves when you cheer him on from the stands, knowing that your support and mathematical prowess are his secret weapons.

jock!matt who often jokes that you're his personal "statistician," but he genuinely values how you make him a smarter player.

jock!matt who makes sure to celebrate every win with you, appreciating how your combined efforts lead to his success on the ice.

jock!matt who loves when you bring hot cocoa to his late-night practices, the steam rising like little wisps of encouragement.

jock!matt who always looks for you in the stands, your presence a beacon of warmth and support, even in the coldest rinks.

jock!matt who surprises you with spontaneous date nights after games, where the adrenaline is still high, and the world feels full of possibilities.

jock!matt who appreciates your patience, listening to his endless stories about the game and his teammates, knowing you care deeply.

jock!matt who loves when you wear his jersey, the sight of you in his colors filling him with pride and joy.

jock!matt who makes sure to include you in team celebrations, because to him, you're as much a part of the team as anyone else.

jock!matt who enjoys quiet moments with you after a tough loss, finding solace in your comforting words and gentle presence.

jock!matt who loves when you surprise him with little good luck charms before big games, each one a token of your unwavering support.

jock!matt who cherishes your handwritten notes of encouragement, tucking them into his gear bag for a boost of confidence when he needs it most.

jock!matt who feels incredibly lucky to have you by his side, knowing that your love and support are his greatest strengths on and off the ice.

[mikavlcs]

Dinosaur Talks

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: You like to talk about dinosaurs, and Wednesday likes to listen.

Warnings: soft/ooc!wednesday (does this even need to be said)

Word count: 0.8k

Notes: this is literally just for 🦕 anon. i hope you enjoy it, dino<3

Masterlist

“The Mesozoic Era, also known as the Age of Dinosaurs, is comprised of three periods—the Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous periods. The first real dinosaurs actually emerged in the middle of the Triassic period—aw, come on, Thing. A draw four? Really, man?”

Calm, somehow smug-sounding taps sounded from atop her bed followed by low mutterings about betrayal, but Wednesday paid it little mind.

Her fingers flew across the keys of her typewriter with a rhythm and purpose she had become well acquainted with. She was in what many referred to as the zone—when words surged from her like the rapids of a raging river.

It was a state of being achieved by having complete, unrelenting attention to the task at hand. A familiar feeling when it came to her writing.

You were in a similar state. Though instead of writing out the gory details of a detective’s crime scene like she was, you were entrenched in your ramblings about prehistoric creatures.

An interesting sight, but not an unfamiliar one to Wednesday or really anyone that knew you.

It was no secret that for whatever reason, you were very fond of dinosaurs.

They were a special interest of sorts, something you were exceedingly passionate about, and though she herself cared little about reptiles gone long extinct, she indulged you for reasons not entirely yet known to her.

“Fascinating,” she responded evenly, allowing her mind to file the information away with all of the other technically useless dinosaur-related factoids you’d voluntarily offered up over the months she had known you.

You shot her a smile that likely would’ve blinded her if she were looking directly at it. “I know right? How about you, Thing? You think it’s fascinating?”

Wednesday could picture him giving you an excited thumbs up in response, and the airy laugh you let out all but confirmed it.

“Okay, it’s your turn, bud. Yeah, I’ll keep going,” you took a breath, sat up a little straighter. “The Triassic period ended with an extinction event. A bunch of sudden, widespread volcanic eruptions wiped out all Triassic archosaurs apart from dinosaurs, pterosaurs, and crocodiles. This ushered in the…”

You trailed off slowly, animated frame going oddly still in her peripheral. 

The abruptness of it made Wednesday spare you the smallest of glances, and she found you looking back at her, brows drawn, and bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“Actually, uh…nevermind, I’ll save it for later. After you’re done writing.” You flashed a small smile then turned back to your game with Thing.

Quiet embraced the room. The only sounds that could be heard were the shuffling of cards and the occasional taps from Thing. And Wednesday should have been happy about the newfound peace, should have been able to put even more focus on her work. But she couldn’t.

Because suddenly, it was as if there was a dam halting the natural flow of her artistic river, causing the joints in her fingers to stiffen and her mind to go frustratingly blank.

Usually, it was the opposite. Enid’s incessant noise was a notorious distraction during her writing time and though she’d grown somewhat attached to her roommate, there were times when she wished she had a muzzle on hand so she could have just a moment of tranquility.

And yet now that she had the silence she normally longed for, she didn’t want it.

Her mind instead craved the timbre and intonation of your voice when you spoke about something with immense fervor. The space felt empty without it.

With a silent sigh, she set her hands on her lap and turned to you, momentarily giving you her full attention. “And what of the Jurassic period?”

Your head whipped to the side. “Huh?”

“That is the period that follows the Triassic period, correct?” she prompted.

You blinked a few times, clearly unsure, but an expectant raise of her brows was enough for you to take the extended olive branch.

“Well, yes,” you started up again, tone excited but informative, “the Jurassic period is indeed what followed the Triassic period, and thanks to Jurassic Park, it’s the most identifiable of the three. It was during this period that the first gigantic sauropod and theropod dinosaurs appeared—"

You looked away to continue your card game with Thing, words never faltering in the process, but Wednesday’s eyes stayed on you for just a bit longer.

Your ardor for these stupid dead animals was not cute—she refused to ever allow that word into her personal vocabulary—but it was something akin to that. 

Endearing, perhaps. Possibly charming. Or maybe something even more…

No, that wasn’t a rabbit hole she was interested in diving into just yet, she decided.

Returning her gaze forward, she flexed her fingers experimentally, exhaling when she found them relaxed and ready, just as they were before.

Satisfied, Wednesday turned back to her typewriter and continued the paragraph she was working on, once again letting the currents of her creativity flow from her freely to the symphonically sweet sound of your voice.

[moonselune]

Also halsin and astarion x werewolf gf

Didn't know if you wanted separate or poly so I went for separate for now....

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin x Werewolf Girlfriend

The forest was quiet, the usual cacophony of nocturnal creatures stilled by the presence of the full moon. You stood at the edge of the camp, your body trembling as the transformation began. Halsin, ever the attentive lover, was by your side, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos within you.

