#let me know if i missed anybody in the tags

[dw-flagler]

original fanart (in no particular order) by

@mysteryflavour-art

@junebugtwin

@lizardinkart

@bones-napss

@joysuscreation

@senviva

@phthalosblues

@gutturalvampirism

@midnightrager

@beastieclub

[mrsackermannx]

lies | ino takuma

tags: angry (argument) sex, intruder role play, unprotected sex, sorcerer ino/non-sorcerer girlfriend, degradation kink, soft ending, not beta read.

authors note: @p00pdev1l jazz i meant to send this to you on asks and then it got super long but i swoon at the thought of being ino’s non- sorcerer gf idk there’s something about it didbdksjsksj. ive not uploaded any writing for so long bc there’s sm different ways and things i want to write and idk how to start idk…this lowkey is it i suppose. i miss writing hehe been so busy but yeh ENJOY MY DEPRAVITY.

- - -

You love your life with Ino, and he loves his life with you. No matter what a curse throws at him, he knows as soon as he sees you at the end of the day that it’ll all be worth it.

But it’s one night that he comes home especially roughed up…

You’re watching TV, but you hear him shuffling into your apartment, carefully locking up behind him, taking off his shoes. “Hello pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice almost hoarse. He leans over you to kiss your forehead. “I'm off to bed, you should too…”

You’re tired of the whispering phone calls, the leaving you to run away god knows where in the middle of dinner, you’re sick of not being able to tell your friends what Ino does exactly?

All these lies, all this mystery. You call him out on it and it leads to a fight…

It’s your sharp, “I’ve been waiting up for you,” that hits him right in the gut.

“Baby, I tell you not to.”

“Tell me?”

“i meant ask, baby,” his voice lowers, almost breaking from exhaustion. He's so close to snapping. Too close.“I mean ask—so-please, not now.”

His usually sunny demeanour is all gone. He’s working so hard for the recognition of so many people, you being one of them. He wants to be good enough, he wants to exorcise as many curses as he can. He has his own goals, his own vision of the future he wants you in. But he’s so fucking exhausted right now.

He’s not usually like this, he’s usually so reactive it’s almost unbearable. So you push and push.

“I don't even know what you do. What kind of guy are you? Who have I been dating-“

“What. What did you just say?”

You blink twice.

He’s never raised his voice at you like this before. It’s not that it scares you but it ignites something in you, stroking something dark and shameful.

He cages you against the wall, glaring at you. He smells like Ino, looks like Ino, caramel hair tousled and tucked behind each ear. As usual, so devastatingly, boyishly handsome, but his energy is sharper, his grin gone.

“Telling me you don’t know who I am? Huh? Then why the fuck do you let me inside you every night when I come home? If I’m so bad? If I’m this bad guy you don’t know? You let a stranger touch you? Huh?”

“Takuma-“

He gives you such a pointed stare your words escape you. One arm cages you below him whilst the other cups your chin. “You think I’m some kind of bad guy? Don’t you know me by now? Haven’t we been through enough?”

This is necessary communication, he knows it, you know it. But that doesn’t stop the suffocating tension crackling between you two any less bearable.

“I know you’re a good guy, in how you treat me, who you are, but I have no idea who you are sometimes and it’s— it’s, something that i-i…”

You’re getting choked up, but you’re also overheating. Ino is never like this, never so the opposite of himself, never so full of darkness and not his light.

But you guessed it was a good thing you weren’t afraid of the dark, or the man you loved so dearly in front of you.

“What?”

“-it scares me,” you blurt.

“But you like being scared.”

His voice is rough, teetering on the line between restraint and pure lust. He's neither asking nor stating.

“You like it when I come home in the dead of night.” He cups your pussy, your silk nightdress bunching against his palm, he clicks his tongue at the heat. “Sneaking in beside you, you practically baring your pussy for me to use, abuse and—fuck, until you’re begging for more, and more-“

“Takuma,” you whimper into his chest, he smells so like him, he strokes through your hair like he always does, so full of love. He’s holding your most intimate part of you like he owns you, you suppose he does. You suppose you’ve been in the palm of his hand from the moment you met him.

“Not so innocent then are you? When you’re taking my cock in your cunt in the middle of the night? Begging for it, begging for me to wreck this tight little-“

“Takuma! Please.”

He alternates pressure on your clit, over and over, feeling your drip down his fingers.

“I bet you’d like my mask too? Wouldn’t you?”

His hand wraps around your throat, contrasting the way his thumb was smoothing across your jaw. You always felt so special with Ino, like his lover, regardless of whether you were fighting.

“What mask?” Your voice was so shaky you barely recognised it. His hand mapped down his torso to his pocket. Then he slipped on a black mask with nothing but holes for his eyes. “So, this? This is who you are?”

He hated this. He hated you thinking he was some bad guy, some good for nothing criminal.

“Who do you want me to be?” he edged closer, his voice slow and dripping with something dangerous, something that made your pupils dilate, and your pulse run.

“How about tonight I be the bad guy you want me to be,” he drawled. His hands skimmed up and down your sides, admiring…staking their claim on what was beneath them.

“Take me, Takuma.”

A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Fuck you?” he shoved his knee between your thighs, “Or take you?” He squeezed your neck until you moaned, “You and your control? Your body? Your soul.”

“Both.”

It was a blur before you processed that Ino had you flipped against the wall. That he was already brushing your entrance with his cock and then teasing you against it. The head of him almost slipped in, over and over. But he had you flailing and whimpering like a desperate mess instead.

“Shush now, pretty girl. I don’t care if your boyfriend comes home. I’m using this cunt as my own anyway.”

“Oh my—fuck.”

That was it. Your control, your pain, you let it all go. You let it free, you let the wild throbbing in your core take over. You would have fallen to the floor without the wall and Ino standing firm behind you. You gave into your sinful desires.

He trailed his hands down your body, then in a movement so unexpected you cried out as he tore apart your night dress. “Let's hope your boyfriend doesn’t come home to you getting fucked like this, angel.”

He thrusts into you in one brutal slam. “Fuck I love ruining good girls like you,” he sounded so undone that it had you close to breaking, moaning with every slam into your pussy.

“Your cunts are made to be broken into like this, waiting for every drop of cum, squeezing me so tight like that. Fluttering on cock that you’ve been craving so badly, you—pretty —little—slut.”

It’s a primal fucking, and Ino seems to take everything out on you, but you submit so easily you’re succumbing to pleasure you’ve never felt. The things he says are dark and twisted, but the way he holds you is anything but, he holds you like you’re precious, even if he calls you his slut, to him you’re his angel.

When you start to match his rhythm, bucking out your hips to take in more of him, he comes so powerfully you feel his tears slide your back. Panting and groaning out your name, “I love you,” his voice shakes, and he’s breathless as he locks you in his arms.

“You’re so precious to me. More than my own life. More than any goal. I’ll tell you anything, and everything.”

You’re overcome, reeling from your orgasm, but nevertheless you accept his embrace just as tight. “I love you, Takuma.”

“I love you,” he chants, for a while. Until you’re sleeping, bodies coiled together, his hand in your hair. And it feels good. Too good to have finally told you everything.

