#but that didn't quite feel like it suited them

[mrsfancyferrari]

Hey I hope you've having an amazing day/evening/night. This is my first time requesting something😅, and I was wondering if you could possibility write something like what you did with my type but the reader having natural auburn curly hair, with freckles thinking that she's not his type or something along those lines.

Gold in Snow

Summary: you and lando are in a relationship but you're reserving hate comments about you being a ginger, with freckles because the fans don't think you're his type

Song: Golden Hour · JVKE

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Another podium finish for Lando, another shower of champagne soaking his expensive suit. You watched from the relative calm of the garage, a small smile playing on your lips.

He looked genuinely happy, and that, more than anything, made the constant noise and pressure of Formula 1 palatable.

You’d been dating Lando Norris for almost a year now. A year of stolen moments, whispered secrets in hotel rooms, and navigating the chaotic whirlwind that was his life. A year of pure bliss…mostly.

The “mostly” came in the form of comment sections. Forums. Twitter threads dedicated to dissecting every pixel of your existence and comparing it to the accepted prototype of a WAG – Wives and Girlfriends – in the F1 world.

You were… different.

They’d say it with a thinly veiled, almost clinical detachment, but the message was always the same: you didn’t fit. You were too… ginger. Too freckled. Too… you.

The ginger part bothered them the most. Lando was a global superstar, practically sculpted from marble, with a smile that could melt glaciers. He was everything they wanted him to be: conventionally attractive, charming, and effortlessly cool.

And you? You were… well, very, very pale. Your hair was a fiery halo, and your skin was dotted with a constellation of freckles that bloomed fiercer in the summer sun.

“He likes the exotic look,” one comment had sniped. “She’s probably got a killer tan when she’s not hiding in the shade.”

You’d chuckled then, a hollow sound that didn’t quite reach your heart. Exotic? You’d spent your life battling sunburns and jokes about having no soul.

And killer tan? Honey, you burned so fast, lifeguards would start applying sunscreen just by looking at you.

You tried to ignore it. Lando certainly seemed to. He showered you with affection, praised your quick wit and sharp mind, and constantly reminded you how beautiful he found you, flaws and all.

But the insidious comments burrowed under your skin, planting seeds of doubt that you desperately tried to weed out.

You saw him heading towards the garage now, adrenaline still buzzing through him. His eyes found yours, and that signature Lando grin spread across his face. Your heart did that familiar little flip.

“Hey!” he said, pulling you into a hug. He smelled of champagne and victory. “Did you see that last overtake? Unbelievable!”

You laughed, burying your face in his still-damp fire suit. “Yes, I saw it. You were amazing, as always. Just try not to spray me next time, okay?”

He pulled back, his brow furrowed. “You okay? You seem… quiet.”

You forced a smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long weekend.”

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. “Well, we’re flying back tomorrow morning. We can just chill in the hotel tonight. Order some room service, maybe watch a movie?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, meaning it. Just the two of you, away from the cameras and the judgment.

That night, as you lay in his arms in the dimly lit hotel room, the familiar ache in your chest returned. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were somehow… undeserving.

“Lando?” you whispered, the sound barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled into your hair.

“Do you… do you ever read the comments? About us?”

He stiffened slightly. “I try not to. You know how toxic that can be.”

“But you do read them, right? Sometimes?”

He sighed, a heavy sound that vibrated against your chest. “Okay, yeah, sometimes. But I don’t pay any attention to them. They’re just… noise.”

“Noise that says I’m not good enough for you.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours in the dimness. “What? That’s ridiculous. Who says that?”

“Everyone. Online, anyway. They don’t think I’m your type. They think I’m… too ginger. Too freckled. Too… plain.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. “Hey. Look at me. You are absolutely stunning. Inside and out. You are intelligent, funny, kind, and you have the most beautiful smile in the world. And yes,” he added with a mischievous grin, “I also happen to think your hair is gorgeous, and your freckles are like little constellations scattered across your skin. They’re unique, just like you.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “But they say…”

“They say a lot of things. People are always going to have opinions. But their opinions don’t matter. Only mine does. And I think you are perfect.”

He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that chased away the doubts, at least for a moment.

But even as you melted into him, a small, insidious voice whispered in the back of your mind: He’s just saying that. He has to say that.

The knot in your stomach tightened with each passing day, each new photo plastered across social media. You and Lando, laughing at a restaurant, holding hands at the airport, just being normal.

What shouldn't have been a cause for concern, was. It should have been a happy bubble of romance, but it was quickly becoming a breeding ground for anxiety, a place where your insecurities festered and grew.

Because under each picture, nestled amongst the supportive comments and heart emojis, they lurked. The whispers, the not-so-subtle digs.

"He could do so much better." "She's not even his type." "Another generic influencer." And the worst of it? "Ginger + Freckles = No."

You knew it was irrational. Lando loved you. He told you every day, showed you in a million little ways, from the way he held your hand to the way he looked at you with genuine adoration.

But the internet had a way of burrowing into your brain, planting seeds of doubt that blossomed into thorny vines. You found yourself scrutinizing your reflection, picking apart every freckle, every strand of your fiery hair.

Was it too much? Was it enough? Were you enough?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Lando's voice startled you, pulling you back from the precipice of your spiral. He was standing in the doorway of your shared flat, his racing helmet tucked under his arm, a familiar mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"Just thinking about this weekend," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Excited for the snow."

"Me too! Max and Steve are already counting down the hours. You're coming to the slopes tomorrow, right?"

You hesitated. "I… I have something I need to do in the morning. I'll meet you guys up there later, okay?"

Lando frowned, his blue eyes searching yours. "Everything alright, love? You seem a bit off."

"I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just… a doctor's appointment. Nothing serious. I'll explain later. Promise."

He didn't look convinced, but he knew better than to push. "Alright. Just text me when you're on your way. Drive safe.”

He kissed your forehead, the warmth of his touch a brief comfort against the chill that had settled within you and left.

The next morning, the drive to the snow mountains felt endless. Each mile was another step closer to the potential storm brewing in your head.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous, that you were letting faceless strangers dictate your feelings. But the seed of doubt had been planted, watered, and was now taking root.

When you finally arrived at the ski resort, the crisp mountain air did little to soothe your nerves. You walked into the reception area, the scent of pine and hot chocolate thick in the air.

"Name?" the receptionist asked, her eyes glued to the computer screen.

"It's… uh… Y/L/N, party of Lando Norris."

The receptionist's fingers clicked across the keyboard, and she looked up, a polite professional smile gracing her lips. "Ah, yes. Mr. Norris's party. You're all set. Here's your lift pass. Your equipment rental is just through those doors. Have a wonderful day."

You collected your ski boots and poles from the rental shop, the familiar weight grounding you slightly. You'd been skiing since you were a kid, practically born on the slopes.

It was one of the few places you felt truly free, truly yourself.

You strapped on your skis and headed towards the main lift, scanning the crowd for a flash of Lando's familiar McLaren Racing beanie or the boisterous laughter of Max and Steve.

The lift carried you higher and higher, the view expanding to reveal a breathtaking panorama of snow-covered peaks and pristine valleys.

For a moment, the internet, the comments, the doubts, all faded away. You breathed in the crisp air, feeling the thrill of anticipation course through you.

As you reached the top, you spotted them. Lando, grinning and waving, Max, already carving down the slope with reckless abandon, and Steve, carefully navigating the beginner trail.

You took a deep breath, pushed off, and let gravity do its work. The wind whipped through your hair, the sun glinted off the snow, and for the first time that day, you felt a genuine smile spread across your face.

You were good. Really good. You weaved and turned, carving graceful arcs in the powder, your ginger hair a vibrant streak against the white landscape. You glided past other skiers, feeling the rush of adrenaline as you navigated the slopes with practiced ease.

You found yourself on a black diamond run, moguls stretching out before you like frozen waves. This was where you belonged, where you felt alive. You took a deep breath and launched yourself into the challenge, navigating the bumps and dips with precision and skill.

Suddenly, you heard a whoop of excitement and a familiar voice. "Wow, check out the ginger ninja!"

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a couple of guys, clearly impressed by your skiing skills.

You grinned, threw them a wink, and continued your descent, the compliment a small spark of warmth against the doubt that still lingered.

The crisp mountain air bit at Lando’s cheeks, painting them a matching shade to the gaudy orange ski suit Max insisted he wear. He shifted his weight from one ski boot to the other, impatience radiating off him in visible waves.

He’d been waiting at the base of the slope for what felt like an eternity. Max was already halfway up the mountain for his third run. Steve was content to nurse a lukewarm hot chocolate and offer unsolicited advice on Lando’s form, despite the fact Lando hadn't even put his skis on yet.

"She's taking her time," Steve commented, taking another careful sip. "Probably intimidated by the black runs."

Lando rolled his eyes, though fondness softened the gesture. He knew you weren't intimidated by anything. This was more than likely your first time on the slopes, so you were probably taking it easy.

You were a natural athlete, thriving on competition, but you’d also confessed, with a sheepish grin, that skiing looked deceptively easy on TV.

He was about to tell Steve as much when Steve suddenly straightened, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, there's your girl!"

Lando spun around, instantly forgetting the cold, the wait, and Steve’s irritating commentary. He searched the throng of skiers snaking down the slope, his heart doing a little skip. And then he saw you.

You moved with a surprising grace, your skis carving effortless arcs in the snow. Sunlight caught in your fiery red hair, turning it into a cascade of glittering copper. Each freckle seemed to dance on your skin, illuminated by the mountain sun.

He knew, objectively, that you were beautiful. He saw it every day. But seeing you now, flushed with exertion and radiant with joy, took his breath away.

He froze, utterly captivated, as you approached. You navigated the final stretch with smooth confidence. “Show off,” he muttered under his breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You slowed to a stop, kicking up a spray of snow just inches from his boots.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, laughing. You pushed your goggles up onto your forehead, revealing eyes the color of warm honey. "Sorry! How long have you been waiting?"

Your cheeks were rosy, your breath misting in the cold air. Lando stared, speechless.

"Baby? What's wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing with concern. You reached out, your ungloved hand gently touching his cheek. The cold stung, but he barely noticed.

He swallowed, his voice a low rasp. "You're beautiful."

The words were a whisper, almost lost in the wind. He hadn’t meant to say it so abruptly, so��exposed. But the sight of you, framed by the snow-covered peaks, had rendered him incapable of coherent thought.

Your eyes widened slightly, and a blush bloomed on your cheeks, a delicate counterpoint to the healthy glow of the mountain air. "Lando," you said softly, "you okay? Are you coming down with something?"

He blinked, shaking himself slightly. "No, I'm fine. More than fine, actually. You just…you look incredible."

Steve coughed pointedly beside him. Max, having apparently teleported from the top of the mountain, snickered. Lando shot them both a warning glare. They knew how self-conscious you were, especially around his racing colleagues.

The comments section of his social media had been a cesspool ever since you two became public. Hateful words about your appearance, thinly veiled as concerned opinions that you weren’t “his type,” were a constant, ugly background noise.

He knew it bothered you, even though you tried to brush it off with a laugh and a casual, "Haters gonna hate." But he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you thought no one was looking.

He hated those comments, hated the people who wrote them, and hated that they had the power to make you feel anything less than extraordinary.

He took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Ignore them," he said, his voice firm, his gaze locked on yours.

You looked confused. "Ignore who? Max and Steve?"

"Everyone," he said, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "Anyone who makes you feel like you're anything less than perfect. Because you are. Perfect. Just the way you are."

The blush on your cheeks deepened, and you ducked your head slightly, a shy smile playing on your lips. "You're sweet," you mumbled. "But I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea."

"Good," Lando said fiercely. "You're mine. And that's all that matters." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, ignoring Max's exaggerated gagging noises.

He pulled back and met your gaze, his expression serious. "Listen to me. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not beautiful, or that you're not good enough, or that you don't belong. Because they're wrong. They’re absolutely, unequivocally wrong. You’re amazing, inside and out. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re fiercely intelligent, and yes, you’re unbelievably beautiful. And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you."

A tear, born of emotion and the biting wind, escaped your eye. "You're going to make me cry," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

"Good," Lando said, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "Let them see you cry. Let them see how real and how beautiful you are. Don't hide anything. Don't let anyone dim your light."

He knew his words were bold, maybe even a little cheesy, but he meant every single one of them. He wanted you to know, deep down, that he saw you, truly saw you, and that nothing anyone said would ever change that.

Max, surprisingly, had stopped snickering. He clapped Lando on the shoulder. "Alright, mate, enough with the declarations of love. Let's hit the slopes. Before I get frostbite."

Steve nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Lando. You can gush later. Right now, let’s see if your girl’s got what it takes.” He winked at you. “No pressure.”

You smiled, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Pressure is my middle name," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let's go."

Lando grinned, relieved to see the familiar spark back in your eyes. He squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.

He watched as you adjusted your goggles and clicked your poles into the snow. He felt a surge of pride watching you. He knew the comments would still be there, lurking in the shadows of the internet, waiting to pounce.

But he also knew that you were strong. You were resilient. And you had him.

He grabbed his own skis, a newfound confidence coursing through him. He would protect you, always. But more than that, he would celebrate you, every freckle, every fiery strand of hair, every brilliant facet of your being.

As you pushed off, gracefully navigating the gentle slope, Lando felt a lightness in his heart that had nothing to do with the altitude. He knew, without a doubt, that their love story was just beginning, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them.

He followed you down the slope, his orange ski suit a beacon against the white snow. He caught up to you easily, skiing alongside you, matching your pace.

"So," he said, grinning mischievously. "Think you can keep up with me, ginger?"

You laughed, a bright, joyful sound that echoed through the mountains. "Try me, Papaya boy."

And with that, you kicked it up a notch, leaving Lando in your snowy wake.

He laughed, his heart soaring.

He pushed off, determined to catch up, knowing that even if he never did, he would be perfectly content just to chase you, forever. . . .

The papaya coloured dress hung on you, a vibrant splash of sunshine in the sterile white bathroom. It was Lando’s favourite colour, or so he claimed. He said it reminded him of McLaren, of speed, of… you.

But all you could see in the mirror was a canvas of imperfections.

Your reflection stared back, a stranger dissected and judged. The fiery red hair, usually a source of pride, now felt like a neon sign screaming "OUT OF PLACE."

The constellation of freckles scattered across your nose and cheeks, tiny sun-kissed stars Lando often traced with his fingertip, seemed like blemishes, flaws magnified under the harsh bathroom light.

The original plan, a simple elegance of no-makeup and loose waves, lay discarded. You'd envisioned a carefree evening, a confident entrance with Lando by your side.

Now, the thought of facing the public, the prying eyes, the inevitable whispers, felt like climbing a mountain of anxiety.

Social media had been a minefield lately. Ever since your relationship with Lando Norris became public, the comment sections had become a breeding ground for toxicity. Most were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating your love.

But a persistent undercurrent of negativity gnawed at your confidence. The "fans," or rather, the internet trolls masquerading as them, were relentless.

“She’s not his type.”

“He could do so much better.”

“Ginger? Really? He's lowering his standards.”

The worst were the comments picking apart your appearance. The freckles, the hair, the perceived lack of "glamour." They painted you as an anomaly, someone who didn't belong in Lando's world. It was absurd, of course.

Lando loved you for you. He told you every day. But the insidious nature of online hate was that it seeped in, whispering doubts in your ear when you were most vulnerable.

Tonight, facing a McLaren party filled with glamorous personalities and industry insiders, the doubts had reached a crescendo. You grabbed a tissue from the dispenser, dabbing at the corners of your eyes, fighting back the overwhelming urge to cry.

The reflection in the mirror blurred, the colours swam, and the vibrant papaya felt like a mocking reminder of everything you weren't.

That’s when you heard the familiar click of the front door.

“Y/n?” Lando’s voice echoed through the house, a warm, comforting sound that momentarily cut through the anxiety clouding your mind.

Panic seized you. You couldn't let him see you like this, a mess of insecurities and mascara-smeared cheeks. You needed to compose yourself, to build up a façade of confidence before facing him.

Quickly, you turned the small lock on the bathroom door. The click was loud in the sudden silence.

“Y/n?” he called again, his voice closer now. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just… just getting ready,” you managed, trying to inject a lightness into your tone that felt utterly fake. Your voice wavered, betraying your true state. “I’ll be out in a second.”

You heard him pause outside the door. “You sure? You sound… different.”

He knew you too well. He always did. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears away. “Just a bit of a headache. Nothing serious.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken concern. You could almost feel his presence on the other side of the door.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice softening. “But don’t rush. I’m happy to wait. Do you want me to get you some water?”

His thoughtfulness, his unwavering care, only made the guilt swell inside you. He was so genuine, so supportive, and here you were, hiding from him, consumed by the petty insecurities fueled by strangers on the internet.

“No, I’m fine,” you insisted, a little too quickly. “Just… give me a few more minutes, okay?”

“Alright,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. You heard him move away from the door. “I’ll be in the living room.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning against the cool porcelain of the sink. This couldn’t go on. You couldn't let these hateful comments dictate your life, dictate your relationship.

Lando deserved better. You deserved better.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on the cold tap, splashing water on your face. You grabbed a towel and gently patted your skin dry, removing the remnants of your almost-attempted makeup.

You looked at yourself again, really looked.

The fiery hair, the freckles, the flaws… they were all part of you. They were what made you unique, what made you you. And Lando loved you for it. He saw beauty where others saw imperfections.

He saw strength where others saw vulnerability. Why were you letting the opinions of anonymous strangers outweigh the love and adoration of the man you adored?

You let out a shaky sigh, a weight lifting from your shoulders. It wasn't a complete cure, the insecurities wouldn't vanish overnight, but it was a start.

With newfound resolve, you took another look at the papaya dress. It shimmered under the light, a vibrant symbol of sunshine and joy. You smoothed the fabric down, a small smile gracing your lips.

You unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out.

Lando was standing in the living room, fiddling with his phone. He looked up as you entered, his face immediately lighting up. He was wearing a simple dark suit, impeccably tailored, but it was the genuine warmth in his eyes that truly caught your attention.

He took a step towards you, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. The smile widened.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice laced with admiration. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blushed, the compliment genuine and heartfelt. “Thank you.”

He closed the distance between you, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks, tracing the familiar pattern of your freckles.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft with concern. “You seemed a bit… off earlier.”

You hesitated, the urge to brush it off still lingering. But you knew you couldn't hide from him. He deserved the truth.

“I… I saw some comments online,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “About… about me. About not being ‘your type.’”

His expression darkened, his eyes hardening with anger. “Don’t you dare listen to those people, Y/n,” he said fiercely, his grip on your face tightening slightly.

“They don’t know anything. My ‘type’ is someone who is kind, intelligent, funny, and beautiful, inside and out. Someone who makes me laugh every single day. Someone who challenges me and supports me, even when I’m being an idiot. That’s you, Y/n. That's always been you."

He paused, his gaze searching yours, making sure you understood the sincerity of his words.

"And as for the… the physical stuff," he continued, his voice softening again. "Your hair is the most beautiful shade of red I've ever seen. Your freckles are like little constellations, guiding me through the darkness. And that little dimple you get when you smile? Drives me absolutely crazy."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not good enough, Y/n. Because to me, you are perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief, of gratitude, of love.

You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I love you, Lando,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his jacket.

He held you tight, his arms a comforting embrace. “I love you too, Y/n. More than you know.”

After a long moment, you pulled back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you.