"It's alright, my love," he murmured, his voice steady and soothing. "Let it come. I'll be here."

You nodded, grateful for his presence. Halsin had been a constant source of support since you had first revealed your lycanthropy to him. His extensive knowledge of nature and the balance it required had given him a unique understanding of your condition.

As the change took over, you dropped to all fours, your senses sharpening and your muscles rippling with newfound strength. Halsin watched with a mixture of fascination and respect, never once looking away.

Once the transformation was complete, you stood before him, a towering werewolf with eyes that still held the spark of the woman he loved. Halsin stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently stroke the fur along your neck.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his eyes meeting yours. "You are a marvel of nature, my love."

You rumbled in response, the sound a mix of a growl and a purr. Halsin’s acceptance meant everything to you. He had shown you that your lycanthropy was not something to be feared, but rather a part of who you were—wild and untamed, yet deeply connected to the natural world.

With a nod, Halsin stepped back, giving you the space to explore your surroundings. You took off into the forest, your senses alive with the scents and sounds of the night. Halsin followed at a respectful distance in bear form, always nearby but allowing you the freedom you needed.

As the night wore on, however, you couldn't stop yourself from toying with Halsin, and soon enough the inevitable roughhousing began.

Halsin, with his massive frame and powerful claws, matched your every move with grace and power. Despite the playful nature of your sparring, there was an unspoken understanding between you two—this was not just a game, but a way to reaffirm your bond with each other and with the primal forces that governed your lives.

You lunged forward, teeth bared in a mock attack, and Halsin responded with a playful swat of his paw. He circled you, his movements fluid and sure-footed, always keeping an eye on your position. The moonlight dappled through the canopy above, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across your fur and Halsin's thick coat.

With a sudden burst of speed, you pounced, aiming for Halsin's hindquarters. He twisted at the last moment, avoiding your grasp, and countered with a gentle swipe of his paw that sent you tumbling to the forest floor. You rolled with the impact, quickly scrambling to your feet, your tail wagging in excitement.

Halsin rumbled with laughter, a deep sound that reverberated through the clearing. He lowered his head in a playful challenge, his eyes bright and mischievous. You met his gaze, a fierce grin splitting your wolfish face, and launched yourself at him again.

The two of you continued to wrestle and play under the watchful gaze of the moon, the air filled with the scent of earth and foliage, and the sounds of joyous growls and playful snarls.

As the night wore on and the moon began its descent, you felt the familiar tug of exhaustion setting in. Your movements slowed, and Halsin, sensing your weariness, gentled his play. He nudged you with his massive snout, a silent invitation to rest.

You collapsed onto the soft mossy ground, panting heavily but content. Halsin settled beside you, his bulk providing a comforting presence. The adrenaline of the night's play began to ebb, replaced by a warm sense of satisfaction and peace.

The moon dipped below the horizon, and with its departure, the transformation began to reverse. Your muscles twitched and shifted, bones realigning as you reverted back to your human form. Halsin watched over you with quiet reverence, his bear form shimmering and dissolving into his druidic human shape.

When the transformation was complete, you lay there beside each other, catching your breath and reveling in the closeness of the moment. Halsin reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with gentle fingers.

"You were magnificent, my love," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I'm always in awe of your strength."

You smiled up at him, feeling a profound sense of peace settle over you. "And you, my dear Halsin, are the most wonderful companion I could ever ask for."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x Werewolf Girlfriend

The moonlight filtered through the canopy of trees, casting an eerie glow over the clearing. You stood in the center, your breathing ragged as the familiar itch began to take over. Astarion leaned against a nearby tree, his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips.

"Ready for another wild night, darling?" he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You shot him a glare, though there was no real heat behind it. Astarion had a way of making even the most difficult situations feel lighter. "You could be a little more sympathetic, you know."

Astarion shrugged, pushing off the tree and walking over to you. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, I like seeing you like this. So... primal."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. Astarion had always been fascinated by your transformations, finding beauty in the raw power that came with being a werewolf.

As the change began, Astarion stepped back, giving you the space you needed. Your bones shifted, your muscles expanded, and within moments, you stood before him in your full werewolf form. The hunger and wildness of the beast were tempered by the love you felt for the vampire watching you with such intense focus.

"Magnificent," Astarion murmured, his eyes raking over your form. He approached you slowly, his hands reaching out to stroke your fur. "You know, I think you might be even more captivating like this."

You growled softly, a sound of both warning and affection. Astarion laughed, the sound low and rich. "Easy, my love. I'm here to help."

Despite his teasing, Astarion had always been a steady presence during your transformations. He knew how to keep you grounded, his words and touch a tether to your human side. He moved closer, his hands gentle as they traced patterns in your fur.

"Let's go for a hunt," he suggested, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "It'll help you burn off some of that energy."

You nodded, your senses already honing in on the sounds of the forest. Astarion grinned, his fangs glinting in the moonlight, and together you set off into the night. The thrill of the hunt, the exhilaration of the chase—it was a part of you that Astarion understood and accepted.

As the night wore on, you returned to camp, your body aching but your spirit soaring. Astarion was there, as he always was, to help you transition back, his touch and presence a constant reminder of his love for you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you enjoyed these !! - Seluney

[babygirlgiles]

Why does no one else see my vision for post-war Effie Trinket. Like that woman does NOT become a civil servant, she does not join the ranks of government service. She is 100% New Panem’s first influencer. She was already having her It Girl moment as the escort of District Twelve’s victors beforehand and now there’s public perception that she was this Hunger Games insider playing the long con to dismantle the system from within and paid this great sacrifice for it by being tortured by Snow’s cadre for her efforts. Which is not true at all because she had No Clue what was going on but Plutarch needs new programming to fill all the hours that used to be taken up by Hunger Games related media so he decides to capitalize on Effie having Her Moment. And with people being allowed to travel between districts for the first time in over a generation and newfound freedom of information, there would a nationwide fascination how other people live. Effie ends up with her own lifestyle/travel series where she visits different regions of Panem and even exotic far away places such as “England”. She’s posting beach selfies on Panemstigram to promote her upcoming episode on lobster fishing off District Thirteen’s revitalized coastline.