[gromky]

He left us his broken heart

[whoredmode]

i say i miss viola as if i can’t just turn on srtt and go see her

[weezerlvr228]

flippin boobahs!

[dawntheduckrb]

I'll stop posting wips eventually but it's been five days since I've said anything and I don't want anyone to think I'm dead/dying/stuck in a ditch and withering away, so here's 10% of the reason I disappeared (the duck is stuck in rendering hell) (and my little baby laptop is screaming at me every time I open up this file)

I might still be mostly lurking for a little bit so please be patient with me in the meantime 🙏🙏

[caesarclowningaround]

does micky miranda wear jewelry at all? or accessories? hats? and if so were any of them gifts from others

Sadly he does not wear any jewelry (...in Victorian London. AUs are another story where he'd totally wear rings and maybe a fuckboy necklace or two). He does, however, wear tie pins and a pocket watch. Both of which are very much in style in the time he lives, but he takes pride in his appearance and is very careful about which pins go with which ties, etc. But he doesn't always wear them.

He does, however, always wear his pocket watch as seen below. Being a upper middle class gentleman, he's never without it except when he's nakey ofc. He purchased his own once, but the one he regularly wears is one Edward gave to him as a birthday present and Mickey likes it best not because it was a gift, but because it was likely very expensive.

As for hats, he only wears a simple black top hat but he wears it often. In a modern AU, he rarely wears hats. Maybe to make a fashion statement, but for the most part he'd rather show off his perfect hair. But for regular Mickey, it's just the top hat

[mayullla]

Title: His Dream Wife

Character(s): Richard (Original character / Original work)

Synopsis: He always wanted a perfect family, but life never gave him what he wanted. Instead, he was blackmailed into marrying a gold digger. But after seeing you for the first time the wife of his friend all he could think of was you. So don't mind him when he was given the option to swap his wife's consciousness with yours he took that chance immediately.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Dilf x meek reader, yandere pov, general yandere themes, body swap between reader and Yandere's wife, cheating (not done by reader), arranged, baby trapping, Yandere wants that traditional wife and lifestyle. Word count: 4.2k (Please tell me if I miss anything!)

Note: I just finished reading the webtoon "Marry My Husband," so you can probably see many small ideas taken from it in this story!

Ever since he was young, Richard had fantasies and dreams of a perfect family. He always loved the idea of someone relying on him just as much as he would on them, and someone who would love him exclusively and trust him completely. Maybe that was why he liked wolves, having been told back then that those animals would mate for life. He liked that. He wanted that. Friends were nice there is nothing wrong with that. But there is something about a family that he wanted. Maybe it was because he was jealous back then of how affectionate his grandparents were between each other, while his parents were far from that.

That was what he wanted and well maybe he started to want a little more the older he got. He wanted what his grandparents had, he wanted what the movies had… he wanted what his fantasies had. He loved the idea of a family, coming back from work to an affectionate housewife with her tummy big inside a second or third child while holding the first. The idea of kisses between each other, while his lover irrupts in giggles, playfully pushing him back telling him that he should not let the food turn cold or let the kids see them.

Someone he could spoil and give everything to while she relied on him and his money. He would work hard every day just for her and the kids, to give them the home they deserve. She would give back by cooking and cleaning the house, anybody knows that those things are hard work and everything takes time. But she would do it for the both of them, for him. 

Yet he wasn't able to attain that dream. He wasn't allowed to have it. He attracted the attention of a viel woman, who had used any and every blackmail to tie him down to her. He was a manager at a big company already quickly climbing up but also came from a rich family, he unwantedly got the attention of a woman who was greedy for money and something handsome. 

And her own manager was ripe for the picking.

She did many things but somehow he was able to avoid many of them however that could only go on for so long. She was cunning, too smart for her own good. He didn't know how she did it, it made him furious at what she did waking up in a hotel with her right beside him. He had no memories of the night yet she did when she told everyone that she had his baby a month later.

Everyone was frantic, his parents especially who cared so much about their appearance and reputation than anything else. While he hated them for the lack of love or care only forcing him to their whims to get a word above their acquaintances and rivals. The idea of him their own son mudding their name with the fact that he got someone pregnant without marriage made them furious. They wanted him to marry her immediately and he had no choice not when they held his job, reputation, and life above him not when that woman too did the same with her connections and people behind the scenes. It was idiotic that he fell into her hands like this, no matter what he did she did not let go and sank her claws deep into his skin.

Richard wanted to know if this child was his, but there was no time when everybody demanded his and that woman didn't give him a chance to check. Only to cry after the marriage that the child from miscarriage due to stress from his selfishness. Many blamed him even though he knew that she was lying this whole time but no matter what he said her crocodile tears worked far better than any explanation.

He was furious, angered by everything that happened but he wasn't allowed to do anything he wasn't allowed to break up with her. His life, everything that he worked for had turned to nothing by this woman. She could care less about love or something genuine and only cared about his money, demanding that he give her money to go shopping to buy expensive brand items and clothing while also going to parties and bars with her friends coming back home late leaving only a mess with how drunk she was.

Some days she would not come home at all and he assumed that she was with another man, as he didn't give in to her sexual demands even if they were husband and wife. At this point, the idea of touching her body even her hand disgusted him.

He thought he lost everything, he felt hopeless when he could not break up with that woman who made sure that he could not have a divorce without destroying his reputation and paying her a huge amount of cash. She was insane.

Rather than be with her he would rather drown in his work in his office. The house smelled like her strong perfume that could only make his head hurt the moment he took one whiff of it even though that woman wasn't even in the house having already left to head to the next new bar that opened up in the city.

That was his life, he genuinely thought that this was his ending, a story that didn't end so well, yet unable to change anything with knives around his neck daring him to move. But in the end, nothing is concrete, sometimes all it takes is helping an old lady who just so happens to be a fortune teller. 

Typing away at his computer late at night in his office as he looked at the time, his thoughts could not help but let his thoughts drift for a moment. Richard closed his eyes slightly burning from looking at the laptop for too long. Leaning his chair, he pulled his tie down a little as he thought about this afternoon when he helped out a poor fortune teller the old woman after picking some stuff up at the market, who looked to be in her 80s stuck outside homeless and struggling to open her shop. As she had dropped something that had rolled towards him he picked it up and gave it to the old lady. He didn't know what moved him to help her. But as a present, he had gotten a small viel.

"Thank you for your help. You are quite the hard worker." The old woman said, sitting on the chair when everything was finally set up. She looked at him with a sly smile on her face. The old woman he later realized had a way of speaking, that wasn't normal. Weird yet at the same time sharp... too sharp. “Too bad you are stuck with such a mean spirit woman. How you handle such a woman for so long now… I am impressed.” Sharp as in she knew too much than he would have liked for a stranger to know.

"Buahahaha, don't worry boy this would be the last you would ever hear from me after this." The old woman laughed at his stiff glare. He didn't know how she did it but she seemed to know a lot about his relationship with his wife and the trouble that he was in yet at the same time she had a knack for poking at his sore spots. 

Before Richard could think about calling the police she suddenly pulled out a vial inside containing a blue liquid, "You help me with my little trouble so I want to give you a little something, that could help you with your own little trouble. Besides, I couldn't resist helping someone in need.” 

