#and maybe feel a little bad before forgetting again

[evesbookshop]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧!𝐀𝐔 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐖𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Elementary Ellie, who all but announced that you were her wife a few weeks into sharing the same first kindergarten class. Who dirties up the overalls Joel spends so much time cleaning just to be on her knees while plucking dandelions during recess to bring to you . And harps on and on to Joel about how he can’t forget food for her wife

Elementary Ellie, who stops calling you her wife around 2nd grade and settles for best friends , but god forbid a boy decide he has a crush on you. And you who talks her down while very sweetly rejecting the seven year old boy in front of you. Because well…you’re practically taken.

Elementary Ellie, who’s in fourth grade the first time kids make fun of her for being so protective of you. Who gets called words a kid shouldn’t be. And who sees you blow your top for the first time since kindergarten, because how dare they. (Joel also has a few choice words for the parents of those kids and slips you a 20 when your parents aren’t looking)

Middle school Ellie, who starts to get a little less possessive after that. Who still gets called names but shrugs it off, and who ignores the odd nauseas feeling she gets when a boy asks you out. And who goes home to cry when you get asked to be someone’s valentine and say yes.

Middle school Ellie, who starts distancing herself when she realizes she has a crush on her best friend. Who in the process absolutely shatters your heart, because why doesn’t she wanna be your friend anymore.

Middle school Ellie, who’s doing a really good job at not bothering you and suppressing whatever she’s got going on until she over hears you ranting to a group of girls about how sad you are. how you miss your best friend , and don’t know what you did wrong. She shows up at your house the next day and pulls some lie out of her ass about why she’s been so distant. Who’s little thirteen year old heart flutters when you give her a hug for the first time in weeks.

High school Ellie, who has come to terms with being in love with you. Who thinks she’s doing a really good job at hiding it but the closet has been glass since elementary. Even you know she’s gay, you just haven’t figured out who she likes.

High school Ellie, who gets her first girlfriend sophomore year. Her name is Dina, she’s an angel, and for some god forsaken reason you can’t brings yourself to like her. You yourself don’t even know why. Not till you all end up hanging out in a group of friends and you see the way Ellie’s hand sits on her waist, or pushed the hair out of her face. That’s when you realize, you wish it was you instead.

High school Ellie, who thinks maybe this is her karma for those few weeks in middle school when you start avoiding her. And she’s the one who wants to know what she’s done, hell her chasing you around got so bad Dina dumped her. And while she’s mildly upset, really doesn’t care as much as she should because she misses you instead.

High school Ellie, who backs you into a corner while you’re walking home, not her best look, and asks you why you’re avoiding her. Who takes great offense when you tell her to go hang out with her girlfriend and corrects you saying Ex immediately followed by a “what the fuck is your problem”. And who blue screens when you grab her face and smash your lips into hers before rebooting and breathing you in like it’s the first gasp of air she’s had in her entire life

College Ellie, who shares an apartment with you , her girlfriend. Who’s still a little nervous around you and blushes when you compliments her. Whose favorite place to kiss you is pressed against the wall because it reminds her of the first time. And who can’t wait to make you her wife, again.

[merumis]

do you know how many days it's been since kuroo last saw you?

he hasn't been counting—doesn't know it off the top of his head, or even what the exact date was, and today, he's not even sure he could tell you if it's april 7th or 9th—but if he does the math, he can get a ballpark answer.

around four years—365 days multiplied by 4, add in a leap year, you land with one thousand-four hundred-and-sixty-one days. give or take a few, for your situation.

but maybe he should've expected to see you here, all things considered.

(one night, a few weeks before graduation, maybe? you had mentioned you were going to grad school in edinburgh—he leaned down so you could yell it into his ear over the music of the bar. you were tinted a sweet shade of purple in the light—your friends were busy playing an arcade game that kuroo couldn't name anymore.

something died in kuroo's throat that night. he went to tell you congratulations—if a little halfhearted—but never quite made it there. a friend came over to swipe a game token you were holding, and you laughed and shooed him off. kuroo's roommate's hand landed on his shoulder, and then there was a shot in his hand. not much room for deliberation there, he supposes).

somehow, it seems, he'd forgotten those details until now. he'd been ducking from awning to awning to avoid the rain; he'd forgotten to pack a raincoat; he'd been in such a rush—last minute business trips be damned—that he didn't think to check the weather even when he decided to schedule a later return flight. a friday night, a full saturday, a sunday morning all to himself in a city that wasn't his—one that he felt a misplaced affection for despite never visiting prior to wednesday at 3:53pm.

and now, you're standing at the awning just ahead of him—facing out towards the street, watching the rain while you tear at the bready pastry in your hands.

(your hair has grown out from your college-age bob. it sweeps down past your shoulders, though he can't see where it disappears to. you must be twenty-six now. he recalls you complaining about hairstylists who cut your hair too short—about bad haircuts that lasted for months for you and moments for him. he thinks you always knew how to fix things).

he forgets there's a gap between your awning and his, so he doesn't move quite fast enough. his hair is a little more soaked than he would've hoped by the time he gets to you.

you turn your head to look at him before he reaches you—a piece of your pastry hanging by your fingers, waiting to be placed between your teeth. your brows are furrowed, your gaze a little hard, until you reach his face.

"tetsurou," you breathe, and he smiles down at you for a brief moment before you've pulled him down to wrap your arms around his neck. you pull back, placing just the heels of your palms on his cheeks to avoid scraping him with the crust of your pastry. "oh my god- what are you- why are you here?"

"business trip," he replies, "it was last minute. didn't think to reach out."

"god," you say, and pull him in again. "it's been years," you mumble into his shoulder, "you've gotten so old."

there's a moment when he wants to know everything you've done for the past four years—what you celebrated, what you never dared to tell anyone about, the food you've eaten, the drinks you drank until you made yourself sick. have you smoked recently? he wants to ask, if so, please let me breathe it in.

"how are you?" he asks instead.

(he feels twenty-one again. he's on the perimeter of a house party with you. he won't ask you about last week—when he kissed you and you dug your nails into his back. he won't leave your side either, and you keep leaning into him, but you're both making vague observations about the people who pass in front of you. do you ever think about it? he wants to ask. he never does).

"good!" you say, "yeah, no, busy, but- you know. good." you've leaned your shoulder into the brick wall now, and he mirrors you. you've both got your heads leaned in so close, he thinks he can smell the soap off your body.

you've always had a strong nose. maybe you can smell his.

do you ever think about it? did you ever?

"if it weren't such a downpour, i'd invite you to coffee at my place," you say, with a half-smile pulling at your lips. you speak with an exasperated breathiness now, one that he only heard in early winter and spring. he wonders if old habits die hard.

"it's okay," he says, "i like the rain."

you smile now, fully. warm. "i know."

(he's twenty-two. you're a few months from graduation and one of your friends insisted you all buy cheap tickets to some concert. he stepped outside to breathe and watch the rain—you followed. you wore his rain-soaked jacket for the rest of the night, and he thought about the way you pressed your lips into his shoulder in that absent-minded sort-of-way for the rest of the week. you both went on dates with different people the following thursday).

do you remember the poems you used to write? he wants to ask. the ones where i never knew if you talking about me or not. i used to keep myself up over them, would read them once, twice, a third time under the light from a lamp that was bound to go out the next night, but never did. do you remember that stupid dumpster outside my apartment? he wants to say. where it was always too windy to light anything, so we sat outside in the cold and talked for hours, looking over our shoulders whenever we mentioned someone by name.

on the road next to you, a small girl in a big raincoat and galoshes speeds down the road, her father carted behind her by the hand. he desperately tries to slow her down. kuroo looks down at his shoes and kicks a loose rock, then looks up again at you. you lean past him, tossing what's left of your pastry into the trash can next to him.

"i think you would like it here," you say. he smiles.

are you different? he wants to ask. are you the same girl i thought i might've been in love with? do you still hum when you cook? do you still refuse to use a recipe? do you still bite at the edges of your lips until they bleed?

"yeah?" he asks, with a smile that takes up more of his face than he'd like to admit. he leans over you as he rocks against the wall. "what about it?" it sounds less like a question, and more like a challenge—he's not sure how he intended it to be.

"it's slower here," you reply. you reach your hand out towards the road, waving five spread fingers out across a landscape you can see painted across your eyes. "removed, but not boring," you settle on, and smile up at him.

"you think i like slow?" he asks.

"i know you need it," you reply.

back then? no. now?

maybe.

"when i first moved here," you start. he looks over at you, but you're not watching him. you're looking out at the street again, eyes fixed on something that he can't place. "i swear i saw you everywhere. anyone over six feet, anyone running along the coast. sometimes, i'd think i heard your voice and i'd just stop- listen for a second, waiting to hear more of it." you look over at him, "of you," you clarify with a laugh.

"there were these guys in some of my classes, i don't know, they used to use your cologne, or your soap or something it would just-" you laugh again, "it would drive me insane."

(he's twenty-two. you keep a toothbrush at his apartment—just in case. when you're here, he sleeps on the couch).

"you know," you laugh again, and you watch him, carefully. your eyes keep flitting over his face—quickly, from one place to the next, like you're not quite sure where will tell you what you want to know. "i think i was in love with you back then."

(he's twenty. he wants to know you. he thinks about you for an entire day after you whisper an exaggerated thank you to him during class and laugh at his offhanded joke).

"yeah," he replies. "i think i was in love you too, you know."

he smiles down at you, and then he knocks his shoulder into yours. when you laugh, you curl into him, letting his body's warmth radiate into you where your arms touch.

your laugh sounds wet, a little shaky.

if he spoke, he's sure his would too.

"when the rain lightens up," you start, "would you like to come back to mine?"

he clears his throat, a soft, breathy sort of thing escaping him when he speaks.

"yeah. i'd like that," he replies.

[theangrycomet]

TFP's designs reflect the writer's decisions regarding character direction very well.

It's not as though I don't like the designs on their own; on the contrary I actually love the less-action-figure-and-more-extraterrestrial art direction they took with the Transformers.

But a lot of the designs push certain aspects so far to the point where their barely recognizable from the characters they are supposed to be.

Somewhat Coherent Ramblings below on the 3 biggest "victims" with my (admittedly limited) transformers lore knowledge.

is that a stickbug or a snake?

Starscream got a bad back from carrying the entire Decepticon cause on his shoulders while Megatron's snorting up Satan's crotch dust so forgive his poor posture.

Like it's a solid design for a for a sniveling backstabber- being able to look like a pathetic little bug one second to a ruthless killer the next.

And I love how he's rigged and animated- forget Predaking most of the animatign budget went into Starscream's theatrics-

Honestly he's probably the least "problematic" for lack of a better word for me because he can be fixed with giving him a paint job and maybe a helmet- probably styled along the lines of RID!Starscream's helm and he'd be fine.

A bigger part of my problems with his design now that I've ruminated on it is more how he's not allowed to feel like a proper, competent threat on his own after the first half of S1- and in turn, how he's not allowed to be intimidating more often.

the Sleeping Beauty Dress argument

Seriously tho- like she looks good but why did they make her blue specifically? Just make her a dark magenta to go with the muted color scheme of the show if your worried about her standing out to much (she's a $30k sports bike in bumfuck nevada- she's already flunked the "in disguise" part of the class)

I get the "oh the she's only girl she shouldn't be pink" argument but you know what would address that? HAVING MORE FEMALE CHARACTERS.

Getting off track...

Again, Arcee's design on it's own, even with the whole "female transformers must be motorbikes so we have an excuse to make them slender" trend, it's really cool.

It reflects her tough-love approach, and how the war has left her sharp around the edges so she doesn't get hurt again. But she doesn't really feel like an ARCEE design.

Like I've said before, it feels like at times the writers couldn't get permission to get the characters they wanted and decided to write the characters they could get to fit the story they wanted to tell, and that reflects in their designs at times. She takes charge of the team because she's best suited for the job, just ask her.

Arcee even is the one to take out Shockwave and allow her and Cliffjumper's escape- similar to how another blue-femme rescued a similarly named friend from Shockwave's clutches back in G1.

With this design and writing direction, it would have been better suited to another spiky blue femme; Chromia. She even comes with an established red love interest to kill off (sorry Ironhide).

Hell if the writers REALLY wanted they could have even still had her Tailgate Event happen with her favorite sharpshooter (sorry Moonracer).

Arcee girly pop

boombox gone eldritch cyber horror

I love this design so much, but where the HELL is Soundwave supposed to store his minicons??? That's his whole thing! Yes he has Laserbeak- but there should be SOME indication of where his lost Cassettes used to go even if they are dead (which in all likely hood they are but again- SEPERATE post).

It's very interesting to me how stripped down he looks, as though with each cassette he's literally lost a piece of himself.

Give Soundwave his Full-Grown Children Back Damn You.

Rumble and Frenzy would have had a fucking BLAST messing with the Jasper team- humans and bots alike.

Bonus:

I will admit when I found RID Drift's design and how Jetstorm and Slipstream are docked on him, I am curious if Soundwave's had his Cassettes on his arms too.

Because if that is the case Soundwave does have room on his arms for at least two- maybe four on the shoulders.

[presidenttogekiss]

A Mess

This is my first attempt at writing some fanfiction (at 26 years old no less!). I honestly never thought I would, so much so I don´t even have an Ao3 account. But this game really inspired me to write, so I wanted to give it a shot. I´m sorry for any gramatical and spelling mistakes (english spelling will always be one of the greatest enemies of anyone learning english as a second language lol). I hope it´s not too bad, and I accept any feedback! If this becomes a habit I´ll figure out a more pleasent format hehe.

____________________________________________________________

Henry groaned a little, something between a growling badger and a baby deer. He was experiencing a very strange sensation at this very moment.

"You know, I was a little worried this wasn´t going to work, you know? I did this plenty of times on wenches, but I never tried this before in a man. I´m glad to know it works! - Hans said, in his usual cheery tone, as he went back to suckle Henry´s nipple.