She even gets her own daytime talk show at one point. She tries (and fails) for years to get Peeta on the show as a guest. Katniss has never watched a single episode.

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- lessons

more of a filler, but doesn't make it less important!

Many weeks have gone by since you married King Ghost. You were finally somewhat settled into a normal routine after Ghost had assigned a personal advisor and tutor to you, teaching you the political atmosphere of Kastron. 

Though you had once been an outsider to the kingdom’s politics, you now held a newfound responsibility of being queen. As a child, you were only taught how to be a homemaker, with the occasional sparse political lesson. Ghost had made sure to oversee your education of his kingdom. His guiding hand, however, had made this transition a little less daunting.

He had appointed you a personal advisor, Sir Mark, a seasoned statesman with a wealth of experience. A kind woman, Lady Daphne, served as your tutor in matters of economics and governance. Your days now unfolded within the quiet confines of the palace study, immersed in books and the wisdom of your teachers. The political landscape of Kastron, with its intricate alliances and history, unfolded before you, leading you to understand the complexities of the kingdom as a whole. Matters you were once ignorant or unknowledgeable about soon became clear to you. 

Surprisingly, you found it all fascinating. The art of diplomacy, the complexities of governance, and the lineage of Kastron's rulers were all smaller parts playing in the larger picture of today’s current political state. Sir Mark patiently guided you through the labyrinth of politics, teaching you to navigate its treacherous waters. Lady Daphne, with her encyclopedic knowledge, brought light to the finer points of economic policy and governance. 

Yet, Ghost's influence extended beyond the realm of politics. Thankfully, he believed that a queen should be more than just a mother or a diplomat; she should be a protector of her kingdom. He continued to oversee your instruction in the art of swordsmanship. At first, it was daunting, but your determination matched Ghost's patience, and you soon became a formidable swordswoman after many long days of training. 

But it wasn’t all study and training. After the confrontation in the dining room, you both mutually decided to get to know each other in a more civilized manner. You began to spend more of your down time with Simon, showing him little bits and pieces of what you liked, who you are, and vice versa. Over the next couple of weeks, you spent days riding horses through the realm, letting him show you the terrain. 

Evenings were reserved for games, typically card games, or reading. In a dimly lit chamber, you and Simon challenged each other with your mutually competitive natures. His laughter, a rare sound, echoed through the room as you battled for a win over card games. And every night, he would walk you back to your quarters, ensuring you got to bed safely. 

Amidst your busy schedules and activities, you found moments of quietness with him. You would sit with Simon, talking about everything, small or large. The man who had once been a distant and stoic figure now confided in you, his trust a precious gift. Slowly but surely, you began to warm up to him, seeing beyond the enigmatic facade of Ghost. You started to let your guard down as you started to see him for who he is, slowly letting him in. 

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you underwent a transformation. No longer an outsider, you emerged as a queen in the making with a deep understanding of Kastron’s politics.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[growingstories]

Golf

Once upon a time, in the vibrant world of sports, there was a football player named Andrew Thompson. He possessed immense skill and was admired by fans for his dedication and talent. Unfortunately, fate had a different plan in store for Andrew. During a fateful game, he suffered a severe injury that left him unable to continue his football career.

Devastated by the news, Andrew pondered his uncertain future. He longed for the thrill and camaraderie of the sporting world once more. As he searched for a new direction, he discovered the game of golf. Intrigued by the peacefulness it offered and its potential for success, Andrew decided to give it a shot.

To his surprise, Andrew excelled at golf. With his determination and natural athletic abilities, he quickly rose the ranks through of amateur tournaments. As his skills gained recognition, he found himself competing against some of the sport's greatest players. After each victorious tournament, he indulged in lavish parties, reveling in his newfound success.

Amidst the celebrations, Andrew soon realized that his golf clubs were becoming cumbersome to carry around. He sought a caddy to assist him during his games, and that when's he met Samuel, an experienced caddy with a knack for understanding the game. Samuel diligently carried Andrew's clubs, ensuring he had everything he needed.

However, as time went on, Andrew began to grow lazy. Intoxicated by his achievements and the care Samuel provided, he allowed himself to indulge in luxurious food and leisurely golf cart rides instead of walking the courses. His appetite grew, and so did his waistline.

Unbeknownst to Andrew, tabloids soon caught wind of his weight gain. Headlines ridiculed his physical transformation, and the public became fascinated with his downfall. Andrew's frustration grew, leading him to seek solace in food even more. The agony of his failures was momentarily eased by binge-eating, which only perpetuated his cycle of weight gain.

Through it all, Samuel remained devoted to Andrew, preparing delectable meals to satisfy his insatiable hunger. Unbeknownst to Andrew, Samuel found pleasure in their arrangement, which extended beyond the confines of their golfing routine. Their relationship became complicated, entwined with both physical satisfaction and genuine care.

Days turned into months, and Andrew's weight continued to pile on. His belly grew so large that it began interfering with his swing, rendering his ability to play golf effectively nearly impossible. Frustration consumed him, and he made the heart-wrenching decision to retire from golf altogether.

Despite his attempts to step away from the eating, the weight gain showed signs no of slowing down. Andrew's love for food, coupled with his love for Samuel, fueled his desire to consume more. Samuel, dedicated and unwavering in his support, took care of Andrew's every need, even as their encounters grew more frequent and intense.

Andrew's life gradually revolved around his desires, and his once-athletic physique disappeared beneath layers of fat. The public's interest in him waned, and he became a recluse, secluded within the confines of his extravagant home. While many criticized his choices, Samuel remained steadfast in his care, ensuring Andrew's pleasure and satisfaction were his top priorities.

Days turned into years, and Andrew's weight continued to skyrocket. Yet, despite the physical limitations and societal pressures, their love remained intact. It was a bond that surpassed societal norms, a connection that transcended.

And appearances so, with every bite, every touch, and every encounter, Andrew and Samuel continued their tumultuous journey. In their twisted world, there would be no stopping, no judgment, and no escape from the grips of their desires.

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

26. Tokyo trip

Note: Anime fans rise up!

Masterlist here

The hum of the plane's engines filled the cabin as Y/n sat in his business class seat, eyes wide with wonder. He had never flown like this before.