Lando was right. You couldn't let the negativity of others define you. You had his love, his support, and that was all that mattered.

You looked at him, a genuine smile gracing your lips. "Ready to go to this party?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Absolutely. And just so you know, I'm planning on spending the entire night showing you off to everyone. They need to see how lucky I am."

He took your hand in his, his fingers interlacing with yours. As you walked out the door together, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. And that, you realised, was all that truly mattered.

The haters could say what they wanted. You had Lando, you had your love, and that was more than enough. The papaya dress suddenly felt like armour, not a target.

You were ready to face the world, hand in hand, imperfections and all. . . .

The party was exactly what you expected: loud music, flashing lights, and a sea of familiar faces from the F1 world – drivers, team principals, engineers, and their partners.

The sheer volume of people made your anxiety prickle, but Lando kept a firm grip on your hand, navigating you through the crowd.

He introduced you to what felt like a hundred people, his arm possessively around your waist, his smile beaming. You tried to focus on the conversations, to be witty and engaging, but the whispers seemed to follow you, phantom echoes of the comments haunting your mind.

“Lando’s with her?”

“She’s… different.”

“Not exactly what I expected.”

You squeezed Lando’s hand tighter, trying to ground yourself. He seemed oblivious to the undercurrents, his attention solely focused on you.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice barely audible above the music.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s… great.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching. He knew you better than anyone, and he could see the forced cheerfulness masking your discomfort.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “If you want to leave, we can. We don’t have to stay here.”

“No,” you said quickly. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here. With you.”

He smiled, relieved. "Okay, but seriously, if you change your mind, just say the word."

Just then, a tall, lanky figure approached, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Lando! Mate, good to see you.”

“Oscar!” Lando clapped him on the back. “Good to see you too. Oscar, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Oscar Piastri.”

Oscar offered you his hand, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You shook his hand, trying to gauge his expression. Was there judgment there? Pity? You couldn’t tell. “Likewise, Oscar. Congratulations on your season so far.”

“Thanks,” he said, his smile genuine. "It's been... interesting, to say the least." He paused, then gestured to a woman standing beside him. "And this is my girlfriend, Lily."

Lily stepped forward, her smile warm and inviting. She had kind eyes and a simple elegance that immediately put you at ease. "It's lovely to meet you, Y/N. Lando talks about you all the time."

You blushed, glancing at Lando, who just winked. "All good things, I hope?"

Lily laughed. "Of course! He's completely smitten."

The four of you fell into easy conversation, discussing the season, the pressures of being in the spotlight, and the challenges of maintaining relationships in such a demanding environment.

You found yourself relaxing, the tension slowly draining away. Lily was refreshingly down-to-earth, and Oscar, despite his reserved demeanour, had a dry wit that you found endearing.

As the conversation flowed, you noticed Lily subtly steer the topic towards your interests, asking about your work, your hobbies, and your passions.

She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you, not just as Lando’s girlfriend, but as an individual.

“So, Y/N” Lily said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “Lando tells me you’re a writer? That’s fascinating! What kind of writing do you do?”

“I dabble in a bit of everything,” you replied, feeling your confidence grow. “Short stories, poetry, some freelance journalism. It depends on what sparks my interest, really.”

“That’s amazing,” she gushed. “I’ve always admired people who can write. It’s such a powerful way to express yourself.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “It is. I’m useless at it. Give me a steering wheel any day.”

Laughter bubbled up from your chest, your earlier anxieties fading into the background. You were having a genuine, enjoyable conversation, with people who seemed to genuinely care about you.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise. “Lando, darling! There you are!”

A woman, dripping in diamonds and designer clothes, glided towards you, her eyes scanning you from head to toe with blatant disapproval. You recognized her as the wife of a prominent team principal, a woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper judgment.

Lando’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face her. “Genevieve, good to see you.”

She completely ignored Oscar and Lily, her gaze fixed on you. “And who is this, Lando? A new… acquaintance?”

You felt your cheeks flush, the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. You knew what was coming.

Lando’s arm tightened around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “This is your girlfriend? How… interesting.” Her tone dripped with condescension. “Well, congratulations, darling. I’m sure you’re very happy.”

She turned back to Lando, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lando, darling, you really could do so much better. Don't you want to think about your image?”

You felt your heart sink. This was it. The moment of truth. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of negativity.

But then, something unexpected happened. Lando’s eyes flashed with anger, and his grip on your waist tightened protectively.

“I’m perfectly happy, thank you,” he said, his voice cold and firm. “And Y/N is more than enough. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

He turned his back on the woman, effectively dismissing her. He looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, still reeling from the encounter. “Yeah,” you mumbled. "I'm okay

Lily stepped forward, her expression fierce. “Honestly, some people are just ridiculous,” she said, her voice laced with scorn. “Don’t let her get to you, Y/N. She’s just jealous.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “She’s got nothing better to do than spread negativity. Ignore her.”

Lando squeezed your hand. “They’re right. Don’t let her ruin your night.”

You looked at them, at Lando, at Lily, at Oscar. You saw genuine support, genuine kindness, genuine acceptance. And suddenly, the weight on your chest lifted. The comments, the whispers, the judgment – they didn’t matter.

You had people who loved you, who supported you, who valued you for who you were, not for who the internet thought you should be.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “You know what? You’re right. I’m not going to let her ruin my night.”

Lando grinned, relieved. “That’s the spirit. Now, how about we get out of here and go somewhere more… private?” He winked suggestively.

Lily laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Oscar, you’re driving, right? I’ve had one too many cocktails.”

As you walked away, hand in hand with Lando, you glanced back at Lily and Oscar, a warm feeling of gratitude washing over you. You had found unexpected allies, people who saw past the surface and appreciated you for who you were.

You were still an outsider, still a ginger with freckles, still not “his type” according to the internet. But tonight, surrounded by love and support, you didn’t care. You had Lando, you had friends, and you had the courage to be yourself.

And that, you realised, was more than enough. The papaya dress no longer felt like armour, but a symbol of your strength, your resilience, and your unwavering commitment to being true to yourself.

You were you and you were happy. . . .

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername and 867,879 others

landonorris

Happy anniversary to my beautiful girl. Two years. Two years of laughter, adventures, and learning to love you more fiercely every single day. I know the internet can be a dark place, especially for someone as radiant as you. Don't listen to anyone who talks about you bad, especially those whispering nonsense about "types." They see a snapshot; I see the whole damn masterpiece.

Your fiery hair is sunshine on a cloudy day, each freckle a tiny star mapping out the constellation of my heart. They don't see the intelligence that sparkles in your eyes, the quick wit that keeps me on my toes, or the unwavering kindness you show to everyone you meet. They don’t see you. You are everything I could ever want, and more than I ever deserve. So, happy anniversary, my love. Let's keep painting our world with joy, ignoring the noise, and celebrating the beautiful, unique you. I love you more than words can say. ❤️

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[arliaeien]

This makes me think about my evolution as a writer.

My first long fic, as a new writer, I used to consider a chapter done around 2k~2,5k words. That's around 10 pages in Word.

Rewriting this same story one year later, it grew between 3,5k~5k. At the same time, as a reader, I was enjoying more and more the longer chapters (between 5k~10k).

There had been a long time while I only was writing one-shots, then engaging as a beta reader, making translations... To sum up: not writing stories, and even less, ones needing me to arrange a new story in different chapters.

Some years ago, I dedicated myself to the rewriting of my first story (the last I've done) and had those quite big chapters (around 7k), I was happy with, and that didn't make me think, except that one time, I had to cut one too big in two smaller ones. Those chapters were in no way a 'one idea, one chapter' thing like. The cuts were rather happening when there was a change about the place, and/or time passing.

And when I started writing the sequel of this 80k story, about the characters meeting monthly, I just wrote a one-shot for every month. Whatever it was 10k, 20k or even 30k.

It's not written in English and the fandom was almost dead for the last ten years. There were no readers (think like 30 hits in five years on AO3). So why should I have cared? The big one-shot was what I personally prefer.

Came year 2021. New fandom, existing fan base in English, no one in my mother tongue. And I've gotten this idea of post-canon story. One, nobody had done before me. Or rather, nobody had done it, the way I wanted it to be. It's this that has triggered me trying to write in English. ...probably succeeding, at some point. It is a 70k, in the end.

First long story in a while, whatever the language was different, I've kept the same tastes and methods, reflecting over the construction of the story, and ended up having chapter between 5k~7,5k. My goal was quite easy : three main ideas / scenes making one chapter. Providing long chapters to readers was what's important to me, because that's what I love myself.

Up to these last years. I'm working on a monster story (156k ongoing \o/). I didn't have any plan, starting writing it. My first chapter was a two-big-scenes, around 3K words, which I consider cool enough. Second chapter... was happening later, somewhere else. And I ended up having four-big-scenes, 7k words. Yeah, could cut this in two parts. Except number 3 was 3-big-scenes and 5k words. Go tear your own hair out. This was difficult to me. I couldn't work with chapters with sizes so different. It wasn't me. It didn't feel good. I couldn't see how anyone could actually enjoy such variations. How could it be considered otherwise than "Oh yeah, one long/short chapter!" / "Oh no, one long/short chapter!" depending on the reader's taste.

How long is not the point. REGULARITY was the point.

So my badly proportionate 'chapters' became 'arcs'. And every arc, was cut around 1,5k words. One idea, two maximum, and cut! I loved this. Writing fanfictions about one manga whose chapters were arranged to form arcs, it felt like respecting the canon better. Felt great!

...well, I was still myself. My goal of going between 1,2k~2k words for one chapter become 1,5k~2k. Then 2,5k. Today, I'm a little annoyed proofreading, having to fight against myself for some of them not going over 3k. Not too bad, but not what I wanted.

This to say: I'm living a paradox. The way I publish this story wouldn't suit me as a reader. 1,5k or even 2k a week is to me desperately slow.

I just can't. Re-reading some moments of the story for pleasure, or working on it, I usually go with 3 of them. Sometimes 4. All by instinct, not caring whether it's an arc or crossing two or more of them. Because the 5k~10k is what work for me as a reader :P

So, what's my point?

The ideal length doesn't exist. It's a matter of skill, and of feelings, but not only. My ideal length as a new writer was different from 2-years experience me, 5-years, 10-years, and now 18-years experience me. Sometimes I've cared about reader-experience, sometimes I haven't. I have loved the years producing the fattest one-shots. It's unrivaled freedom writing something. But even without arranging chapters, there were breaks, cutting scenes, the reader was able to breathe. And nowadays, publishing weekly for one year and a half, I use a format I wouldn't like myself but readers seems to enjoy (and that's strangely the same as the one I once used as a beginner : 2,5k per chapter).

...perhaps all this is a circle. ⚪

While looking for something else, I found an old ask I answered about "ideal chapter length" in terms of word count.

I've been asked this probably a dozen or more times, and each time I need to take a moment and adjust my thinking to take the asker's point of view into account. Because the thing is? The only time I ever try to factor the word count into how I write a story is when I'm aiming for a true drabble.

For whatever reason, this difference in thinking stuck with me today and I actually considered why that might be. And I think it's because I'm in my 40s and the first 25-30 years of my life, any stories I was reading were printed on paper and bound into physical books.

When I imagine a novel, I still think of a mass market paperback on my bookshelf. An average one would be maybe an inch thick, probably in the neighbourhood of 300 pages. A long one would be maybe as much as two inches thick and 500 or more pages long. A short one was always nice to have because it filled in the gaps in the shelf because 200 page books were so much narrower. Or so it seemed.

When I started posting my fic online, I still thought in terms of pages. I'd type them out in whatever word processing software I was using at the time, and I'd usually get a chapter's worth of ideas into 3 or 4 pages. Turns out that's about 1000 words, which makes sense with the number of 1000 word essays I wrote in high school. I'd been trained to encapsulate an idea into approximately that length.

And that's what it comes down to. The thing that always made that question seem weird to me. A chapter isn't about how many words there are in it, just like a cake isn't about how many cups of flour exist in each slice. A chapter is a an idea that helps make up a bigger idea called a story, and it needs to be however many words that idea needs to be to get it out.

[dustpages]

Nanana

I've had long hair since I can remember, but it felt like the right time to trim it. When I looked at myself in the mirror, my face looked so different with this new haircut.

The hairstylist seemed to be at a loss for words. "Ma'am, this cut suits you incredibly well." 

I smiled at him, paid up, and headed home.

When I got back, my baby boy was at home studying. He's always been such a good boy; he never gives me trouble. He just needs some motivation to keep going.

I approached him and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed and said, "Mum, you look astonishing."

I blushed and lifted him in my arms, he weighed light a leaf.  "Thank you, darling."

He was still red as a tomato; he didn't even know where to put his hands. I slowly undressed until I was down to my underwear.

His eyes widened. "Mum, what are you doing?"

"Relax, baby boy, we are going to take a shower." I affirmed. " Tonight your mum will head out with some of her friends." He nodded his head; he knew he had to stay alone sometimes.

I got him dressed in his pyjamas and kissed him on his forehead. He went downstairs to watch something while I got ready to leave.

I opted for a black set of bra and panties that would accentuate my curves, along with some high heels and a skirt that showed off my legs. My outfit made me feel sexy as hell; I couldn't wait to go out tonight.

I called my son upstairs to give him a goodbye kiss. He walked into my room and stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes glued onto my cleavage.

"Mum... You look amazing," he whispered. His eyes wandered from my tits to my hips, then to my legs.

I smiled at him and patted his head. "You're such a sweet boy; thank you, darling." He was still looking at me with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mum, I don't want you to go." He confessed. His voice trembled as he wrapped his arms around my naked legs. He was rubbing them gently; I was sure he didn't realise what he was doing. I cupped his cheeks and tilted his head up to meet my gaze.

"Baby boy, I have to go. But you can sleep in my bed so we can cuddle all night when I come home," I proposed. He smiled at me and agreed.

I kissed him one last time on his lips; he held it for a little longer than usual, but I let him; I was his mother after all.

I left my flat and headed to meet my friends for dinner. The evening was quite nice; we laughed about silly things and enjoyed each other's company.

We ended the night by going clubbing. I danced like crazy and drank far too much alcohol. As predictable as a guy hitting on me, he was quite handsome. He was called Yuki; he was toned and tall; he had messy brown hair and brown eyes. He had a cute smile, and he smelt incredible.

We danced glued together, and his hands groped my waist and my ass; he tried to touch my tits, but I slapped his hand away; it wasn't the time yet. He did get discouraged and moved his lips on my neck, exploring every inch of it.

I was getting horny; I took his face between my hands and brought him close enough to lock our lips together. Our tongues intertwined, and I moaned into the kiss.

Yuki was shocked; he hadn't expected a woman like me to be so forward. We broke the kiss, both of us panting hard. He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the exit.

Once outside, he asked."Want to go to my place or yours?"

"My place." I answered quickly. I wanted to fuck him before I forgot how he was done.

The cab ride was a crescendo of tension and anticipation. We were kissing each other without any shame.

I unlocked the door and walked in first when we got to my apartment. Yuki followed behind me and locked it again. He pushed me against the wall and resumed his assault on my mouth.

I felt like a teenager again, not caring about anything except him.

He pressed his body on mine, making me feel every inch of his muscular build. He started sucking on my collarbone and moved lower and lower until he reached my tits.

He pulled my top down, revealing my breasts. He gasped in awe, taking a breast in his mouth and starting to suck and lick it. It was absolute heaven, I moaned in delight as he switched between my two nipples. My pussy was soaking wet at this point.

Yuki grabbed me and hoisted me up; I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me into my bedroom.

Before we entered, I got off of him and proceeded into the room first. My baby was sleeping in the middle of the bed, looking like an angel.

I crawled on the bed, leaning on my side. He didn't flinch at my presence; he was sleeping soundly.

"Yuki, come inside." I whispered. In the meantime he had gotten naked; I gasped at the sight of his cock. It was huge and girthy; my pussy clenched in anticipation.

He lay beside me, giving me a sweet kiss. "Can I ask, who is he?" He said, pointing at my child. He wasn't awake yet, thank God.

"He is my son." I admitted shyly. Yuki smiled and said nothing more, instead opting for kissing my lips passionately.

I felt my son moving behind me, I hoped he wouldn't wake up yet, I really needed this release.

I rolled on my other side, giving Yuki my back. "You know what to do with my underwear." I mumbled. 

He unhooked my bra and slid it off my shoulders; he caressed my back softly and slowly started to pull down my panties. He threw them on the floor and resumed kissing my back.

His lips travelled from my shoulders down to my ass, which he gave a soft smack. He licked and sucked my ass cheeks, giving me goosebumps everywhere.

After he was satisfied with my butt, he leaned down behind me in a spooning position. He rubbed his cock against my pussy, teasing me. I tried to reach behind me to grab his dick and guide it into my pussy. But he blocked my hands.

"Not yet." He whispered. He kept rubbing himself against me, making my pussy drip with arousal.

Suddenly I felt my son waking up; he stretched and yawned, giving a big sigh. Yuki held still, his breath halted on my skin. I waited for what felt like hours to see if he woke up completely, but he settled back down.

Yuki exhaled in relief; I could feel his heart pounding on my back. He continued his tease, sliding his cock between my thighs, but not entering my pussy yet. He massaged my clit and played with it until I came hard.

I covered my mouth with my hands to avoid waking my son. He whimpered in his sleep.

Yuki wasted no time; he aligned his cock with my entrance and shoved it in with one thrust. I stifled another moan, biting on my fingers. I felt so full, his dick bottomed inside out with ease.

He stilled, letting me get used to his size; one of his hands roamed over my tits, squeezing and playing with them.

I tried to rock my hips backward, wanting him to start fucking me, but he didn't move.

 "Please..." I begged quietly. His other hand hovered over my vagina, moving his digits on my clit. I came once again, feeling my orgasm wash over me like a wave.

Finally, Yuki started pumping in and out of my cunt. His movements were slow and deliberate, making sure I felt his entire length.

 My tits jiggled with each thrust; I felt my pussy eating his dick with hunger.

He sped up his rhythm, fucking me like his life depended on it. His hands on my boobies tightened, squeezing them harshly. I moaned loudly, unable to hold it anymore.

Yuki slapped his hand over my mouth, muffling my cries. He fucked me faster, ramming his dick into me brutally. I was screaming behind his palm, quivering under his ministration, my orgasm rolling through my whole body.

Yuki grunted; he kept fucking me with all his might. "Ahhh." I moaned into his hand. 

The bed was shaking like crazy; my baby stirred once more. This time he sat up, rubbing his eyes confused. He opened them and found his mother being fucked mercilessly by a stranger. 

My son's eyes grew wide in shock, and his face paled. My mouth was still covered by Yuki's hand, preventing me from talking to him.

I bite on his palm, hoping to make him remove his hand. He finally understood and released my lips.

"Mum!" My son exclaimed, tears forming in his eyes. "What are you doing?" He asked hurtfully.

"Honey, I'm sorry." I whispered while Yuki didn't budge and continued fucking me.

The situation was getting embarrassing by the minute; my son was staring at me horrified.

I sighed. "Baby boy, this is Yuki. He is a friend."

My son looked at Yuki with confusion but didn't say anything. "Go back to sleep; I will explain everything in the morning." I reassured.

He shook his head. "No, I want to stay." He insisted.

I pouted. "Okay then, sit on the edge of the bed and watch." I told him.

Yuki withdrew his length. "Let's switch positions,” he said, pulling me on my knees. I leaned my chest on the mattress, my ass facing upwards.