It was clear he was being honest in his experience in the matter, because the movements his tongue made on Henry´s poor pap were full of intent and technique. Henry´s body felt it could melt as Hans slowly sucked on his chest, all the while slowly stroking his member under the heavy furs they were both in.

Of course, Henry wasn´t completely unexperienced in the activity. He had suckled on many a maiden´s tit. But he always thought that they allowed it mostly to indulge him, not because it felt particularly good.

But apparently, his body was way more sensitive than he had expected. He bit his lip and growled slowly with pleasure, and it seemed like Hans enjoyed hearing that, as he held Henry´s body even more tightly beneath the heavy furs that covered them, and he felt Hans´ own hard member pressing against his leg.

"Was this the objective of this 'hunting trip' all along, my lord?" - he said sarcastically - "So you could use me as a bed warmer? We barely caught more than a few hares today." - He was quite enjoying what Hans was currently doing with his mouth, but he couldn´t resist the urge to provoke him.

Hans took his mouth out of Henry´s poor sensitive nipple and looked up at him with his characteristic mischevious smile: "Of course not. We came here to take down a few stags. We´re not going home without at least a few trophies, I assure you! But it´s also very nice to be able to enjoy your company without any prying eyes nearby. A win-win!"

"Aye. And also because you enjoy fucking in the woods!" Henry provoked. "After all, isn´t this the same place you bought that girl Karolina? I sense a pattern."

"I do not! Well, maybe a little, heh" - he conceded with a softer smile. "It´s just so nice to feel the fresh air, isn´t it? No walls, no expectations for me to remember, just me and my very favorite peasent in all the lands" - he said as he laid his head on Henry´s chest.

It still felt a bit odd, he had to admit. Him and Capon. Not bad, but odd. He didn´t know the correct way to act around Hans sometimes. How does one treat a male lover, anyway? Like a typical courtship with a fair lady? No, that didn´t feel right. But it also felt strange to behave like two regular mates. Still, Capon wasn´t wrong. The furs were very soft, the candlelight was pleasent, the weather was calm and Hans´ body warmth was quite pleasent. He hugged the taller man tighter around his chest.

"So that time that we ran into those soldiers, the ones from Sigsmund´s army. Before Suchdol. Was THIS a part of the plan back then too? To seduce me like you did Karolina?" - he again provoked with cheeky smile.

Hans looked at his face and answered in a somewhat embarased tone: "I mean, not REALLY. At least not counciously. I really just wanted to spend time with you. I just thought, way in the back of my head, that maybe, after we got properly wasted, maybe, just maybe, SOMETHING could have happen. Some happy acident you know, that we could choose to forget the next day if needed. So as you can imagine, I was properly miffed when those fuckers showed up"

For some reason, when he said those words, Henry´s heart sank a little. The... thing that happened to them at Suchdol was very unexpected. He was caught quite off-guard for a second in fact. But hearing what the other man was saying made him realize how unlikely it was to happen at all. It could have simply puffed out of existence, like gunpowder without a flame.

And while he knew it would have made the current moment a lot less complicated, he felt sad at that idea. The idea of not having what they have now, even though Henry didn´t even properly know how to classify it, made him really sad.

"Well, no need to waste the opportunity a second time" - he said looking at the blond man´s face. He turned so his body and Hans could face each other directly, and kissed him softly, which Hans greedily accepted.

"Dully noted, my friend. I shan´t contain myself any longer" - he answered in between kisses, and gripped Henry´s body tighter. And it was a tight grip. Hans was a very fit man, the purest example of a warrior, and he could sense all of his muscles under his hands as he gripped him back.

Their bodies were now tight around each other like a knot, and their members were rubbing against one another and leaking, creating rather slippery and pleasent sensation, as they begun moving faster and faster.

"H-Henry, Fuck, I´m, I´m gonna..." his voice begin stuttering, as he struggled to form sentences.

"A-Already? T-That was quick" - he was also very close, but he couldn´t help but get one last barb in - "I hope Sir Hans isn´t so quick with the wenches in Kuttenburg. They´ll talk!"

"F-Fuck you, cunt" - he smiled from ear to ear and put his hand behind Henry´s neck, and pulled him for a kiss.

As they were kissing, Henry could feel his member throb harder and harder. And then suddently, he felt the orgasm come strong and hard like a punch, and he covered both of their chests with his cum, followed soon after by Hans.

"S-See? I won, hehe" - he said in a breathless voice, their bodies covered with fluid that belong to both of them, with no way to separate one from the other. A veritable mess!

"I guess you did, hehe" - and he kissed the other man. It was a confusing mess, ALL of it. But it wasn´t an altogether unpleasent mess, and Henry of Skalitz was happy to have made it.

[themightyrancho]

It's amazing how much I ruined my own life lol

[sixic]

letting gojo fuck you raw might have been a mistake, especially now that he wants kids..☆

(part 1 here)

yes—it felt good. heavenly, even. feeling him fill you up without a contraceptive barrier between you might overlap an ego death on the life-altering-experiences venn diagram.

but now your boyfriend throws a tantrum whenever you tell him to wrap it. he pouts and whines and stamps his fucking feet like a child at your child-preventative measures. he’s too tall to act like a toddler—if you didn’t secretly enjoy the pining you’d hit him upside the back of his head and tell him to stop sulking.

“we’re too young to be parents,” you’d tell him as he rubs his uncovered cock through your folds, from your entrance up to your sensitive clit and back down.

his counter? “the earlier we start, the longer we have to try for more.”

“maybe youre forgetting the whole ‘jujutsu sorcerer, could-die-at-any-moment' thing?”

“are you forgetting that i’m the strongest? plus, i think i’d look hot saving the world wearing a baby carrier… not that i would endanger our kid like that. bad point, ask me a new one.”

“we aren’t playing trivia.”

“cmon,” a tap of the head of his cock to your clit. “humour me.”

“alright, children are fucking expensive.”

“babe, you’re not serious—you do know i’m filthy rich, right? capitalism fears me. i’m like that rich disney duck with the top hat and—”

you point a finger in his face. “put a goddamn condom on or you’re banned from sex for a month, scrooge.”

and he blinks, pretends to be offended at how responsible you are, and then falls into an easy smile because sex with you is more than enough for him. when he sinks into you, condom-covered or not, he falls a little bit more in love each time.

but it is not the same and you know it.

the weight of him on top of you is the same. as is the snapping thrusts of his hips into yours and the gentle circles he traces over your clit and the way he moans your name once he’s sheathed fully inside of you. it’s the same.

but it’s not the same as taking him raw. it’s not the bulge of his veins against your velvet walls. nor is it the beading precum at his tip dripping inside of you, or the filthy fucking drawling moans he lets out when he fills you to the brim.

“you’re so beautiful,” he's moaning like he's in heat. completely enthralled with every aspect of your being, satoru groans and moans and snaps forward into you like he's trying to breed you regardless.

and you're so full, stretched to your limits with his cock pulsing inside of you, but you don't feel satiated like you could. you've tasted it once, the feel of his cum spilling into you, the knowledge of what it could do to you. to him. he would look good as a dad. god, him holding a baby in his arms...

"pull out."

gojo stops immediately at your words, blinking the lust from his eyes in an immediate shock change of expression. he's looking you over, making sure you're not in any pain, before pulling out of you completely with no questions asked. he's always been good like that—sure, he'll whine about wearing latex but he'd never push you past your spoken limits.

"you wanna stop?" he asks gently, already reaching for a washcloth to wipe you down with. his eyes watch you carefully, obsessed with your interest and comfort: you have to stop yourself from laughing at his panic. "we can watch some TV or go to bed or i could make you—"

his words die in his mouth when you reach down to his still-hard cock and slowly pull the condom that covers it from the top. it slides from his length with a little resistance before finally pulling over the head and snapping back at your hand with a subtle sting.

"fuck me," you meet his eyes.

"what? you said—"

"satoru. fuck me. breed me, even. how many other ways do i have to put it? i want you to fuck a baby into me."

he blinks again. no witty comment, no awful smirk or joke about being a dilf. you've gone and rendered satoru speechless. when he does finally move his lips, it's not to dirty talk you like expected.

"we aren't married."

you can't help but laugh. "what?"

"i'm going to marry you first, and then you are going to make me a dad. i have it all planned out, babe, we can't have drunk honeymoon sex if you're pregnant. though you would look fucking beautiful on a beach somewhere with a baby bump. god now i'm conflicted."

"you have it planned?"

the thought of satoru planning this out hits you, him thinking about a future with you, a ring on your finger, embracing the stress of parenthood together so well that when the kids move out and you're old and grey, you abhor having a silent home.

"so are you going to propose or not?" you look at him.

again, he blinks. "right now?"

"why not? do you have a ring?"

satoru looks at you, smiles, and slips off the bed—still naked—to reach into the bedside drawer. a small black box sits in his top drawer, ironically under a pile of condoms. he holds it in his hand and returns to you with a kiss to your knee, and then one to your inner thigh, and another just above your clit. he works his way up your stomach, of course stopping to bite at your nipples when he reaches your chest, and then presses himself fully against you once his lips find yours.

when he pulls away, you're met with the sight of a ring you had pointed out to him months ago. had he really been planning this long? "i knew i was going to marry you on our first date," he says, but then counters, "actually, that's a lie. it was when i tasted that sweet pussy of yours for the first time, but that's not as romantic."

you smile, bracing yourself for a long-winded speech when satoru suddenly pushes the tip of his now-uncovered cock inside of you. you gasp, and he swallows it with a kiss before taking your hand in his and slipping the ring down your finger with a breathy; "will you marry me?"

"yes," of course, is your answer. which warrants a sudden deep thrust from your now-fiancé as he bottoms out inside of you.

"yeah?" he nips at your neck. "you'll marry me? gonna make me a dad too, huh? gonna fill you up, baby, gonna breed you out and—"

"i thought you said—"

"changed my mind. now, lift your legs up: you're not leaving this bed until i've knocked you up, pretty."

[exopelagic]

I know the world is cruel because I finally wanna draw again and yet I am forced to pack :(

[mareestoermers]

i think we are all forgetting something when we talk about how toxic patrick, tashi, and art are — or when we decide one is “worse” than the other. they all have moments of seeing right through it, seeing each other’s toxic behavior for what it is, and STILL want and need each other in this possessive, envious, visceral way.

1. in the way beginning, tashi is clearly flirting more with art than patrick, and patrick is visibly annoyed. art sees right through it and even challenges him like “okay, let’s leave”, and has this little smirk on his face because he knows patrick won’t give up on tashi.

2. tashi immediately sees the visible tension and love between art and patrick, and literally orchestrates their first kiss. she sees right through their repression, and even calls herself a “home-wrecker” but still entangles herself with them, especially patrick because he’s clearly the better tennis player at that point and that is tash’s ONLY true love. tennis. that’s what she desires most in him, and patrick knows that. he even calls her out on it in the dorm room scene. but they have this mirroring fire in each other that neither of them can give up, not until patrick breaks the balance and bails — tashi’s injury is literally a metaphor for the balance shattering between all three of them when patrick leaves her.

3. before this, patrick sees right through art trying to break them up, and even admires that quality — maybe even feels smug and flattered because art is jealous and feels left out from both tashi and patrick. patrick has known this all along, we saw it in the “tick-serve” scene, where he even swears to tashi he won’t tell anyone but he still tells art, who is desperate to feel a part of them and patrick wants that, too — even keeps that close intimacy with art that we see in the churro scene (swoon swoon swoon).

4. haven’t you noticed that arts desire to be great is only ever tied up in patrick and tashi? how he needs to beat patrick to win tashis affection, how he needs to win in tennis so that tashi can live through him, how he lives up to his potential in the ending only because tashi and patrick push him to it, in their little fucked up ways? he knows this — he even admits that he’s playing for tashi, that he knows she’s living through him. he even admits he’s playing a fucked up little game with patrick when they’re in the sauna. yet he still does it. again, he knows what’s happening, sees right through them — still does it, still loves them.

5. when tashi calls patrick to come pick her up he knows it’s not just to tell him to throw the match — and despite how she battles him about it, they still have sex in the car, because he already knows. he’s so fully aware of her and her game and he’s so willing to be caught up in it, the same as art.

just some examples of how they all have moments of clarity and agency and yet they still choose to be entangled in one another because they’re all fucked up in their own, individual ways, and they’re all living through each other for their own specific needs. arts is to be seen as worthy, as great, but only through their gaze. tashis is to have the career that was stolen from her. patricks is truly to be in love and in lust with both of them, because we even see that from the beginning that tashis love alone will never satiate him; it has to be arts love, too. that scene in the sauna when he thinks he’s lost it from art is the most sad and fucked up we ever even see patrick. on top of tashi asking him to throw the game — he’s so defensive of arts feelings.

in short this is an actual love triangle (and i would go as far as to see it as a polyship). you can’t erase one without the whole thing unraveling, and you can’t say one character was the “worst” without picking apart the motivations and pointing to the fact that their bad behavior was never a secret or left unchecked.

even at the end, patrick signals to art that he slept with tashi — art knows and they still have that intimate completion at the end, all three of them. art living up to his potential and embracing patrick fully (id argue this could even be a metaphor for embracing his bisexuality), patrick having both tashi and arts affection again, and tashi playing a phenomenal tennis match through her little white boys — in such a visceral, emotional way that she cries out like she did in the beginning and the last frame is her smiling.

in a fucked up way, they all get what they wanted out of each other.

[confuzing]

Ok but what if Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu were the same person.

Little YQY is used to little baby SJ being a little strange. He talks about missing 'the internet' and one night when they almost freeze to death he solemnly informs YQY that "this transmigration experience sucks, 0/10 would not recommend."

As they grow SJ stops talking about odd things, but since he never explained about his past life to YQY he doesn't realize SJ is forcing himself to forget those memories of being warm and safe and happy because they hurt too much now when he is none of those.

The System is still there if course but since LBH isn't even born yet it's in low power mode. But that night locked in Qiu Manor after YQY leaves it pops up with a notification he's finished the 'Sorrowful Parting' quest and he loses it.