Never travelled oversea was one thing, but business class was another when this was a whole different world compared to the cramped economy seats he was used to. Plush leather, a reclining seat that practically turned into a bed, and endless snacks and drinks on demand? It was like stepping into another dimension.

The aespa girls were scattered around the cabin, relaxing in their own seats, but they couldn’t help but notice Y/n’s wide-eyed fascination with the luxury. Giselle was the first to catch on, grinning as she pulled out her phone and hit record.

“Look at him,” she whispered to Karina, nudging her arm. “He’s acting like he’s never seen a fancy seat before.”

Karina snickered, peeking over at Y/n, who was still marvelling at the seat controls. “Should we…?”

“Definitely,” Giselle said, stifling a laugh. She leaned closer to Karina’s phone camera, holding up a peace sign.

“Hey, MYs! Guess what? Our manager, Y/n, just got his first taste of the high life. And, uh… let’s just say he’s a little too excited.”

Karina joined in, zooming in on Y/n’s awestruck expression. “Is this the guy who’s supposed to be managing us? Or did we pick up a lost kid from the airport?”

They both burst into quiet laughter as Y/n finally noticed the phone pointed at him. He blinked, looking from Giselle to Karina, then at the phone. “I kind of know what you guys are doing, but still gonna ask. What are you doing?”

“Documenting history,” Giselle replied with a teasing grin. “We’re gonna save this for when we need blackmail material later.”

Karina smirked. “Or when you start getting too full of yourself. This’ll be our little reminder.”

Y/n groaned, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Aish, come on. It’s my first time in business class! I’m just… soaking it in.”

“You’re soaking it in like a sponge,” Karina teased, still recording. “How many times are you going to adjust that seat, huh?”

Y/n fidgeted with the recline button again, and Giselle burst out laughing. “He’s like a kid with a new toy.”

“Alright, alright!” Y/n finally relented, throwing his hands up. “I get it. I’ll stop messing with the seat… for now.”

Giselle lowered her phone but gave him a sly look. “Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of footage. This is going in the aespa archives.”

“Great,” Y/n muttered, sinking deeper into his seat. “Just what I needed.”

As Y/n leaned back in his plush business class seat, accepting his fate and replaying the events of the past few days, he couldn't help but chuckle. Getting extra allowances from the other managers and even the CEO had been a complete surprise. They had found out that it was his first time going overseas, and before he could blink, they were wiring him enough extra money to make sure he didn’t miss out on experiencing all the places the tour would take them.

He thought back to their good-natured ribbing as they handed him the news.

“Just make sure you bring us back souvenirs,” Minji had said with a wink.

Jihoon had grinned, patting him on the back. “And don’t blow it all on anime figures, alright? Try some good food too.”

Now here he was, sitting on a flight to Tokyo, about to fulfill one of his dreams: visiting Akihabara, the heart of anime and gaming culture. The girls, of course, didn’t let him forget about his newfound fortune.

"You better treat us with all that extra allowance you got!" Karina had teased, nudging him as they got ready for the flight.

But it wasn’t just the money. For Y/n, it felt like a reward for everything he’d been through, especially the ups and downs with aespa. He had worked hard to regain their trust after the fallout with Karina, and their bond was stronger than ever now. This trip to Tokyo was not only a professional milestone, but it was also a personal victory for him.

-

As the plane touched down in Tokyo, Y/n could hardly contain his excitement. His first international stop, and he was ready to explore. He tried to play it cool, but the awe on his face was impossible to hide as they disembarked and made their way through customs. It didn’t take long for the girls to notice.

“Look at him,” Giselle whispered to Karina, her phone out again to record him gawking at the busy terminal. “He’s like a kid at Disneyland.”

Karina giggled, joining in. “I swear, if that dude pulls out a map, I’m done.”

Y/n turned around, catching them in the act. “You two are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Nope!” they replied in unison, sharing a laugh.

-

The next day, after the successful concert, Y/n was still riding the high from the performance as they prepared for a day off in Tokyo. Akihabara had been at the top of his list for ages, and now he was finally going. Karina had already agreed to go with him, and they weren’t about to leave Giselle behind, knowing her fluency in Japanese was their lifeline.

One could say that Y/n should’ve learned Japanese. But his schedule was too packed until recently to properly learn the language.

After grabbing their coffees and snacks at the café (thanks to Giselle’s much-needed translation skills), Y/n, Karina, and Giselle stepped out into the neon-lit streets of Akihabara. The district was buzzing with energy, filled with towering arcades, endless anime shops, and vibrant displays of collectibles, posters, and figures from every popular show you could think of.

For Y/n, it was like stepping into a dream.

"Alright," Karina said, stretching her arms out dramatically. "We’ve got a full day ahead of us. Where to first?"

Y/n’s eyes were already wide, scanning the rows of towering shops lined with gacha machines and anime merch. "This is it. I’m in heaven."

"This? Not being with us?" Karina gasped.

"Yea, nice try, Rina." Y/n glared.

Giselle chuckled, adjusting her cap. "Just remember to pace yourself, kid. We’ve got the whole day, and I’m not translating your every conversation."

"Don’t worry, I’ve got this!" Y/n grinned, taking a confident step forward, only to freeze in front of a wall of posters advertising the latest anime releases. His bravado quickly evaporated as he realized how little he understood.

"Okay, " Y/n immediately turned back, his eyes pleaded for help. "maybe I’ll need you... a lot."

Karina snorted. "You? Need help? Shocking."

As they made their way deeper into Akihabara, they passed a few arcades, the sound of game machines and excited players pouring out into the street. Y/n, of course, couldn’t resist the allure of a claw machine, and before anyone could stop him, he was at the controls, determined to win a prize. He focused on a small, round plushie of Gojo.

And as we all know, men and women love Gojo Satoru.

"I’ve got this," he said, squinting at the machine. "I’ve mastered these things back in Korea."

Giselle crossed her arms, leaning against the side of the machine. "You’ve mastered them, huh? You realize the difficulty in Japan is, like, ten times higher, right?"

Karina leaned closer to the glass, inspecting the plushie he was aiming for. "Not to crush your dreams, but that one looks pretty stuck."

Y/n scoffed, already manoeuvring the claw into position. "Nonsense. Watch this."