Yuki smacked it with force, making me cry out. "You naughty girl." He growled. My son's eyes were fixed on my buttocks, his mouth hanging open.

"You liked it when I did that, didn't you?" Yuki questioned. I nodded enthusiastically.

He positioned himself behind me and plunged into me deeply. My pussy hugged his length eagerly; he grabbed my ass and fucked me rougher than ever.

My tits swung freely, slapping on the bed. My son stared at them intently; he was licking his lips unconsciously.

I cried out in pleasure; Yuki kept ramming inside me, his balls smacking loudly against my pussy. He groaned, grabbing my ass harshly. "You feel so good, you slutty bitch." He grunted.

My son's eyebrows furrowed; he looked offended at those words. I smirked and wiggled my butt enticingly.

Yuki spanked me again, eliciting a squeal out of me. "Dirty girl." He muttered.

I rocked back to meet his thrusts, my tits bouncing wildly. My son looked hypnotised by their movement, he was stroking himself through his pants. I winked at him; he turned bright red in embarrassment.

Yuki was getting close.” Turn around, I miss your lips," he panted.

I flipped over, allowing him to continue fucking me while lying on my back. He bent down and kissed me passionately. His tongue danced with mine, making love to my mouth.

I could feel his cock throbbing inside my pussy, stretching me out. I squeezed his length tight, trying to milk him dry. He moaned and picked up pace, his hips snapping fast.

"Ahhh." I screamed out as the most powerful orgasm hit me. "I'm cumming." I screamed at the top of my lungs.

My juice flooded his dick, making him slippery and allowing him to move easily. Yuki fucked me wildly; I came multiple times while he ravished me. My tits bounced violently; my son looked entranced by them.

Yuki tensed up; his moans turned into growls. "Ahhh, I'm going to cum." He announced. 

"Do it outside." I ordered him. I didn't want my pussy overflowing with his semen.

He groaned in frustration but obeyed my command. He pulled out of me and sprayed his cum on my belly and tits. He shot rope after rope, covering me completely in his load.

Yuki collapsed on my chest, panting heavily. "Fuck." He cursed.

"That was amazing." I giggled and gave him a peck on the lips. "But now leave. I need to handle this situation."

He stood up and gave my son a nod. "Goodnight." He wished him well and left the room.

I sat on the bed beside my baby, looking at his flushed cheeks. "Are you okay, baby boy?" I asked.

He nodded and whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be; I love you whatever you do." I cooed. He sighed and snuggled into my arms.

"Did you enjoy watching me and Yuki?" I questioned.

"Yes." He mumbled. "And no." He added. He looked conflicted.

I squeezed him. "What did you not enjoy?" I probed.

"The things he said to you." My son whispered. "They were mean; he shouldn't talk to you like that." He explained.

"Oh, baby, don't worry about it. He meant those as compliments."

My son frowned; he wasn't convinced. I kissed his head. "Come here." I said.

I scooped him up in my arms and brought him to lie on the mattress. I cleaned myself with a bunch of wet wipes in front of him; his blue eyes were eating me up.

"Lie next to me." I demanded. He did so hesitantly, his eyes wandering from my boobs to my crotch.

I took my breasts in my hands and squeezed them together. "Like these?" I asked him.

He nodded enthusiastically; he was practically drooling. I brought a tit close to his mouth and whispered, "Taste."

He latched onto my nipple, sucking it like he was hungry. I groaned loudly as he played with my breasts.

"Baby, please." I whined. I felt like he was awakening something inside me.

He sucked and licked my tits with gusto, switching between the two enthusiastically. My pussy started dripping again; his innocence was turning me on so much.

I pushed my tit further into his mouth; he started to gag but kept sucking. I shuddered and came on him; his spit dripped down my breast.

I pulled him up for a kiss. "You're an amazing kisser." I complimented.

He smiled at me shyly, his lips red from my lipstick. He got bolder poking his tongue in my mouth. I moaned and allowed him to explore my mouth thoroughly.

I wrapped my arms around his small frame; his body was on fire. His chest rubbing against mine was setting my pussy on fire.

I broke the kiss. "Is there anything else you'd like to do?" I offered.

He stared at me with more lust than I could expect; his fingers moved my hair away from my eyes. "Anything that stranger did to you."

His words sent chills down my spine; I smiled seductively. "Okay, baby boy." I consented.

I rolled on the bed and showed my bare pussy to him. "Look at how wet you made me, you little scamp." I teased.

His eyes were glued to my cunt; he swallowed thickly. Mum,"" he said. His voice was shaky. "Please..."

"What is it, baby?" I cooed.

He pointed at my pussy, his cheeks burning. "May I touch?" He begged. His voice sounded almost pitiful.

"Of course you may." I encouraged.

He scooted closer to my crotch, his finger hovering on my folds. He dipped his finger inside, making me gasp.

"Oh baby, that feels great." I praised him. "Keep touching me." 

He explored my cunt slowly, learning every crevice of my pussy. "How does this feel?" He asked curiously.

"It feels amazing, like you're caressing my soul." I praised. He chuckled and kept fingering me.

My son's fingers were clumsy but perfect; he hit every spot inside my cunt perfectly. My tits wiggled as I rode his fingers; I grabbed my breasts and squeezed them tightly.

"Mum." He whispered, his eyes looking at me adoringly. "May I taste?" He asked shyly.

"Yes, baby." I replied without hesitation. 

He lowered his head in between my thighs and licked my slit. His tongue was clumsy at first, but he got the hang of it pretty quickly.

He sucked my labia in his mouth, flicking his tongue over my clit. I was so sensitive to Yuki, it didn't take much to send me into oblivion. 

"Ahhh, I'm cumming, baby." I cried out. "Suck harder." I urged him.

My son hummed in agreement; his mouth worked its magic on my pussy. My juices dripped on his chin, but he didn't mind; instead, he sucked harder. I orgasmed like crazy, shivering under his ministrations.

My son removed his tongue from my pussy, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You taste better than my favourite juice."

I chuckled, pulling him into a hug. "Thank you, baby, I think you are pretty tasty too."

He smiled widely and buried his face into my shoulder. "More, I want more of you," he whispered.

I smirked widely. "To have more, you have to remove your clothes." I hinted. He nodded and got naked.

I watched him, my eyes feasting on his skinny body. I noticed he had an erection; he looked embarrassed about it.

"Don't worry, baby, it's normal." I assured. His fully erect cock was a sight to behold; I grabbed his hands and placed them on my tits. 

"You know how to play with these." I reminded him.

He grinned mischievously and started kneading my boobs harshly. "Ow." I protested weakly.

He apologised. "Sorry, Mum, I forgot you're sensitive." He murmured.

I smiled and grabbed his cock, bringing it close to my mouth. "Open your legs wider." I commanded. He complied without question.

I licked his cockhead, swirling my tongue around his pee hole. He moaned loudly at the sensation.

I opened my mouth wide and swallowed his length until he hit the back of my throat. He tasted salty but not bad; my baby was clean after all.

He gripped my hair in a fist and started thrusting into my mouth. I relaxed my throat, allowing him to fuck it as deep as possible.

"Ahah, Mum." He cried out. "I'm going to come soon."

I sucked on his length eagerly; I wanted to taste his load. He grunted and filled my mouth with his hot cum. 

I swallowed all of it and cleaned his dick with my tongue. He fell on his back, breathing heavily. 

"I'm tired." He confessed. 

I chuckled. "Hold on, baby." I purred. "The best is yet to come."

His eyes shone bright at those words. "Really?" He asked excitedly.

I nodded. "Lay down on the bed." I instructed.

He complied, his cock already showing signs of life. I straddled his lap and sat on his thighs, my pussy inches away from his cock.

I grabbed his dick and brought it to my entrance, pushing him inside me slowly. My cunt hugged him tight; he moaned at the feeling.

"You're so tight." He commented. I smirked and started to bounce on his cock; I felt him filling my walls perfectly.

I ground on his length, moaning as he stretched my pussy out. His cock twitched inside me, and his hips rose to meet my thrusts.

"You feel amazing, Mum." He whispered. I bit my lip and rode him faster, my tits bouncing wildly.

"Ahh." He gasped. "Faster."

I obliged, impaling myself on his length roughly. His eyes glowed brightly as he watched me.

His hand sneaked down to rub my clit; his thumb brushed over my nub. My pussy contracted; my muscles spasmed around his cock. 

"I'm going to cum." I warned. I didn't stop; instead, I bounced harder, wanting to milk his cock dry.

His hips snapped upwards, fucking me as hard as he could. I cried out, squirting all over the place; my body collapsed on him.

His mouth attacked my tits, sucking them roughly. I moaned, grinding myself on his still-hard cock. He rolled me over and pinned me under his small body. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head.

"Now it's my turn." He declared.

He fucked me wildly, slamming his hips into mine. "Ahh, baby." I cried out, my tits swinging to and fro. I was riding a new wave of pleasure. 

"Take all of me." I moaned. I felt my second orgasm building up.

Yuki's words echoed in my ear. 'You naughty girl.' I felt empowered by the phrase, and I started calling myself dirty names.

"Fuck your whore mum." I moaned. "Make her cum."

He grunted, fucking me harder. His grip on my wrists tightened, and I felt the pressure build up in my belly. 

"Harder." I demanded, lifting my hips to meet his. 

His balls slapped against my ass loudly; he pounded into me relentlessly. I clenched around his shaft and came like crazy.

I screamed out loud, my voice echoing in the room. He didn't falter his rhythm, fucking me through my orgasm.

I felt his cock swell inside me, he shouted. "Ahah, I'm cumming."

He exploded inside me, bathing my womb with his seed. He collapsed on top of me, panting like a dog.

"That was amazing." He breathed.

I smiled widely, kissing his lips. "We aren't done yet."

His eyes lit up; he grinned at me. "Really?"

I nodded. "Sit on the edge of the bed."

He complied. I straddled him and sat down on his dick, taking it into my pussy fully.

My baby gasped in shock; I held still for a few minutes. I leaned back and lay on his chest; his hands held my hips and kept me steady.

I stayed in this position, feeling my son's cock throb inside me. After a few minutes, he was ready to fuck again.

His mouth attacked my neck, sucking it softly. His hands made me grind on his dick. I moved my hips up and down, fucking him slowly. 

His mouth trailed down to my tits; he licked and sucked them greedily. "You have amazing breasts." He complimented.

"Thank you, baby." I cooed, moaning loudly. He was playing with my nipples, pinching them and tugging them.

He kissed his way to my lips, swallowing my moans with his mouth. I could feel his cock twitching inside me; I moved faster and deeper.

His breath hitched. "Mum..." he warned.

His cock bottomed out inside me, making me scream in pleasure. I clamped my legs around him, keeping him deep in my cunt. 

"Fuck me, baby." I pleaded. He did just that, fucking me so deep I thought his cock was going to split my pussy in half. 

I came so hard I lost count, his cock milking my cunt for every drop of my arousal. His teeth sunk into my collarbone, his hips moving erratically.

"Yuki had fucked me much better." I taunted, slowing down my rhythm.

He glared at me and made me take his cock as hard as I could. "Nasty girl, mocking me to get fucked more." He growled.

He slammed his hips against me, my pussy clamping on his cock desperately. "Yes, baby, use those dirty words." I begged.

He grunted in frustration. "Nasty whore." He groaned. His fingers dug into my hips, bruising the skin.

"Harder." I yelled. I wanted him to break me in half with his cock. I lifted my ass and impaled myself on him again and again.

His cock swelled inside my pussy; he was about to come. "Ahh, Mum, I'm coming." He shouted.

He spurted inside my cunt, filling me with his warm load. He fucked me through his orgasm, making me quiver underneath him.

We collapsed back on the mattress; he was holding me tight, his cock still twitching inside my pussy. 

"Mum, that was incredible." He admitted, his voice sounding dazed.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." I smiled and kissed his lips lightly. He held me tighter, not wanting to let go.

I wrapped my legs around him and rested my head on his chest. He stroked my hair soothingly. "Sleep, baby boy; tomorrow we are going to talk." I whispered.

Morning arrived; the air was still in my bedroom. My baby boy was asleep on my chest, his breathing heavy.

We were sweaty and stinky; we need to get cleaned. I dismounted him carefully and got to the bathroom to run the water for a bath.

I turned back to my room and crawled to him. I brushed his hair out of his face and kissed him gently. "Wake up, baby boy."

His eyes fluttered open, his blue orbs meeting my black ones. He smiled at me shyly and sat up. He yawned and stretched his body.

He looked at me confused. "Where am I going?" He asked.

"Bath." I explained simply.

He got off the bed, following me to the bathroom. We got into the tub, sitting in front of each other. I poured some shampoo on my hand and washed his hair tenderly.

After he was clean, he returned the favour. He lathered up his hands with soap and started washing my body slowly.

His fingers roamed over my breasts, making me shiver. He kissed my neck and trailed his mouth down to my shoulders, his lips ghosting over my skin.

I sighed in contentment. "This is so nice." I murmured.

He hummed in response and continued his work. He cleaned my belly, his fingertips trailing over my hipbones. 

He reached down and soaped up my thighs, spreading them apart to clean in between. I gasped as he touched my pussy.

"Relax, Mum, I won't touch your private parts." He promised.

His hand lingered on my inner thigh for a few seconds before continuing to clean the rest of my body.

We rinsed ourselves and dried each other. Once we were done, he asked. "Do you want breakfast in bed?"

I smiled. "Yes, that sounds lovely."

He nodded and left my room to prepare us food. I changed into a simple robe and lay down on the bed.

Twenty minutes later he walked back carrying a tray of food. There were pancakes and fresh fruits, along with some juices.

We ate our meal happily, feeding each other bites. Once we finished, I cleared the plate and put it aside.

"So, what do you think happened last night?" I asked curiously. He looked at me for a second, deciding how to answer.

"As far as I'm concerned, we copulated a few times; I definitely fancied every single second of it," he stated seriously. "I beg your pardon, but restrain from bringing strangers into this house; it's unpleasant for me and not necessary."

I looked at him in surprise; he sounded so mature and adult. "Of course, baby, only you and me." I agreed.

He smiled in satisfaction. "Good." He paused. "No more strangers roaming around you."

I chuckled at his possessiveness and sat him in my lap; my hand ran through his hair. "Only you, baby boy, I promise."

He melted into my embrace, his head resting on my shoulder. He closed his eyes and relaxed; he felt safe and loved.

"Mum, can we go to the park later?" He requested softly.

"Sure, we can do that." I nodded. He sighed in happiness and snuggled deeper in my arms.

I held him close, running my fingers through his silky hair. We stayed like this for a while, enjoying each other's company.

After a while he got up from my lap. "I need to brush my hair and wear something comfortable." He informed me. I nodded and let him go.

A few minutes later he appeared wearing some shorts and a shirt. He looked adorable, his black hair combed back neatly.

"Ready?" I asked. He nodded and took my hand, leading me out of my flat.

The walk to the park was enjoyable; the weather was sunny but breezy. We were holding hands, walking side by side. 

Once we got to the playground, I sat on a bench, watching my baby run and play with the others.

I was wearing a simple dress, but my tits were clearly visible. Some of the fathers were ogling me, it made me giggle. 

After a while Yuki messaged me asking me out. I replied dryly. "That was a one-night stand and nothing more." I texted. "Also, I'm not interested; I have someone else." I concluded.

The day passed peacefully; we spent some quality time together. He climbed on the jungle gym and waved at me, his grin reaching his ears.

I waved back at him and blew a kiss; he pretended to catch it and put it in his pocket. He jumped off and ran towards me.

Once he reached me, he straddled my lap and hugged me tight. "Can we go home?" he begged.

"Just if you let me carry you." I replied, knowing how much he hated to be treated like a kid. 

He pouted, making my heart skip a beat. "Okay, but you owe a favour." 

I hoisted him up in my arms and carried him like a baby, his arms around my neck. His face nestled on my neck, his lips brushing my skin occasionally.

We walked back home, enjoying the silence of the evening. I laid him down on my bed and tucked him in, giving him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Wait for me; don't fall asleep." I ordered him to leave for the dressing room. I needed to change into something comfy for the night.

I went to the closet and slipped off my dress. I opted for grey underwear; I desired to let my baby have fun again. I walked back in my bedroom and found him sleeping.

I crawled next to him and spooned him from behind, giving a kiss on his shoulder. His scent invaded my senses; he smelt so good.

He woke up and rubbed his eyes. "Mum..." he murmured, turning around to face me. His eyes landed on my tits and widened.

"Nice bobbies." He appraised.

"Thanks, baby." I chuckled; his compliment warmed my heart.

"You want to play some more?"

He nodded eagerly. I pulled him on top of me and started playing with his hair. "What do you want to do?" I questioned.

His face reddened; he seemed unsure on how to reply. I laughed at him. "Come on, baby boy, tell me."

He gulped. "Kiss." He muttered quietly. His request surprised me, but I decided to comply.

I pulled him in for a kiss, his lips opening slightly as he let our tongues intertwine. His kisses became hungrier; he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled it lightly.

I moaned into the kiss, feeling desire pool in my stomach. His little hands wandered over my body, making goosebumps appear on my skin.

He pulled away from the kiss. "Touch me, Mum." He pleaded. 

I smirked at him. "Where do you want me to touch you?"

He gestured at his cock, which was poking out of his shorts. I reached down and cupped it in my hand, stroking it lightly.

His head fell back, his mouth opening in a silent moan. I continued to stroke him, his cock growing harder in my palm.

He started rocking his hips, humping my hand. His eyes met mine; they were blazing with lust. 

"Take off your clothes." I whispered. 

He nodded and stripped himself out of his clothing. I admired his small frame; his muscles weren't defined, but he was lean and sexy.

I pushed him on his back and took his cock in my mouth, swirling my tongue over the tip. He gasped loudly, his hand tangled in my hair.

"Shit, Mum, you're amazing," he groaned.

I smiled and sucked his cock into my mouth, bobbing my head up and down. His cum leaked onto my tongue; it tasted bitter but not unpleasant. 

I pulled away to catch my breath; he looked at me pleadingly. "Please don't stop." He begged.

I licked my lips and swallowed his length again. I sucked him faster this time, my tongue working the underside of his dick. 

His hips started bucking, fucking my mouth harshly. I gagged around him; he apologised for being too rough. 

He grabbed my head and kept it in place, fucking my face brutally. His moans filled the room, his eyes wild with pleasure.

His thrust became erratic; he was close to coming. "Aaaaah, Mum," he cried out.

He exploded in my mouth, spurting rope after rope of cum down my throat. I swallowed all of it and licked his cock clean.

He lay down panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I crawled on his lap, straddling him and lining his cock with my pussy.

I sank down on him slowly, making sure he was comfortable. He hissed in pleasure, his length hitting my cervix. 

"You're so deep." He moaned, his fingers digging into my hips.

I started to move up and down, my tits swaying wildly. His hands came up to squeeze them, his thumbs tweaking my nipples.

I rode him fast, bouncing on his cock hard. He moaned in bliss, his hands grasping my tits harshly.

"Harder, Mum." He urged.

I sped up my rhythm, impaling myself on him brutally. "Look at how wet you make me." I praised him, rubbing my clit roughly.

His eyes widened in shock. "So wet..." he gasped.

I clenched around him, his cock swelling inside my pussy. "You're so big." I moaned.

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. Our lips met again, our tongues dancing together.