He alternates between insisting it doesn't exist and demanding to know why it only shows up when something bad happens to him. The System explains this is all necessary character development before he meets the main character.

SJ rages, not because he's not the main character but because he apparently needs to suffer for them, this person he's never met. Eventually the System turns off all notifications except essential ones, and that at least leaves SJ mostly alone in his own head.

And he takes that buried ache of his past memories and that he was apparently born to suffer and uses them to save himself when YQY fails him. Even though he promised. And he's fine- look, he's a Peak Lord! He's fine.

Until LBH turns up at the peaks, the System lights up for the first time in a decade, and SJ looks at this little boy and hates him. SJ can't see him without thinking about all the hurt he suffered, which the System insists was necessary for this boy's story.

So he does all those horrible things to LBH that he railed about as SY a lifetime ago and doesn't regret it. (PIDW is mostly lost to him, buried under the trauma, he doesn't know who LBH is, or who he is)

Until the qi deviation, which wipes all his memories except the ones he has buried. So he feels like he's a different person. He thinks he's transmigrated in late because he can't remember being 5 and teaching YQY carmeldansen.

A week after the deviation YQY hears SJ mutter something about Google and he relaxes, he does recognize this SJ after all.

Meng Mo pulls the memories out of SY's head after all. For all that SY draws the line between himself and SJ as different people he still remembers SJ's memories. But crucially not the ones from when he was little where his past and current lives overlap the most.

Sometime after the series ends SQQ is humming something modern- my heart says 'Never Gonna Give You Up'- and YQY casually mentioned he's always liked that one most of SJ's songs.

SQQ: What songs?

YQY: The ones only you know. You used to sing them all the time when you were little.

SQQ's head is spinning and he finds some privacy and questions the System which confirms he did in fact transmigrate as a baby like SQH did.

The memories come back slowly after that. He remembers telling LQQ he'll kill him after a bad fight, street kid him trying to explain to YQY what a T-Rex is... exactly what was going through his head when he dumped a cup of hot tea on an orphan he'd just met.

And SY has to deal with the fact that yes actually, that was him. That wasn't some other asshole. It's him, he's the asshole. Maybe that was the worst possible version of himself, maybe he got a second chance and changed for the better - but it was still him, and he's still capable of being that man again if he isn't careful.

[leclerc-hs]

tides of us - ln4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary: in which you and lando have phd's in getting underneath each other's skin. warnings: language, NOT PROOFREAD, smut under the cut!!!, bad writing? word count: 11.4k.... author's note: surprise shawtyyyy. MY FIRST EVER LANDO FIC (pls be kind to me). i really went a little crazy on this piece. PLEASE let me know what you think. hearing back is what keeps me writing for y'all xoxo

taglist: @f1fantasys @n3versatisfied @alishamai

Lando is pissed off.

The morning had been difficult since the moment he woke; late, with his phone on low battery, and four missed calls from Max.

He groaned as he rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders before it had truly even begun. The chaotic rush to get out of bed, the frantic search for his charger, and the constant buzzing of his phone— everything, it seemed, was working against him.

“Max,” Lando snapped into the phone, voice low but clipped. “What time is it?”

On the other end, Max’s voice came through—slightly amused but with an underlying tone of urgency. “Mate, we need to talk. It’s important. Where are you?”

His feet barely made a sound as he strode through the hallway, phone pressed against his ear with a growing sense of irritation. His shirt was still half hanging off him as he stepped into the kitchen.

Lando’s gaze flickered over to you and Pietra, the laughter in the air making him feel more disconnected. He wasn’t in the mood for this. His gaze landed on you again, and for a brief moment, he just stood there, watching.

“Listen, I need to tell you about-“ Max began.

“What is she doing here?”

Lando didn’t know who he was asking. Whether it was you, Pietra, or Max, he wasn’t sure. Max’s voice became nothing but unheard chatter after the words ‘needs to stay with you’ were said into his ear as you finally turn around and met his gaze. And for a mere moment, everything seemed to stop. You didn’t look scared, or confused, but something in your eyes made Lando realize just how ridiculous this all was.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face with one hand, then muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “Forget it.”

Lando moved with a cold, almost mechanical precision, his frustration hanging in the air like a thick fog. His hands were steady as he reached for a water bottle in the fridge, but his mind was racing, thoughts darting between everything that had gone wrong that morning, the calls, the uncertainty, and now you.

He took a long gulp from the bottle, the cool water doing little to settle the heat in his chest from your mere presence. When he finally lowered the bottle, he glanced back at you, but your gaze was already on him. It was quiet now, the chatter between you and Pietra paused.

“Look,” he muttered finally, turning towards you, his voice lower than before but still carrying a sharp edge, “I don’t even care to ask what you’re doing in my kitchen.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to defuse the tension he felt deep in his bones whenever you were around. “Just stay out of my way.”

He heard Pietra’s exasperated groan from beside you, but it barely registered. His focus was solely on you. The sound of your laugh, the way you smacked Pietra’s stomach and shot him that big sarcastic smile.

His gaze locked on you, and for a moment, the world seemed to blur around the edges, like he was seeing through a fogged window. The anger, the frustration, the lust — none of it mattered. You had this effect on him, like his emotions narrowed into a single, overwhelming force, and it was as if nothing else existed when you were in the room.

He hated it. He hated how you could make him feel so raw, so exposed, with just a look or a word. But in that instant, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he’d been wrong. That maybe he’d overreacted— again.

But pride kept his mouth shut. 

You smacked Pietra’s stomach with the biggest smile you could muster on your face. “Of course, Your Highness.”

His jaw tightened at the edge in your voice. It was always like this with you— too many layers of sarcasm, too many walls that kept him at a distance. He hated it, but there was something about the way you challenged him, the way you never let him get away with being too much of an asshole, that both irritated and intrigued him. 

And ninety nine percent of the time, he’ll meet you right in the middle. But today— today, he didn’t have the energy.

He couldn’t deal with you, not today.

-

It had always been this way— tension, banter, sharp words laced with sarcasm, and that constant push-pull between wanting to tear each other apart or tear each other’s clothes off. The first time you met, it was a disaster. Lando had been too cocky, too full of himself, and you? You’d been the perfect counter to his arrogance. Quick-witted, just as stubborn, not willing to back down even a little. It was like two forces colliding, neither willing to give an inch.

And somehow, that collision had set the stage for everything that came after.

There were moments—brief, fleeting moments— when you’d find yourselves actually getting along. Moments when you could talk without that edge, when you almost felt like you could understand each other. But those moments always felt like they were just around the corner from the next argument or snarky remark.

It was a dance. One he was growing exhausted by, but couldn’t quit. Quite like an addiction. Something that kept him coming back, even when every part of him screamed to walk away.

The sound of the front door slamming was enough to rattle you and Pietra as you leaned back in your stool and looked at her with a shrug.

“You guys fight like a married couple.”

“Don’t ever mention me and Lando with the word marriage in a sentence again.” You feigned vomiting.

Pietra let out a loud laugh, rolling her eyes at your dramatic reaction. “Okay, okay, point taken,” she said, holding her hands up in a mock surrender. “But seriously, I’ve never seen two people who clearly hate each other but also can’t seem to stay away from each other.”

You glanced towards the door where Lando had just stormed out, the sound of it slamming still echoing in the air. Your eyes narrowed, your annoyance with him still simmering beneath the surface. The last thing you wanted was to be compared to a married couple, especially not with him. But Pietra wasn’t wrong, at least not totally.

-

To say that you and Lando never got along was somewhat of a lie. Sure, most of the time there was an undercurrent of challenge between you two. But if you were being honest with yourself, there were always moments that managed to slip between the cracks of your usual arguments.

It was post-Max’s birthday bash, and the night had taken its toll—everyone was absolutely smashed. The music had faded into the background, the party winding down, and now it was just you and Lando in the kitchen, standing side by side as you both rummaged through the fridge for something to soak up the alcohol. The usual tension between you two felt different tonight, lighter, almost non-existent— probably because of the drinks coursing through your veins.

The fridge light bathed the kitchen in a soft, yellow glow as you both reached for the last slice of pizza at the same time. Your fingers brushed against his, the accidental contact sharp enough to send a jolt through you. You both froze, the moment stretching out between you like a beat of silence. You could feel the warmth of his hand against yours, the proximity suddenly making the air feel thick. 

You pulled your hand back first, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back slightly, trying to mask the awkwardness with your usual sharpness. “So, you were eyeing that, huh?” You said with feigned offense.

Lando wants to blame it on the alcohol. Wants to chalk up the rush of heat, the confusion clouding his thoughts, the throb he feels in his cock, to the drinks he’s had all night. It would be easier that way, wouldn’t it? Easier than admitting it was you— the way your laugh slipped under his skin, the way your nose crinkled after pretending to like a drink, the way your eyes were heavy with that loopy, contented look, like you were floating in your own little world.

His gaze flickers to yours, and there’s something in it—something that makes your pulse quicken against your will. He raises an eyebrow, pulling the pizza closer to him like he’s staking a claim on it. “I mean, it was there, wasn’t it?,” he says, his voice light, but there’s a trace of something else behind the teasing. His gaze lingers on you for a beat too long, and for the first time, the playful banter almost felt real. “I think I deserve it more, anyway.”

You cross your arms, the fridge light casting a harsh glow against you, trying to look unimpressed. “Yeah? And why is that?” 

He grins, clearly enjoying the banter. Then he leans in just a little closer, that confident smirk never leaving his face. “Because, unlike you, I’m a growing athlete.” He winks, as if that settles everything.

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.

“Well, you know you love it.” He says with a grin, his usual cocky confidence softened by the easy humor currently wavering between the two of you.

Before you can respond, he takes a dramatic bite of the pizza, his eyes  dancing with mischief. “What?” He says through a mouthful. “I'm just making sure it tastes as good as it looks.”

You roll your eyes, but the grin that pulls at your lips betrays you. Yeah, it was definitely the alcohol. 

Without warning, Lando brings the partially-eaten slice to your lips, his eyes locking with yours. There’s a dare in them, an unspoken challenge. Like he’s testing you. As if you would ever place your lips where his had just been.

But you’re not about to let him off the hook that easily.

You meet his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips, and you lean in deliberately, pressing your mouth to the exact spot where he’d just bitten. Slowly, you take a bite, never breaking eye contact.

You pull back, making the moment drag out a little longer than it should. Then, as you pull the pizza from your mouth, you exaggerate the motion, letting out a playful, dramatic moan.The taste of the pizza lingers as your eyes stay locked on his. A small dot of sauce is left at the corner of your lips, the perfect bait.

Lando’s breath catches at the sight, his chest tightening as his gaze drops to your lips. He doesn’t even seem to realize what he’s doing until his thumb is moving toward your mouth, gently swiping the sauce away. His touch is soft, almost hesitant, but it lingers— just a second too long. His fingers stay there, a slight heat emanating from the contact, as his eyes darken, drawn to your lips like he’s waiting for something.

You find yourself getting dizzy when he swipes it up, waiting patiently for you to make a move. But your brain is short-circuiting as you stand there frozen like a deer in headlights.

Lando tugs the tiniest smirk on the corner of his lips.

“Open,” he said, voice low, almost hushed, as if the words held more weight than the simple request.

You froze for a moment, uncertainty flickering in your chest. But that hesitation was fleeting. Your mouth parted almost instantly—partly out of shock, but also because, deep down, you knew you wanted this. You’d known it for a while, even if you’d been too stubborn to admit it before. But tonight, with the alcohol swirling through your veins and the tension between you two reaching a breaking a point, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

His thumb, warm and steady, presses against the softness of your lower lip before sinking inside, brushing against your tongue. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine. “Suck.”

Oh my god.

It takes a moment to realize what is actually happening. That Lando’s thumb is really pressed against your tongue right now. That you’re innately curling your tongue around his knuckle without so much as a inkling of hesitation. What is going on?

The sauce is long gone by now, but you don’t want the way Lando is looking at your mouth to end. So you suck. Hard.

A deep guttural groan slips past Lando’s lips. Along with a soft “fuck”.

Lando pulls his finger from your mouth, smearing the saliva across your lips, before pushing it back in with a little more force than before, pressing your tongue down. 

Its only when the unmistakable sound of a loud laugh echoes from the hallway, followed by the soft shuffle of feet, that the spell is broken. Pietra and Max appear in the doorway, wrapped in their own world, oblivious.

Lando’s thumb retreats suddenly, leaving a faint tingle where it had been. He takes a few steps back, his posture stiffening as he puts space between the two of you. The slice of pizza, once held so carefully, has fallen unnoticed to the floor.

“There you guys are,” Pietra giggles, her voice light and carefree, as Max leans heavily against her. He presses a soft kiss to the back of her neck, the PDA so natural between them that you and Lando have long since grown accustomed to it. “What are you doing?”

Your mind is still spinning, trying desperately to untangle fragments of the moment. It’s as if you’ve been pulled to an alternate dimension, struggling to regain your bearings.

Lando, a little too quickly, blurts out, “Pizza!” His voice louder than usual, almost too eager, and the sharp sound makes you flinch, jolting you into full awareness.

“Yeah, pizza,” you echo, your words clumsy, as you scramble to find a sense of normalcy in this moment.

You watch as Pietra’s gaze drops to the floor where the pizza slice rests, barely touched, and then back to you and Lando. Her eyes narrow slightly, but her smile remains in place. 

-

The dinner party was in full swing, with guests chatting and laughing around the table, but at the far end of the room, Lando and you were locked in a standoff. The small, crowded space was a perfect breeding ground for irritation— just enough people to make it awkward, not enough to escape the tension between you two.

“You seriously had to make that comment in front of everyone?” Lando’s voice was low, dangerous, his jaw clenched tight as he stood rigid, his hands balled at his sides.

You didn’t flinch. You never did when it came to him. “What, didn’t think it was funny?” The words cut through the air like a knife, your tone dripping with its usual sarcasm.