He pressed the button with full confidence, watching as the claw descended... only to miss completely, scraping the side of the plushie before hanging limply in the air. The machine whirred back to life, and Y/n’s face fell as the claw reset itself.

"GOJOOOOOO!!!" Y/n mourned, as the plushie stared at him at the spot it was dropped at.

Karina burst out laughing. "Wow, that was... so bad."

"Shut up!" Y/n protested, though he was grinning now. "I just need a warm-up. That plushie was obviously rigged. Gojo is just playing hard to get."

"Obviously," Giselle said, shaking her head. "Let’s try another one before you blow all your money here."

After several more failed attempts at various claw machines, they moved on, with Karina showing a surprising amount of skill in navigating the aisles of crowded shops. Every time Y/n or Giselle spotted something cool—a rare figure, a retro game cartridge, or some obscure piece of anime memorabilia—they would have to stop, inspect, and debate the merits of buying it.

At one point, they found themselves in front of a small retro game shop. Y/n’s eyes lit up when he spotted a box of old-school consoles and games near the entrance.

"Look at this!" Y/n said, crouching down to rummage through the pile. "These are the Pokemon games I grew up playing! I didn’t think they still had these in stock."

Karina bent down next to him, her fingers brushing against an old Sega Genesis. "Wow, this is like a history lesson. Were these even around when you were born, Y/n?"

"I wasn’t that young, Grandma." Y/n said, rolling his eyes.

“Ya-“

"I used to play these when I was a kid. My dad had a collection." Giselle was already inside, chatting with the shopkeeper in rapid-fire Japanese, casually translating over her shoulder as she found rare games for them to check out. "You guys want anything? He’s got a sale on old RPGs and some exclusive anime soundtracks."

Y/n pulled out a game cartridge, staring at it with nostalgia in his eyes. "I think I might just get this. I can’t pass up the chance."

Karina looked at the old console in her hands, clearly torn between buying it for fun or sticking to her more practical side. "Do I need this? No. But do I want to see if I’m still good at these old games? Maybe."

Y/n shot her a smirk. "I’ll destroy you if we ever play these."

Karina returned the smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Big words for someone who just lost at a claw machine."

After spending a good hour in the retro game shop, Giselle finally managed to drag the two of them out. With bags in hand, they continued their journey through the streets of Akihabara, visiting anime stores filled with wall-to-wall figures and collectibles, some of which even had limited-edition items that made Y/n’s heart race.

At one point, Y/n found himself staring at a statue of Gojo, meticulously detailed and beautifully displayed in a glass case. The price tag, however, made him hesitate.

"I don’t know… should I get it?"

Giselle raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "If you don’t, you’ll regret it."

Karina leaned in, squinting at the price. "You’ve got that extra allowance, don’t you? Live a little."

"I mean, it is my first time here," Y/n said, chewing on his bottom lip. "And this figure is... it’s perfect."

Giselle gave him a playful shove. "Just get it. You can thank me later."

With a deep breath and a grin, Y/n made the purchase, walking out of the store with his new prized possession. "I regret nothing."

"Oh, did you get another figure, Y/n?" Giselle pointed out. "There's another bag here".

'Oh, yea I did, I got one for Minjeong." Y/n pulled out the box. It was a small figure of Aqua from Konosuba."

"Is it her favourite show or something?" Giselle was curious. "Never heard her talked about Konosuba at all."

"Nah, he bought it because-" Karina answered.

"Aqua's a crybaby and stoopid. Just like her." Y/n laughed.

As the day went on, the trio explored more shops, arcades, and even stumbled upon a maid café, though they quickly decided that would be an adventure for another time. Giselle acted as their unofficial guide, using her fluency in Japanese to navigate them through every interaction with locals, while Karina and Y/n indulged their inner otakus, soaking in everything Akihabara had to offer.

With the sun finally set, Y/n, Karina, and Giselle headed back to their hotel, bags stuffed with anime merch and souvenirs. The sky above Tokyo was painted in hues of soft orange and pink as the evening lights began to twinkle across the skyline. The trio walked in comfortable silence, their feet sore but their hearts full.

Just as they passed by a small music shop on their way to the train station, Y/n’s ears perked up. A familiar melody drifted through the open door, wrapping around him like a warm blanket. His eyes widened in surprise, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Wait, is that…?”

Karina paused, tilting her head toward the sound, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Yep, that’s Sun and Moon.”

The gentle, melodic notes of Aespa’s Japanese B-side filled the air, and Y/n couldn’t help but grooved to the song. Out of all the songs in their discography, Sun and Moon took his heart immediately. There was something about its ethereal feel, its soft rhythm, the lofi like mood, that made him adore it more with every listen.

Giselle gave him a nudge, her smirk playful. “Didn’t you say that’s one of your all-time favourites when we released it?”

“Yeah…” Y/n replied, almost in a daze as the song played on. “It’s just… so good.”

The girls exchanged amused glances. They’d all heard Y/n gush about Sun and Moon before, how the song’s tranquillity helped him unwind during the chaos of tour preparations. There was a quiet joy in seeing his face light up every time it played.

As they continued toward the train station, Y/n found himself humming along under his breath, his worries from the day fading away with each step. The song seemed to follow them all the way to the platform, echoing faintly as they waited for their train.

Boarding the train back to their hotel, Y/n settled into his seat, his mind still on the music. Karina leaned against the window, eyes closed, while Giselle scrolled through her phone, occasionally glancing at him with a smirk.

As the train glided through the city, Y/n’s thoughts drifted. There was something about hearing “Sun and Moon” in this moment, after a long day exploring a city he’d always wanted to visit, that felt… right. Aespa’s music wasn’t just work for him anymore; it had become a part of his life, something he cherished deeply.

“Guess today really was perfect,” Y/n said quietly to himself.

Karina, without opening her eyes, murmured, “It’s only the beginning, Y/n. We’ve got so much more to see.”

Giselle grinned, poking him on the arm. “And you’ll have plenty of chances to embarrass yourself with more bad Japanese.”

Y/n chuckled, leaning back in his seat, feeling content. “Bring it on.”