I felt my orgasm building up; I needed more. I moved my lips to his neck, sucking a mark on his skin.

"I'm a naughty girl." I whispered in his ear. "All wet for you." I licked his earlobe.

He growled, pounding me in the earnest, his lips reciprocating my kisses. "Bad girl." He agreed, his fingers pinching my nipple.

I moaned loudly, grinding myself on him. He matched my rhythm, slamming into me roughly. "That's it, fuck me, baby boy." I urged.

He grunted, his hips pistoning into me wildly. My tits bounced in his face; his tongue licked them eagerly.

"Baby boy." I whispered, my orgasm approaching. "You feel so good."

His lips captured mine in a kiss. I shuddered around him, clenching his cock tight. He kept fucking me through my orgasm; he was relentless.

"More." He demanded, his voice low and raspy.

I agreed and lay back on the mattress, my legs spread wide. He followed me; he rubbed the head of his dick on my sensitive clit, and my hands flew to cover my pussy.

"No, no, no." I cried out. "Too much." My voice sounded strained.

He smirked and slapped my hands away, rubbing his cockhead on my clit. I sobbed, my orgasm still rolling through my body.

"Naughty girl." He taunted and carefully plunged his shaft inside of me.

He leaned on my body, his mouth kissing and sucking on my lips. His hands roamed over me, one of them settling on my clit.

He rubbed my nub in circles, his hips pumping into me slowly. His mouth trailed down my neck to my tits, sucking on them gently.

I gasped and writhed under him, my orgasm building again. "Don't stop, baby." I begged.

His thrust sped up, fucking me roughly. His cock was bottoming out inside of me, hitting my cervix with every thrust.

"Bad girl." He murmured. "Look at you begging for my cock."

I nodded frantically, desperate to get him to fuck me harder. His hips snapped into mine; he fucked me with total abandon.

My orgasm crashed into me, my body convulsing. I felt my pussy flooding with arousal, his cock slipping easily inside of me. 

He moaned and continued fucking me, his breath hot on my ear. "I'm going to fill you up, naughty girl." He warned.

I came again and again, my body shivering. "Please, baby." I begged, my voice barely audible. 

He ravaged me, slamming his dick into me like his life depended on it. I orgasmed once more, my cunt clamping on him hard.

"Your cunt is eager to suck me dry." He grunted. He fucked me fast, his balls slapping loudly against my ass. 

He stilled suddenly, his moans filling the air. He exploded inside me, shooting rope after rope of his seed.

His lips brushed against mine, his tongue tasting me gently. He rolled off me, collapsing next to me.

I felt exhausted but happy. I cuddled him in my arms, his head finding a spot on my shoulder.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"You're welcome, baby." I kissed his forehead and hugged him tight.

We slept like that for a long time, wrapped in each other's embrace. We woke up late, the sun shining brightly on us.

He stretched his small body and snuggled against my boy. His hand squeezing boobies, he was clearly in love with them.

"What's your plan for today?" I asked, running my fingers through his silky hair.

"Spending time with you is the only thing I care about; the kind of activities we do are the same with you by my side," he answered, meaning his words. 

I blushed at his sweet words; I really loved spending time with my baby boy. He was so attentive and caring. 

We spent the rest of the week together, fucking whenever we wanted. I discovered he loved oral sex, both giving and receiving. 

One evening I woke up with a wet pussy; I realised he had been playing with my cunt while I was sleeping. He sucked my clit hungrily, making me squirm under his attention.

"Bad boy." I chastised him, but secretly loved every moment of his ministrations.

He licked my pussy with gusto, slurping my arousal greedily. I came on his tongue, crying out in pleasure. 

He pulled back and smiled widely at me. "Tastes delicious." He praised.

I chucked and pulled him into a kiss, licking my juices from his mouth. "You're so talented." I complimented.

He glowed in pride at my praise. "I'll try to do better," he promised.

"Oh, you are not going to get free with your sweet words; now you have aroused me." I retorted, smirking.

He blushed; he was still my little adorable baby. "What do you want me to do?" his voice was full of lust.

"So far you have been excellent; you have been mastering everything I ask you to do." I praised him. "Now I want you to give attention to the last hole you haven't touched yet."

I turned on my side and presented my ass to him, my pussy still dripping with arousal. "Please don't be too rough." I begged. 

His hands roamed over my backside; he kissed the spot where his hand had connected. "I promise I'll be careful." He vowed.

He lapped at my arsehole, making me gasp. I never knew rimming was so good; his tongue felt amazing on my starfish.

"Ohh fuck, yeah." I moaned. "Lick it harder." I demanded.

He sucked and licked my ass, his tongue probing my hole lightly. I cried out in pleasure, my pussy soaking my thighs.

His hand sneaked down to rub my clit; he played with my nub expertly. I was in heaven; he was playing my body like an instrument.

"Bad boy." I gasped. "Too much." My orgasm approached; I was ready to come.

He inserted his tongue into my hole, making me shudder in pleasure. I clamped on it hard, his finger rubbing my clit furiously.

I came like crazy, screaming out my pleasure. "Ahahah, keep going, baby." I pleaded.

He kept licking and sucking my ass, adding another finger to rub my G-spot. His fingers moved in a curl motion, rubbing my nub perfectly.

I orgasmed again and again, losing count. His tongue was magic; he knew exactly where and how to lick me.

He inserted another finger into my ass, making me cry out in pain. His fingers worked me slowly, expanding my hole.

When he deemed it, I went on all fours, raising my butt in the air. "I'm going to fuck you." He warned.

I nodded, desperate for him to penetrate me. He lined up his cock and slowly slid into me.

His cock stretched me out, filling me whole. His hips moved slow and steady, allowing me to adjust to his length.

Once he was fully seated inside of me, he sped up his rhythm, fucking me in the earnest. His cock was so deep inside of me I felt like I was going to split in half.

My body trembled under his ministrations; he pounded me like a man possessed. He reached down to rub my pussy, making my cunt clamp on his shaft.

"Ahah, baby boy." I cried out. My body shook like a leaf; I couldn't hold my orgasm in.

He growled in my ear. "Don't hold back; I fancy seeing you coming."

I came loudly, my body convulsing under him. My pussy squirted with force, coating everything beneath. 

His free hand ran through my short hair, his mouth biting my earlobe. "You're so dirty for me." He whispered. His words set me off again, making me climax harder.

He kept fucking me ruthlessly, my body unable to take more. My pussy was sore and my ass hurt, but I couldn't help the needy noises that escaped my lips.

"Fill me up." I begged him.

"Ask it properly." He rubbed my clit more intensively. 

"Please fill my arsehole with your cum, daddy." I cried out.

"Daddy?" He raised his eyebrow in amusement. I shrugged; I didn't have the energy to explain my reasons.

"Tell me why you call me 'daddy' or I won't finish you off." He warned me. 

I turned my head to face him. "Because it makes me horny, and you own me, Daddy." I replied honestly.

He grinned at me, his cock swelling inside me. "Then call me again," he commanded.

"Daddy, please, I need you to come in my ass." I begged.

He moaned and picked up the pace, going in and out of my back door like a piston. His fingers tweaked my nipples; his mouth sucked and bit my neck.

"Fuck me, daddy." I whimpered, his cock hitting a spot inside me that made me see stars.

His hands spanned my waist, pulling me onto his cock. He bottomed out inside my ass, making me scream.

His teeth sunk into the crook of my neck. "Dirty girl, look at how much cum you produce," he whispered. His thumb rubbed my clit furiously, sending me into oblivion.

His name spilt from my lips repeatedly. "Daddy, daddy, daddy." I called out, my body trembling like crazy.

He exploded inside of me, his cum leaking down my leg. I clenched around him as hard as I could, milking him for more.

He kept thrusting into me through his orgasm, his teeth marking my skin. "Such a nasty slut for me." He grunted.

His words set me off one last time, my body shaking so hard I was afraid I would collapse. 

He rolled me on my back and kissed me deeply, his tongue invading my mouth. I returned the kiss fervently, his taste making me drunk.

When we broke apart for air, he smiled at me lazily. "You look adorable, covered in our nasty fluids." He complimented.

I chuckled. "You should see yourself, Daddy."

His hand groped my breasts and ass; he was claiming his ownership.

"I love you, baby boy," I admitted.

"I love you too, Mum," he replied. We cuddled together, enjoying each other's warmth. 

"We might burn in the heavenly fire, but I don't give a damn fuck till I'm with you." I kissed his lips like it was for good. 

[kazbrekkerfast]

what instrument I think F1 drivers would play + reasons (from a cellist who is objectively correct)

(if you disagree that's fine please share your opinions I really want to know them)

Get ready cuz this is a LONG post. I also mostly stuck to the 2024 grid cuz I couldn't be bothered with much more

also please note that I wrote this whilst exhausted and avoiding practicing so if it has any spelling/grammar mistakes, you didn't see anything

1. Max Verstappen: percussion

ok so max is to me a percussionist through and through but also seems like the type of percussionist who learnt how to play the violin as a kid and hated it, so became a drummer instead. definitely plays the marimba like his life depends on it. also becuase I have a thing for them so ye 🥰 (I do however love a good fanfic where he's like a super competitive violin/piano player even if I can't really see him play them)

2. Charles Leclerc: piano

so he obviously already plays piano which suits him sm so I'm going to keep that because he has the correct vibes and everything for piano, but more on the late classical onwards stuff than the earlier music (I NEED to hear him play Debussy like omfg please)

3. Carlos Sainz: conductor

ok here me out but I can't see him playing in an orchestra BUT he would definitely conduct, and could probably play a string instrument/piano quite well but like it wouldn't be his passion if you get what I mean (I also feel like he'd be quite strict as a conductor but get super good performances out of the orchestra)

4. Daniel Riccardo: trombone (+bass trombone)

ok he's the reason I'm making this list because OMFG THIS MAN IS A BRASS PLAYER like defo lower brass too but I can't really see tuba player from him so trombone. he's also the kind of brass player to be stupidly good at percussion too so ye that too. also get this man in a big band. please.

5. Lando Norris: violin

ok so lando is always giving main character energy and like there's not much more main character than a violin, and also I can very much see him being a more romantic/lyrical player (he just has them vibes idk). HOWEVER broski has a MASSIVE hand span so he has to play piano cuz he can deffo reach them 10ths let's be real

6. Oscar Piastri: oboe (+french horn)

ok HEAR ME OUT!!!! tell me you can't see this guy play an oboe. I think he has the right sized face for it idk that sounds strange but I can see it please believe me 😭😭. Also french horn cuz it's my fave instrument except my own and I think he'd serve playing it idk

7. Lewis Hamilton: cello

I'm biased. he has the vibes. (not really but idc). also probably sings (he already does but shh). Definitely not a baroque player and probably plays more Dvorak era stuff (the things I'd do to see him play Brahms E minor) but this is all because I am spectacularly biased and want to see my fave drivers play my instrument. also producer vibes but that's unrelated.

8. George Russell: flute

ok so personally most male flute players I know are complete dickheads BUT I think George is the exception like he just seems quite flutey (also he kinda gives classical era piano player but that may be me being silly) but bro definitely doesn't like syncopated rhythms like let's be real if it's off the beat my guy would be completely lost. he does seem like the type to be able to read ledger lines tho

9. Yuki Tsunoda: percussion

I think he's another percussionist tbh but more cymbals and timps than tuned percussion. I don't have much more to say about Yuki because he's just cymbals in my head lmao

10. Pierre Gasly: euphonium

right. he gives wind because he's french BUT he probably is euf cuz like I can very much picture him playing it and also I can very much see him giggling at the back of a brass band or some shit with Yuki (yukierre nation what's good) so I've put him as a euf cuz why not

11. Esteban Ocon: clarinet

another biased opinion but I can see it like he just is a clarient I think. I think it's probs just the fact he's tall but like the stereotype of people looking like their instruments is real so he (he does give cellist a bit too but that may also just be because he's tall)

12. Fernando Alonso: trumpet

right this was a very tough one BUT he holds all the chaos and menace of a trumpet player (especially when he was younger), and I think it suits him quite well. he does give lower brass a bit but I think he has more trumpet vibes than lower brass so ye

13. Lance Stroll: clarinet

ok rich boi obviously would have been taught the violin and I think he'd be pretty good at it tbh BUT he gives clarient vibes so fucking hard like especially bass clarinet, cuz he's different like that

14. Nico Hulkeberg and Kevin Magnussen: trumpet

right. these two are together for a reason. these two are the two trumpet players in an orchestra who sit there yapping for half the rehearsal, play the 4 bars they have in a piece and then are done for the day. don't say you can't see it. you can.

15. Alex Albon: guitar

this one is quite specific but he gives like classical and jazz guitar vibes in a very specific way. also woodwind. idk he contains multitudes and I think we should celebrate that. maybe flute? I can see that. (I'm losing the plot here wtf even is an instrument)

16. Logan Sargent: viola

PLEASE DONT COME FOR ME I SAY THIS IN A GOOD WAY!!! he really has strings vibes to me but definitely is not violinist at all, therefore I think he'd be a good viola player. I'm sorry we all need one somewhere 😭. HOWEVER as he is American I will say get this man on the cheer squad and like idk have him throw people in the air while the marching band does it's thing I can see him doing that

17. Sergio Perez: french horn

sorry he's so far down I had actually no clue what instrument he has the vibes for at all. BUT I made up my mind, and I think he gives french horn vibes. don't ask me why I don't know it just is there

18. Valterri Bottas: tuba

HE TUBAS MORE THAN ANYONE HAS EVER TUBAD BEFORE also probs plays percussion on the side but in the sense that they didn't have enough one day so he volunteered to play for fun. I almost put him as a double bass but he really doesn't have strings vibes at all so I moved him to tuba

19. Zhou Guanyu: piano

this is going to sound weird af but don't take it that way but holy shit this guy's fingers are LONG like I think he could probs do a 9th or 10th easily (I'm so jealous) and I feel like he has piano vibes. also a bit stringy but also not idk I feel like he'd own a harp but not play it often so ye

20. Franco Colapinto: violin (?)

idk him that well and he has very similar vibes to lando (this may be due to the edits I have CONSUMED over the last few months) so ye I think he could be violin, maybe like leader of the 2nds kinda thing for the fun of it

21. Liam Lawson: guitar and drum kit

ok. this is a copout cuz he already does and posts things of him playing but like he just is guitar like that is what he is in my mind. also he gives the vibe of that one guitarist who decided to learn drums but hasn't got the coordination quite right yet so isn't great at keeping time but thinks he's great anyways (I love him really)

ANYWAYS IM DONE THANKYOU IF YOUVE GOT THIS FAR I WISH YOU ALL THE LOVE AND HAPPINESS IN THE WORLD

[lovelizards]

It all happened so fast.

One second Sebastian, Sam, and Abigail were all huddled around the table in his room, rolling up new characters for their game of Solarion Chronicles, and the next second his bedroom door had been thrown open by a stranger with slicked back hair and grey gloves.

"H - hey!" Sebastian jumped up, more angry than frightened, "What the hell? Who - who are -?"

"Just a friendly government agent. I'm looking for the boy called Sebastian." The stranger said, his tone sharp as a knife, and his cold eyes flicking between him and Sam.

"Actually, I'm Sebastian," Abigail said, leaning on Sebastian's shoulder with a sarcastic frown.

"I thought it was my turn to be Sebastian!" Sam insisted, as both he and Abigail crowded close around him. Sebastian would have been grateful, if he hadn't noticed the very real-looking gun in the stranger's hand.

"Cute," the man levelled his gun at the three of them.

Abigail froze, her hand gripping his sleeve. Sam let out a shocked breath, then raised a slow, protective arm in front of the two of them.

"Do...do you have a warrant?" Sebastian asked, his nerves making the words feel heavy and strange in his mouth. But, the man looked like some kind of government suit. He had an ID card hanging around his neck, and fancy shoes.

"Yeah!" Sam insisted, "This is messed up! You can't just walk into someone's house and threaten them at gun-point!"

But the man didn't respond.

He crossed the room in a few steps, and grabbed hold of Sebastian's arm. The guy was strong, stronger than he looked, and a manic sort of fear overcame Sebastian in that moment. He yelled, and fought, wrestling with the hand holding him.

Sam jumped on the guy, shouting something about calling the cops - though all of them knew that there were no cops local to the valley.

But Sam was barely an annoyance to the guy, and for one horrific second Sebastian thought was going to shoot at Sam.

Instead, he raised the gun up and cracked him in the head with the butt of the gun. The force of it made Sam's eyes roll to the back of his head, and sent him to the floor.

"Sam!" Abigail rushed over to him as Sebastian was getting dragged away, "You prick! What the fuck is your problem?!"

Again, nothing from the government agent.

He just dragged Sebastian bodily up the stairs, past his sobbing mom and a stony-faced Demetrius, and out into the cold evening in his socks.

Sebastian dug his feet into the dirt, he tried to trip the guy, he aimed punches and kicks anywhere he could, until eventually he got some kind of reaction.

The man let go of his arm for just a second, and then nailed him in the eye with a punch that nearly knocked him on his ass. The pain burst through his head, it burned and throbbed, and it took him a second to regain his balance.

"Quit making this hard, kid," the government agent instructed, "You're not the one I'm after, so - hey!

Sebastian didn't wait for him to finish, he bolted.

But he only made it a few rushed steps before the blast of a gunshot rang his head, and a searing pain ripped through his shoulder.

He stopped, tense, trembling, the fear of being faced with a real ass gun, something that could kill him in an instant - rather than something only from video games - slowly dawning on him.

The man's heavy footsteps came up behind him, and a strong hand turned him around; "You get it now? I don't want to hurt you, but I will. This'll be easier for you if you just comply. Now come on."

He grabbed the front of Sebastian's hoodie, and started pulling him stumbling along, up past the train tracks, towards the summit of the mountain.

Sebastian wasn't sure how much time had passed as he stood there, trembling from the cold and from the fear, near the sharp drop of the summit. Eventually, though, he heard running footsteps coming up the stairs and started.

The man adjusted his grip on Sebastian's hoodie, his leather gloves squeaking quietly, as the two of them watched Eve come sprinting into the summit clearing.

Wait, Eve?

Sebastian blinked.

"Eve?" He asked.

"Sebastian!" Eve cried. She was panting heavily, and clutching a crumpled piece of paper in her hands.

"Eve -Agh -!"

The government agent yanked on his hoodie, and then shoved him out further towards the stretch of open sky. His sock feet tried and failed to grip the loose dirt under him.

"We've been waiting for you, 3V3..."

Sebastian tried to catch his panicked breath. All he could do was grab hold of the man's arm for dear life, and try to stop his heart from beating right out of his chest.

"Eve!" He called, his voice breaking, "Be careful! This guy is dangerous!"

Eve's shoulders were raised, her hands hung at her sides but they were tensed into fists, the way they always were when she was trying to pretend she was fine.

"Let him go," she said, her voice struggling to stay level. She threw the paper to the ground, a letter of warning with a map to the summit, "You want me, you've got me. So let him go."

"How loyal, 3V3. And here I thought you were just toying with the kid, playing at being a human. You're full of surprises."

The man pulled a pair of expensive looking handcuffs from his pocket - awkwardly, trying to manage the gun at the same time. The cuffs were dull grey, and looked electronic, like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.

He tossed them into the dirt at Eve's feet, but said nothing else.

Eve stared down at them for only a second.

"E - Eve, wait - don't! Don't - " Sebastian tried to call, but he faltered and his teeth clicked together sharply as the gun was trained on him again.