“A little swap potion, let your wife and your sweetheart drink it and they will swap at the start of the next day. The lil spell would wear off in a month but if there is nothing to return to… well then that means nothing could even happen. Dont yah think so boy? Haha!” He took the vial from the lady, thinking about throwing it when she was nowhere in sight. The creepy grin didn't match her so-called kind action, but she was not finished with talking.

“You better move fast my boy, that woman will make sure you will be dead before a year. It is very easy to hide evidence with a car crash.”

After that, it was difficult to throw the thin vial. Part of him could not drop the liquid into the bin, so he stored it on his office desk, locked but with a key, along with other important documents and such.

"Richard!! Why did you not show up at the dinner party?! Do you know how much embarrassment you have caused me?" his wife screamed. He couldn't help but groan in annoyance the moment he walked through the entrance. It was too early in the morning for such screaming, but she just continued on and on: "And why are you here now?!! It is the next day!? Explain yourself!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you at all." Walking past his wife who was glaring daggers at him. The more he learned about his wife the more he realized that she was similar to his parents, cared only about reputation, and was selfish putting themselves first before anything else. Hypocrites. "I had to finish up some work so I stayed at my office. I needed to finish all the file work before the meeting." Unlike a certain someone who would come home the next day afternoon after being in someone else's arms. 

Walking into his own home, he could not recognize it... everything was thrown about and trashed everywhere. Expensive decorations on the floor and shattered. Sofa and pillows ripped letting cotton spill from them. Walls wet and dirty with glass cups, and pots of plants shattered on the floor. Looking at everything he kept his anger internally holding everything in as he continued to walk towards his office and bedroom locked with a key.

This wasn't the first time this happened, he had found out that there was no use to teaching someone who saw no reason to change her ways. He just needs to call in some cleaners, replace the things that broke and that was it.

Heading to his home office to place his bag on the table he suddenly received a text on his phone. Pulling out the device to check who it was while the woman continued to scream at him.

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me you couldn't join the dinner!" It was because she wouldn't listen, no matter what. If he had told her, she would have either demanded that he come or screamed at him—first on the phone, then again when he got home. "Answer your phone when I call! Are you even listening to me?!"

He knew of the calls and messages. She had been calling non-stop and texting for an hour since he didn't come to her friends' dinner. He just didn't care to answer and left it on mute to let him focus on his work. Looking at the sender he couldn't help but sigh.

"Hey, I am talking to you!" Her shrill screaming was mind-numbing as he got his clothes unable to stand her voice and would rather change elsewhere. "RICHARD!!!"

He quickly left the house and got into his car, ignoring the high-heeled shoe that was thrown at him—missing as it landed. Starting the engine, he drove off, tuning out her shouts.

It was past midnight, and he was alone on the road. No one else was in sight. As he waited at a red light, he pulled out his phone to check a message. It was from a "friend" he had made at university, inviting him to dinner the next day. The guy had always been friendly—or at least tried to be. He had the personality of a know-it-all, and while he didn’t care for him much, it seemed the guy had once considered them friends. That was until money and popularity got to his head.

The guy knew a lot and had multiple connections and friends, he was the one who helped him find a cleaner will to keep silent about everything that happened in the house after the housemaid quit due to his wife assuming that he and the maid had done something sexual in the bedroom. The woman was crying as her hair had been pulled and her face slapped by his wife.

He also had seen the lust in that friend's eyes whenever he looked at her. Even after the guy was married for over a year he still looked at another wife with lust, it was disgusting to Richard that his friend would do such a thing but as the guy had helped him with a few of his troubles he didn't just cut him away.

The message was an invite for a double date. Having just left his house and his furious wife behind (not that he would ever take her anywhere unless absolutely forced), he tried to decline, saying that his wife was a bit "busy."

[Dude, dont worry about it and just come then.]

[Won't it be awkward for your wife?]

[It doesn't matter she would just say that it is fine either way.]

[Don't leave me here with her. You have already talked with her either way it is not a problem anymore. ]

From what he remembered it seemed that it was an arranged marriage between the two. Something that was decided by their parents for the benefit of their companies. The guy absolutely hated the fact that he was pushed into this marriage and had nothing good to say about his wife but that was a goody two shoes and boring. "She lacks the wildness that I am looking for." The guy said he was drinking in a bar one time having called him to express his frustrations after an official meeting with her. "She probably doesn't know anything except how to clean dishes.”

"I would not leave the house with a babe like yours. How do you keep everything in your pants?" The guy asked too drunk from all the alcohol to be careful with his words. "You might like my fiance a lot with your uptight attitude and lack of fun. Maybe we should switch wives later. Hey, wanna wife swap one time? It would be fun~~."

He had ignored the very obvious lust in the guy’s eyes, choosing not to address it and instead steer the conversation elsewhere. In the end, between hiccups, the guy told him he’d introduce him to his future wife and insisted that he should come to the wedding.

A few days later, with the invitation in hand, he attended the wedding. There, he saw the guy’s wife—and he was absolutely floored.

It was just a moment. A fleeting glimpse. He caught sight of her for only a second, walking toward his friend across the hall. Through the open door of the bride's room, he saw her, and he froze.

She was stunning.

He could not believe that a woman like you would become the wife of the guy. He wanted to take a step back to see you again, yet when his wife called him he was forced to start walking again not wanting to cause a scene due to her fickle pride. 

After all, he could see you again on the walkway when the wedding starts.

But he didn't want to leave either way.

Seated on the husband's side as the music stopped hinting to the guest that it was about to start soon. He watched as his friend walked the aisle, knowing but not commenting on the dirty slutish look his wife was giving to the guy looking at him up and down and waiting for you to show up.

You arrived soon after, dressed elegantly and sophisticated holding bouquets of flowers. He noticed how pretty you were, your walk and movements were elegant and soft, a far cry to his wife who walked to call the men's attention dressed a little too revealing for the formal occasion.

Would he have married a woman like you if this wench hadn’t come to destroy his life? Would he have married you if your parents and your friend’s family hadn’t forced the two of you into it? If this wasn’t some kind of mask, and this really was you, he wouldn’t have any complaints about being stuck with you. In fact, he would have demanded it—forced it, if he could. But that wasn’t how life turned out... You were not his.

The wedding soon came to an end and that was it. Legally you were tied to his friend while he was already stuck with his own problems. It wasn't fair. He just couldn't let it go as he stayed in his seat even after the end of the wedding speech as everybody started to leave to eat and dance. While his wife went to meet up with the groom he stayed where he was just thinking.

How surprised he was that he ended up meeting you so soon.

The guy had invited him to dinner a few times and he quickly understood that it was to have someone else in the group after the guy was forced by his parents to take you out a few times. But that didn't matter to him when he was finally able to talk to you, to chat with you.

When he reached the restaurant, the guy stood up after a small conversation, stating that he needed to run to the bathroom, take a call, or use some other excuse he had up his sleeve. He left the table for as long as possible only to come back near the end with maybe a lipstick on his shirt or something. And if Richard’s wife was there, the guy would start subtlety flirting with his wife, uncaring if he or his own wife was there, not that the woman herself cared.