As the train sped through the twilight, the soft remnants of “Sun and Moon” played in his mind, a gentle reminder of everything he had to look forward to, not just on the tour but with Aespa and the wild, chaotic journey they’d shared together.

[vermilionsun]

Your Touchstarved headcanons are wonderful! You are almost single handedly keeping me sane while I wait for the full game. Truly, you are a blessing to this fandom.

I was wondering if you had any thoughts about what any of the LIs would think of an MC who is a Writer/Artist. Maybe they had to give it up for a while when they left to go to Erridia?

Or...

Since MC is broke, what do the LIs think of them showing affection through gifts, even if they haven't got money? I can imagine they make simple, inexpensive things like paper flowers for Leander or friendship bracelets for Ais.

Anyway I hope you have a great day, keep up the good work and thanks for posting so much good stuff.💐🌼

I’m actually crying you’re so sweet THANK YOU SO MUCH?!! AVCKHVCEBFC 😭😭

I took it a step further, I hope you don't mind.

This is 1/2 :)

Disclaimer! They/Them for MC because we love inclusivity!

Kuras

Writer

He’d probably figure it out rather quickly. The way they would meticulously jot down notes, the endless stream of ideas, and their thoughtful insights into various u̶n̶c̶o̶n̶v̶e̶n̶t̶i̶o̶n̶a̶l̶ topics. Or perhaps he had caught glimpses of their constantly ink-stained fingers. Either way, it became another entry in Kuras' catalogue of fascinating things about them. Undeniably intrigued, he couldn't help but wonder if their writing reflected their innermost thoughts and desires—if each word they wrote held a piece of their soul, waiting to be discovered by someone willing to delve into the depths of their imagination—or perhaps if it was simply a creative outlet for emotions they couldn't express otherwise.

Kuras found himself wanting to uncover the layers of complexity that made up the enigmatic individual behind the pages of their notebooks. And he was more than willing to take on that challenge.

Taking into consideration the fact that perhaps the MC wouldn't be able to afford fancy writing tools or notebooks, often writing down messy notes in napkins with worn-out pens and crayons left behind by patrons at the Wick, Kuras would gift them a brand new notebook and a set of pens, hoping that the small gesture would encourage the MC to continue expressing themselves through writing and perhaps even open up to him about the deeper secrets of themselves they had yet to reveal.

Vere

Artist

As a fellow artist himself, Vere knew to recognize talent when he saw it, no matter how subtle or unassuming it may appear at first glance. After all, true artistry is not just about skill but also passion and dedication. He didn't miss the way the MC's eyes lingered a moment longer on the brush strokes of a distant painting in a random Eridian shop with such reverence, as if trying to capture the essence of the art itself, before moving on, or the way their eyes focused on the lightning dancing across the sky and their fingers twitched with an unspoken desire to create. 

Vere could sense the raw artistry bubbling just beneath the surface; he saw in them the same hunger for self-expression and longing for freedom that had driven him to pursue his own artistic endeavours. 

So he carefully crafted a plan. He discreetly left behind pens and paper in the MC's vicinity. He didn't directly hand it to them, opting to let them stumble upon the supplies, hoping that the MC would take notice and feel compelled to pick up the tools on their own accord. Don't ask him why he did so; he doesn't know the answer himself. Perhaps because of an inexplicable curiosity and a desire to see if he could spark something within the MC, to see if he could ignite that same creative flame that burned within him. Or maybe it was simply a gut feeling. Regardless, he watched from a distance as the MC began to tentatively pick up the pens and paper, their eyes alight with newfound inspiration. It brought a g̶e̶n̶u̶i̶n̶e̶ satisfied smile to his face, his tail wagging back and forth in contentment.

Leander

Dance

Leander figured the MC used to be a dancer. It was obvious if one paid close attention; their perfect posture, precision, strength, and flexibility in their body were a dead giveaway. He'd notice the gracefulness in their movements, every step deliberate and full of confidence, and the fluid transitions between postures.

Leander found himself bewitched. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the MC as they'd effortlessly glided around the Wick, their feet barely making a sound against the hardwood floor. It was effortless, seamless, and utterly captivating. He will admit he couldn't help the small smile once he'd noticed the subtle way they would often tap their feet to the rhythm of a song roaring throughout the tavern.

It was a talent that couldn't be hidden, no matter how hard they tried.

His plan was simple: He needed some sort of opening, somewhere to insert himself into the situation without coming across as intrusive (o̶r̶ a̶g̶g̶r̶e̶s̶s̶i̶v̶e̶… o̶r̶ d̶e̶m̶a̶n̶d̶i̶n̶g̶… o̶r̶—). He would simply attempt to start a conversation with them and praise their dance skills, hoping to learn more about that talent of theirs—maybe even ask them for a dance later in the evening—while also finding a way to subtly steer the conversation towards more personal matters.

N̶o̶, i̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶n̶'t̶ n̶e̶r̶v̶e̶s̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ f̶l̶u̶t̶t̶e̶r̶e̶d̶ i̶n̶ h̶i̶s̶ s̶t̶o̶m̶a̶c̶h̶. I̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ p̶r̶o̶b̶a̶b̶l̶y̶ t̶h̶e̶ e̶x̶c̶i̶t̶e̶m̶e̶n̶t̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ u̶n̶k̶n̶o̶w̶n̶ o̶u̶t̶c̶o̶m̶e̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ a̶w̶a̶i̶t̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ a̶n̶d̶ b̶l̶a̶h̶ b̶l̶a̶h̶ b̶l̶a̶h̶—

Mhin

Sculpture

They noticed something was up because the MC. wouldn’t. stop. staring. at their face. The way their eyes lingered on Mhin's features made them feel self-conscious, as if every flaw and imperfection were being scrutinised under a microscope.

Mhin couldn't decipher the intent behind the intense gaze, but it left them feeling both uncomfortable and strangely flattered. They couldn't help but wonder what it was about their appearance that captivated the MC so intensely. It was as if they'd seen something in them that no one else did—something worth examining closely.

They tried to maintain a neutral expression but ended up shifting uncomfortably in their seat, trying to break the look that seemed to be piercing through their very soul. 

It wasn't until the MC finally spoke up, complimenting Mhin's bone structure and suggesting they would make a great model for a sculpting project, that Mhin made the connection.