"It's okay, Sebastian," Eve said, let out a long, trembling breath.

She picked the handcuffs up, and calmly secured them around her own wrists. The little LED lights lit up once they were on, and an electronic beep echoed out over the quiet of the summit.

"No...no, Eve..."

Eve looked up at the agent with a teary glare.

"Now let him go."

"Hah!" The agent gave one sharp tug on the front of Sebastian's hoodie, and then threw him forward onto the ground. He went sprawling, his legs like jelly, and landed hard on his hands and knees.

"Give me five minutes with him," Eve said, her voice low and kind of scary, serious in a way Sebastian had never heard her be before.

Even the agent faltered, then huffed a sigh.

"Two minutes."

Eve rushed over to Sebastian, dropping down onto her knees and reaching her cuffed hands out towards him. Sebastian had already pulled himself up, he held her arms, looking down at the handcuffs, trying to remove them.

"Eve - Eve, wait - we can figure this out -!"

"It's okay, Sebastian - listen to me -"

" - let - let me try to, just hold on -"

" - Sebastian. Sebastian!"

Eve stilled his frantic hands, clasping them in her own.

"I can't just let him take you..." Sebastian groaned, lowering his head so she couldn't see the infuriating shine of tears in his eyes.

Eve pulled him into a tight hug, her face buried in his hair, and her voice a broken whisper in his ear.

"Go to Rasmodius. The wizard - go find him in Cindersnap. Tell him what happened - tell him to contact Mr. Qi -"

"W - wait - wh - who? Eve, w -"

"Time's up." The agent called, his footsteps a threatening sound as he approached.

"Do what I said, Sebastian - it'll be okay - agh!"

Eve was hauled up by her wrists, and even though she didn't try to fight or get away, the agent handled her roughly. Sebastian felt the fire of fury in his gut, but shock and sorrow were too strong to overcome.

"Please just let her go!" He shouted, hating how much like a little kid he sounded and scrambling up to his feet as the agent started dragging Eve away.

"Stay right there, kid."

Sebastian stared down the barrel of the agent's gun, desperate to chase after them, but frozen in his spot.

"It's okay - it's okay Sebastian!" Eve kept saying, and then, "Take - take care of Reggie for me! And - and the farm animals! Please -!"

Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything else, the agent pressed a finger to his ear, muttered something, and both he and Eve flickered out of sight - leaving him alone on the summit, with strange instructions to follow, and a terrible ache in his chest.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

If we guess that Adult Reader is roughly 120, that means that they were born in about 1905, would have 15 in 1920, and 34 when WW2 started.

Imagine the teens not quite knowing how old they are, thinking they are in their 30s or 40s or even late 20s.

Then they snoop around and find photos of baby reader in those white dresses they put every baby in back then, regardless of gender. Photos of them during the roaring twenties in nice suits/flapper dresses, photos being part of relief efforts in WW2, photos of them at the Woodstock festival and Elvis concerts, a photo of them (and Victor???) watching the moon landing.

At first they think Reader just looks a lot like their family, then they drop the bomb of "Oh no, that's me."

Reader is old, not quite as old as Logan and Victor, but they're older than Xavier and Erik, and that's enough to earn some shock and awe.

Because what do you mean their cool adult friend figure is 120 YEARS OLD?! Seriously?! They don't look a day over 21!!! They were alive during the Titanic?! They were part of BOTH World War efforts?! They are older than TV and McDonald's?!?!

(This doesn't even mention the hollow, scared feeling that they KNOW and ARE FRIENDS WITH Sabretooth. Him. The guy who tries to decimate Logan and tried to kidnap some of them to draw him out. The guy who was part of Weapon X. The one adult enemy who has a kill count in the third digits, if not the fourth digits. Him. That's their friend?!) (They don't have a good time learning that).

Xavier wants Reader to give the kids a lesson on old technology and what they saw during their ling lifetime, so the children know what to watch out for and how people should support each other. Erik wants them to please whip the Brotherhood into shape. Victor wants them both to can it and leave Reader alone. Reader tells everyone to shut it, and they'll help in their own ways, but they're not reliving the wars, the 20s, or the various moments of violence throughout history.

(The one thing I'd add is that if the show is set in the 2000s, or late 1990s-2000, then Reader would be born in 1880, I think? Eh. They're an oldie but a goodie, they'll take a birthday cake any day of the year)

The person who kept the baby photos of Reader were Victor, who only gave Reader the one or two family photos they wanted, a.k.a. with their parent and grandparent and the family pet, an old hound named Maxwell. Victor kept the rest, because even if Reader doesn't like those memories or those photos, he does, and he wishes he'd had more photos of him and his brother when they were younger, even just one. There are several photos of him, Reader, Logan, and a few other people at a bar, on the war front, and even at historical events. And now Logan is invested too, because what do they mean he knew Reader before all this? They were friends in his past? They knew him? Why didn't they tell him? Why didn't they say anything?

@sugar-soda You've opened up a whole new au, please have fun with it! Send any asks or headcanons for this Reader, I like them, and I'm curious how they deal with their friends and foes alike!

[kesujo]

If you were to have cosplay sex with your idol girlfriend, which idol would you think would look best in the following costumes?

Police

Student

Professor

Witch

Superhero

Cheerleader

Princess

Comics, game characters

Bikini

Nude

For the sake of not being too boring and answering 'Taeyeon' for all of them, imma try to diversify a bit here (although I may still end up going with Taeyeon for more than one :p) Also, this is more gonna be of a 'who I think of first for __' or 'who do I think suits a __ kind of look the best' :D

Police

I think this one is pretty easy since IU, I think, is (or was) an honorary police officer

2. Student Sana seems like she'd be a delight to teach. What a cutie pie

Look at her.

Yep. Looking at her. Looking at her ... wait what?

Oh, also, shoutout to Taeyeon too

And ofc her in her 'Letter to Myself' MV and photoshoot/jacket shoot/whatever they're called

(how to be that cushion, anyone know?)

3. Professor Speaking of Taeyeon (sorry, but you asked me, the Taeyeon-biased guy, so you should've figured that I'd answer Taeyeon for a few of these, even if I said I'd try not to at the beginning of this post)

Yep.

Yep yep. Help, my mind is going fried with all sorts of ideas of principal/professor Taeyeon ... I can't start any more drafts than I already have...

4. Witch First thing that comes to mind for 'witch': Red Velvet. Probably influence of 'Really Bad Boy' and/or 'Peekaboo' or something. Of those, I feel like Irene would suit the 'witch' vibes

(this was the closest thing I could find to 'Witch Irene' LMAO) (Irene didn't really look like a witch in RBB, really, so ... yeah. Lemme konw if you got something better and I'll update this :D)

5. Superhero

First thing I thought of for 'Superhero' is Super Yuppers from Chocome, and Yeoreum is my fav amongst them, so it's Yorm :D (also, have a yorm draft, but unsure when it's gonna come out)

6. Cheerleader

Somehow, first thing I thought of was this outfit from Amazing Saturday and not SNSD's cheerleader outfits from 'Oh!' Speaking of that, though, Tiffany looked the best in their cheerleader outfits for 'Oh!' imo

7. Princess First person I thought of for this one is Yuna

idk why tbh, I just feel like Yuna fits the 'princess' vibe the best, you know? And this is coming from someone who barely knows ITZY, really. Perhaps that's just the power of Yuna...

8. Comics, game characters For this one, I figure I should choose someone who is also known for good acting, and I think Seohyun has been praised for her acting before. Also, here's her as Maelficent:

and her as a cute vampire:

(IU was chosen for the police officer one, which is why I didn't choose her for this one) (Also, I still have yet to watch anything SNSD has acted in, or any kdrama that isn't 'Goblin', for that matter xD) Don't let those outfits deceive you, she got the body to pull off curvier characters too...

9. Bikini As you may have surmised, I tend to follow the SM girl groups quite a bit, and there's no other real rhyme of reason behind any of the other groups I pay attention to. So, on that note:

And then, obviously...

Yeah, nuff said, really.

10. Nude So ... uh, not sure what kinda, like, outfit or cosplay or something 'nude' is, I'm guessing this is more or less 'who do you think looks best nude' or something?

One answer:

Not biased at all

Not in the slightest

...Yeah...

(btw holy FK this pose...)

Also have some cute Taeyeon (that's still showing off her assets) :D

And who can forgot this legendary outfit

Not me, that's who. AND ALSO, Taeyeon showing off her ass for no reason:

And some candids of that LV outfit

Those lil slits on the slide, perfect for sliding your hands in and grabbing a handful of them titties

And,

STEP ON ME MOMMY

Ahem, sorry about that.

Yeah. Not biased btw.

:)

[fakeagatha]

Mrs Fletcher | Prof!Eve Fletcher x Fem!Reader | Chapter Six: Sore Tongue

Summary: Eve shows up to the university with an unexpected change.

A/N: This is probably the longest chapter I've written so far, even though the word count isn't that high. I'm quite proud of myself for posting another chapter so soon after chapter five! Anyway, please enjoy.

Warnings: Implied NSFW, Needles?, Alcohol

Word Count: 2022

AAA Community

Divine Headcanon Generator

Two days after your "date" with Eve, Monday had made its return and you were heading to leave for class. You didn't feel like it, but honestly, you never do. Checking through some of your books, double checking that your diary was on your desk where it should be, you zipped up your bag and grabbed a couple of pens from your desk.

You felt lucky having a single dorm. It could occasionally get lonely, but at the same time, you were free. You could do whatever you wanted without being watched over, and decorated how you wished, hence to why you had a section of your wall dedicated to pictures. You would stand there and look at them often. Your parents, some pictures with Steve, some of your cousins, but you would linger on a picture of you and your ex girlfriend in the middle, Haley, in the dorm you shared in college. You wanted to forget about her, maybe to feel less guilty about everything, but it wasn't easy.

You shook your head, and left the room, walking to your first class: Latin, an extra class you had chosen to take. It wasn't too far from the dorms, luckily enough. As you entered the floor the class was on, Mrs Fletcher suddenly bumped into you as she was coming out from one of the staff bathrooms.

"Mrs Fletcher! Good morning, sorry for bumping into you." You chuckled, looking up at her, wearing that cute pair of glasses you thought suited her face perfectly.

"Hey Y/N," She replied, and her voice sounded a bit strange. As you spoke, you noticed something. You weren't trying to be creepy by taking a glance into her mouth, you just noticed it from the corner of your eye. Your eyes quickly darted back down to look at her mouth once again just before she managed to close it, trying to confirm what you thought you had just noticed. And it fucking was.

"Mrs Fletcher, what's that?"

Her eyes widened, "No'hing?"

"... No way." You gasped. "Mrs Fletcher, open your mouth."

Eve tilted her head downwards, trying to block your view, "Why?"

"You aren't fooling me!"

Eve couldn't help but smirk at you, looking away sheepishly at having been caught.

"You got a fucking tongue piercing."

Eve laughed a little, "hey, 'anguage!" She warned, playfully sticking out her slightly redder and swollen tongue, with a long silver bar. "I got a 'ittle 'ealous of your eye'row." She pointed to your piercing, which you actually forget is there because of how long you've had it. "I wa' fee'ing... rebe'ious. Go' i' done after our coffee. I wa' very swollen yester'ay, I'm jus' surprised I 'an speak a'ready!"

You couldn't help but smile like an idiot, who would've thought that your 45 year old professor would get a tongue piercing, of all things?

"Speak? I'm only just barely understanding you miss. How are you going to teach your classes?" You chuckle, "Are you even allowed to have a tongue piercing?"

Eve grinned, clanking the jewelry against the back of her teeth, "I don' know, an' proba'y not.

"Is that why you said you had somewhere to be on Saturday? You realized you were going to be late for your appointment?" You giggled, looking at her in amusement every time she spoke.

"Yah! I go' there late!" She exclaimed, making you laugh again, a sound Eve actually loved hearing. "I' was very scary, I don' like need'es."

You bit your lip, "That looks so painful though, I didn't take you for someone to do through with a tongue piercing." You joked, making Eve chuckle and nod in response.

As Eve tried to ramble on about how nervous she was, almost oversharing the nervous poop she had beforehand, you cut her off, "I don't want you to irritate it, why don't you tell me all about it tomorrow so you don't accidentally hurt yourself?" You offered, and Eve couldn't help but blush at your consideration. She nodded, poking her tongue out one final time before heading down the hallway.

Well, that just might have been the hottest thing you had seen in a while, and certainly NOT what you expected at 9am on a Monday morning.

Steve sneaked up behind you, attempting to scare you as if you hadn't already noticed him. He frowned in disappointment, and you put your finger to your lips.

"Don't go telling everyone but... If you, hypothetically, had to guess where Mrs Fletcher would choose to get a piercing, where do you think it would be?"

He looked at you in confusion, before smirking. "Definitely, her ni-"

"Don't."

"Fine. I don't know, her nostril or something?" He shrugged, and you shook your head.

"Tongue."

"Ouch, but-" His eyes widened in realization, looking at you for confirmation, "She didn't, there's no way, you're pranking me. I don't know why you'd choose that for a prank, it's a little weird-"

"Steve, I'm not joking."

He looked at you in silence, almost as if contemplating whether to believe you or not. "For real?"

"For real."

He started to laugh, and you joined in. It was so random, and any other person wouldn't believe you. Everyone knows that Mrs Fletcher is innocent (on the outside), and no one would imagine, not even in one hundred years, that she would do something so insane as a tongue piercing, especially since she once shared with one of her classes that she cried at 38 years old because she had to have blood drawn.

"Okay, I got to get to class, we'll talk later." You waved goodbye, and Steve headed into the opposite direction.

The rest of your classes went by pretty smoothly. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, which was unusual. Normally you have to deal with at least one snarky comment or insult a day, whether it be from a classmate, or Mrs Evanora. Before leaving, you popped your head into Eve's open office door.

"See you tomorrow, Mrs Fletcher." You smiled, and she gave you a kind wave, indicating she probably couldn't really speak.

Eve finished her own work about an hour later, and took the drive back to her house, the thought of her bed being very irresistible.

She pulled up outside, and took a few minutes to water her flowers, admiring the rose bush that had started to bloom. She went inside and quickly replaced her work heels with a pair of slippers that were way too big for her.

She made her way to the bathroom, and swished some cold water through her mouth to soothe her tongue, unable to stop checking herself out in the mirror every now and then, making ridiculous poses, fantasizing herself as a tongue model. Wait, did those even exist?

She quickly changed into a gray tank top with some shorts, and got into bed. She opened up her laptop, and couldn't resist browsing online, looking at some things she probably wouldn't want anyone to know she was watching.

Sleep eventually overtook her, as she went into a slumber she so desperately needed, even though her day wasn't as tiring as it sometimes was. And, as if no time at all had passed, she woke up to her alarm blaring into her eardrums.

17:56

'How and when did two hours pass?'

Testing her speech, Eve found herself being able to talk again, to a comprehensible point at least, so after a brief phone call and her voice still groggy, she changed into a bikini with a plain black dress on top to head over to Amanda's house to relax in her jacuzzi for the evening.

Even at the last minute, Amanda was rarely busy in the evenings and was always open to a meet up, even if it's just for a chat. Eve doesn't understand how she does it, but she admires it, a little jealous of her social battery and availability, even.

It was already dark out as she stepped into her car, regretting not taking a jacket beforehand even though it wasn't that cold, but she really couldn't be bothered to go back inside to get one. She started the engine and turned up the heat a little bit, just to warm up the vehicle.

The drive to Amanda's was only around ten minutes, since she didn't live too far away from Eve, making it convenient to have wine nights together. She knocked on the door, pulling her friend into a hug upon greeting each other.

"Come in, mind turning on the jacuzzi? I'll bring us some wine." Amanda grinned, heading into the kitchen. Eve nodded, walking to the balcony window and stepping into Amanda's back yard. Despite the fact that the woman lived alone, her house was quite big, hence the big outdoor space.

Eve looked towards the side of the jacuzzi, and turned it on, watching as the bubbles began to form. She stripped herself from her dress and took off her heels, stepping into the warm bubbly water, letting out a sigh at the warmth which replaced the cold evening air on her skin.

Amanda came outside a few moments later, a bottle of wine, two glasses and a bowl of Cheez Its in her hands. Eve quickly stepped back out to help her, "You're going to drop something!" She mused.

"I don't like having to take multiple trips. If my hands can carry them, I carry them." Amanda replied, smirking, and Eve rolled her eyes as she helped her place everything onto the the jacuzzi wall.

They stepped back in together, and Amanda made a similar sound of pleasure at the warm water.

Anything new at the senior home?" She inquired, and Amanda shrugged,

"Poor Shirley had a fall, which startled Brenda so much she had a heart attack." Amanda sighed, looking almost unfazed.

"That's..." Eve froze, looking up at her friend with wide eyes, "Tragic?"

Amanda laughed, nodding, swaying her hand through the water.

"Why don't you come work full time at the university instead? If you'd prefer?" Eve suggested, sliding over to sit next to her.

"I don't think I'd work full time stocking up the library, the old people are way more interesting. Unless it completely shuts down, I'll stick with part time at the uni." She she shrugged, and the woman next to her nodded in understanding. "Besides, what's going on with that teacher's pet of yours?" Amanda teased, and Eve shoved her.

"Don't say that." She laughed, "But... She might have treated me to a coffee, or well, tried to. I paid for her when she wasn't looking."

Amanda's jaw dropped, setting her wine glass down to cover her mouth. "What?!" 

Eve nodded, giggling. "Yeah, I was there with some coworkers and she was having lunch with her friend behind us, and as I was about to leave, she asked me to stay for another drink." She explained further, making Amanda look even more excited with every word.

"Are you living in a book or something?" 

"I think I might be."

Amanda smirked at her, moving her arms to rest them on the wall, before wincing.

 "Ugh, my hand is still bruised because of you." She groaned, and Eve put her own hands up in defense.

"Hey, you offered!"

"Yeah, to distract you from the pain, you started squeezing the life out of my hand before the needle even reached you!"

"Okay but still, it was so worth it." Eve stuck her tongue out for emphasis, showing off the jewelry.

"The swelling has gone down so much!" Amanda exclaimed in surprise, making Eve nod excitedly.

"Yeah, before you know it, I can change it to that vibrating jewelry I found on Etsy last week-"

"Eve!"

"Sorry!"

Amanda shook her head, sighing, "What did she think of it?"

Eve's cheeks reddened, giving her a smirk. "Oh, she noticed immediately. Before anyone else did. I know I shouldn't have it in the working environment, so I am a little worried now..."

Amanda clicked her tongue, looking towards Eve's mouth again, "Well, if anyone calls you out, say they're a pervert for looking there."

"At my tongue?" She laughed, and the other woman nodded.

"Yes!"

Eve rolled her eyes at her antics, listening as she randomly began to talk about some of the trash she had to clean up at the university library, even though it wasn't part of her job. The night went on, and it didn't take long for the pair of them to become tipsy on a single bottle of wine.