Lando’s eyes narrow, his lips curling into a tight humorless sneer. “It wasn’t funny. It was humiliating. But of course, that’s what you do, isn’t it? Always try to make me look like the bad guy.”

You take a step closer, your heart hammering in your chest, but your voice steady, if not a little venomous. “Excuse me? I didn’t hear you complaining when you were bragging to the guys about your revolving door of women.”

Lando’s face twisted, the smirk now gone, replaced by a bitter glare. “Some of these guys are my co-workers.” His voice was a low growl, the frustration pouring from him. “You love making a scene, don’t you?”

You met his gaze, unflinching, your words with the kind of anger you’d been trying to suppress for hours. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that pointing out the obvious was such a crime. You are a joke, Lando.”

Lando’s nostrils flared, his posture stiffening as he takes a step forward. The anger between you two was palpable, raw, like a wound that had festered for too long. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you’re so good at pushing people away, it’s no wonder you struggle to keep anyone near.” He spat, the words hitting you like a harsh slap.

You could feel your own chest tightening, the urge to fight back stronger than ever. “Maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to push you away if you weren’t so fucking insufferable,” You shot back, your voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else—just because you’re the Lando Norris.” You say it with so much hatred in your voice, so much disgust.

Lando’s face turns red with anger, his fists tightening as if he is about to lash out. “You don’t know anything about me!” He hisses, stepping closer. “You don’t know anything. You’re too busy judging everyone, pretending like you understand.”

Liar.

“Maybe that’s because you’re impossible to understand!” You shot back, your voice cracking. 

Liar.

Lando’s chest was burning, and for a second, you thought you saw something else in his expression— something deeper, darker. But before you could say another word, the sharp sound of Pietra’s voice cut through the tension, her words laced with frustration.

“You two are exhausting,” she muttered, her hands on her hips as she walks towards you, shaking her head. “Can’t you go five minutes without fighting?”

Max, standing beside her, gave you both a pointed, unimpressed look. “Seriously, take it outside or something.”

The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating, as you and Lando stood there, completely unaware of how much attention you were drawing. 

With a frustrated sigh, Lando turned his back to you, muttering something under his breath as he took a step away, the coldness in his voice unmistakable. “No need,” he said with a forced smile, his expression a perfect mask of calm.

But you could see right through it. You could see the anger still simmering just below the surface, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might break. He had turned it on— flipped the switch to happy, charming Lando that everyone adored—but you knew better. You knew this wasn’t over.

You stayed frozen in place, staring at his retreating form, your blood still boiling, your heart still racing. The party resumed around you, as if nothing had happened, but the cracks between you two had deepened, and the weight of everything unsaid felt unbearable.

-

It was an unsettling realization— almost an entire week has passed without so much as a glimpse of Lando. Not that you were actively looking for him. Still, you were staying at his place for the time being, yet it felt as though he had vanished entirely.

The dinner party had been a mess— more than just the awkward silence that had followed after Lando’s sudden retreat, more than the strained smiles and forced laughter. It had felt like a pressure cooker, each moment pressing closer to explosion. 

You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t mind the distance, that you needed it too. After all, how could you process anything when the tension between you two was so thick it felt suffocating?

-

The apartment balcony door creaks as you slide it open, and the cool night air hits you like a breath of fresh tension. You pause for a moment, taking in the city’s quiet hum from the balcony, when the sound of footsteps from behind you pulls you back into the reality of where you stand. You freeze. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

Lando.

You hesitate before slowly turning, your pulse quickening just a little at the sight of him standing there, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking impossibly composed—as if he hadn’t been anything but a stranger to you for the last week. His hair is messy, as usual, falling over his forehead like it always does when he’s been running his hands through it, and his eyes lock onto yours, sharp and calculating. There’s no hint of the playful teasing that usually dances there— just a cold, clipped edge. A part of you feels the sting, but you refuse to let it show.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak right away. He just watches you, as if waiting for something to fall into place. His gaze flickers down to your outfit, the sharp cut of your dress, the way it hugs your frame. His eyes linger, just a moment too long. Theres something unreadable in his stare, but its gone before you can truly grasp it.

His chest feels tight, the burn simmering just beneath the surface. It’s an ache he’s learned to ignore. You’re impossible to ignore. 

His thoughts scramble, trying to piece together something, anything, to get him back on steady ground. It shouldn’t bother him. He shouldn’t even care.

But God, it does.

You straighten your posture, trying to shake the weight of his gaze. “I’m just about to head out,” you say, the words feeling almost too light for how heavy everything suddenly feels. You keep your voice steady, refusing to let the knot in your stomach show. He knows you too well to let any cracks slip by.

“Right.” His voice low, casual, but the way he says it doesn’t match the steel edge behind it. He pushes himself off the doorframe, taking a slow step forward, and the space between you feels too small, too intimate.

He tilts his head, his eyes scanning you with that familiar coolness. “Big night?” He’s not asking about the plans. He already knows the answer, or at least he thinks he does.

“Just dinner,” you say, but the words come out too sharp, too dismissive, like you’re avoiding saying anything else. Avoiding the reality that you’re stepping out the door, and he’s still standing there— distant, closed off, and, for the first time, entirely unreadable to you.

His hands are tucked into his pockets, the tension in his jaw hard enough to snap if he moved the wrong way. The silence between you is loud, almost deafening, a total opposite of the usual banter that defines the strange rhythm you share. You can feel him trying to hold back, just as much as you are.

His gaze flickers down for a second, and then he looks back up, meeting your eyes, and for the briefest of moments, there’s something close to what looks like vulnerability, like he wants to say more but can’t. Like he’s trying to insert himself into your brain and figure out what’s going on in your head. He doesn’t reach for the words he’s dying to say, and you don’t either.

You shift on your feet as you feel your phone vibrate in your hand. The last thing you want to admit is just how much the silence between you has been eating at you.

“Have a good night,” he says, and his voice is tight, the words formal, distant—as if the slight tension in his shoulders is something he’s trying to hide.

You pause, staring at him for just a beat longer than is comfortable, and then you nod, your throat tight as you force out the words, “You too.”

And with that, you step past him, brushing so close that your shoulder grazes against his arm. You had almost convinced yourself that you’d made it past the worst of it, that you guys were back to normal. But then, just as you’re about to step out of his vicinity, you feel it.

His hand.

It’s quick, a sharp tug at your wrist that halts you in place. His grip is firm, but not aggressive— more like a desperate plea.

You freeze. Lando’s fingers wrap around your wrist with an intensity that almost makes you forget where you are. He doesn’t say anything at first. He doesn’t have to. His pulse is quick under your skin.

You turn to meet his gaze. His eyes are darker now, more intense, but there’s something softer too.

“There’s a spare key on entry table for you. Keep it.” 

The sentence lands like a stone, cold and distant, when you’re hoping for something else. You were hoping for an argument, a confession, an apology— but not this.

An apology? From Lando? You laughed to yourself, but its bitter and dies in your throat. It’s almost laughable, the thought go him apologizing, like you could ever expect him to admit fault in anything. He’s always had a way of deflecting, of twisting words until they meant something else, until he was the charming asshole again and you were left wondering if you’d imagined everything.

Lando never apologizes. He never needs to. That’s part of the game, part of the push and pull that you two share. You fight, you argue, you tear each other down in the best and worst ways, but somehow, you always find your way back to the same place. 

You nod, quick and sharp, a simple gesture to acknowledge the words, but it feels hollow.

“Don’t wait up,” You joke, the words coming out a little too forced, a way to reclaim some semblance of normalcy, erasing the awkward space with a quip.

Lando’s gaze softens just a fraction, a flicker of something familiar returning as his lips twitch into the faintest smirk. It’s not much—just the smallest shift— but it feels like a breath of air. 

“Yeah, as if,” he replies, the sarcasm back in full force.

And with that, you step into the night, the door clicking shut behind you.

-

The restaurant buzzes with life, the clink of silverware and hum of voices filling the space as you sit at the round table with your friends. The sun is high, glittering through the windows and casting warm, golden patches across the wooden table. It’s the perfect lunch spot, lively and bright— but all you can focus on is Lando’s gaze burning your skin whenever you aren’t looking.

You try to focus on the conversation, on the joke that your friend just cracked, but every time you glance up, Lando’s eyes are already on you. His jaw clenches just a little when he takes a sip of his drink, and you can see the tension in his posture.

Another gaze at Lando, and it’s like you’ve been slapped back into reality. His gaze flickers quickly before he focuses on his phone again. His thumb taps the screen with purpose, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the furrow in his brow. 

His fingers move quickly over the phone, but his mind is clearly elsewhere. Max chimes in then, pulling him deeper into a conversation.

Mia’s voice pulls you back, and you force yourself to focus on her.

“So, come on. Spill.” She urges, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “how was your date last week? We’re dying for more details.”

Pietra chimes in, her voice light and teasing. “Yeah, seriously. He was so hot. I can’t even—“ She catches herself, looking over at Max as he side eyes her. “Oh, you know I love you. Now hush.” Pietra waves him off playfully, but her eyes are still on you, expectant, waiting for you to continue. 

Lando’s still playing the part, pretending like he’s not listening, but he can feel the irritation stirring in his chest at the mere mention of your date.

“Well…” You swallow, trying to keep your tone light as you picked up your mimosa, taking a quick sip before placing it back on the table. “It was nice. We had dinner, talked a bit…” You trail off.

It’s not like it was a bad date—far from it— but the way Lando’s eyes keep flickering back to you, the way his jaw clenches just a little tighter, it’s like everything’s suddenly wrong.

“Nice? Just nice?” Mia’s voice pulls back, her expression teasing as she crosses her arms, clearly unimpressed with your vague answer. “Come on. We need more than that!”

Max’s gaze flicks to Lando, and you notice the way his eyes narrow slightly, that familiar edge to his expression that suggests he’s just as aware of the growing tension between the two of you. You can feel him pulling away from the conversation. His fingers tap once again on the rim of his glass, but it’s harder this time— almost angry.

He didn’t care. He told himself that a thousand times. He hated you, or at least he was supposed to.

He was supposed to laugh off the bickering, keep things casual. That’s what it was supposed to be with you. A dynamic filled with nothing but playful jabs, insults, the kind of messy, tangled friendship that made sense to no one but the two of you.

But now? Now, every glance from you, every word you said, twisted something inside of him. It was a slow burn, the kind that spread through him quietly but powerfully, a pressure building beneath his skin. He tried to ignore it, tried to turn his focus back to the conversation with Max, but all he could think about was the way your laugh echoed in the back of his mind as you chatted with the girls.

He doesn’t want to care, but he does. Why?

He’s supposed to hate you. He wants to hate you. So why does it feel like something else is gnawing at him instead?

“It’s not like it will last long,” Lando adds, the words like a bitter aftertaste. They sting in the way only a deliberate jab can, meant to sink into your skin and burn as they make their way under your ribs.

The moment they leave his mouth, a silence settles. He doesn’t want to see the hurt flicker across your face, doesn’t want to feel anything that might suggest he crossed a line. And yet, his pulse quickens, a tight knot of unease forming in the back of his throat.

“Seriously, Lando?” Mia’s voice cuts through the silence, her tone sharp and incredulous. She leans forward, clearly annoyed by the bite in his words. Pietra follows suit, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern.

Everyone knew that the two of you fought, but Lando was never a dick like this in front of everyone. Your fights were usually more playful, more teasing.

“It’s fine. Ignore him.” Your voice comes out a little too quick, a little too sharp, but you don’t care. You force a smile, though it feels brittle on your lips.

Just another stupid fight. The same back-and-forth you’ve been doing for forever.

But it’s not.

-

Mornings are routine. You both rise at your own pace, not a word exchanged. The sound of coffee brewing fills the kitchen as you both move in sync, neither of you needing to ask for the things you want— Lando’s mug always pulled from the top cupboard, your cereal bowl set in the same spot on the counter. You don’t look at each other, but the air between you feels…habitual.

Sometimes, Lando will pull the milk from the fridge and hand it to you with no words. You just move around each other, existing in the same space.

Evenings are a little different. Lando will crash onto the couch, usually with his headphones on, diving into whatever he’s binge-watching. You’ll be in the kitchen, making dinner, the clatter of utensils and the hum of the stove filling the air. 

Occasionally, you’ll both look up, catch each other’s eyes for split second, and then quickly look away.

Dinner, if it happens at the same time, is pretty quiet. Lando eats his food quickly, never really talking about the day. 

Tonight, was a little different.

You’re curled up on the couch, lost in your book, one leg tucked under as you read with a concentrated frown. Lando, on the other hand, is sprawled across the other end of the couch, remote in hand, eyes glued to the screen.

“So, what’s the book about this time?” Lando’s voice is playful. He’s not really looking at you, more like staring at the screen, but he knows you’ll respond. You always do.

You don’t look up, eyes scanning the page. “It’s about a woman who solves mysteries while also balancing her dysfunctional life. You wouldn’t understand.”

He scoffs, but there’s a smirk on his face. “What, like you solving mysteries? I can barely get you to figure out where I left the remote.”

You finally glance over the top of your book, narrowing your eyes at him.

He wants to kiss you in this moment. It’s like an itch under his skin. 

“I can find the remote just fine, thank you very much. It’s just that you leave it in the most random places.”

He turns to face you now, his expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “Yeah, because the fridge is totally where I’d put it.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you spend majority of the day looking for it only to find it buried under a pile of laundry.”

“Don’t even start with me about laundry, Lando,” you shoot back. “If you less time working out and binge-watching every season of whatever show you’re obsessed with this week, maybe the laundry wouldn’t look like a crime scene.”

His grin widens, clearly enjoying this. “Oh, so now I’m the problem? Maybe if you did laundry instead of curling up with your book every night, we wouldn’t have to live in a mountain of socks.”