The revelation made Mhin feel incredibly flattered and intrigued, as they had never considered themselves to be particularly striking or noteworthy. The idea of being immortalised in stone by someone talented was… intimidating. And somehow humbling.

Ais

Architecture

He is observant, and can easily notice a person who seems particularly interested in a specific thing. He observed them, their body language, facial expressions and the way they looked at things around them, their eyes tracing the fine details from afar—it was almost like they were analysing them.

What made his suspicions clear was...the Seaspring. F̶i̶n̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶a̶m̶n̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ w̶a̶s̶ u̶s̶e̶f̶u̶l̶ a̶t̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ b̶e̶y̶o̶n̶d̶ b̶r̶i̶n̶g̶i̶n̶g̶ d̶e̶s̶p̶a̶i̶r̶

It was the way they looked at the building in particular; their eyes darted around, as if examining every inch, every line and curve of the temple. He’d smirk to himself, eyes following their every move, as if he could read their thoughts.

He’d bring them anything; from papers, inks and rulers to wood and other building materials. He’d let them demolish, remodel, completely renovate the fucking thing—he couldn’t care less, as long as he had somewhere to rest at night. Besides, their smile was worth more to him than any amount of power he could be offered.

I could make another one with Singing/Music, Theatre and Design or Ceramics perhaps….

[gogobootz1]

Chance Encounters of the Elite Kind

Coriolanus Snow x Reader (what can I say? this is where we're at)

Summary: Finally, at one of countless stuffy parties, Coriolanus finds something (someone) interesting.

“Overwhelmed?” 

His head snaps to a leather chair, where you already sit, book in hand. He didn’t think anyone else would be in the library. 

Not one to be caught in a vulnerable position, he snaps back, “Annoyed, actually.” 

“Oh?” You respond in the same tone as before, not looking especially surprised or impressed. Your expression surprised him since he’s been practically drowning in newfound admiration. He's gotten a lot of the starry-eyed look ever since he’s been climbing through the social ranks. 

“Half the people here can’t hold an intelligent conversation,” he shrugs. You snicker, and he feels an odd sense of pride grow at making a beautiful stranger laugh. 

“You needed a break, then?” You ask, a small smile now painting your face. 

“I thought the books would be better company,” he replies slyly, a smirk starting to rise on the edges of his mouth. 

“Well, that’s your problem Mr. Snow,” you say, without malice. His smirk is goes as fast as it came. 

“Excuse me?” He doesn’t like the fact that you know him when he doesn’t know you, and he especially doesn’t like where this conversation is going. 

“You think you’re better than everyone,” you assert, and he’s surprised at your neutral tone. His eyes narrow in anticipation of what you’ll say next. “The problem is, you’re right.” 

He can’t help the way his eyes widen at your statement. It was entirely the opposite of the judgment he’d been expecting to spew from your painted-red lips. 

You roll your eyes at his reaction, and before he can even get a word in, you start again, “It’s not exciting to be so far ahead when they can’t hardly keep up. So, the game loses its charm.” You shrug and begin to stand, setting the book on the table beside you. 

“The game?” His eyes bear into yours.

“Yes,” you emphasize like he was foolish to ask such a question. “Life. The game of social checkers that every person here is desperately trying to win.” You shake your head, a foul expression on your face as you condemn the guests of this party. 

He’s never heard someone express such a similar outlook to his own. In the few minutes you’ve spoken, he’s become fascinated. As he watches you walk to the door, he comes to the conclusion that you also think these people are below you. 

You’re about to leave before his words stop you, “Yet you’ll go join them?” You cast a scolding look over your shoulder. 

“No, I’ll return to my rooms,” you say before exiting. “I prefer chess,” the words are for him, although your back is turned. 

He tracks your movements from the doorway of the impressive library. You navigate the hallway then turn a corner like you’ve been doing it your whole life. Probably because you have. 

He could kick himself. The hosts of this party don’t go out terribly often because they don’t have to. Arguably the oldest, wealthiest, and most well-respected of the elite Capitol families, they only throw parties on occasion to remind everyone of their superiority. And they keep their daughter under lock and key. 

Suddenly, he has a new goal to add to his list. 

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

To the good people of Tumblr- thank you and I'm sorry. I am not immune to skinny blonde men. It's a disease.

[soapyghostie]

Hihihi! May I pretty please request platonic Anna x reader where reader has this childlike wonder to her causing Anna's motherly instincts to kick in? For example, when Anna and her are alone in a trial and reader knows she is getting the hatch, she bursts out of a nearby locker shouting "Boo!" to then run off while giggling. Basically when reader is the last survivor it all becomes a game where Anna pretends to be chasing after her (and maybe just maybe reader says "Bye, mama!" when Anna lets her escape)

If you don't like these kind of requests, it's totally cool! No pressure at all and thank you for reading! 🩷

A request with our sweet mama bear killer Anna! This was a pretty cute request (that has been in my inbox for months). Glad that I finally got to it. Hope y’all enjoy a little Anna fluff!

The Huntress/Anna

When Anna first encounters you in the fog, your wide-eyed innocence catches her attention. She’ll feel an unexpected surge of protective and nurturing instincts towards you. You pick up on this newfound demeanor Anna has towards you, triggering your childlike wonder in trials. 

You often hum or sing innocent tunes while working on generators, which inadvertently soothes Anna and brings a sense of calmness to the trial. The other survivors within the trial will pick up the change in tone, becoming uneasy. Anna is unpredictable. Depending on her mood, she can be extremely brutal, slaughtering them like animals, or be merciful. They never know and are always being cautious when in a trial with The Huntress. 

In the midst of the trial, you hide in lockers, waiting for Anna to pass by. As Anna approaches, you burst out shouting “Boo!” and dart away, leaving Anna momentarily surprised before a small smile graces her face. As you run away, your infectious laughter becomes a beacon of joy in the tense atmosphere of the trials, and even in the face of danger, you find reasons to giggle. 

When you are the last survivor, instead of rushing to escape through the hatch, you playfully run around as Anna pretends to chase you, both of y’all enjoying the game. You, aware that Anna allows you to escape, always make a show of finding the hatch. When you do, you open it with exaggerated excitement, turning the tense escape into a delightful game. Before you escape, you call out “Bye Mama!” as you jump into the hatch, filling Anna with a sense of warmth. 