He pitied you, as you kept on your smile even when your eyes swirled with an understanding of your place, yet at the same time, you were still so hurt. You were silent for the most part keeping to yourself.

You and he become rather close but not really, it was a kind of comradery of your situations or that was what he would like to think. Whenever you and him were left alone, rather than keep the awkward air around he would start to talk to you.

You were a little flustered at first but slowly you started to get used to talking with him. Chatting amicably as if enjoying the conversation between you and him. He also did enjoy conversing with you. No heavy topics, it wasn't business or anything to do with work but stuff like traveling, hobbies, and favorite food. The things that you would like to do if you only had the time or chance to do them. 

You weren't loud but you were delicate, gentle, and easy to fluster too. You were polite and careful with your words but also curious asking him many questions when he talks about his own stories. You would keep all your attention on him, even if he noticed you didn't seem maybe that interested in a topic or two.

There was one time he went to your apartment, an invitation from your husband who invited him and his wife. Your place was in a high-end apartment probably paid by the family, with decorations that were chic and modern but there was also a homely feeling to the place, cleaned and cared for with love, unlike his messed up house. The smell of the house was similar to that of a fragrant laundry detergent instead of strong perfume. Just for a moment, he realized that you were the one who did all this when he saw you coming out from the kitchen unwrapping the apron you were wearing.

Just for a moment you gave him an actual vision of a home, a vision of what he wanted so much and could have had yet was taken away from him. You gave him a vision of what it would be like to have a wife who cares so much. 

He could not help but crumble and fall.

He started to crave for you, the more he chatted with you the more he fell every night he fantasized about you in his arms. He wished... he craved for you so much that he thought he started having delusions that you were his. At night, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing you clearly in the darkness.

But you just had to break everything, you just had to slam a hammer to his dreams and fantasies just like everyone else.

"I'm sorry," you said, a sorrowful smile on your lips. "I know my husband is using you to get out of our date. I apologize for taking up your time when you're so busy. Please, I’ll make sure this doesn't happen again. You don’t have to come every time he asks you to. I’m sure you’re busy too."

Why...? Why did you say that? He thought you knew that he already understood. He thought you knew that it didn’t bother him at all—especially when you both always had such enjoyable conversations. Why did you apologize? Why would you tell him to stop coming? Why were you pushing him away?

Your eyes looked at him in sorry and guilt and it clicked you were scared you were so scared that something wrong might happen. Because in the end, you were loyal, loyal to a man who didn't even love you.

It made him livid. 

Even if you thought you knew more than he did, he was the one who knew more. He knew well what your husband does on nights that he isn't home, where he goes, and what he does there. In Richard’s own house, he could hear the sounds of two people with familiar voices thinking they were alone. 

His wife and your husband.

You didn't know that, while you probably knew that he partied every day you seemed to have hope that he didn't have the audacity to lay in bed with another married woman much less the wife of his own friend. He didn't care who that guy lay with, but it made him irritated that a guy like him had you.

That appointment ended up awkward. Too awkward as both of you waited for your husband to arrive. The guy knew something was up the moment he arrived but seemed to choose not to say anything having enough tack not to right at that moment when he usually didn't.

Looking at the message again he sighed declining the invite again even when the guy tried to put up a fuss. It was just that he could not face you right now, not when you made it clear that all you felt towards him was guilt.

If only it was you... if only he had found you first if that woman didn't chain herself to him using blackmail and connections.

If he could just swap his wife with you he would have been happier... he would have the life he wished he had and he would spoil you with all his love and time. While you would wait oh so lovingly for him while cooking and cleaning while he worked to bring the money to keep you happy materially. He would be a better husband than your own and he already knew that you would be a far more better wife than his own.

But you just had to draw that line. That line of law and morality.

Watching the road as he drove, he could not help but let annoyance fester him at this whole situation till he saw a poster pass by him. Purple with a familiar design that he saw just this morning. Something to do with a certain fortune teller who knew a little too much and who gave him a small vial.

Truthfully he didn't believe in such things, but part of him had become so desperate that he just could not think straight. He was desperate and he knew that the old woman knew that and was laughing at him for it.

"Here yah go. This is a little something that would have cost a shit ton but I am gonna give it to you for free." The old woman cackled, she was having way too much fun knowing his situation. "If you plan to add this to a drink don't worry about the colour at all."

He didn't believe in such things. But there was a whisper in his mind a little spell in his brain that told him that this would work. That there was something different about that mad woman who probably lived only in entertainment.

His hand moved before he could even think about it, accepting the dinner invitation as he finally reached his office. It was supposed to be closed, but a few employees were pulling an all-nighter, so the building wasn't locked. In his mind, all he could think about was the life he once dreamed of—the life that had been taken away from him. All he wanted was a life with you, and that thing—that vial—would be the answer to all his problems.

[faebriel]

thinking about what happens next so hard

[antimony-medusa]

Okay so, one of my problems with creator boundaries as an event runner is that it's impossible to keep up with them all, because they're being updated, and because so much of the time you learn them when they're reported to you, you weren't in stream yourself. So it's a game of telephone, and there's a constant issue that the message gets garbled in translation.

So the stance that I've taken as an event runner is that I will not be enforcing boundaries, and everyone can decide for themselves what relationships they're comfortable with. This seemed like the best stance for me to deal with the beeduo /p /r wars, and then I have continued to see many other smaller or larger instances where I've gone "yeah, enforcing creators boundaries as an event mod is a nonstarter, I'm sticking with that".

And I've been mostly concerned about issues like— I am not an avid watcher of Gem streams! I might miss things that happen in Gem streams, I don't know what the creator's exact boundaries are for what's okay to do in her vision. But meanwhile I've been over here in Phil streams, and I've assumed that I have known Phil's boundaries, because they get repeated SO MUCH. Everybody knows— no nsfw, and then we argue about if the only shipping allowed is with Mumza (the dsmp stance) or if his continued gay flirting with men on QSMP means he's okay with shipping with them (he kissed a man on camera on QSMP, for example). That is the received wisdom about Phil's boundaries, we all know where we stand and how we're interpreting things.

And I have been like okay, Phil doesn't want to see NSFW, I don't think he's reading my Ao3 history, maybe I will read the occasional pissa fic for fun. There are some good fics in the tag, you know. I will just keep it out of his sight, and the streamer doesn't have to know, right?

Cut to today, where I'm being kicked out of a discord server for bookmarking one (1) Phil NSFW fic. They sent me a clip to prove that NSFW was against the rules and why I was getting kicked. So I watched the clip in the interest of completeness.

And guys, when I tell you my jaw fucking dropped, because I do NOT agree that anyone should have asked the streamer this, but someone got him to talk about NSFW fan work, "weirdchamp shit", and he explicitly with his mouth says that he "could not give a shit" and "everybody lets out their creativity in different ways", and "ultimately it isn't hurting anybody", and as long as he doesn't see it, he's fine with it. As long as it's kept out of his stream he's fine.

So uh, guys? I know it's not like we haven't been cautiously creeping this way ourselves, just keeping it out of the streamer's sight, but explicitly, word of god from the streamer, I think Phil NSFW has been legal this whole time.