You can’t help but laugh, lowering your book just enough to shoot him a playful glare. “Well, maybe if you didn’t leave half your wardrobe in the living room, I’d have a clean place to actually read.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot that this is your apartment too.” He says, raising a brow.

You roll your eyes, feeling your smile tug at your lips despite yourself. “I’ll be out of your hair in a week.”

A week. You’re leaving in a week. It’s so matter-of-fact, but in that moment, it lands like a punch to the gut.

Lando’s heart skips a beat at the thought. A week?

Did you get back together with your ex? Did you find a place so soon? A million questions ran through Lando’s brain.

“Wait, what?” His voice is quieter now, not his usual teasing tone.

You glance up at him, a raised eyebrow signaling curiosity. “What?”

“I—” Lando cuts himself off mid-sentence, the words faltering as he glances away, as if he's sorting through a million things in his mind, trying to make sense of it all. A quiet, nervous chuckle escapes him, but it’s strained, almost like he’s trying to laugh off something he doesn’t want to confront. “I mean… a week? Really?”

You pause for a moment, the question lingering in the air between you. You try to keep your expression neutral, but the unexpectedness of his reaction hits you harder than you want to admit. “Yeah. What’s the big deal?” you reply, tilting your head slightly, keeping your voice light, but the quiet edge of confusion still wraps around your words.

Lando hesitates again, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly uncomfortable in a way you don’t often see. He seems to be weighing whether he should say more, but the words slip out before he can stop them. “I don’t know. Just… don’t rush it, alright? I mean, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

The room feels suddenly smaller. His words, unguarded, hang in the air like a challenge to everything you thought you knew about the dynamic between you two. You stare at him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you see the vulnerability that always hides beneath his sarcasm and bravado. The surprise in your eyes is so clear, it almost hurts. What exactly is he saying right now?

Lando clears his throat, breaking the tension for a split second, but his gaze flickers anywhere but at you. He shifts awkwardly, his voice losing its usual edge as he continues, his words trailing off like he’s unsure how to finish the thought. “I mean, it’s not like you’re in my way here. It’s your choice, but…” His voice falters. His entire demeanor feels rawer than usual, like he's exposing something that wasn’t meant to see the light of day.

You bite your lip, trying to swallow the shock, trying to make sense of what he’s just said. Your mind is racing, caught between wanting to ask more, to make sure you didn’t misinterpret his words, but at the same time, something inside you is afraid of hearing too much.

Lando rubs the back of his neck, clearly frustrated by the silence that’s settled between you. His usual bravado is cracking, his carefully constructed walls slipping just a bit. “Look, forget it,” he mutters, quickly backpedaling, the familiar deflection creeping back into his voice. But there’s a tremor in it, a slight crack that betrays the vulnerability he’s trying so desperately to hide. “It’s nothing.”

The weight of the moment lingers between you, heavy and thick. You’re fighting to keep your composure, but his words are chipping away at the routine, at the easy distance you’ve always maintained. You can feel something shifting in him, and if you're being honest, it shifts in you too.

You can't help but tease him, just to deflect from the heaviness he’s left hanging in the air. “Is the Lando Norris telling me that he’s actually okay with me in his personal space?” you ask, feigning shock, raising your brows in exaggerated disbelief. “Well then, I must! Thank you, Your Highness,” you add with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

But it’s a moment too late—Lando's lips twitch, and that familiar smile finally breaks through. It’s small, but it’s real. The tension dissipates, but something else remains. He looks at you, and for just a heartbeat, he lets his guard down, dropping the sarcasm. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, half smiling. “But I guess I’ll survive you for a little while longer.”

-

You don’t know when it happened, but somewhere between the third and fourth drink, the bitterness in your chest had started to settle into something darker, something more dangerous. You glance back toward to reserved booth, just for a moment—just enough to catch the scene that you already knew was unfolding, but still had to see for yourself.

Lando’s laugh, that easy, carefree laugh, rang out over the pumping music of the bar. He was practically hanging all over her—his hand on her thigh, his body pressed against her’s. It should’ve been something you could brush off. Something you used to actually pay no mind to. 

You turned away quickly, trying to focus on the glass in front of you. The guy next to you, some acquaintance from the group, grinned at you. “Another round?” His voice was too loud, but it didn’t matter.

You nodded, trying to shake off the discomfort eating at you. “Sure, why not?”

The bartender slid the next round across the counter, and you downed the glass almost immediately, the burn of the alcohol hitting your throat like it might do something— like it might fix something.

Nick’s hand is now on your back, guiding you through the mass of bodies as you both step onto the semi-crowded dance floor. His fingers are light against your skin, but there’s something about his touch that feels different. But tonight, you don’t care. It’s not about him; its about the fact you cant stop thinking about the way Lando looked at the girl in the booth. The way he ignored you, like you were scum on the bottom of his shoe almost.

You find yourself pressing closer to Nick as the beat drops, your body swaying with the music, the alcohol in your system making everything feel a little more intense. He grins, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you in. His lips find yours before you even know what’s happening—fast, heated.

For a second, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, trying to silence the voice in the back of your head. 

But then, a forceful shove breaks through the fog, and you stumble back, your breath catching in your throat as a hand reaches for you, steadying you. And you find yourself staring at the angry face of Lando.

“What the hell?” Nick mutters, his voice low but full of confusion.

Lando doesn’t even spare him a glance, his eyes fixed on you. He looks pissed—furious, even—and there’s something dangerous in the way his eyes bore into yours.

“What the fuck is this?” Lando’s voice is tight, barely controlled, as his eyes finally flick to Nick.

“We’re just having fun,” you say, your voice a little too sharp, too defensive. 

Lando’s eyes narrow, his posture rigid, but he doesn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze lingers back to you like he’s trying to figure you out.

You can’t help but feel a little thrill in the way his attention is all on you.

“You don’t need to do this,” he mutters, his words a mix of frustration and something else—something you can’t decipher.

You know what he’s talking about. The drink in your hand, the kiss with Nick. It’s messy. It’s reckless. But Lando, of all people, should know that you’ve been drowning lately. That your recent break-up—hell everything—has been eating at you, pulling you under. And crashing at his place? It wasn’t just because you had nowhere else to go—it was because, your friends knew you needed someone around.

You try to look away, but you can’t. His eyes hold you captive, and for a moment, you swear you see something break behind them—longing? You’re not sure.

“I can do whatever I want,” you say, your tone more bitter than you intended, but you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

Lando doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. His breath is warm against your skin as he leans down towards you. 

“Yeah, I guess you can,” he says softly, his voice almost dangerous. He looks down at you for a long, drawn-out second, his fingers flexing at his sights, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out and drag you out of here. But instead, he steps back, his gaze softening, his jaw relaxing ever so slightly.

He gives you one last, searing look, before he turns and walks off, leaving you standing there, your heart racing, your mind reeling.

Nick glances at you, clearly unsettled by the scene, but you barely notice.

The music continues to pulse around you, but all you can hear is the sound of your own breath and the quiet pounding of your heart.

-

The night air is cool against your skin, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement as you and Lando stumble back toward the apartment. You’re both slightly drunk, more than a little tipsy, still in that pleasantly buzzed state where everything feels lighter, more carefree.

You both move to the kitchen, in dire need of a snack to soak up the alcohol. He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching as you rummage through the fridge.

“You going to see Nick again?” He asks, eyes still on you.

“Yeah, I might,” you reply trying to sound casual, but theres an edge to your voice that you can’t hide. “What’s it to you?”

He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of something passing though his eyes. None of which you see, you’re too focused on scanning the fridge. “Nothing. Just…” He begins, struggling to come up with a reason.

“I’m just having fun, Lando. I’m not yours to keep tabs on.” You turn to face him now, leaving the fridge wide open as you bask in its light.

The words are sharper than you intended, but they’re out before you can stop them.

Lando stands there, his expression unreadable, before he finally uncrosses his arms. He takes a slow step forward, his gaze flicking down for just a moment before he looks back up at you, his voice low. “I didn’t say you were.”

Lando swore he could’ve passed out right then and there. Not because of what you said, but because of the overwhelming sense of deja-vu that washed over him. He blinked, the scene in front of him shifting for a moment, and he was back there— a year ago, in the same kitchen, the same familiar silence between you two.

You stood there, just like now, same expression in your eyes, only this time there was no pizza sauce on the corner of your lips. But still, he remembered it. 

He swallowed hard, trying to shake the image away, trying to clear his head, trying to prevent the hardening of his cock as he thought of your tongue wrapped around his fingers with an eagerness.

He dropped his head back, pinching his eyes shut, with a low groan.

He’s so fucked.

-

The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the sparkling sea as the yacht cut through the water effortlessly. The salty breeze whipped through your hair, making you laugh as you leaned over the railing, the fresh air filling your lungs. You’ve been needing this— a break. Just a few days to recharge with friends, laughter, and some much-needed distance from everything else.

You were surprised to see how well it was going. Sure, you’d been hesitant about this trip, especially with lando on board. But so far? Everything felt…easy. You caught Lando’s gaze from across the deck as he cracked open a cold drink, his usual smirk pulling at his lips as he noticed you watching. His swim shorts hung low on his hips, his tanned skin glowing seamlessly in the sun with unbuttoned white linen shirt slung over his shoulders.

It was days of nothing but sunbathing, dinners, and resting. It was probably the most carefree you have ever felt. 

The music from the speakers drifted lazily across the deck, and you caught yourself moving to they rhythm of it, not caring if anyone was watching. The sun was working its magic, loosening every knot of tension in your body. 

“We should definitely black out tonight,” Pietra laughs, bringing a shot of tequila to her lips and then carelessly throwing her hands in the air to the sound of the music.

Lando couldn’t help but stare at the way your eyes crinkled as you smiled, and his chest tightened. 

“You in, Lando?” She teased, her grin mischievous as the rather large group of friends littered the boat in shouts and squeals.

Lando blinked, a little too lost in the way you tilted your head back, taking the tequila shot and laughing freely. He cleared his throat, “Yeah, sure, why not?” He muttered, his lips slowly curling into a small smile.

-

The night had stretched on longer than you’d anticipated, the laughter and music fading into the background as the alcohol worked its way through you. The yacht was quiet now, with only the sound of the waves gently lapping against the hull. The rest of the group had scattered, some slumped on the couches, others finding spots to crash under the stars. You, however, were a little too tipsy to be completely asleep.

The hallway was dimly lit as you made your way past the scattered rooms. You had intended to go to your own—at least, thats what you thought until you remembered someone had made themselves at home there, sprawled across your bed with no intention of moving.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, peeping your head into all the rooms until you finally found an empty one. Without so much though, you pushed it open, your movements uncoordinated, and stepped inside before throwing yourself happily onto the empty bed.

“I always knew you’d end up in my bed.” 

You barely registered the sight before sitting up with a small shriek that was quickly cut off as Lando grasped your wrist pulling you towards him and covering your mouth. “God, can you ever just be quiet.”

The room was bathed in soft shadows, the low hum of the yacht's engine barely reaching your ears as the night stretched on, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. The alcohol buzz still lingered in your veins, but the proximity of Lando, the heat of his body near yours, made it hard to focus on anything else.

You blinked again, trying to shake off the fog, but his figure still stood out clearly in the dim light. His shirt carelessly thrown across the room and his shorts discarded at the foot of the bed only made him feel more real, more present in this moment. The way his body filled the space, the way his eyes burned into you—he was magnetic, and you couldn’t look away.

Lando caught your gaze, his expression lazy but full of something else, something you couldn’t quite name. A smirk played at the edges of his lips as he leaned back, watching you carefully, his posture casual but his eyes sharp. 

“Someone’s in my room.”

Your heart was racing, and for a second, you couldn’t remember why you had come here in the first place. Not with the way he was looking at you. His voice, low and teasing, sent a shiver down your spine. But you couldn’t quite process it—everything in your head seemed clouded, tangled between confusion and something else that pulled at your chest.

You opened your mouth to speak again but the words were caught in your throat, your body reacting instead. You simply sat there, feeling the weight of his gaze, and the distance between you both seemed to collapse.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your moment of hesitation. “Right,” he murmured, pushing himself up onto his elbows, the light catching his bare chest as he leaned forward slightly. “And here I thought you just wanted in my bed.”

Your stomach flipped at his teasing tone, but you didn’t have the energy to argue or deflect. You were too caught in the pull of the moment. Too caught in the way his voice sent shivers through your body, the way his eyes held yours so intently.

“I didn’t…” you began, but your voice faltered, and instead of finishing the sentence, you just let out a long, unsteady breath. Without thinking, you collapsed next to him on the bed, your body sinking into the soft sheets. The coolness of the fabric did nothing to offset the heat that spread through you.

He didn’t say anything right away, but his gaze lingered on you, intense and searching.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you muttered, trying to steady your breath, the words coming out more like a half-baked excuse than a statement of fact.

Lando didn’t answer immediately. He stayed silent for a moment, his eyes studying you, weighing something in the space between you. Then, his lips parted into a slow, deliberate grin.

“It means nothing,” he agreed softly, his voice barely above a whisper. But the way he looked at you, the way his eyes darkened just the slightest bit, made it clear that he knew it meant something—even if neither of you were ready to admit it.

-

The thing about Lando is…his body has a mind of its own in the early hours of the morning. The sun has barely peeped over the horizon when he feels the throb of his cock against the band of his underwear. The pressure of something pressed against him that he involuntarily flexes his hips forward, a soft groan pushing past his lips.

You stirred slowly, on the verge of breaking a sweat from how warm it was. Why was it so warm?

You felt hot all over. Your nipples were hard, the pressure of a bulge grinding into your backside, and the warmth of a body brewed a seeping hot energy low in your tummy. 

Your brain was foggy, barely aware of what was happening. All you knew is that you needed this. 

A hand caressed your waist, slipping under your t-shirt, grazing along the softness of your skin until it reached the cusp of your breast, the pinching of one of your nipples had you pushing back into his groin with a soft moan. 

It took a few moments for your body to fully understand what was happening. For your brain to catch up with your body as Lando slowly grinded his hips into you, his fingers toying with your nipples.