If you end up getting exhausted after a playful game of chase, Anna will pick you up and hum a lullaby that your parents used to sing to you as she carries you to the hatch. 

You often bring small trinkets into the trials, like flowers or handmade drawings, placing them by generators as offerings. Anna acknowledges these gifts making her smile, admiring the little designs that you crafted by your own hand.

Instead of feeling fear for Anna’s red stain, you view it as a comforting presence, knowing that she is watching over you in her trials. 

You understand the importance of totems. You often pat them and whisper words of encouragement to help Anna win her trials, unknowingly earning Anna’s appreciation. Additionally, in rare moments, Anna will catch herself softly whispering words of reassurance in her broken English to you if you feel scared or lonely. 

After trials, you and Anna will sit together in her quiet cabin in the Red Forest, sharing a moment of respite from the horrors of the Entity’s realm. You and Anna develop an unspoken understanding, transcending the boundaries of killer and survivor. Y’all’s peculiar dynamic becomes a source of mystery and fascination for both killers and survivors.

[hangesdarling]

YOU WRITE FOR THE KAKAGURI GIRLS?

yumeko jabami with her house pet reader please

deception — y. jabami

PAIRING. Yumeko Jabami x female reader SYNOPSIS. You’re a housepet that caught Yumeko’s attention. CONTENT. Suggestive content, no explicit smut, kinda fluffy in a way WORD COUNT. 1.0k A/N. yepp anon, i write for kakegurui too! i love the manga so muchh

You're always one to hide your intentions cleverly. Masked by a gentle voice, temperate manner, and vulnerability, the housepet ID around your neck had deceived all. But not her. Yumeko Jabami's eyes are too sharp for your deception.

As everything in Hyakkaou Academy was arranged, it all started with a simple gamble. It was around break time and while most games are ongoing, the game room you came from became a parade of dejected faces. Housepets wishing for another chance to free themselves were met with greater loss, those who are far too greedy and risky have a brand new housepet ID around their necks, but you... Yumeko cannot miss the subtle smile curling at the edge of your lips despite another hundred thousand yen weighing on your shoulder.

You were too lost in your musings to even notice the presence of the girl approaching you. At first, you thought she was just a sweet, thrill-seeking girl who had too much money to spare. You accepted her gamble, thinking it was common for the likes of her to gamble recklessly. 

You were having fun, giving in to her charms as you charmed her back with your smooth words. However, the understanding began to dawn on you like a pile of bricks halfway through the game. Yumeko's game was never a game of luck, none of the cards played could ever win without the level of intuition Yumeko has. 

It was a simple game of three rounds that ended with your loss and yet, Yumeko had already gained the information they needed from you after you won the second round.

After that game, your hand shook as Yumeko enthusiastically took it between hers. You tried to laugh it off, telling her the game got you nervous, that's all. However, the fear rose in your throat as Yumeko gave you a knowing look, one that pierced through your soul and tore away the shroud you concealed yourself with. I can see through you, her eyes spoke. 

This is the end of your deception. This girl with sharp eyes and a deceiving smile came so suddenly and tore away your facade.

Yumeko looked at you, a blush creeping on her cheeks as she caressed your hands between hers. You swore that her brown eyes turned red as she said, "I look forward to gambling with you again, Y/N."

Your hand retracted from hers, and a nervous smile crept on your face as you chuckled, "You sure about that? You can bury me in debt, haha..."

Yumeko giggled softly. That euphonious laugh worming its way to your heart, "Don't think that would happen, Y/N."

———

You know very well that this girl could be the very death of you. Her presence in your life had your persona teetering over the edge, your desire to gamble with the student council becoming stronger. But it was getting hard to hold back whenever you were gambling with Yumeko. The excited glint in her eyes urged you to use all your wits and all the cards up your sleeves. It was like being squeezed out of all the strategies hidden within you for the sole purpose of being a gratifying thing to her. No matter how much you deny it, Yumeko became a newfound fascination you're trying to detest. Whenever you two were left alone, Yumeko couldn't help but be touchy, asking all kinds of things whenever she was kissing you, or sometimes playfully tugging on your housepet ID when she desperately wanted you close.

Yumeko always sees through everything, tearing at the filter of things to get through a more interesting reality. She knew the mutual desire and understanding brewing between the two of you. It wasn't just the heated gambling sessions, or when she pulls you into a kiss but rather an inner, less pronounced desire to seek thrill and fascination within the other.

Her schemes are so lovely, unforgiving, and remorseless, one that dances along with your resolve. After a gamble with one of the student Council members, she wore a housepet ID like a garland, even pulling you close just to tell you how beautiful your cruel necklaces match.

Yumeko gave you that one esoteric gaze only you came to understand. The hunger to gamble. The hunger for something else only the both of you could see.

Gambling came to be Yumeko's life the first time she held a dice, and you've become the love that fueled her desire. The one where she found a divine, almost cosmic understanding. Each touch melts the both of you into one, a mold made to be together to either strike fear or fascination.

At one point, she pulled you aside, hugging you to her chest as her hands wandered around you in a deep desire to bond. You took her blushing, heated face into your hands, relishing her desirous gaze before your lips met hers. The warm brown of your lover’s eyes gazed at you with a perpetual tinge of red. Her gentle arms encircled your waist, creeping a tender hand beneath your skirt. Yumeko wanted to feel every inch of you, the soft smile on her lips contrasting her eyes filled with intent to have you. No one ever came near to the place where you stood in her heart, not even the most insane gambler in the academy.

Yumeko admires your far-reaching mind, and desire to win something more than a stack of money. You carried the humiliation of being a housepet for a greater desire for power. A fault stirring the hierarchy, a quiet force caving away the foundation of Hyakkaou Academy. You were so quiet, yet so poisonous—the perfect dangerous weapon loved by her hands.

Yumeko shared your desire. She wanted to watch the beautiful collapse of this depriving system. After all, every system was bound for ruination to make room for the creation of something tremendous.

Let's gamble to our heart's content, she would say, and make it sound like a chaste confession of love and in her own way, it was.

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3