[suguann]

I HOPE YOU STAY—GOJO SATORU

✎. he’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. it just sort of slipped out. | wc. 2.8k+

tags. fem!reader, grinding, unprotected sex, oral sex, some mutual pining (it's implied he doesn't know how to talk to reader), there is not a world where gojo isn't rich, fwb to lovers, jealousy, gagging on how very much in love gojo is with reader and she doesn't see it, praise kink, pet names [18+ only]

masterlist

You’re not sure how it all started.

(As how all arrangements like these seem to start.) 

You remember calling Gojo on a night out with your coworkers—one too many cheap vodka cranberries in your system clouding your judgment—just as he left the office for the day, asking if he could pick you up from a shady nightclub downtown. 

(You’d hardly been acquaintances, and there was a long period of time where you’re sure he only tolerated you for Shoko’s sake since she’s the one who dragged you into their group of friends. You’re always the last one he acknowledges in the room, and he seems to clam up when you’re alone together.

You refused to let it get to you. Especially when you only see him a handful of times every other month or so, although less now that you’re around, and you pretend it doesn’t eat at you.)

It’s still a mystery why you called him out of everyone you know—you had to scroll through an endless amount of contacts just to find a message you sent him months ago that he left on read with the express purpose of annoying you—and even more surprising that he answered.

You didn’t know him as well as Shoko, but maybe a secret hidden part of you knew he’d help if you were in a pinch.

“Hello?” 

(He might be the most infuriating human you know, but he has a voice like rich bourbon. 

He’s also stupidly attractive. Beautiful, even, with his straight nose, soft-looking mouth, and thick hair that adorably curls around his ears. However, you’d never say that to his face, for his head would get too big.)

“Do you think you could give me a ride?” It was almost a miracle that your words didn’t slur.

You half expected him to hang up, but then he asked for the address, and several minutes later, he pulled up to the curb in his shiny sports car that probably cost more than everything you own combined and watched you stumble into the soft-leather passenger seat. 

It should be embarrassing how long it took you to buckle your seatbelt, but then you finally got a good look at him and took note of his expensive-looking suit: his tie slightly undone, shiny watch and cuff links glinting under the passing street lights, how his hair looked like he ran one of his bear paws for hands through it several times. 

You think it was the first time you realized he was as tall as he was wide.

The quintessential businessman in a three-piece suit. You understand the appeal now. 

(That je ne sais quoi that makes you want something out of reach. Why your friends from college ask if he’s single when all you see is a man who never takes anything seriously.)

He’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. It just sort of slipped out.

Gojo gave you a look that would have made you giggle if you weren’t serious. “What?”

“I want a kiss,” you told him again.

It was the little once-over he gave you afterward, the way he missed the exit to your street and took the one that led to his, how he kissed you until your knees were wobbly and weak, and you could barely walk to his door in your heels as he pressed small ones around your mouth while his fingers sunk into your hair.

(That. That—)

You came against his thigh—staining his Burberry suit while he whispered dirty things into your ear—right there in the hallway where anybody could see if he didn’t have the whole floor to himself.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned into your mouth once he had you in his room, his hands trailing up and down your sides until he found the zipper for your dress and tugged. "I can't believe this is really happening."

(Later, you spend a lot of time analyzing what he meant.)

You urged him toward the bed when he had the black slip of fabric pooling at your feet, dropping down to your knees in front of him, and together, you scrabbled at his pants, shoving them around his hips. You’ll never forget how hot and heavy he was in your hand that first time, how your fingers barely touched and looked so small in comparison.

There was a thick vein along the underside of his cock, and you trailed it with your tongue, going up and up until you took the slightly purpling head into your open mouth.

You kept taking more of him until you couldn’t go any further without gagging, which wasn’t far because he was big—possibly the biggest dick you’ve ever seen outside of porn—and it made you a little dizzy how quickly it robbed you of air. 

“Holy shit.” He stroked your hair so softly, so sweetly, groaned things that made you preen and nuzzle into his touch. “You’re so good at this. You gonna let me cum down that throat?”

That made your belly flip—the fact that Gojo Satoru, of all people, called you good—a stone creating a current of new possibilities.

You hummed a muffled “Uh huh” and squeaked when he held your head down—the coarse hair at his pubic bone brushing against your nose—cumming down your throat in hot, heavy spurts, and you’re surprised you swallowed it all because it was a lot.

He fell back against the mattress, freeing you of his grip, arms spread wide and panting as he lay there with his eyes closed.

“Was it good?” you asked, licking away the small amount of cum that escaped the corner of your mouth.

That got him to pop his head up to look at you, a hint of something too soft on his face than you were used to from him. “Come here,” and he let you crawl into his lap.

A sigh escaped his lips as his hands hovered close to the side of your waist before letting them fall back against the mattress. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he mumbled after kissing your forehead.