[quillname]

Been having brainrot about Ashton since the new lore in episode 68, and Monday's thumbnail absolutely doubled-down on it, and this redraw is what grew from the mulch :'D

[imerian]

Vr46 academy keychains

Set of five charms that all match in different ways

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 . ✦　　˚　

Open for detailed pictures of each one

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

˖⁺‧₊˚⭒✮⭒˚₊‧⁺˖

. ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗

I ran out of tags so I'll say it here but i would greatly appreciate a reblog, especially if you share your thoughts on these pieces in tags (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

(Also i forgot that bez have matching part with luca so I didn’t add that to tags sorry

[sysig]

No go on please (Patreon)

[arolesbianism]

I was looking at old photos of some of my nuggets yesterday from before I did my first day 1 reset (aka before I got a mod that lets you keep your agents during day 1 resets) and realized that I accidentally remade Eva wrong. Except! Beautiful world! It's actually a good thing because her current back hair was her dead sister's back hair so actually it was intentional from the start and I'm a genius forever <3333

[feroluce]

smth smth yingfeng paralleling farcille

(magically inclined long lived partner tries to defy death by bringing their short lived partner back to life/have immortality but they come out Wrong(tm) instead)

just. the parallels <3

RIGHT? Like oh my god I love the idea of it: a mortal and immortal character falling in love, and the immortal one doing something horribly taboo for them to be together forever. But maybe they fuck something up, or maybe it's just their punishment for playing god, but their now-immortal lover Comes Back Wrong.

I'm actually not caught up on dunmeshi (I get the gist of farcille from socmed, though) but I really like an Inuyasha/Kikiyo flavor to it- Mortal lover is full of rage and hatred, immortal one can't not love them, and then they romantically and dramatically die together murder-suicide style and drag each other to hell. You know, the good shit. ☆

It is one of my ideal dynamics for a bad end pairing. And I do like necromancy shenanigans with a happier/good end, like farcille style too! Just...I don't like either situation for yingyue.

I don't think there's anything wrong with playing with them that way as long as you don't pass it off as canon, like I say all of this with no judgment. But I'm picky and I like to follow canon more closely so I can't really see them in that kind of scenario haha.

It's just! Yingxing's whole deal is that he's a haughty, spiteful, arrogant asshole of a man whose life mission is to be such a damn good craftsman that he can tell all the Xianzhou Natives who looked down on him to suck his short life species dick and flip them the bird. Him being made immortal takes all the fun out of it for me and kinda removes a central part of his character. I LOVE him being petty and full of himself. He should do it more!

And I am so so dearly enamored with the relationship between him and Baiheng. I can't write her out of the whole equation, especially considering she and Yingxing both Came Back Wrong from this incident, and she was the actual intended target.

Like. He loved her. Yingxing loved her. Baiheng was so, so important to him. She's referred to as "the beloved" in Blade's character stories. He called her his bosom friend. He handmade a jade flask just for her.

Not a weapon,

not something she needed,

not something he was doing to show off,

just a flask.

Something pretty, and just for her, something that she would like and use everyday. Not a need, but a want. He did it simply because he wanted to give her a present.

She was the first person to really encourage and believe in him. She helped him come out of his shell (so all that arrogance is her fault BSMZJMS). That animated short where they went up in her star skiff together and she called him cute fucking killed me. They make me chew concrete.

And she was really important to Dan Feng too! He wouldn't have tried to bring her back, otherwise! She died saving him. And he knew what he was doing when he chose to try to bring her back as a Vidyadhara. He had to have. There's no way he couldn't have known that his life was forfeit after this. They don't let you get away with purposely breaking one of the Ten Unpardonable Sins like that.

And he chose to do it anyway. He still chose her life over his own. Dan Feng loved her, too.

He and Yingxing both worked together to try to bring her back because she was someone neither of them could bear to lose.

So if anything, I feel like yingyue is more like larcille bringing back their beloved Falin haha

But no matter who is romantically involved with who, like. It's the love between all three of them that's important.

That's the secret ingredient that makes the triumph of Falin's rebirth and the horrific tragedy of the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae so emotional. Because these were things that could not have happened unless they all loved each other.

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th. mattheo - virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART TWO | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

summary: pls read part one first for a lil buildup. also. im laughing at myself bc there was a perfectly good bed…right there…

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, virginity loss, PIV, so much dirty talk, so much patience from mattheo, (more of a realistic virginity loss bc it’s not always easy), praise!!!!, slight degradation, fingering, multiorgasm, handjob, best friends lil sister trope.

Mattheo Riddle was so accustomed to this. The pulse of adrenaline in the dead of night, the quiet hum of anticipation stretching every second longer than it needed to be. You weren't naive to that, not to him, nor the danger he carried so effortlessly in his stride. He wore it like a second skin.

But you—you were not accustomed to it. Not to any of this.

So when you pushed open the door to the room of requirement a little over ten-minutes later, you hadn't been sure what you were expecting to find. Something darker, maybe. More foreboding. But when the room revealed itself before you—silent, draped in soft moonlight that pooled over the bed with a window wide and open, spilling that pale silver fog across the floor—you almost laughed.

Too perfect. Too on the nose, like the castle itself had been watching you both for months and had decided this was the moment it would indulge you.

"You're late." Mattheo's voice cut through the quiet.

His back was to you, suit jacket discarded on an old oak desk against the wall, dark curls falling just above his collar as he stood by the window, eyes fixed on the lake. The moonlight made the ripples dance, just like the tension in the room.

You took a step toward him, silent.

He turned, finally. His eyes met yours and you saw it—the hesitation, the way his gaze moved over you, slow, cautious. He took in the way the light draped itself over your shoulders, moving lower—and it was as if for the first time, he allowed himself to see you fully, all the details he had so tried to ignore, now right in front of him. He drank them in.

You gave him a small, nervous smile, hoping it would ease the weight of his stare. "I didn't realize you were the type to keep track of time."

He moved closer, but not close enough. Not yet. His breath was tight, chest rising and falling too fast. The space between you felt like a chasm, though it was barely there at all.

"You've a lot to learn, little girl," he teased, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it did nothing to mask the conflict in his eyes. It was meant to disarm you, but it only made the air heavier. His jaw tightened. "You're sure about this?"

"Quite sure," you breathed, stepping closer, close enough to admire the sharp line of his jaw, the soft stubble. "You're the one who's hesitating."

"I'm not hesitating," he muttered, though the roughness in his voice betrayed him. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this with you. His best friend's little sister. He wanted to give you every chance to stop this, to walk away. "Just trying not to rush this—rush you."

You let out a small huff, your hand moving up to find his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Mattheo Riddle was nervous.

"You've been making me wait for months," you whispered. "I don't think a little rushing would hurt."

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on your hand as it trailed over his chest, lower, teasing. Every touch was a flame against his skin, every breath between you a match struck in the dark. He wanted you, more than anything, but the weight of it—the wrongness, the danger—clawed at his conscience.

His hand caught your wrist, intending to stop you, but his fingers lingered against your skin. Frozen.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, the words thick in his throat. "Your first time should be—"

"My choice," you interrupted, pressing closer, your body flush against his, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his belt. "My virginity is mine to give, Mattheo. And I want to give it to you."

He shuddered, your words settling, sinking into the dark space that held you both captive. His hand found your hip, the other threading through your hair, gently tugging your head back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

"You’re not thinking straight," he rasped. "You'll regret this..."

But even as he said it, his hands tightened, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I'll regret nothing." Your fingers slipped lower, grazing his crotch, moving with nothing but instinct and need. Biting your lip, you felt the outline of him, hard and aching under your palm, and squeezed—he grunted, snapping his hips, and you throbbed. "Shit, Mattheo..."

"You are—fuck..." Mattheo's voice was a ragged breath, the words drawn out like he'd been holding them back for months. "...such a little tease."

You let go as quickly as you'd squeezed, and he growled against your skin, fingers tightening in your hair. Your hands found his face, pulling him in, crushing your lips to his. You moved with intent, pushing him back until his thighs hit the edge of the desk, and he groaned again—this low, guttural sound that sent a thrill through you.

You smirked into the kiss, tasting his frustration, savouring the way his defences cracked open. When you pulled back, his chest was heaving, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.

"I learned from the best," you whispered, teasing as your fingers slid down, finding the buckle of his belt. He watched you, every breath uneven, as you worked at the latch, pulling the leather free. "You've had months of fun tormenting me," you continued, moving to the button, the zipper. "Kissing me, only to say it was a mistake. Grabbing my ass every chance you could. Talking sweet when my brother wasn't looking..." your smirk deepened, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "...it's my turn now."

His pants sagged around his hips as you undid them and he cursed under his breath—his brain was struggling to catch up, like he couldn't believe the sudden shift, couldn't quite fathom the boldness with which you undid him.

Until—his hands were on you, spinning you around, your back hitting the desk with a thud.

"You think you're in control here?" His fingers slid up your hips, dragging your dress along with them, baring your skin to the cool air. "You think you have any goddamn idea what you're doing?"

You shuddered—you'd never seen him like this before—there was something feral in the way he moved, now, something sharp in the way his hands worked. His thumbs hooked around your panties and in one swift motion, they were gone—torn down your thighs before he urged you back onto the desk, parting your legs with his torso.

You were breathless, chest heaving, pulse thrumming wildly. His presence consumed the room, and for a moment, it was all you could focus on—the intensity of him, the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes.

You stared up at him, mind empty, until—

Smack.

His palm came down on your inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a jolt of sensation straight to your cunt. Your skin stung from the contact, but that wasn't the part that made you gasp. It was the heat, the way it surged through your veins, flooding your abdomen in a slow, aching pulse. You liked that.

"I asked you a question." His lips brushed against your ear, breath warm as he leaned in. "Two, actually."

You couldn't think, mind swimming—the press of his body, the rough timber of his voice, the weight of his hands as his fingers teased, climbing higher, brushing closer to the ache between your thighs. You sucked in a breath, trying to recall what he'd asked, trying to focus anything but the fire he was lighting in you—

But then, his fingers slipped further, closer, just barely brushing your slit, and your hips jerked involuntarily, chasing that touch.

"No—I don’t—“ the shame in the answer barely mattered. His fingers were so close, so close. "Gods—I just know I want you—"

"That's all you think about, isn't it?" He smirked, lips falling to your neck, tongue tracing the places he knew would wreck you, each soft, wet press making you whimper despite yourself. "You don't care about anything else..." his fingers slipped lower, dipping between your folds—and you cried out, shameless, the sensation unlike any other you'd ever felt. "…not the consequences, not the risk...you just want me…”

Your nails dug into his back and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, wetting his fingers in your arousal before gliding back up to your clit and tracing over it.

"Oh—Gods—" you whinged, moaning into his shoulder.

Mattheo’s hands were experienced—that much was certain. Those fingers knew exactly how to move, precisely how to trace light, delicate circles over your clit that made you twitch, squirm— nerves stripped as you took in the new sensation. It wracked every inch of you, and you could feel him savouring your helplessness, drawing out every ounce of tension that had been building between you for months.

“You’re soaked.” You could hear the disbelief in his voice. “...filthy little thing for me, aren't you?"

"Gods, Mattheo, yes—" your eyes rolled, thighs twitching against his hand. "I am—ohh—"

"Yeah?" His tongue traced a slow, wet path up the side of your neck, teeth dragging over your pulse. "You like this?"

His words were enough to make you want to scream, but no sound formed—just a low, broken moan that spilled from your throat, raw and shameless.

"Answer me," he murmured. "You ever orgasm from this before? Hm?"

"No—" your voice choked, trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at him, something like shame pooling in your stomach. "Oh, fuck—"

"No, what?" His fingers pressed harder, circles growing faster, more insistent, and his voice—Christ, his voice— "I asked you two questions, little slut. Keep up. You wanted this."

"Yes—mmf—I like it—" you whined, the words a desperate spill from your lips, too flustered to form anything coherent. "And no—Gods—you're the first to...to touch me like this..."

He figured as much but the admission tore through him nonetheless, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a groan—not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, a bruise, a reminder. His hand dipped lower, a finger pushing inside you without warning, pressing deep into your slick heat, and you cried out, your body tightening, pulsing around him, vision swimming.

"And this?" His voice was a smirk against your skin. "You let anyone else inside you like this?"

You knew he already knew the answer. You both did. He was reveling in it—the way he had you, trembling, helpless. You'd never heard him like this, never heard him so crass, so unfiltered, and the way he spoke made your whole body flush with heat.

"No." The word was a strangled moan, barely a breath. "Gods—Mattheo—you already knew that—"

He crooked his finger inside you, and your back arched, the stretch unfamiliar yet mindnumbing, his thumb working your clit. You felt teeth nipping at your earlobe, a hum into your eardrum—his body thrumming with the satisfaction of finally, finally letting himself have you where he wanted.

"Perhaps I did." He added another finger, curling them inside you, his teeth scraping along your neck in a smile. The groan that slipped from your lips was desperate, pained in its pleasure, your body reacting to every new inch of him. "Fucking hell—you can barely take two..."

Your head shook, words failing you. "Gods—Mattheo—I...fuck..."

A low grunt rumbled from his chest, his fingers moving quicker, slick with the evidence of your desire. "Feels good?"

"Yes—" you moaned, breath hitching, vision blurring as he pumped his fingers in and out, building something inside you that you couldn't name, something new, something overwhelming. "I feel—oh, gods—something...happening—"

"You feel something?" His voice was mocking, drenched in that innocent, teasing tone that had you falling apart. "Yeah? What's happening, princess?"

You couldn't find breath, couldn't form the words to answer him. The pressure inside you was mounting, intensity unbearable, your body tense and straining toward an edge. You clung to him, breathless, desperate for more, desperate for something, anything—

"I don't—" your voice broke as his fingers curled deeper, wetness flooding between your thighs, his thumb relentless. "Pressure—fuck—so much—"

He nodded. "Yeah? Pressure in that pretty stomach? Feels fucking good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck—yes, yes," your lids fluttered. "S’good—"

"You're so close." He watched you, drunk on your downfall, and smirked as you neared the edge. "You're going to cum for me."

Sanity shattered in your throat—words trapped, swallowed by the tension, leaving only the soft, unbridled whimpers you once might've once found embarrassing. But there was no shame now, not when you were this close, the pressure coiling tighter in your core, ready to burst.

"Ohh—" you managed, lungs sputtering, head tipping back. The sound of your voice, the way you moaned, was foreign, unfamiliar to your own ears. "Gods—oh fuck-"

"I know," he cooed, sweet like sugar. "I know."

You were a mess. Too close, too overwhelmed—everything was him. His scent, the heat of his skin, the feel of his fingers working that magic that had your body convulsing before you could even cry out, before you could process the way your vision blurred with the force of it. The climax hit like a wave crashing over you, and your moans were swallowed by his kiss, his lips on yours the second your body tightened, shaking against his hand.

He was relentless, rough and insistent, kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole—drowning out the world as your body pulsed around his fingers. You’d never felt such an intense sensation, lava coursing, replacing the blood in your veins. His breath stuttered against your mouth, a low groan vibrating through him, the sound making your spine tingle.

"F-fuck," he muttered, pulling his fingers from you, glistening and wet. "Messy little thing."

The words sent a shiver through you, not just from their meaning but from the way he said them, like something perverse, intimate. Your chest tightened with the warmth of them.

"You—" you panted, trying to find your voice. Blinking through the haze of lingering bliss. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" He chuckled your name against your neck, lips brushing a path to your ear. "Because you might fall in love with me?" His teeth grazed the sensitive spot under your lobe, along your jawline. "Oh wait...you already have."

"Shut up," you whispered, stomach flipping at the way he said your name, the way it dripped from his mouth like honey. "Have not."

"I've known for a while, you know," he mused, his voice so low, so quiet. "Don't think I haven't seen it—the way you look at me." He kissed your skin again, working his way up, each press of his lips something sacred, moving closer to your mouth. "The way you can't get enough of me."

You could kill him for it, for the way his words sunk into your bones, making all the feelings you've buried rise to the surface, pulling you under. He just had to go there—had to milk every inch of your composure out of you, because it's not enough for him to have you disarmed physically—sexually—he needed to have you disarmed emotionally, too.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is how right he was. Arrogant bastard.

"Stop talking," your hand drifted down, grazing the bulge in his pants, your fingers slipping under the waistband, rubbing him through the thin fabric of his boxers. It was reckless. You've never done this before, but God, you wanted to. "Stop talking and teach me."

The room tilted—the world off its axis. His breath caught, choked in his lungs as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to his—his kiss wild, his tongue insistent, running along your gums and wrestling with yours for control.

"Fuck," he groaned into your mouth as you tugged his boxers down, freeing him, your hand wrapping around him. Hot. Hard. "Wrap your fingers around it, princess. Gentle strokes. Just like that."

Your heart stumbled at the sound of his voice, thick, raw and open. You tightened your grip, stroking him slowly, experimentally, and he hissed through his teeth, a groan vibrating through his chest.

"You're so big," you murmured, forehead against his, the words spilling out without thought. "So thick..."

"Fucking minx," he moaned. "Stroking me and telling me how big I am—fuck—you're not as innocent as everyone thinks."

"Only you know this," you whispered, your hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes, pulse soaring as he groaned. "Does it feel good, Matty?"

"Fuck—Christ—" his breath was jagged, words ripped from his throat like they barely wanted to come out, hips jerking mindlessly. "Tighter, mm—little tighter—"

Your cunt throbbed—each whispered invocation of a god not his own, of something he didn't believe in, forced a shudder through you. That's how you knew. Knew how lost he was. He’d no mind left at all if he was muttering muggle gods.

"Like that?" Your fingers squeezed around him, your gaze burning into his as you looked up through fluttering lashes.

His face was a storm—flushed, eyes half-shut—but at your voice they opened and flicked down to yours, and for once, there was no arrogance, no mockery in that stare. Just raw, primal need, burning so fiercely it made you ache. His hips rocked, desperate for more. Painfully. A hole in his chest torn wide open for you to see, and he didn't care. Couldn't care.

"Yeah—shit—just like that," he gritted out, grip on your hips bruising, but you welcomed it. Needed it. "Fast learner, aren't you?"

"You're a good teacher," you whimpered, a sound that was barely yours as his fingers slipped between your thighs, finding your slit, teasing you open again. "Oh—"

"You've always been a little teacher's pet," he groaned, thrusting into your hand as he slipped a finger inside you. The stretch made you wince, pleasure and pain blurring into something that sent sparks behind your eyes. He watched you, gaze molten. "Fuck—it’s gonna hurt, you know that, right?"

The ache spread through you, but you didn't flinch. "I know," you whispered as his thumb found your clit, making you gasp. "I trust you."

"I know you do." His voice dropped, eyes dark and soft at once as he pushed another finger inside. "You know you’ve always had me wrapped around your fucking finger. You know I care about you—“

His words were too much, pressing on something fragile inside you, and you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up—deep, desperate, drowning. Your hand tightened on his length, the heat between you flaring, and you moaned against his mouth, shaking with the need for more.

"I want you," you breathed, each syllable shivering on your lips as you clenched around his fingers. "I've wanted you for months—"

Months? No, it had been years. Years of wanting, needing, watching from afar, heart in your throat. Years of avoiding anyone else because no one was him. You knew he’d felt the same and it killed him. It wasn't logical, wasn't supposed to be like this—not with you, not now, not his best friend's little sister, not him whispering sweet, dangerous things while knuckle-deep inside your virgin cunt.

It was as if you both shook those thoughts from your minds at once. You’ll think about the implications later.

"You've got me," he rasped, hips grinding involuntarily against your hand. "Just—fuck—don't hate me after this."

Hate him? The very idea was laughable, absurd. You could never hate him. Not even in those moments you tried, not even when he deserved it.

"I could never hate you," you murmured, drawing him closer, lips trembling against his. "Just—please—"

Something shifted in his eyes, and he knew. Knew what you needed. What you both needed. You were vulnerable, trembling, but you trusted him—completely. You’d been in his life for so long. You knew he’d never hurt you. He could see it your eyes, the trust, the in the way your body bent to his touch.