You both were too sleepy to care. Too horny to care.

“Wait,-“

“Shh.” Lando cuts you off, trailing his hand up to your neck, and squeezing it just enough to elicit a soft moan from you. “No thoughts. Just feel, yeah?”

Yes.

“This means nothing.” You moaned, your hand reaching behind your head, grasping the back of Lando’s neck to pull him closer, to cradle you closer.

His heavy breaths were hot in your ear, and only made you burn hotter. 

He slipped his hand down further, his fingers trailing down and slipping past the band of your sleep shorts. It wasn’t until you felt his fingers press small circles to your lace covered core that it had you arching your backside even harder against his groin, your fingers tightening over the curls that fell on the back of his neck.

“This means nothing, yeah?” His voice was hot in your ear.

 “My God, you’re fucking soaked.” He let out a guttural groan.

His fingers trail back and forth, spreading your slick, before he pushes a finger in. You’re a mess. Nothing but moans as he pulls his finger out, coating your clit, and pushing back in.

“Bet I could slip right into you,” His words are broken by heavy breaths, like he’s struggling to control himself. “Take m’cock so easily. Would stretch you nice and good, mm.”

You outright cried at his vulgar words, slipping your hand from the nape of his neck to the waistband of your sleep shorts and underwear, slipping them down enough to leave you bare. The cool air of the room did nothing for you as your skin burned against his touch. His fingers pushing in and out of your core with such a lazy pace, it had you pushing your hips onto his fingers to try to speed it up.

“Tsk, tsk.” He clicked his tongue. “So impatient.”

“Now look who needs to shut up,” You knit your eyebrows together in frustration.

“More.” You needed more. 

He pulls his fingers from you, slipping his underwear low enough to finally free his cock from the tight fabric that was nearly suffocating him. “So demanding.”

Pumping himself a few times, you feel him slip his cock in between the folds of you, coating himself in you. Teasing you.

“Lando, I swear to-“ 

He pushes himself in a single thrust, bottoming out as you both exhaled sharply. 

It started out with slow and lazy thrusts, both of you nothing but groans and sweaty bodies pressed together. The sun began peeping through the tiny window of the bedroom, casting a soft glow on both of you, tangled in the white sheets of his bed.

“That’s it…feel so good f’me,” His voice was like pure sex in your ear as he slowly thrust his hips into you.

Feeling your heat wrapped around him was something he never want to end. How your perfect cunt swallowed him up.

He hummed in your ear, pressing hot open mouth kisses to the crevice of your exposed neck for him as you laid on your side. So compliant.

It reached a point where neither of you could no longer take it. The force of Lando’s hips driving harder with each calculated thrust he could maneuver as he pushed your shoulder down into the mattress, hovering over your backside he fucked into you hard.

His hips were merciless, like he couldn’t slow down if he wanted to. You felt too good. You were too good.

His hand pressed into the back of your skull, pushing your face into the mattress as it muffled out your moans.

“You take it so nice,” He groans, his head lulled forward as he leans over your frame. Sweat begins to perspire on his skin, the veins in his neck more prominent as he works himself towards the edge.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Full speed with no warning as you spasm around his cock, sending him tumbling over the edge to his as he pulls out quickly, hot spurts of it landing onto your lower back.

“Christ,” He breathes through a small laugh.

You lay limply on the bed, your eyes following as Lando collapses next to you, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You open your mouth to say something as it finally dawns on you what just occurred but Lando cuts you off.

“Don’t make it a bigger deal than it needs to be,” He stares at the ceiling as he mutters the words, his eyes half-lidded in contentment.

You close your mouth.

“No thoughts, just touch.” You repeat his previous words. Like it’s some silent agreement. Some inside joke.

-

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a fucking car,” Max groans as he flops down onto one of the cushioned seats at one of the yacht’s dining tables.

You glance around, scanning the whereabouts of everyone, and everyone looks like a complete train wreck, to say the least.

The sky was a perfect shade of blue, stretching out endlessly above you, and for a moment you just smiled to yourself.

Lando was sprawled out across from you, lounging on one of the nearby deck chairs. He had on his sunglasses, his legs stretched out and his shirt unbuttoned, looking as laid-back as ever. His usual smirk was there, though this time is was softened.

Pietra called out from across the deck, her voice awfully cheerful compared to everyone who was hungover. “Let’s have a fucking day!”

Max groaned, burying his head into the crevices of his folded arms. “It’s gonna be a long fucking day, innit?”

-

The heat of the afternoon sun and the gentle rocking of the yacht had you longing for a cool dip in the ocean. After hours of lounging on the deck, you and Lando exchanged glances, both of you clearly getting restless as most of the others napped or played card games at the table.

“You know,” Lando started, his voice playful, “the water’s looking pretty great right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look but also nodding your head in agreement. You stood up, slipping your white cover up over your head with ease, before striding toward the edge of the deck, your feet already starting to get warm from the sun-kissed wood.

The skimpy black string bikini leaves little to the imagination as you wiggle out of the cover-up, and Lando swears he might just collapse at the sight of it.

Lando follows, a wide grin growing as he matches your pace, before reaches for the back of your legs and slips you over his shoulder with ease. 

“Lando!” You shout. But it’s no use. You don’t even get to finish yelling his name before you are sent over the deck’s edge, plunging into the water with Lando glued to your body. “You’re insane!” You sputter, wiping salt water from your eyes, and though you’re furious, you can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

“What? You weren’t gonna jump in?” He teases, his voice light, but theres a glint in his eye.

You both tread the water for a moment, floating side by side, as the sound of the ocean mutes the sound of your friends yelling over a deck of cards. 

Lando smirks, tilting his head, his usual dark unruly curls, now slightly lightened from the days spent in the sun, is slicked back and dripping from the dive. 

Your stomach flips as he draws a little closer, and for a moment you can’t help but think back to earlier this morning. The way he spread you out and filled you with his cock. 

Lando reaches out, his fingers brushing your skin lightly, sending a shiver through you that you can’t quite shake off. 

He notices the glaze in your eyes, the way the goosebumps form on your skin from his touch, and the way your nipples have pebbled through the thin material of your bikini. He leans in a little, just enough that his lips hover near your ear. His breath warm against your skin as he speaks, his tone almost a whisper, “Can’t stop thinking about earlier. Your cute little moans. Need to hear more of ‘em.”

Your breath hitches in your chest, and you feel a rush of heat spread through you.

“Come to my room tonight, yeah?”

-

You really don’t know what you were doing. The soft creak of the yacht’s deck is the only sound that accompanies you as you slip down the hallway, heart pounding faster than normal. The dim lighting in the hallway barely registers in your mind as you stop in front of Lando’s door, a quiet exhale leaving your lips. You’d convinced yourself you were just going to sneak in, just to talk for a little while, but now you’re here. Again.

Everyone left to go out on the land, while you and Lando decided to hang back. No one suspected a thing, not that it mattered if they did.

Lando shifts on the bed, his eyes still fixed on the TV screen, as you quietly close the door behind you. You take a few steps forward, just close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating from where he’s lying. 

Lando finally glances over, a lazy grin spread across his face as he watches you slip into his bed. “Wanna watch a movie?”

You nod, making yourself comfortable, leaning back onto the bed and propping yourself up on your elbow. Lando all but gives you one minute, before he’s pulling you closer, and tucking you under his arm. His body heat mingles with yours, but it doesn’t feel awkward. It just feels natural—like this is the way it was almost meant to be.

-

“You seriously think that was a good ending?” Lando’s voice is incredulous. “That was such a cop-out! It doesn’t make any sense. That’s just lazy!”

“Lazy?” You laugh. “It’s a story about life, Lando. About how not everything can be wrapped up in a nice little bow. Sometimes, you don’t get closure. Sometimes you don’t get any answers. That’s the point!”

Lando pushes himself up. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. Whats the point of it all if the story doesn’t actually go anywhere? It just—ends.”

Your heart is pounding now, you don’t even know how something as simple as a movie ending resulted in you two fighting. But it was no surprise. You guys loved to argue.

It was almost like your own version of….foreplay?

“You’re so stubborn,” You spit, releasing a sarcastic laugh. “You can’t just let something be, can you? You always have to control it, make it fit your idea of how things should go.”

Lando reaches towards you, his eyes never leaving yours, as he corners you up against the plush pillows of his bed. “And you think you’re any different?” His voice is low, dangerously calm now. “You think you have all the answers to who I am, hm?”

“Fine,” You snap. His chest is just centimeters from yours. “Maybe I don’t. But at least I’m not acting like the world owes me something. Maybe that’s why you’re always so angry.”

He leans forward, his breath hitting your face. “I’m angry?” Lando’s voice drops to a whisper. “Maybe I’m angry because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing when it comes to you.”

Your heart skips a beat. You blink, suddenly aware of just how close you are, how he’s looking at you with something completely different in his eyes now.

“Maybe I’m angry because the only time I’ve managed to get your slutty little mouth to shut up was by having my fingers in it. Or with my cock shoved up your cunt.”

And then, without warning, Lando moves. It’s fast, but not reckless. He reaches for you, one hand grasping the back of your neck as he leans in, just close enough to where your lips can brush against each others.

“Tell me you want this again.” His voice is low, rough.

Your breath catches in your throat. You try to speak, but the words come out as nothing but a shaky exhale. You want to tell him yes, to beg him to close the distance, but you’re paralyzed. Is this really happening…again?

Lando brushes his lips against the apples of your cheeks before bringing them to the crevice of your ear.

“C’mon, tell me you want this as badly as I do, yeah?” 

You nod. “Please.”

And then, in a blur of movement, he’s there—his lips against yours, hard, desperate, and all-consuming.

It’s not a kiss; it’s a collision— a meeting of two forces that have been fighting against each other for far too long. His mouth is warm, and when it presses against yours, its with such an intensity that you feel the world shift. He’s taking, but he’s giving just as much. His hand slips down to the crevice of your waist, squeezing whatever he can get his hands on.

The kiss deepens, and its not soft anymore—its needy, frantic, each of you chasing something that’s been building for ages. The fingers of his other hand curl into your hair, tugging you even closer, until you feel like you might melt into him. You respond in kind, hands moving to his chest, fingers slipping beneath his shirt, your palms feeling the heat of his skin. You want more.

You’re not quite sure how it happened but one moment you’re pressed against the plush material of the mattress clothed, and the next your clothes are strewn across the room with Lando pressed between your legs.

Lando lowers his face, and you’re happy to find that the curls of his hair tickle at your face when his lips meet yours again.

He kisses you like he has all the time in the world; like he should be doing nothing else but kissing you for the rest of his life. His hands move to your hips as his tongue glides our from his mouth in-between your lips, to meet with yours. 

You taste sweet against his tongue and your gasp is muffled by his tongue as he presses his hardened cock right into your warm center. You tighten your legs around his hips, and buck up against him with a small moan stuck in your throat.

He pulls apart from your lips, much to his dismay, but still hovers over you and trails his lips across your face, down to your neck. 

“You argue too much with this mouth,” He mutters, raising his arm over his head to remove the black t-shirt that adorned his body. 

You feel flustered and hot all over as you nod in agreement, pulling at the fabric of your lacy bra that was left on.

His thumb traces the pout of your lips, a dribble of saliva smearing over them from your recent make-out. “Should put it to other uses, yeah?”

Your eyes lock with his as you nod. Utterly speechless but the clench you feel in your stomach and the heat between your legs more than enough for you to realize just how turned on you are.

“Would you like that, baby?” Lando lets the pet name slip mindlessly, it stirs a swirl of butterflies in your tummy. “Just let me shove my cock in your mouth whenever I need you to shut up? Anything to fill your throat up, yeah?”

You audibly moaned at the thought. Yes.

The smirk that tugs on his mouth is almost lethal and you swear he might just be your undoing in this moment.

“No thoughts. Just touch?”

“No thoughts. Just touch.” You confirmed.

[cream1111]

🍎 phone call. . .ᐟᅟ

⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀caleb/mc!reader, 1.6k, incest, somno, dubcon, mutual masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping. @rukii-afterdark , order up! ! part 1

ring ring . . .

you jolt up, eyes popping open before they settle onto your phone, with a groan you pull it closer. squinting  your  sleepy  eyes  at  the  bright  screen, you see the caller's name. caleb. you sigh, it's  1am,  much  later  than  he  usually  calls. you answer and let the phone fall next to your head.

“gege,  why  are  you  calling  so  late?”  you  whine, fighting back a yawn.

“aw,  did  i  wake  you? you sound like you're half asleep”  caleb  sounds teasing but sympathetic, and  slightly  out  of  breath...  maybe  he's  settling  into  bed  himself.

“yeah  a  bit,"  you groan a bit, your annoyed tone remaining playful "but  it's  ok…  what's  up?”  you  ask,  closing  your  eyes,  and  snuggling  back  into  your  bed.  letting  your  phone  rest  on  the  pillow  next  to  your head. 

“it's nothing serious,  i just missed  you,  l⎯”  his  breath  hitches. you  peek  your  eyes  open and  glance  at  your  phone, wondering if the call dropped. you don't have the volume very high, so you're not sure. you  pull  it  closer,  it looks like the call is still going. you press it against your ear.  it's not entirely silent, there's  a  shuffling  sound,  but it's  faint.

“are  you  ok?”  you  murmur,  confused. the shuffling seems to stop, but it's hard to tell under the barely audible droning static his mic is picking up. you let your eyes drift shut again.

“sorry,  yeah,  just,  long  day.”  he  replies  quickly,  his  voice  sounding  more  strained.  “what  about  you?  miss  me?” 

“of  course,  everyday,  you  know  that.” you'd roll your eyes if they weren't already closed. as much as you love talking to caleb, you really are tired. "listen, it's late⎯"

"i know, pipsqueak. i'm sorry for waking you. i just wanted to hear your voice." there's a tinge of urgency to his voice. you would've hurried to hang up if you didn't notice it. it makes you feel a bit guilty. he pauses, you wait to see if he'll say more. "how about this, how about you just go back to sleep but keep me on call. hearing your sleepy breathing always puts me at ease"

is that all?