(That’s how you think it started.)

~~~~~

Everything’s fine.

Perfectly fine before Gojo sits by you, casually planting himself between you and the newest member of your group of friends, Nanami. You roll your eyes at how childish he’s being, refusing to react to his blatant jealousy.

Then he inconspicuously rests his hand on your knee. You jump at first, and the few people sitting at the table with you glance at you curiously, including Gojo, who gives you a mischievous little smirk that can only mean trouble. 

Again, you roll your eyes and choose to ignore whatever is going on in that lizard brain of his.

That doesn’t last long because he’s leaning across you to grab a handful of pretzels, only to lean in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he sinks back into his seat.

“You look so fucking good in this dress right now.” His voice already sounds hoarse, stretched thin—raw with want—and you inconspicuously rub your thighs together under the table. “Are you wearing what I bought you underneath? You’d show me, yeah?”

(Because he buys you things now—perfectly normal for someone you’re sleeping with who’s not your boyfriend, but maybe your friend—and sometimes you playfully call him Daddy when he has your wrists tied above your head with one of his silky ties.

And who cares if a few of your things and a toothbrush have found their way into his place? He lives closer to your job. Nobody can blame you for choosing convenience over a forty-minute ride through the subway.

Normal.)

Distantly, you’re aware that you aren’t alone, and there are several ears within earshot distance, but that doesn’t stop the little gasp that escapes past your lips. 

“Satoru, knock it off.” You glance around the table to make sure no one is paying attention, your tensed shoulders relaxing a little when you find everyone too preoccupied with their own conversations.

Gojo already has acknowledged this, too. 

“I bet you still taste just as sweet as you did this morning. You have no idea how much I want you. It’s making me hard just thinking about it.” At that, you peek down at his lap to find the prominent bulge pressing against his khaki pants. 

“Oh?” voice soft when you finally tear your eyes away from his crotch to meet his heated gaze again.

“Mhm.” 

Oh. 

You can tell that he sees your walls cracking, that it would only take a few sweet words before you finally caved: “You’d let me have another taste, wouldn’t you?”

Your breath hitches because, yes, you would. 

That’s how you find yourself with your thighs parted and one of your legs draped over his.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape while the rough pad of his middle finger presses small circles over the top of your panties. His fingers tease, exploring the slick seam of you and retreating when you start arching your hips up into his touch.

It feels like you can’t breathe—or perhaps you’re too fearful to find out what other noises you’d make if you did—practically choking on the torturous (because that’s what this is) pleasure you’re receiving, and you’re ready to beg. You really are. However, you aren’t prepared to face the mortifying consequences if you happen to open your mouth.

Something that sounds a lot like, please, just waiting on the tip of your tongue.

It feels like every pair of eyes at that small table are on you, but they’re none the wiser to what is currently happening beneath the party-themed tablecloth, still laughing and mingling around the yard as they celebrate Geto’s birthday. 

It’s not as if it’s all that obvious, either. 

Gojo is turned away from you, currently in the middle of a discussion with the birthday boy himself. You have no clue what they were talking about because you’d stopped paying attention a while ago—not that you’d be able to listen if you wanted to with Gojo’s fingers turning every spun cotton candy thought back into melted sugar. 

He traces lightly over the covered seam of your lips before finally slipping under the silky material—his skilled fingers working slippery circles at the apex of your thighs—and the subtle relief forces you to swallow another moan. 

“Satoru,” you warn under your breath, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements. But the feel of him patting your sticky, sensitive clit with three fingers cuts off all of your protests, forcing you to sit there and let him play with you.

Heat crawls up your neck as he explores your slick folds, the loud music, and chatter, thankfully hiding the wet sounds produced between your legs. 

He does offer some mercy when he notices the slight quiver in your thighs, how they jump and jump until he stops teasing to press to fingers inside you and grind the heel of his palm into your clit. Your hips start rocking forward against his hand slightly, and you pray nobody notices because the heat spreading through your belly is almost too consuming to stop now, making you dizzy with it. 

Your abs hurt from how hard they clench, and your legs shake, culminating in a slow drop just before you resurface. Gojo can probably feel it—attuned to your body after all these months—and starts moving in a steady rhythm, and—

The breath you’re about to take gets caught in your throat, fingers gripping Gojo’s wrist and the ledge of the table as you tip over the edge. Your legs tremble while you convulse onto his hand, and you have to lean into him to keep from falling out of your chair. 

His fingers bring you back down, slowly, rubbing soothingly against your inner thigh as the fog gradually dissipates from your brain. And what you’d give to hear him call you his good girl at that moment—

“Hey, are you okay?” Shoko asks you from across the table. “You don’t look so good.”

All eyes turn towards you, including the smug little gleam in Gojo’s. 

“Yeah,” you squeak before standing up hastily. You pull Gojo up with you, not caring that it’s the same hand covered in your sticky-wet slick. “I just remembered that I need Sa—Gojo’s help with something.”

Only a few are dumb enough to believe that lie, and you avoid the smirk Shoko gives you as she watches you practically drag Gojo toward the house.

(Because, of course, she knows.

And perhaps she’s not the only one.)

~~~~~

The tipping point in your relationship—the one that turns it from a maybe into a definite something, and not just two people who have been having sex and somewhat living together for six months—happens on a night Gojo comes home late from work. 

(Exactly five minutes to eleven.)

You’re not usually the jealous type, but you’ll admit that dating someone like Gojo—rich, attractive, owns more Tom Ford suits than you have jeans, and just important enough that he has an assistant who runs said suits to the dry cleaners—can stir up some insecurities.

A more reasonable person would lay out the facts like a deck of cards: you know he’s someone’s boss’s boss, so he likely had to stay behind to fix someone else’s mess, but the proverbial chip onto the poker table comes with his new assistant. 

Hinata.

A girl who’s fresh out of college and around him more hours of the day than you see him during the week, and from the few times you stopped by his office, you can tell she has a thing for him—her lack of subtlety could compete with Gojo’s nonexistent observation skills.

Much later, after you’ve slept on the softest sheets you’ve ever laid on, you’ll admit you overreacted. How you shouldn’t have thrown blankets and pillows at him from his bed for him to sleep on the couch with as soon as he walked through the front door—not to mention how you never give him a chance to explain himself and keep huffing whenever he opened his mouth.

After the second pillow (almost comically, if you weren’t so upset) hits him square in the face, he drops the blankets to grab your wrists.

“Would you stop throwing blankets at me and tell me what’s wrong?”

"Like you don't know," you hiss unhelpfully just to be difficult.

"I wouldn't be asking if I did." This time, his voice is softer when he says, "Talk to me."

"It’s your assistant."

He frowns. “My assistant…?”

“Yes, your assistant,” you huff, making an unsuccessful attempt to yank your wrists free. “She obviously has a thing for you, but you’re too thick to notice. You forgot your phone, and she answered and said you were busy...”

He probably sees the vulnerability on your face. Hears what you’re not telling him because he presses a kiss to your forehead—I’m not seeing anyone other than you—another to your mouth before he’s showing you with your thighs pressed to your chest that every piece of him (even the parts he doesn’t show to anyone else) is yours.

“You want me to send this video to her to let her know you’re the only girl I want to fuck?” he grunts, making sure his phone captures the way his cock pushes in and out of you, hissing dirtier things that only you hear—the tightest pussy he’s ever had. “Would you like that?”

“Y-yes,” you whine, fingernails digging into his hand wrapped around your throat. “Please, Toru. I want it.” 

“So fucking dirty,” he growls, even though he’d do it for you anyway.

He stuffs his cock into you over and over again until you’re a twitching mess underneath him, the walls of your cunt clenching down around him as you cum with a squeak.

“There you go,” he groans into your ear, tossing his phone to the side to pin you against the mattress so he can reach that tender spot deep inside you that made you cum so hard once your foot cramped, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Is that what you needed? To make you cum because you’re mine? Fuck, baby—I’ll never get tired of this perfect little cunt.”

“Better not,” you whimper, eyelashes wet, squirming beneath him as he fucks you hard into the soft sheets.

“Never, sweetheart, never.” Gojo’s thrusts turn rough and brutal, almost working you into overstimulation just to prove a point. "You're my girl. The only one for me."

It's not quite an 'I love you,' but it's close.

Afterward, he pulls you between the sheets, holds you close with a hand cupping the back of your head, and asks you to stay.

“For good this time. No more leaving in the morning,” he whispers, lips grazing your cheek. “You like the walk-in closet and the clawfoot tub. We have enough room to turn the spare bedroom into an office for you because you like how sunny it gets in there during the day.”

It’s not a question, but you still say ‘I do’ because you really like how the word we sounds coming from him.

“Then…stay.”

…You say yes because it’s not as if you want to be anywhere else.