"Alright," he said softly, a hand running up your body to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "Alright."

His fingers slid out of you, leaving you bare and breathless, and you swallowed. This was really about to happen.

"Lay back," his voice cut through your haze. "Legs to your chest."

The command wrapped around you like a vice, tightening the anticipation, and you fell back on your elbows, staring up at him as you raised your legs. Vulnerability crept in, making your thighs tense, but Mattheo was there, spreading you open with firm hands, pressing himself against your slick. His eyes were locked onto yours, all that self-assurance gone, melted into something more human—something raw, unguarded.

You could feel it; the vulnerability of this moment stretched between you both—the distance you'd maintained for so long, the careful walls you'd built, were nothing now. He was in too deep, and so were you.

"Stop me at any time," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, eyes meeting yours. "Just breathe.”

He leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, and you kissed him like the world might collapse if you didn't. He guided himself against you, the press of him at your entrance an unbearable ache. He was hot, hard, huge—and despite the wetness slicking down your thighs, your body resisted, too tight, too unsure of this.

You whimpered, instinctively trying to pull away, but he stayed, pressing kisses to your hair, your temple, whispering something that sounded like comfort but burned like fire. It hurt more than you expected, more than any of the fantasies you had dared to entertain.

Doubt curled through your chest, what if you couldn't take him? What if—

"M-Mattheo..." his name broke in your throat as you clutched his arm, nails digging into his skin. He tried to push in again, but your body resisted. "It—you—you can't fit..."

"Shh," his lips ghosted over yours, his hand slipping through your hair, trying again, moving slow, controlled. "You're just—so goddamn tight—"

The way he said it sent a spark through your veins. It was filthy, shameless, and it lit you up from the inside, despite the pain. No one had ever spoken to you like this. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears pricking as he tried to work you open.

And then—he was in.

"I-it hurts," you hissed—pain lighting up your spine as he worked his cockhead inside you, pushing against the resistance of your walls. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, each inch a battle. The pressure was unbearable, the sting so sharp it was paralyzing. "Oh, fuck, Mattheo—"

He groaned, a sound from deep within his chest, his head bowing, sweat creeping over his brow.

"Shhh, I know—I know..." he murmured through shredded cords, fighting to maintain control as his hips paused, barely halfway in, just enough to make you feel like you might break. "S'okay...you're doing so good..."

It was overwhelming—the fullness, the ache that felt like it might split you in two. And yet, beneath the pain, something else stirred. His words, soft and rough all at once, made the sensation bearable, turned the hurt into something else. You focused on his voice, on the way he stroked your hair, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"Why—mmff—gods..." you could barely speak, the words tangled in your throat. "Why do you have to be so big—"

A strangled laugh escaped him, though his eyes stayed shut tight, his jaw clenched—cock twitching inside you.

"I don't—fuck—know." His fingers brushed your lips, covering your mouth gently. "Don't go talking like that—not right now—"

You might have laughed, too, if your body wasn't so taut, strung tight with tension and pain and something far more profound. He was barely inside you, his words making your insides clench, drawing another groan from his lips at the squeeze.

His hand held your jaw, palm pressing lightly over your mouth, enough to breathe, to speak—

"Why—" you knew what he meant, knew the warning in his eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself. "—not?"

His breath hitched. "Because—" he swallowed hard, words coming through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening around your jaw, a warning in his grip. "Because—fuck—your mouth will get you in trouble."

Oh. That was what he meant.

"But—oh fuck—you're so...big..." the words slipped out before you could catch them, a disgruntled moan falling from your lips as he sank all the way in, filling you so completely it was dizzying. The pressure, the heat, the sensation of being pried open—it was all too much, and you cried out, unable to stop the sound from spilling out. "Ohhh—so big—"

"I said, fuck," he cursed, hand clamping firm over your mouth now as his body shuddered, as he ground his hips gently into yours. "—don't say that."

It was too late. You didn't need to say anything further. He could feel it—he could feel everything in the way you clenched around him, barely letting him move—so goddamn tight it was almost painful—he could feel it in the look in your eyes, in the trembling of your body beneath his.

"I can feel you thinking it," he grunted as you squirmed beneath him, every movement making him twitch inside you, drawing another choked groan from his throat. "Merlin sakes—"

You knew he wasn't used to this. To slowing down, to drawing out the tension like this, to the maddening slowness of every motion. He wanted to lose himself, to break you open hard and fast, to take and give and take again until both of you shattered into something unrecognizable. But he couldn't—not with the way your eyes glistened, not with the way you gasped and whimpered as he filled you.

"No talking," he sucked in a breath against your neck, his hips rolling into yours in slow, unbearable waves. "Only if you need me to stop."

He was breaking. So were you. Every thrust was an exquisite kind of torture—an ache that twisted and stretched, dulled only by the flick of his fingers against your clit. His lips pressed along your neck, kissed along the line of your jaw, groaning with each deep, patient push, carving his way into you as you clung to him, your mind floating through the fog of pain into something different—something overwhelming.

Your head fell back. “Oh—Oh gods—“

Each gasp felt like it might be your last as that something built deep inside you, tight and unfamiliar, an ache that didn't hurt but begged to be released. And he felt it too—Mattheo felt it, the way your body pulsed beneath his, the way you tightened around him like you couldn't bear to let him go.

"Bloody fuck—are you—are you going to—" his words were ragged, broken. He couldn't finish the thought, couldn't hold himself together. "Are you—"

“Mattheo—” your voice trembled, a breathless moan as your back arched, pressing into him, your body seeking more. The pain was null now, replaced by an overwhelming pressure, something tight and aching and good—you felt every inch of him inside you, every pulse of his cock as he moved, slow but relentless. “Mattheo—oh gods—”

"Fuck—" he bit down, teeth sinking into your neck as his fingers swirled your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. "You're gonna make me—"

You choked because there was no space for words, no breath for anything but the raw sound of your bodies—moans, gasps, ragged inhales tangled together as you both hurtled towards something inevitable. The light of the moon radiated the man above you and that was all you could register other than the rising crescendo of your climax—something so intense it scared you, almost broke you apart—your body seizing, trembling, as his fingers pressed harder against your clit, as he thrust deeper.

And then, there was only one more blink until you shattered beneath him, the orgasm tearing through you in oceanic motion, muscles clenching around him so tightly he could barely move—and then he was there, too, his body jerking as he groaned into your skin, his release ripped from him in jagged gasps as you milked him without mercy. He slumped on top of you, fingers digging into your skin, the two of you pulsing together in the aftermath, the room spinning, your bodies still trembling from the force of it.

The world was slow to return, the roar of sensations fading into something quieter, softer. The weight of him on top of you was grounding—his forehead pressed against the crook of your neck, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Neither of you moved for a long while, just basked in the silence, kind that settled in after something irrevocable had passed between two people.

And then, Mattheo pushed up, enough to meet your eyes. Your chest ached at the softness inside his own.

“Are you—” he swallowed as he drank you in, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the flushed cheeks. His words hung in the air as if he didn’t know how to finish the question.

“I’m okay,” you nodded, voice hoarse. “I’m good.”

Mattheo nodded too but didn’t move, still buried inside you, just taking you in. Then, gently, he shifted, pulling back with a slow, careful movement that made you wince slightly. The second he’d pulled out, you felt different—more aware of the vulnerability you’d just laid bare, more aware of the line you two had just obliterated into absolute shambles.

“You sure?” he asked, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—

You nodded again, the smallest smile pulling at your lips, though your heart was still racing, the enormity of it all sinking in.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m sure.”

His jaw tightened, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” His voice was barely audible, like he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Of course he was thinking it too—how could he not? This was no longer something you could pretend didn’t exist, no longer something you could hide behind banter and stolen glances and secret kisses.

“Yeah,” you breathed, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there, the heat still radiating from his skin. “It does.”

[plutotheplum]

XO

akaashi keiji x fem!reader

summary: being the manager of the msby black jackals is stressful, but when a handsome stranger shows up, you think you might’ve stumbled upon a hidden perk.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, post-time skip, kissing, oral sex, blowjobs, p in v, smut, fluff

wc: 5.3k

a/n: watched the movie last night and i cried (if you saw this post before, no you didn't) <3

also on ao3!

Six months in, and you think you might be ready to quit your job.

Sure, securing a job as the MSBY Black Jackal’s manager was one of your proudest achievements, but no one had told you that you’d be dealing with men like this. You understood that you were in the presence of some of the finest sporting talent in Japan, but these men were wildly immature.

It’s why you’re here now, glaring at the man who had made fun of his teammate.

“What were you thinking?” you hiss, pointing your pen at the offending man.

Atsumu groans, his head tipping back against the wall of the locker room. “I was only having a little fun.”

“A little fun,” you reply, nodding along, “right, and that’s why Bokuto is off sulking in who knows where!”

“C’mon!” Atsumu protests, leaning forward, staring at you desperately, “I made a comment on the color of his shoes! How was I supposed to know that was gonna set him off?”

You can feel a headache begin to set in and you sigh, pointing towards the door of the locker room.

“Just go warm up, okay? I’ll try and find Bokuto.”

Atsumu nods, and has the grace to look at least a little apologetic as he pats your shoulder and leaves.

You follow him soon after, out of the locker room. Bokuto’s sulking most likely meant he wasn’t going to perform as well. You knew about his bouts of being discouraged, had seen it during the occasional game when something would set him off. People are milling about, and you quicken your pace, turning a corner to finally find Bokuto sitting on a bench.

“Bokuto!” you call out, the relief in your voice clear.

The outside hitter looks up at you, a pout on his face. 

“You ready for the game?” you ask, putting on a wide smile to try and make him feel better.

“Do you think they’re ugly?” 

“W- what?”

“My shoes,” he says, pointing at them, “do you think they’re ugly?”

You have half the mind to tell him that they’re just shoes and that he should grow up, but the look of utter despair on his face has you holding back. A quick glance down at his shoes and from what you can gather, they look relatively… normal. You were definitely going to kill Atsumu later.

“They look fine,” you say, pausing when you see his frown deepen. Your fingers tighten around the clipboard clutched against your chest and you put on a cheery smile, voice pitching up. “I meant they look totally great! And they really suit you!”

Bokuto makes no attempt to move, simply stares down at his shoes and traces one of the stripes absentmindedly. You’re at your wits end, growing antsy as you check your watch and realize there’s only 10 minutes before the game starts.

“I could get you some new-“

“You doing okay?”

A voice breaks in through from behind you and your head turns, brows furrowing when you see an unfamiliar man. The lanyard around his neck has a card attached to it, bold letters spelling out VIP . 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto sits up, his eyes lighting up for a moment, “do you like my shoes?”

You stare at the pair of men, bewildered. The man, Akaashi, pats Bokuto’s shoulder and lowers his voice to whisper some words to the pro-volleyball player. In what you think might be the quickest change of mood from Bokuto yet, the volleyball player stands up and gives a hearty laugh, his chest puffing out. 

You’re even more stunned when he pats your back happily and jogs off in the direction of the court.

“How did you do that?” you blurt out, eyes flitting towards the man who was now standing beside you.

“I used to play with Bokuto in highschool,” Akaashi replies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Fukurodani. I was the team’s setter so I had to get used to Bokuto's little slumps.”

Huh. That did make more sense. You narrow your eyes, examining the man a little more. He’s handsome, sure, his glasses sitting on the slope of his nose as he shifts on the spot. Akaashi stares back down at you expectantly.

“Uh- well, thank you,” you say, holding your hand out and giving him a sheepish smile. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get him onto the court at all today.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, his hand shaking yours. 

You introduce yourselves and he follows you onto the stands, both of you overlooking the two teams as they line up on the court. Nervousness makes you restless, your teeth biting into your lower lip as you watch the players get into position. You really wanted the Jackals to win.

“Relax,” Akaashi murmurs, his head lowering to speak directly into your ear to help you hear better over the roar of the crowd.

Your eyes meet his and he stares back at you intently, his hand squeezing at your shoulder gently. You think some sort of magic might be laced into his words with the way your body loosens slightly, your tense shoulders dropping.

“Thank you,” you mumble, giving him a faint smile.

Akaashi smiles back and squeezes your shoulder one more time before his hand drops away. You nearly protest against it, wanting to feel the heat of his body near yours again, but you can’t because you’ve only just met the man and you aren’t that desperate.

The game goes perfectly well, thankfully, and you’re up on the tips of your toes cheering for the Jackals as they shake hands with the other team. Your previous nervousness has all  melted away, leaving only a feeling of pure giddiness. Akaashi claps with you, his reaction much more toned down compared to yours.

“You can come down with me,” you say breathlessly, flicking through a few pages on your clipboard to find the schedule for the post game press conference.

Akaashi nods, his eyes drifting over you for a moment. “Yeah, I’ll come. I need to congratulate Bokuto anyways.”

You beam up at him and against better judgment, hand him a copy of the schedule before giving him a wave and disappearing off to meet the team. Akaashi watches as you flutter away, skirt swaying, the piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand. 

- 

“No talk of shoes, okay?” you warn Atsumu as you had him a bottle of cold water. “We can’t have Bokuto breaking down on national television.”

“You worry too much,” Atsumu complains, pressing the bottle of water against his flushed cheek.

“My job is on the line!” you argue, giving the man a glare.

Atsumu only gives you a pout and you thank Meian when he comes to get his teammate, grateful for the captain’s unwavering leadership.

You slip into the conference room before long, making sure to give the Jackals an encouraging smile and a thumbs up before you sidle up to the wall, watching as the various reporters ready their questions.

A few bottles of water sit on a table beside you and you reach for one, twisting at the cap. The stupid plastic burns across your skin harshly, making a glare settle on your face as you narrow your eyes at the bottle of water. You try again but to no avail, the cap latching on stubbornly tight. A soft curse gets muttered under your breath before someone’s hand reaches out, grabbing the bottle of water from you.

You blink in surprise when you realize it’s Akaashi, his hand twisting at the cap effortlessly and breaking the seal. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“That’s the third time today,” he whispers back, his eyes glimmering with mirth, “should I keep sticking around for more of your thanks?”

A smile pulls at your lips and you glance up at him to find him smiling back. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” you mutter, elbowing him in the side lightly.

Akaashi hums in response, his warm hand grasping at your elbow to hold you in place. You freeze for a moment, surprise flitting across your face but then you lean into him slightly, avoiding his eyes as you press into his side. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just stands there with you, his eyes trained on the little notes you scribble on paper as the players speak.

To your relief, Atsumu manages to steer clear from the topic of shoes, answering the reporters’ questions thoroughly with a bit of humor thrown in, to lighten the atmosphere of the press conference. You find that you can’t really be all that mad at the man, he knew how to get the job done when it came to it.

The press conference comes to a close half an hour later and Akaashi trails after you as you usher the men back into the main foyer.

“Good job everyone,” you announce before flicking through a few pages of your clipboard. “The Chairman has been impressed with your performance this season, so he’s personally sent a congratulatory cake.” You stare pointedly at Atsumu and Bokuto. “Please make sure to not make a mess.”

The men are gone in a rush before you can say anything else and you smile fondly, shaking your head.

“You gonna let me get in on this cake thing?” Akaashi asks, raising his brows.

“You’re welcome to join,” you reply, shooting him a smile as you try to not sound too eager. “You do have VIP status, after all.”

Akaashi smiles back and you think it might be a miracle that your legs haven’t given out under the soft gaze he sends you. 

Thankfully, Atsumu and Bokuto don’t make a mess although you do spot them bribing Hinata to bring them a few more slices, the orange-haired man utterly oblivious to the fact.

“Hey,” Akaashi murmurs, stepping in beside you as you finish off your piece of cake. “You’ve got a little something.” He motions to the corner of your mouth.

“Oh!” you flush with embarrassment, wiping at the corner of your mouth with a napkin. “Gone?”

“Just a little more,” he says, watching as you try and fail to get rid of the chocolate icing that’s smudged over your lips and the corner of your mouth. “Just- here, let me.”

You freeze when he reaches out for you, his thumb swiping over your lip and skin gently, cleaning you up.

“Napkin?” you ask weakly, offering it to him so he can clean his thumb.

“No need.”

Akaashi keeps his eyes on you as he licks the pad of his thumb, your hazy eyes following the motion of his tongue, a rush of heat pooling in your lower stomach.

“Do you-” you begin, clearing your throat when you hear how airy your voice has become, “do you do this often?”

A smile pulls at his lips and he leans in a little closer, his breath fanning across your skin as his mouth opens to murmur something into your ear.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

You jolt, half-lidded eyes snapping open when you find Bokuto slinging his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. Irritation flashes through Akaashi’s eyes but it seems to fade when Bokuto begins to speak animatedly, detailing the past events Akaashi had missed.

Part of you would’ve liked to speak to Akaashi more, but you can’t find it in yourself to fault Bokuto, deciding to busy yourself with getting another slice of cake. A heavy arm slings itself around your shoulders and you roll your eyes when you realize it’s Atsumu, the wide grin on his face making you feel uneasy.

“Saw you getting real chummy with Bokuto’s friend,” he whispers conspiratorially, trying to swipe at your cake slice. 

“I was being friendly,” you retort, glaring up at Atsumu.

“You look like you wanna fuck him.”

“Your observations are not appreciated,” you grit out, trying to squirm away from under him when he steers you into a corner.

“Good news is, I think he wants to fuck you too,” Atsumu says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“ Why are you doing this?” you groan, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Because you, my lovely manager, deserve happiness!” he says cheerily.

Your eyes narrow, taking in the smile on Atsumu’s face, suspicion flaring. “What did you do?”

“What?” Atsumu’s smile falters. “Nothing. Why do you always assume I did something?”

“Because you usually do something, Atsumu,” you reply exasperatedly, trying to peek out from behind him to catch another glimpse of Akaashi.

Atsumu rolls his eyes, moving to the side so as to block your view of Akaashi.

“Let’s hear it then,” you say, peering up at him. 

He beams at you, his head lowering so he can whisper into your ear. “Just make sure you take charge. Guys like that sort of thing. Yank him by the shirt or something and kiss him. My advice is foolproof .”

Was the advice really foolproof if the fool himself was giving it to you?

You shoot Atsumu a skeptical look, waving him off before he puts any more ridiculous ideas into your mind. 

As the night passes, the amount of players reduces, deciding to make their way back home. Atsumu shoots you a wink in passing and you glare back at him, fighting the urge to swat him.

“Heading home?” 

You blink up to find Akaashi standing beside you, his brows raised.

“Yeah,” you say, a wistful smile coming across your face, “it’s been a long day.”

“I could drive you home?” Akaashi offers, falling into step beside you as you both exit the volleyball stadium.

You had been planning to just catch an uber or something, but when Akaashi stares down at you like that , his gaze soft and lips looking sickeningly inviting, you nod immediately.

A few stolen glances later coupled with you biting back an inappropriate remark at the way his lithe fingers wrap around the steering wheel, you find yourself standing opposite Akaashi in the open doorway of your apartment.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” you say, peering up at Akaashi.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Akaashi murmurs, his hands shoving into his pockets.

Akaashi shows no signs of leaving however. Silence passes over you as you both just stand there, staring at each other. Your gaze dips down to his shirt, trying to stop Atsumu’s obnoxious voice from blaring through your normally rational decision making.

Yank him by the shirt or something and kiss him.