"you're so cheesy," you tease. then you hum, pretending to think about it. but you're just as bad as he is, you can't ever say no to him. "yeah, fine, but i'm really going to bed, you better not keep talking to me. i won't even answer, i'll just snore"

he let's out a soft chuckle. "that's fine, snore all you like" he replies. "sleep well" he whispers, honey sweet. he's always been so sweet with you.

"goodnight" you mumble, already feeling the drowsiness washing over you. you try to quell the small excitement that caleb even wants to do something so lovey dovey with you. it warms your heart a bit, not that you'd admit it out loud. even though it's not that much of a leap, you've fallen asleep together so many times, something about it feels a little more intimate. that he misses you enough to try and pretend you're both sharing a bed. it makes it easier to pretend he is here, he's home and he's with you, keeping you warm.

your breathing evens out, you almost forget you're on the phone.

. . .

through your sleep you hear something, softly, distant. you focus, waking just a bit. you're alone. but you remember you fell asleep on the phone with caleb. is he talking? something woke you, you're pretty sure. you rouse yourself, focusing, listening.

nothing. it might've been in your dream. though you figure you'll scold him anyways, tell him to keep quiet or you'll mute him. but then you hear it again, clearer now.

"h-hah..."

no way. there's no way, is he⎯

"ah⎯ fuck"

you freeze. a blush heating up your face. you shift closer, turning up the volume as quietly as you can. just to be sure. you hear the sound of something moving, fast, wet. he's...

he's jacking off. it sounds so obvious now. the soft panting, the rhythmic sound of his hand on his well lubricated cock. a heat surrounds you, you feel like you're suffocating at the implication. there's also a gnawing unease, that you're misinterpreting this and there's some reasonable explanation that you are blind to. maybe you're just hearing what you want to hear.

you've always wanted him, more than a sister should. you rationalize it sometimes, you're not siblings, not really. it's not hard to want him, it seems just about every girl at his school would agree with you. but the shame helps you weigh those thoughts down, tuck them away in a deep corner of your mind. your relationship is unconventional, but you're just close, you just love each other, would do anything for each other, there's nothing wrong with it. you've held onto this justification for a long time.

but maybe it's a lot simpler than that.

you're not entirely sure about what's happening, if he's doing what you think he's doing. but… it couldn't hurt to pretend.

your rationalizations fade, you push the shame to the side, and you dip your fingers, along your chest, slowly, savoring the feeling. focusing on the panting, the faint sound of his hand.

your fingers dance along your skin, you're teasing yourself, until you slip them past your pajamas, over your panties. you palm yourself, rubbing, imagining the sweet friction was against him, anywhere — his hand, his thigh, his face. you realize, rather quickly, a wet spot has already formed, and you flush, feeling embarrassed with yourself.

did just the thought of him, the sound of him, do this to you?

when did you become so dirty.

you can't help the soft noise that leaves your lips at your discovery, and you realize suddenly that caleb quiets on the other the line.

you pause as well. holding your breath. for a second you can't hear anything. does he think you're awake? does he think you're doing the same thing? does he want to end the call?

"f-fuck..." he moans out, the sounds from before continue, faster, more enthusiastic. you're not sure what he thinks, but whatever it is, he's keeping it to himself.

the idea of him getting more excited, it lights a fire in you. you rub yourself faster. you try to be quiet, you really do, but you can't help the huffs and sighs that leave your lips. it's not that obvious, you think. but caleb seems to get more eager with every tiny sound you make. it's good incentive.

you can't help but think about the situation, both of you touching yourselves while on the phone, not acknowledging it, leaving room for plausible deniability. the idea that you're reading this wrong sends a shiver down your spine.

“ngh.. please” he whispers, barely there. and you don’t know what he’s begging for but you want to give it to him. you rub harder, then sigh in frustration. it's not enough. you flip, shifting onto your stomach, trying your hardest to stay quiet. you place a pillow between your legs, and waste no time before grinding against it.

you huff, loving the feeling. even if you're misunderstanding this, you like pretending. that it was his warm body heating you up, making you feel good. with your phone placed next to your ear, you imagine he was there, groaning behind you, just out of sight, touching himself for you.

you let out a whimper at the thought, a little louder. his response is immediate, a low groan. to your surprise, he speaks.

"you⎯ mm... you must be having a nice dream, pipsqueak."

you bite your lip and keep still at his words. does he want you to respond? does he really think you're still sleeping? you don't want to acknowledge it. you continue, quieter, a little shy. you don't want the illusion shattered. grinding your hips into the mattress, desperate.

you imagine his body, and it's not hard. you've memorized the feeling of his frame against yours. he's pressing into you, in time with his groans, you move at the same pace, whimpering when you buck back against the empty air. but you pull yourself back into your fantasy, he's there, his soft sounds are for you, only you.

"fuck," he hisses out, seeming to bite back the sound.

it's becoming too much, your mind is getting so cloudy, reason and shame seem like distant concepts. in this moment, it’s just the pleasure between you two, his touch, his kiss, his body, him.

"i'm— i'm gonna-" his whispers spur you over the edge.

you can barely hear his grunts as he releases with you. your mind goes blank. you don't bother with being quiet, couldn't if you wanted to. you rut helplessly, greedily, panting and whimpering all the while. as satisfaction washing over you. he hums, before letting out a satisfied sigh himself, and you smile sleepily into your pillow.

but as your heartbeat slows into a regular rhythm, and your face cools down, you're left with a pit in your stomach. the room feels colder, the call is quiet, the guilt comes rushing back all at once with nothing to keep it at bay. did you two really just do that? were you really that reckless?

what are you going to do in the morning?

"shit, i made a mess." he mumbles, but he doesn't sound too upset about it. in fact he sounds a little smug. you don't reply, but it calms you a bit, brings you comfort. a vague acknowledgement at this new game you two are playing. with all it's plausible deniability. you decide you'll follow his lead.

so when he yawns, you let the sound soothe you, you let sleep surround you. you leave your shame to him. he's always been the source, he can shoulder it for you.

it's only fair anyways, you were just sleeping, and he's the one who called you.

he made the mess, he can decide if he wants to clean it up.

[carnations-fixations]

God, listened to something the other night and I can't stop thinking about like, working a terrible office job an just totally zoning out for an hour, playing solitaire or tetris on your computer until your boss calls you into her office

And you're just like oh fuck oh fuck she's gonna fire me oh shit oh shit-

Then you finally get into her office and she's sitting at her desk, rubbing her temple and staring at her computer with pure fucking disdain

You manage to squeak out a small "You wanted to see me?" And she looks up, her face relaxing almost imperceptibly. She tells you to sit and you do, not giving your obedience a second thought. You're still terrified you'll be out of a job.

"This meeting is killing me, and I know you're not doing any work in there, so you're going to stay here with me until it's over."

You look at her confused.

"I've seen you check me out more than enough times by now, love. Now, you can absolutely walk back out that door and keep not-working, I assure you no one's stopping you, or you can stay here and earn a little bonus."

Now you understand what's happening. She points to the floor next to her and you stand, walking over and kneeling. You think about leaving. You think about quitting. But she's right, you've been very attracted to her since the moment you saw her, and you struggle to keep your eyes off her body. So maybe this isn't so bad

She starts by just petting your hair as you sit there, staring forward and feeling a cocktail of anxiety, fear, and excitement bubbling in your chest. Then she gets even more bored, and slowly turns her chair so that you're facing each other instead of being side by side

"Last chance," She says, staring lasers into your skull. You can't bring yourself to meet her gaze, but you stay right where you are, obediently making your allegiance clear.

"Good girl," She says, opening her legs. She puts your head between her thighs, not taking off her pants, at least not yet. You finally look up at her, and she's staring at you with the most intense adoration you've ever been subject to. She's surprisingly gentle, simply petting your hair and looking down at you. Her pants are starting to bulge, the sight of you between her legs enough to get her aroused.

You feel daring enough to, while keeping eye contact, kiss her inner thigh. She grins and nods.

"Go on, doll."

Your chest feels like it's wrapped around a nuclear core. Jesus Christ this is hot- you look away, blushing profusely, and she slaps you. Not exceedingly hard, but it stings and sends a message.

"Eyes up here, doll."

You nod again, looking back up at her and placing gentle kisses on her thighs, moving higher... higher... until her grip on your hair becomes somewhat sadistic, pushing you closer to her now-prominent bulge.

You kiss and nuzzle and- god she smells fucking good- it's already enough to get you feeling high off her scent. She nods and pets you, pushing you down, although you don't need it. You'd already be grinding your face against her regardless.

Finally, you get brave, and reach up to her belt.

"That's it, dolly, go ahead- You know how to please Mommy, don't you~?"

God- No one's really talked to you like this before, and it makes your head swim, forgetting the inappropriate nature of all of this. All you want is to make her happy- You undo her belt with shaking hands and unzip her pants, just pulling them apart enough to get to what you need-

She's nice enough to help you pull her panties down, and you finally have access to her long, throbbing cock. A sound escapes you, like an excited squeak.

"Aww, little puppy wants a treat?"

You feel hot and fuzzy and strange and all you can think about is sucking Mommy's cock like a good little whore- you don't even know where these impulses come from. At this point, you don't care. You just inhale and let the scent of her musk erase all your thoughts.

"Open."

You obey.

She lowers herself onto your tongue.

"Suck."

You obey.

She pushes your head down, lower, until you're gagging harshly.

"Good fuckin' girl- Mnh--fuck, you're not too bad at this, I should keep you around-- nnNNgh-"

Hearing her voice break only makes your mind break double, looking up at her and sucking like your life is on the line, She bites back loud moans, dictating your pace with a hand in your hair. As she starts to get rougher and rougher, you can't help but feel so, so needy- hitting your uvula and making you gag, something you never thought you'd like, is like heaven in her hands.

"Mmn-- God you're such a good little whore for Mommy- NHfh--"

The praise only makes you more excited, and you find yourself starting to grind on her wing-tip Oxford's, whining on her cock. She doesn't notice, too distracted by your mouth, she starts to roughly fuck your face, hold you steady as she bucks her hips.

You feel her tense, and you whine, pushing yourself down all the way as she cums down your throat. The noise you make is depraved, and she responds with a low, gutteral groan, holding you down and breathing heavily.

Finally, she let's you up, her seed dripping down your chin from what you couldn't swallow. She takes her finger and runs it up your chin, gathering up the string that's fallen out, and shoves it in your mouth.

"Good fucking girl, perfect for Mommy... Now, clean her off."

You lick and suck at the tip of her limp cock, cleaning off all of the cum you can before putting her dick away. You're still grinding on her shoe, not even really thinking about it, but you're making noises that tip her off, and now that you're not choking on her cock you notice how close you are.

"Aww, little slut got so worked up she couldn't help herself, huh?"

You nod, whining and holding onto her leg.

"Are you close, doll?"

You nod again.

"Go ahead baby, keep going. I want you to cum for Mommy, okay? Just keep going and say Mommy's name when you cum, doll"

You nod again, quickly and appreciatively, grinding and whimpering as you feel your orgasm flood closer. You manage to whine out a single word as you cum, ruining yourself in her office.

"Mnhhh- Mm-Monmy--!!"

She pets your hair and smiles down at you, clearly pleased at your obedience as you ruin yourself on her shoe.

Well, now there's a problem. You're panting and shaking on the floor, covered in her cum and your own, and you still have another 3 hours of work.

"You can clean up in my office's bathroom, darling, take your time. I want you to finish out the day in that skirt, though. Some people have been getting a little too friendly with my doll, and they need to be reminded who you belong to."

You mumble out a slurred "Yes Mommy" as you sit limp against her leg, catching your breath.

Something tells you this isn't a one time deal.

[kuronarnze]

a/n: okay, i randomly had an idea, im kinda obssesed with this hot German dude, heh. His background story is so sad tho?? Like what the helll. But yeah i made a fanfic randomly, enjoy!

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"Ich Liebe Dich"

“Again,” Kaiser says, his voice smooth yet insistent.

You sigh, trying to wrap your tongue around the unfamiliar German words. “Ich… liebe…” You pause, struggling with the pronunciation.

Kaiser smirks, leaning in just a little too close. “Dich,” he finishes for you, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

You groan, flopping onto the couch. “This is so hard! Why can’t I just use Google Translate?”

Kaiser scoffs, crossing his arms. “Because if you butcher my language with that robot pronunciation, I’ll personally disown you.”

“You don’t even own me!” you argue, sitting up to glare at him.

“Not yet.” He winks, making your face heat up instantly.

You grab a pillow and throw it at him, but he dodges effortlessly, laughing at your frustrated expression. “Okay, okay,” he says, sitting down next to you. “Let’s try something easier. Repeat after me—Guten Morgen.”

“Guten Morgen,” you mimic, watching his expression carefully.

Kaiser nods in approval. “Good. Now, Guten Tag.”

“Guten Tag.”

“Perfect,” he praises, giving you a proud smile. “Maybe you’re not a hopeless case after all.”

You roll your eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

He chuckles before suddenly leaning closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Now, let’s practice something important. Say, ‘Michael Kaiser ist der beste.’”

You narrow your eyes in suspicion. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing bad,” he says innocently. Too innocently.

You purse your lips but decide to play along. “Michael Kaiser ist der beste.”

Immediately, Kaiser grins like a cat that caught a mouse. “That means ‘Michael Kaiser is the best.’”

Your jaw drops. “You—! I knew you were up to something!”

Kaiser laughs, clearly enjoying himself. “You said it, not me.”

Glaring, you cross your arms. “Forget German. I’m switching to French.”

“Oh? Want me to teach you ‘Je t’aime’ instead?” He smirks, leaning in until your noses almost touch.

Your breath hitches. “W-What does that mean?”