[wordstro]

taglist: @downbadreading, @magical-fandoms, @seojonneh, @lemonadencran, @mingki1117, @leeknowsalot, @hither-to-undreamt-of, @not-everything-is-so-primitive

[1] sector one: post-apocalypse au + mingi + “welcome to sector one.”

a/n: 4k words, gender neutral reader as always, mingi x y/n, descriptions of death, technically a sequel so there will be references/easter eggs to what happened in the previous fic however this can be read as a standalone, su1cide mentions/descriptions of the aftermath of one, post-apocalypse/dystopia-typical violence, aliens, thriller/suspense genre, baker!yn

series masterlist | part 2

-

the end of the world wasn’t so bad.

not when you had nothing going for you back before the Invasion. you were up to your eyeballs in debt, never had a place to call home thanks to running from loan sharks and dealing with greedy landlords hiking up rent prices, and you’d barely had time to make friends let alone date anyone seriously.

the worst part, you knew, was that your parents were wonderful. you had no deadbeat father or mother. no terrible childhood. no issues. they supported you through your school as much as they could, and they sent you opportunities whenever they could. your father even learned how to use kakaotalk properly to keep in touch, sending you selfies and encouraging texts whenever he sensed you were struggling. they even offered to help you pay off your debt. you’d refused. they needed the money, too. you had a wonderful support system, yet you still struggled. whoever said money did not buy happiness clearly never lived paycheck to paycheck.

you loved your parents, and they were the only people you’ve ever truly loved. they were the only people you ever really knew.

but they did not live in the city, and when you’d escaped the city after the initial Invasion - it took you a week of sneaking and crawling through back alleys just to end up hot wiring an abandoned car at the outskirts of the city - you drove to your childhood home. you’d pulled into the dirt path leading up the the old lopsided house with a heaviness in your heart, wary of the eerie emptiness. during the day, your mother often left the windows open to air out the house. all the windows were shut right, curtains drawn. you’d unlocked the door and watched as the door swung open, knocking into the shoe rack with a dull thud in the tiny threshold up into the kitchen and living room. your mother was never the neatest, so the basket of laundry on the kitchen counter, folded perfectly, sent a chill down your spine. your father always locked the liquor cabinet, but the scratched wooden door swung open, creaking on its hinges. you'd brandished the crowbar you'd found in the trunk of the car you stole, your hands trembling, as you stepped into your house and searched the two small bedrooms down the hallway. the bedrolls were tucked into the corner, pillows laid neatly atop of them. your mother’s little table that usually spilled over with products was spotless. the kitchen was the cleanest you’d ever seen it. your room remained as you left it, childhood band posters and all. the only thing that was off were the two soju glasses and the two plates of food - half eaten and rotting, flies buzzing - on the table in the living room. four soju bottles sat lined up on the table. all empty. you'd gone out back, to the tiny workshop you'd saved up to buy your father a few years back.

the garage door would always be open, but this time the door was shut. there was the faint smell of gasoline in the air. you'd stepped closer, your heart beating heavily against your chest, and with closer inspection you found your father’s pickup truck parked neatly inside. he never parked it inside.

the garage door was not locked, and the sound of it groaning as you dragged it open echoed. it made the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. but the worst part, you thought, was the smell. it smelled like something had died, and your breath grew heavy in your chest at that thought as you choked on the lump in your throat, pressing your fingers to your mouth to suppress an involuntary sob. you did not have to look. deep down, you knew the outcome that awaited you at the other end of the garage. but you were always one to dig. to want to know everything, no matter how badly it'd hurt you.

that day, you found your parents dead in the front seat of their pickup truck, the windows cracked open slightly, the garage smelling heavily of exhaust smoke, gasoline, and death. the keys were still in the truck. they looked as if they could have been sleeping, heads resting on the other. you'd gagged still, and ran from the garage, heaving for air.

you'd found yourself in your childhood bedroom, back pressed to your closed door, surrounded by a room still stuck in the past, before all this, and you lamented the fact that even now, you could not cry. you’d been so focused on survival for so long, that you just did not know how to cry. all you could was lay on the floor of your childhood bedroom, stare at the ceiling, and wonder what you were supposed to do now. you'd never had so much time to just...sit.

still, despite the lack of tears, you allowed yourself the night to grieve. to feel sad, at least, only because you knew that was what you were supposed to do. then you'd raided your parent's pantry for anything edible and packed extra clothes, books, a couple tools, and a carefully folded photo of you and your parents. you threw it all in the backseat of your stolen car, taking one last look at your childhood home, before you drove. your vision blurred from lack of sleep, and your heart ached, and you did not know where you were going. you just knew you needed to put as much space between yourself and your parents as you could.

the weather was beautiful and the sky was blue, cloudless, and you hated that the breeze kissed your cheek so gently as you left. you wanted so badly to cry then. to sob. you would not learn to cry again u til much later, but this was perhaps a start. as you drove, you realized you had time to think. for the first time in your life, you had time to think and feel and wonder what to do. you had all the time in the world. the thought was more freeing than you wanted to admit, yet you did not feel entirely guilty for it.

after the Invasion, you decided to spend your time looking for food. you spent a lot of time thinking, and living, and learning about yourself and your wants and needs, and for the first time in years you felt as if you could just simply exist. for the first time in years, you sat down and cried. it was perhaps a month or two later, after you’d barricaded yourself in an empty apartment for the night and you happened upon a locked bedroom. you’d opened it with a hairpin, and immediately regretted it - it was merely an empty nursery, but there was a wall of family photos, and you found yourself examining each picture until your knees buckled beneath you and you cried for the first time in decades.

as you drove from ghost town to ghost town, and eventually walked because your car ran out of fuel, you found that the end of the world wasn’t so bad. sure, whatever was in the fog at night was terrifying, and the scratching and screaming and clicking noises at night made you skin crawl - it was a sound you heard everywhere the night of the Invasion, leading you to conclude that the only explanation had to be an Invasion. of what? you had no idea, and, frankly, you did not want to know. your curiosity certainly did not extend that far - not when the things hanging in the sky made the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end.

sure, some of the other survivors you met while you stocked up on food and weapons were, frankly, unsettling as fuck. but you were a quick learner and you knew to stay out of trouble - you always had since you were a kid - and, maybe, the end of the world and whatever Invaded the planet didn’t have to matter in the grand scheme of things.

maybe, you could ignore it.

all you had to do was survive.

for years, you befriended groups of other survivors and then fled when things started to get too intense. you stayed with one group until they started tracking other survivor groups down on purpose, and their intentions went from stealing things your group needed for survival to so much worse. the moment you caught a smug, almost-excited glint in one of the men's eyes as he told your group that a small group consisting of mostly women and children were camped out in the woods further north, you'd gathered your things and ran as far as you could.

another group wanted to create a safe haven for survivors and started talking about settling, hope marring their expressions. you’d fled in the middle of the night with just enough supplies to keep you afloat until you found some other place to squat in or some other group to gain temporary protection from until the cycle began again.

you kept yourself quiet and easy to digest, but not weak, never weak. you had to make yourself useful, of course, so the groups wouldn't feel like they were taking on a burden, and you did not want to be an easy target. however, when one group you met kept calling you pretty, when their eyes held a glint that sent shivers down your back, and their lingering touches made you want to gag, you’d ditched that group that very same hour, and you did not feel an inkling of guilt as you took their biggest weapon and the precious ramyun packs they’d found two towns over. you’d run far, far away from that group, in case they decided to come looking for you. after that encounter, you kept your head down and made it a point to leave a group at the first sign of trouble. you refused to get attached, or worse.

until you stumbled upon a place with a purple flag fluttering over a tower and sturdy walls and the sounds of people laughing drifting out from the walls and military trucks. something akin to hope fluttered at the pit of your stomach, a dangerous thing to feel, but inevitable as you stared down at the walls to a settlement that looked and sounded too good to be true. you wanted to turn away, but you were tired and you hadn’t found an inkling of food for nearly a week. so you stepped over the hill with your hands raised in surrender.

a beautiful woman with dark eyes, inky black hair, and an air of cheerful authority that entered the room long before she did, met you in the small room they'd isolated you in for. she introduced herself as joy - a fitting name really, especially when she smiled. her voice was gentle and soft, airy even. she was like a breath of fresh air. it left you wary, despite your exhaustion and hunger.

she stood between you and the door. she seemed to be waiting for you to speak. when you remained silent, she only smiled, "where are my manners? welcome to sector one. we've been attack-free for one hundred and ninety-two days."

you'd blinked at that admission.