Eyes flitting up again, you decide to take your chances. Your hand curls into Akaashi’s shirt, yanking him towards you, lips crashing onto his. Several seconds pass and Akaashi stands there limply, his lips unmoving and non-reciprocating. 

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out, feeling utterly mortified as you let go of him. “Atsumu said you wanted to fu- I mean- he said guys liked that sort of thing!”

At the same time, Akaashi begins to speak. “Bokuto said you weren’t interested.”

“ What? ” you sputter, eyes widening. Frustration sets your nerves alight and you fish out your phone, dialing Bokuto’s number, ready to give him an earful. 

“Hey,” Akaashi says, plucking your phone from your hand and setting it down onto a nearby dresser, “think you could do that after I kiss you?”

Your flurry of movements pauses, breath hitching when he steps inside your apartment, the door shutting behind him softly. He smiles down at you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

“Oh,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering as he spins you around, pushing you up against the door gently, “y-yeah, I can do that.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing yours. One of his hands slips up higher, smoothing over the length of your neck to cup your cheek.

You let out an incoherent noise, managing out a jerky nod. Akaashi laughs, tilting your head to the side as he places a soft kiss on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut, heart racing uncontrollably in your chest as he drags his lips across your skin, planting another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

His glasses dig into your skin but you can hardly find it in yourself to care, pulling him closer desperately when he slots his lips over yours. Akaashi kisses you heatedly and you whine, arms wrapping around his neck to return his kisses eagerly. His tongue gently parts your lips, hands slipping back down to squeeze at your waist and move you flush against him.

A few stumbles later and you’re pushing his chest, watching as he falls back onto the couch. Akaashi grins, his thighs spreading invitingly as he gets comfortable.

“Come sit on my lap, baby.”

You don’t have to be told twice. You scramble up onto his lap, straddling his hips, lips finding his again. Akaashi groans when you run your fingers through his hair, hips rolling across his lap as he spreads his fingers over your skirt, groping at your ass.

“So- so you do wanna fuck me?” you ask breathily, unable to resist yourself from leaning forward and stealing another kiss.

“I thought I made myself obvious,” Akaashi replies, his hands slipping under your skirt to feel the warm, bare skin of your thighs.

A soft hum leaves you, fingers tracing across his cheek before reaching out to take his glasses off, setting them down. You smile down at him hazily and Akaashi smiles back, maneuvering your body so that you’re laying down, head nestled in the cushions.

You bite your lip when he kisses down your neck, sighing softly when he undoes the buttons of your shirt, pulling it apart. Akaashi’s eyes darken when he sees the swell of your breasts in your bra, his hands reaching out to grope at them greedily. You fumble around, unclasping your bra, tossing it behind you.

“So pretty, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips before kissing down your body.

You gasp when his tongue swirls around your nipple, squirming underneath him as his hot mouth envelops it, sucking and licking, even nipping gently making your body twitch. Back arching, you moan, fingers tugging at his soft hair. Akaashi lets out a hum, mouth opening wide to suck your breast into his mouth, groaning when he feels your hips buck underneath him.

“ Fuck ,” Akaashi hisses, his fingers rubbing at your clothed cunt, panties utterly drenched, “you’re dripping. How long have you been like this?”

You flush, looking away. Akaashi clicks his tongue, grabbing your chin to turn your gaze back onto him.

“Tell me,” he coaxes, rucking your skirt up before he tugs your panties up, watching the hard press of the fabric outline your puffy folds.

“Maybe- maybe since you opened that water bottle for me,” you mumble, blinking up at him innocently. 

Akaashi’s grip falters, his brows shooting up in surprise. Your cheeks are hot, eyes dropping to find his cock straining against his trousers, the bulge making you lick your lips.

“That long?” he whispers, leaning in.

“Mhm,” you nod, arms looping around his neck to pull him into a sloppy kiss, tongue and all.

“If I knew it was that easy, I would’ve done it the moment I saw you,” Akaashi smiles, his nose nudging against yours as he continues to rub your pussy through your panties.

“Shut up!” you laugh, pushing at his chest.

He laughs with you, smacking a quick kiss to your cheek before slinking down, pulling your thighs apart. A contented sigh leaves you when he licks up over your ruined panties, mewling softly when he pulls them to the side to get a glimpse of your slick pussy.

“Such a pretty pussy. All of you is so pretty,” he murmurs, pulling your panties off. 

You don’t miss the way he tucks them into his pocket.

Akaashi’s mouth encloses around your clit, sucking with fervor. You let out a strangled moan, fingers fisting his hair roughly, thighs twitching. 

“A- Akaashi,” you whine, hips rolling up to meet his mouth needily, “ hah- oh fuck!- ”

His nose nudges into your clit when he stops suckling on your clit, licking up a wide strip along the length of cunt, a low moan slipping out of him as he watches your cunt clench and flutter around nothing.

“Taste so fucking good,” he rasps, arms curling around your thighs, thumbing apart your folds to press his tongue in deeper, licking over the velvety flesh of your cunt.

You moan again, breath catching in your throat when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive bud before his tongue presses into your aching pussy, thrusting in and out of you. He makes an obscene sound and you tug at his hair roughly, pushing his face deeper into your cunt, squealing when he shakes his head, tongue swiping all over you.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, beginning to chant drunkenly, “don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Akaashi grunts into your pussy, spreading apart your folds against to spit on your cunt, his tongue swirling around your swollen clit before sucking it into his mouth. He suckles on it hard ; the sensation making your toes curl and eyes squeeze shut tightly. 

“Gonna cum?” he asks, a hoarse laugh leaving him when you push his head back down.

You nod rapidly, hands squeezing at your breasts, pinching and tugging at your own nipples. Akaashi slips his fingers up past your chin and your mouth opens obediently, hips rolling up as you suck on his fingers. 

A whimper escapes you when his teeth graze your clit, his tongue laving over it again as he sucks desperately, driving you further and further to the edge.

“Cum on my tongue, baby,” Akaashi whispers, “wanna watch you cum all pretty and needy.”

You don’t need any more encouragement, back arching as your body draws taut. You cum with a cry of his name, squeaking when he licks over your oversensitive pussy, thighs clamping around his head while your fingers tangle in his soft, black hair. 

Akaashi pulls away with one final suckle to your clit, peppering kisses up your body before slotting his lips over yours again. You whine softly, cupping his cheek to return his kisses feverishly, feeling the press of his clothed cock against your inner thigh.

“Take your clothes off,” you say softly, pecking his lips sweetly.

You squirm out of your skirt and top when he gets off of you, watching with hazy eyes as he pulls his shirt up over your head. The flex of his biceps has you letting out a low whine, fingers slipping between your thighs, unable to help yourself, rubbing your clit unabashedly.

Akaashi doesn’t miss the movement, shooting you a lazy grin, his hand smoothing over his trousers, squeezing at his bulge.

“Enjoying the view?” he murmurs, unbuttoning his trousers, “hm, baby?”

“‘m enjoying it a lot,” you reply airily, entranced by the motion of his hand as he grasps himself through his boxers.

Your breath catches in your throat when he pushes his boxers down, tongue feeling heavy as you watch the bob of his cock, heavy and thick. The hardened length twitches when he wraps his hand around himself, pumping his cock, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“T-taste?” you mewl, slipping off the couch and crawling towards him, “wanna taste, ‘kaashi.”

“Needy baby,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face.

Your eyes flutter shut when he bends, meeting his lips in a short kiss. Akaashi presses the head of his cock against your lips soon after, a moan slipping out of him when he sees the way his pre-cum spreads across your lips.

You lick your lips, mewling at the taste of his pre-cum, mouth opening wider, tongue lolling out.

“Want it,” you whisper, fingers digging into thighs, “please?”

“‘m gonna give it to you,” Akaashi rasps, grasping the base of his cock to smack the head of it against your tongue a few times. “Go ahead, pretty.”

You hum happily, mouth wrapping around his cock, hand curling around the base of it. Akaashi groans, his head tipping back as you squirm on your knees, fingers finding your slippery clit again.

“Just like that,” he whispers when you begin to bob your head, tongue swirling around the head of his cock, suckling gently.

Akaashi’s thighs twitch, the hand tangled in your hair tightening when you shuffle closer, mouth stretching open to take more of him into your mouth. 

You suck and lick, practically dripping onto the carpet beneath you as you hear the grunts and groans that leave Akaashi. He sounds pretty, the little airy gasps and stutters of his breath giving you the encouragement to try and take him deeper, your nose pressing into the black tufts of coarse hair at the base of his cock, before you pull off with watery eyes.

“I might have a hard time letting go of you after this,” Akaashi says, watching as you blink up at him with starry eyes, stroking his hand over your hair as you mouth lazily across the length of his cock. 

“So don’t,” you whisper, laving your tongue across the head of his cock, tasting his pre-cum.

You land a soft kiss to the tip, tilting your head to kiss at his heavy balls. Akaashi stops you before you can suck them into your mouth, dipping his head down to kiss you instead.

“‘m gonna cum if you do that,” he whispers against your lips.

“That’s sort of the point,” you smile, hand stroking along his length.

He snorts, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you up onto your feet. His throbbing cock presses against your stomach as you wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Akaashi gropes at the fat of your ass appreciatively, both of you standing together as you makeout languidly. 

You pull away for air soon after, hands roaming across his firm chest, eyes growing hazier with the way the muscles of his abdomen flex under your touch. A glob of pre-cum beads at the tip of Akaashi’s cock and you grasp his hand, rocking up to kiss his cheek before pulling him after you.

“Wanna ride my cock?” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe gently when you lead him into your bedroom.

“Y- yeah,” you reply airily, crawling up onto his lap when he sits down, his back against the headboard of your bed.

You rock your hips, grinding your cunt against his hot length, mewling softly when the tip of it nudges against your clit a few times. Akaashi catches your chin, pulling you forward for another filthy kiss, his hands smoothing up and down the length of your back.

“Sink down on it, baby.”

A soft whimper escapes you at his low voice, hands gripping his shoulders as you rise up onto your knees. Akaashi wraps his hand around the base of his cock, holding it for you. His head tips back, a guttural groan leaving him when you sink down on his cock, your nails digging into his skin.

“ Oh- ” you whine, “‘kaashi- hah- ”

“Keiji,” he replies, fingers dimpling the fat of your hips, trying to gain some semblance of control with the way your cunt’s clenching around his cock, “call me Keiji, baby.”

You let out a dazed sigh, rolling your hips and whining again, your own head tipping back.

“K- Keiji, you feel so good.”

Akaashi moans appreciatively in response to your words, landing a spank to your ass to urge you to move. You hiccup, cupping his cheeks, mouth dropping open in a silent moan as you roll your hips one more time and begin to rise and fall on his cock.

He keeps his eyes on you, letting out soft pants as you mewl and whimper out his name, hips swaying back to meet his thrusts when he begins to move his hips too.

“Good girl,” Akaashi whispers, head dipping to suck your breast into his mouth, “gripping me so tight, baby.”

“Keiji,” you mewl, dragging out his name in a needy call.

“‘m right here, pretty,” Akaashi murmurs, arms wrapping around your waist more firmly. 

You squeal when he lifts you up and begins to drop you down onto his cock himself, his face pressing into your chest, leaving desperate, heated open-mouthed kisses against your sweaty skin as he makes you take his cock.

“Oh fuck-,” you begin to gasp out, eyes squeezing shut, “ oh fuck! ”

“Take it,” Akaashi hisses, hands drifting down to grip the fat of your ass tighter, “fucking take my cock, baby.”

A surprised squeak leaves you when he lays you down, his cock pushing into you almost immediately after. Your legs wrap around his hips, hand reaching for his as he fucks his cock into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing lewdly throughout the room.

You scrabble at the bedsheets, trying to find some purchase as Akaashi drives his cock into you harder and faster.

“Gonna make me cum,” he grunts, face pressing into the crook of your neck, his body dropping to be flush against yours, hips rolling to a slow grind.

“‘m gonna cum too,” you say weakly, eyes fluttering as he mouths at your breast lazily. 

Akaashi peers down at you when he pushes himself up, bullying his cock into your cunt, balls pressed snugly against your ass.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks softly, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you sigh, giving him a dazed smile as you pull him down for a kiss, “but yes, you can.”

Akaashi grins, mouth slotting over yours again, thumb rubbing at your clit. He groans when he feels you clench around him, his hips stuttering jerkily when you dig your heels into the backs of thighs, forcing him to push his cock in deeper. 

“Brat,” he hisses, head dropping forward as he lets out a low whine, cock jerking inside of you as he cums.

You squirm, back arching as his thumb rubs harder, thighs twitching as you fall apart on his cock. Akaashi pants against your chest, his eyes squeezed shut as he lets out a few more whines, thick cum filling you up.

He rolls off of you so as to not crush you with his weight, running his hand through his hair. You curl up into his side, leaning forward to kiss his jaw.

“‘m gonna go clean up,” you whisper.

Akaashi nods, patting your hip affectionately, his eyes trained on the sway of your hips as you disappear into the bathroom.

You tug on a fresh shirt and a pair of panties, crawling back into bed to find Akaashi’s pulled his boxers back up over his hips, the manga volume you had been reading last night in his hand.

“It’s good,” you inform him, pressing into his side, head resting on his shoulder as you look over the little panels of drawings.

“I’d hope so,” Akaashi says, his hand rubbing at your side absentmindedly.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing.

“I happen to be the editor.”

You stare at him blankly, eyes flitting from his towards the manga. “No way.” You snatch the manga from him, flipping through towards the large page. His name is there in the little lettering, plain as day.

Editing: Akaashi Keiji

He smiles at you, nuzzling into your cheek, pressing several kisses here and there.

“Well,” you say, setting the manga down and wrapping your arms around his neck, “now you have to tell me what’s to come.”

“My lips are sealed,” Akaashi replies, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Keiji!” you whine, pouting up at him.

“Not happening, baby,” he says, shaking his head before leaning forward to kiss the pout off of your mouth.

You let out an irritated huff, pushing his head away when he tries to kiss you again.

“Look at that,” he muses, “you get all sulky like Bokuto.”

“Please don’t insult me.”

[melminli]

Pink Pony Club

summary - you weren't expecting much from your evening in a shitty bar, but then you saw a pretty woman sitting next to you.

pairing: cho hyun-ju x fem. reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: wlw, angst w/ comfort, fluff, a bit transphobia, pre squid game au

a/n: hyun-ju was my fav this season and i literally love her so much - she deserves the world and more😔💕

the request.

You looked bored at your drink while you caressed its round surface with your index finger. Your friends had finally managed to drag you to one of their favorite bars and, you didn't really enjoy being here, as you had expected since it was pretty, well - straight.

You were fine with it at first, when you all sat down at a table and just talked and laughed together. However, after a while a group of men sat down at your table - with everyone's permission, of course, but you still weren't the biggest fan of that decision. The only reason you didn't mind was that your friends seemed to be having a genuinely good time with the guys and that they weren't too bad. You still excused yourself from the table after a while, because one of them wouldn't stop subtly flirting with you even when did not hide your lack of interest. Sitting lonely at the bar counter wasn't too bad, you guessed.

I'll just finish my drink and then leave. You thought to yourself, still bored, and glanced subtly at the woman next to you after noticing how she seemed to be moving around quite nervously for a while. “Hey, are you alright?” you whispered to her in a soft voice after you moved closer to her side.

She returned your gaze slightly surprised and seemed to try to make herself even smaller after your attention was focused on her. “Ah, yes everything is fine. there is nothing to worry about…”

A few guys a little further away from you suddenly started to cackle ugly after she finished talking and you didn't miss how the woman next to you turned her eyes back to the counter - obviously feeling uncomfortable by what they were saying.

“Did you hear that voice? It's even deeper than yours!” he said to his friend, who only agreed with a shocked look on his face as he pointed his hand in your direction. “Come on man, that's not fair! Have you even seen how rugged that dude is? I mean you do realize that's not a real - you know…”

You took an annoyed breath as you looked across the room and bit your tongue to keep you from spitting in their hideous faces. Though, it was pretty hard to restrain yourself since you really wanted to. "Assholes.” you just uttered while staring at their heads with a hateful look, imagining them exploding.

“Just ignore them…” said the woman next to you with a gentle voice after noticing your reaction. “What they say doesn't bother me anyway.”

And even though she said that you knew it did because it always did. You returned your attention back to her and introduced yourself to her after taking the last sip of your drink. “And what's your name, pretty?”

She seemed to be caught off guard a little when she heard you say that. “Oh, ehm…” she stumbled a little over her words. “It's ehm Hyun-ju. My name is Hyun-ju.”

You smiled. “Pretty like you. It suits you.” you complimented her and noticed how the weird guys from the corner were still watching you. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” you asked and were glad when she nodded. “Well, come with me, I know a good spot,” you told her and took her hand in yours.

You gently pulled her off the chair with you and led her out of the stuffy bar, feeling like you could breathe again when your nose met the fresh air. “I was really close to beating those guys up,” you told her as you walked hand in hand with her. Hyun-ju giggled lightly, as if it was hard for her to imagine you doing something like that. You looked at her in disbelief. “What, you don't believe me? I'm totally serious, really!”

She tried to hide her smile, but barely managed it. “No, I believe you.” she replied, but you weren't really convinced by her answer. You just hummed when you finally noticed the store. “Look there! I hope you're hungry, because this place makes the best japchea.” you told her happily while holding the door open for her because a long time had passed since you last went to this little restaurant.

Luckily, there weren't many people here at this time of day, so you managed to get a good seat for two. “Sorry, I didn't even ask if you wanted to eat japchea. They also have lots of other things if you want, my treat.” you winked at her and Hyun-ju noticed how you cuddled your hands against your cheeks, as if they were still warm from the alcohol.

“Thank you, but japchea is fine. I will trust your recommendation,” she replied shyly and watched as you shouted your order with two fingers in the air to the chef, who gave you an all-clear with his thumb. “They don't have a waiter here, so…” you explained, automatically putting your hand back on hers without really noticing.

Well, you didn't until Hyun-ju's eyes turned to it and it was only then that you realized you were probably being a little too handsy. “Oh, I'm sorry about that.” you quickly apologized when you quickly pulled your hand back. “I really didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, you're probably not even into other women?” you let the question hang in the air, while you simultaneously cursed yourself for even asking that.

Hyun-ju blinked slightly in surprise while she played nervously with her hair. You knew at that moment that you had fucked up and prevented yourself from showing your disappointment. Unknown to you, she was thinking about something entirely else right now. So she was flirting with me the whole time? I didn't even realize, how embarrassing. “Are…are you?” she asked tensely, almost slapping her hand over her face at her stupid question. Of course she is, she just said it.

You laughed lightly with one eyebrow raised. “Do I like women? Hell yeah.” you just said, finding it a little funny how she acted right now. cute.

Hyun-ju was used to attracting the attention of girls before starting her transition. She even had a few relationships with them and liked it, but dating was one of the many things that became more than just difficult for her after she officially came out. “I'm a trans woman,” she finally said, even though she knew that you knew.

You just leaned forward with a grin. She hadn't turned you down, that's all you cared about. “I know,” you said, watching how she shyly avoided your gaze while crossing her arms in front of her. “You don't have to hide. I meant it when i said that you're very pretty.”

Hyun-ju slowly met your gaze and this time it was her who initiated physical contact with you. She held your hand softly. “I think you're really pretty too,” she said, and at that moment, you were both pretty glad that you went to that shitty bar today, even if you'd never go there again.