His gaze softens, and for once, he drops the teasing act. “It means ‘I love you.’”

Your heart skips a beat. Before you can respond, Kaiser takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “But personally,” he murmurs, “I prefer hearing it in German.”

You swallow nervously, your face burning. “Ich… liebe dich,” you say quietly, the words feeling clumsy yet sincere.

Kaiser’s smirk fades, replaced by something softer. He cups your cheek, tilting your face up to his. “Much better,” he murmurs before closing the distance, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips.

Maybe learning German wasn’t so bad after all.

End.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading ! (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

[bbokicidal]

But What Do I Know? | SKZ [Virgin!OT8]

Just some odd headcanons I've got regarding Virgin!SKZ. Some things I think they're into, how they behave as virgins, etc. But again, what do I know?~

Members are grouped into categories for these headcanons.

Warnings: Afab!Reader; 18+ Content; Oral sex, fingering, spitting/spit mentioned, dry grinding/humping, cum, makeouts, biting

NSFW Masterlist | SFW Masterlist

Group Number One : The 'I swear I didn't know it would happen!' Boys [The Pants Cummers]

Virgin!Minho swears on his life - to himself, of course - that he WILL NOT come in his pants the first time the two of you have a heavy makeout session - but it happens anyways. And he realizes after that, that he kind of.. likes it? He learns if he grinds on you a little he also gets the friction from his jeans and that helps him come even faster. Forget being put down because he reaches his high in just a few minutes - he's trying to makeout with you as long as possible to see how many times he can come.

Virgin!Jisung is WILDLY embarrassed when it happens, until he realizes you never noticed. Even if he'd gotten all blubbery and started to whimper in nervousness, you'd though he was just enjoying himself and whining into your mouth because he was happy. But then he excused himself to the bathroom to clean up and took nearly half an hour, his ears still beet red when he returned to you. You'd asked what happened and when he was honest, you reassured him it was fine that it happened - and that you thought it was kind of hot. Now, he lets it happen to please you because he knows you like it - which makes him love it even more.

Virgin!Jeongin isn't really sure what happened the first time. He was making out with you, you were on top of him - and then his thighs were trembling and you were sitting up in shock. As soon as he realizes he'd just nutted in his boxers, he's flushed in the neck and chest with embarrassment. How did that happen - WHY did that happen? He's all whiny and whispering about how he's so so sorry that he'd just done that with you on top of him. But when you shush him and whisper that it's okay while kissing his neck and tugging his collar down to mark him up, he'd begun to think maybe it wasn't that bad. And if you kept kissing him like that it was definitely going to happen again.

Group Number Two : The Masters with their Hands

Virgin!Chris doesn't really have full confidence in himself when he slips a hand in your panties for the first time, but he'd done as much research as he possibly could before his date with you earlier that night so he was sure he'd be fine. And his confidence only raised after you let your head tip back and moaned out his name. He'd let out a sigh as he pushed two fingers into your warmth, new to the feeling of being inside of you but enjoying it nonetheless. And your reactions, your whining of how much you loved his hands and how big his knuckles are, how good they feel on your walls - Yeah, he's a bit cocky after that and no longer worried about if he'll be able to please you.

Virgin!Hyunjin knows what he's doing in theory - not in practice. He did no research but it can't be that hard; and for him, it's not. It seems to come to him naturally (after you having to guide his thumb to where your clit actually is), with his middle and ring fingers pushing deep into your pussy until your thighs were quivering against his hips. He's a master at multitasking, able to rub your clit with his thumb and pump his fingers into you almost too quickly too well. And all while hovering above you, biting his lip and looking so good, too? Almost a bit mean of him to be this pretty and talented in bed.

Virgin!Seungmin really only is good at this because he plays games on PC. He's use to clicking the keys quickly, using multiple fingers at once - so you'd best bet he's good at fucking his fingers into you so quick it's got you nearly crying against the sheets. Also another who's good at multitasking - again, because of gaming - but it's with his other hand this time. And his mouth. He'll lean down to suck on your clit, fuck two or three fingers into you, and reach up to grope and tug at your chest with what feels like practiced (even though it's not) ease. Also mean in bed but.. in a different way. ;]

Group Number Three : The 'I can't help it' Boys [The Bed Humpers]

Virgin!Changbin swears that he didn't even realize he was grinding against the mattress while making out with you until he was making a mess on the sheets. Usually it's you he teases about your orgasm hitting early or the way your legs tremble in need when he sucks on your chest during heavier makeout sessions. But this time? This time it was him being teased, plump cheeks rosy pink and eyes darting over the sheets where pre had leaked from his tip and smeared on the mint of your bed. He's pouty, swearing up and down he didn't realize he had done that, before being welcomed back into your waiting arms with a shy smile. He waits until he has your reassurance that it's okay and it's nothing to be embarrassed about before he lets it happen again - and even blushes and gets shy when you ask him a few weeks later why he isn't humping the blankets while he sucks on your neck and chest. You think it's cute - and he's happy to please.

Virgin!Felix is.. kind of shameless about it. He's happy to let you know he's into you by touching and kissing and whatever - but he's a little too shy, and inexperienced, to even think about grinding on you. Your hips? His hips? Not connecting just yet. He's waaaay too shy to do anything like that. But he does want the friction, does crave the touch and grind of it all, so he'll go for the next best thing - laying between your legs while he kisses you all nice and slow in the early morning and rolling his hips down against the mattress. The feeling of his pajama pants rubbing on his cock is perfect, and the stiffness of the mattress... It's enough to satisfy him without getting too touchy with you just yet. And you seem to find it cute, too, that he humps the mattress all shy and sweet. If he notices you looking or watching he'll probably stop but any other time he's happy to keep going. Though there have been a few times he's gotten closer and humped your thigh instead. Not that you were complaining.

Group Number Four : The '*moans while neck deep in pussy*' Boys [The Messy Eaters]

Virgin!Hyunjin looooooves eating pussy. It's his favorite past time actually. Not busy? He's on his knees between your legs while you watch a show. Getting ready for sexy time? He's on his knees at the end of the bed waiting. Getting home from work? He's kissing you in the doorway and pinning you there so he can go down on you right away and relieve any stress. Honestly just a househusband with a nasty mouth who CANNOT keep his spit in it. It's like he's feral, almost. The type of guy who growls when you try to pull away or who bites at your thighs, nipping at your clit when you squirm too much. Again, so inexperienced that he's honestly not super great at eating you out - but does his best and is more than enough to please, at the cost of spit dripping down his chin and your thighs.

Virgin!Jisung. I've said it before, I'm saying it again!! Jisung likes to eat you out but really only when it's something casual and lazy. At first he was SO nervous because he was afraid he'd mess up or be bad at it - but then he realized, you're.. pretty chill about it all. You'll be on your phone and he'll be between your legs, sucking on your clit and dragging his tongue through your folds like you're the sweetest ice cream he's ever tasted. He's sweet when he eats you out and he's really careful about it, but he's.. drooling everywhere. Maybe even builds up the courage to spit on it if he thinks you're not paying attention, only to apologize and giggle when you flinch in surprise.

If y'all want a part two let me know - I have like 4-5 other groups already written in my notes lol.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

[shrimpybbq]

so I was reading one of ur high school gf au posts and what about after a fun night with rafe and his back is all red and scratched up bc of ur night together and maybe some teasing rafe from the guys

“rafe wandering around the house with his shirt off, forgetting about the red scratch marks down his back - he just makes her feel so good she can't help it. he only smirks if anyone comments”

oh this is so yummy bc you know rafe is wandering around the pool, maybe a little bit drunk and the sun starts to come out. he just wants to feel the sun on his skin and so he takes his shirt off, only to hear whoops and hollers from kelce and topper. he’s so confused, which the boys understand from his expression, so topper decides to help him out a bit.

“good night, huh rafe?”

at that, rafe became even more confused. good night? it was just a normal night for him, wasn’t it? kelce takes the opportunity to join in, loving the opportunity to tease his friend for once.

“man, you look like you got attacked or some shit! bro, your back is raw,” he exclaims.

oh yeah, that’s what he was up to last night, rafe recalls to himself. so what he has a healthy sex life, he thinks. he makes his girl feel good, enough that she can’t contain herself. really, the scratch marks are the tame side. usually, he prefers her to bite into his shoulder if she can’t take it, loving the way she clings to him like a lifeline as she cums, but she still seems to enjoy dragging her nails down his back more often than not.

“haha, very funny. you losers are just jealous because you’re not getting any, huh?” rafe retorted. he couldn’t hide the smirk on his face, always pleased to know how good he made his girl feel. the smug grin he was known for shone brightly to his friends.

“oh i’m getting some, but you - i see why you’ve got two kids man, you’re giving it to her good!” kelce continued, his tone growing more sleazy as he looked to gain a bigger reaction out of rafe, “you fuck her like a whore all the time or what man? she’s scratchi-”

rafe saw topper turn to kelce, trying to intervene before rafe could wreak havoc but he was too late. rafe had crossed over to where kelce sat, gripping the chain around his neck tightly. he was face to face with the younger boy now, furious gaze boring into his skull.

“you keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, ok kelce? you don’t talk about her like that or you’re gonna be running home to your mom with a broken fucking jaw,” rafe spat, his voice low and filled with unbridled contempt, “you understand?”

“yeah shit man, sorry. my bad, i won’t do it again.”

“good,” rafe said, delivering a mocking pat to kelce’s cheek as he returned to stand. he faced the pool for a moment before diving in, the refreshing water soothing his anger. as he was underwater, topper shot kelce a look - everyone knew not to talk about rafe’s girl like that, and now, kelce had been reminded exactly why. as kelce shot back a confused look, topper could only slump back on his recliner, an exasperated sigh leaving his mouth. rafe was a lover boy at heart, but he was still hot headed and dangerous when he wanted to be - and today they were reminded of that.

I got a bit carried away with this but I hope you like it! Rafe is such a simp and he wouldn’t stand for anyone, even his friends, badmouthing his girl.

[cheeseceli]

Skz meeting a pretty fan

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, just a tiny little bit of angst, headcanons

Description: their reaction to meeting a pretty fan during a fan meeting

Warnings: kind of love at first sight trope, delusional, some of them are dramatic, they are all idols, not proofread

A/n: the way it's been over a year that this has been in my drafts | daily click

Bang Chan

He was kinda of tired already so he was zoning out

When he sees you he is like "...oh"

He is so invested in your conversation

If you comment about the production behind the music he will be so happy

Genuinely loves when someone acknowledges his work so his eyes will shine and he will smile so hard while explaining everything to you

He is upset when you need to move on to the next member

Sees you laughing with the other members and he's like 🤨

Wonders what they did that managed to make you laugh that much

Lee Know

He would stare at you

You know when his mouth is open and you can see his eyes shining?

Yeah, that's him right now

You say hello and he would give you his nervous laugh before looking at you again with those stary eyes

I swear he is such a softie

Would listen to every single word that you say, you can tell he is paying so much attention

Autographs something for you and makes a funny drawing as well hoping you'd laugh

Side eyes the staff when they say the time is up

Even when you move to the next member and other fan is talking to him, he would still look at your direction sometimes and get so flustered if you catch him looking at you

Changbin

Starts small talk right away

Will 100% compliment you

You ask him an autograph and he wonders how bad would it be if he gave you his number instead

Like he knows he cannot do that

But maybe if he was sneaky enough...

Doesn't do it by the end but he low-key regrets it for the rest of his life

He will wake up one day after five years and be like "damn I should've given them my number"

And he will make that everyone's problem

The boys can't stand it anymore because they've heard enough about you by now 😭

Convinces himself that he will see you again one day

Hyunjin

He sees you before you see him, so he is panicking

Is looking at the line all the time wondering if you will want to talk to him

Asks han if his hair looks good before it's your turn to talk to him

No but fr, he can't take his eyes off you

When you start talking he is like 😯

You look and sound like an angel, he must be in heaven

Even after the fan meeting he can't stop thinking about you

If he's feeling bold enough, he will definitely flirt with you

Low-key forgot he was an idol and was ready to risk it all for you

Han

Might believe in love at first sight after your meeting

Compliment him once and he will get so shy

Like sir, weren't you the one flirting like two seconds ago🤨

Would feel so betrayed if he isn't your bias LMAO

He has like a minute and a half to convince you he's the best stray kids member and he WILL try that

And he hopes that someone will record his flirty antics and post it on tiktok just so he can find your socials

He will make all the boys stalk the internet to try to find you

"but you can't contact them even if you find their account, so what's the point?" idk bro but he wants to see you again somehow

Felix

SUCH A FLIRT

The moment he looks at you he is already trying to win your heart

Kinda forgot he was an idol pt.2

Except he didn't forget

He just doesn't care

He wants to flirt with you and that's precisely what he will do

Will even flirt through his autograph if he can

Uses any kind of excuse to make physical contact with you ✨

And side eyes the staff when they tell him it's time to move on

Like no it's not??

Seungmin

Actually pretty good at hiding his new crush??

The most normal one out here surprisingly lol

He will be able to cover it up as just "good mood" but let's be for real

It's because of you

Anyways

Will smile so much

If you compliment his smile (please do!) he will get shy but so so happy

Also steals glances when you go to the next member

He'll be talking to the next fan but ends up laughing because of something he heard you say to another one of the boys

The fan is like ?? but Seungmin is able to play it off

I.N

So dedicated to give you a good impression

If you tell him your favourite skz song is one of his solos (or that your favourite has that title because of his vocals) this man is in heaven

Forgot he was an idol pt.3 except he didn't forget

He just lowkey very lowkey didn't want to be an idol in that exact moment

Had it been on any normal occasion he would probably try to charm you over

But this was his job

He couldn't possibly get delulu over a fan 😭 although he was already midway to that

Ends up covering a song you said you thought would fit his voice

Sees the comments of the cover wondering each one of those were yours

Masterlist | you'll probably like: unrequited love

Reminder that this is all fiction, this does not represent the members in real life!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto | Images 1, 2 and 3