"how?" you croaked, your throat dry.

she waved a hand, and the guard at the door brought a small mug of water to where you sat. you’d stared at it. she reached over and took a sip of it herself, before she handed it to you. it wasn’t drugged, at least, so you gulped it down.

her voice was so soft, kind, as she waited for you to put the mug down, "if you wish to stay, i'll tell you. otherwise, i only hope you enjoy your stay."

"i..." you'd blinked, "i can leave?"

she'd smiled, and although her smile was genuine and wide, contagious almost, it did not reach her eyes. despite the years of living in a post-invasion world, you knew a customer service smile when you saw one.

she said, "this isn't a prison. you may stay for as long as you'd like. as long as you help out and clean up after yourself, that is."

you were not sure if you believed her, but you did not question it. instead, you introduced yourself.

joy smiled.

~.~.~.~.~

you meant to only stay for a little while. you had half a mind to find the supply room, steal the best they had to offer, and sneak away in the middle of the night. this was only supposed to be a short term stay anyway.

but joy, with her sweet smile and piercing gaze, sat down beside you during dinner your second evening and asked, “what did you like to do before the aliens?”

“i don’t know,” you’d shrugged, “i didn’t have much time to figure out what i liked.”

she raised a brow, “why?”

“i worked a lot. needed the money.”

“understandable,” she laughed, but her smile grew sad, "you’ll have to earn your keep during your stay. i only wanted to place you somewhere you’d enjoy."

“that’s…” you frowned at her, “kind of you.”

“they don’t call me joy for nothing,” she said with another small smile. then she squeezed your shoulder and waved goodbye, moving onto another table.

you’d been assigned all over the compound after that.

laundry and weapons and scouting and teaching and cleaning and the kitchens. you found you liked baking. you were kneading dough, with flour all over your hands. you hadn’t noticed joy enter the room until she tapped lightly on the entrance to the kitchen. you looked up, and joy leaned against the door frame, grinning, a hint of excitement in her airy voice, “i think we finally found something you like.”

you blinked back tears at the kind smile. you were beginning to think you’d never know what you liked, that you were incapable of remembering something so menial. for once, you could relax.

joy only smiled, and turned on her heels, leaving you alone. after that encounter, however, you were assigned most of your shifts in the kitchen, and for once you enjoyed getting up to go to work.

you should have known you’d end up staying then. it was difficult to give up a place that seemed safe from the things in the fog and in the sky. that first night, after the sun set, you were on edge, worried you’d get devoured or torn apart by whatever lived in the thick fog that engulfed the world. instead, the compound was peaceful, quiet. distant clicks were just that: distant.

you wondered what kept the monsters away. perhaps it was military equipment - that would explain the military cars. perhaps it was something else. either way, you were safe here, and you knew you’d be an idiot to throw something as precious as safety away. you’d always remember sitting in your tiny apartment that first night, with the door barricaded and a symphony of screams echoing all around you. the horrors on the television, of the live news broadcast showing the news anchor at the scene, talking one second, before she looked up. the pure terror in her eyes as a sudden shadow loomed over her like a dark cloud, and her scream that followed after before the camera was knocked to the ground would remained etched in your memory. a loud keening echoed through your apartment before the television turned to static. you saw something on that television that night, but you did not know how to explain it. you couldn’t even truly comprehend it. it was black, and long, and it had your instincts screaming at you to get far, far away. yet, you had no idea what to call it. you didn’t have the time to figure that out either, compartmentalizing the memory as neatly as you could. you meant to deal with it later, but as many of the things in your life did, it fell to the wayside and you never got to unpacking it.

during those first days, you’d established two rules for yourself. one: no going out after sunset, and, two, no getting attached to anyone or anything.

easy rules, really.

but then you stood in front of joy, and you said, “i want to stay.”

~.~.~.~.~

a year later, and you are the head baker in the kitchens. most of the time, you figure out different bread recipes with what little ingredients you have available to you. sometimes, you get permission to make sweets - cream breads and cakes and mousses and cookies - and those are your favorite days.

to think the life you'd lived after you drove away from your family home was all you were going to have in this world. you truly believed that even then, despite the time to think and exist, you'd been living, when in fact you were only surviving. this past year was spent learning how to truly live.

despite a whole entire year, you still did not figure out much.

you like baking.

you do not know your favorite color.

maybe it’s green? or purple? pink? blue?

your sheets are a faded green. the shirt you gravitate towards is a deep blue. the only food coloring anyone's found on runs is pink, so your icing and decorations are always pink. you don't know what that means for you.

you don’t like jackfruit. there’s a couple trees growing in the greenhouse out back, past the weapons training tents and the exit used for scavenging groups.

you kind of like tangerines. a lot of them grow in the greenhouse.

you like joy. yeri is assigned as your assistant more often than not, and though she talks too much, you like her too.

you don’t know much else about yourself, and it’s a strange place to be in, where you are trying to just be but you do not have the capacity to do so.

“hey.”

you look up. a, frankly, beautiful man with pointed, delicate features and longer black hair hovers near the entrance of the kitchen, his hands stuffed in his pocket. his eyes sparkle under the bright fluorescent lighting.

Before the Invasion, he may have looked kinder, sweeter, but his eyes have a hardened look to them you've seen in everyone you'd come across since the Invasion. he's pretty though, unbelievably so despite the circumstances of life now.

his movements, however, are stilted, awkward, and you notice the way he fidgets with his fingers, even when he stuffs his hands in his pockets when he notices you looking at his hands.

you understand the fidgeting - you got into the habit of fiddling with the old pocketknife you swiped from one of the houses you'd holed up in long ago. maybe, he was the same. sector one allowed for everyone to carry small weapons like pocket knives, but no one was allowed to take them out. bigger weapons had to be signed out from the weapons room, and you could only use it in the training field or outside the walls. newcomers, however, were not allowed to carry anything for six months. you'd fidgeted a lot like him when joy had your pocketknife locked up.

"hey," you match his tone, watching as he shuffles from foot to foot before he meets your gaze. his hardened eyes hold more confidence than his body language. it's almost unsettling how steady his gaze is. "the pastry kitchen isn't open until after lunch, if that's what you're here for."

he blinked, his gaze flitting to your flour-covered fingers.

"oh," he said, "joy said...i thought it was open, sorry."

"did joy send you here?" you call before he can swivel away.

"yeah."

"okay," you draw out the word. perhaps it's your decades of customer service skills, or perhaps it's because you understand how strange it was to live in a place like this, after years of living beyond the walls, but you find yourself softening for him. "we have some pastries leftover from last night. what is this for? usually joy doesn't send anyone so early unless there's a good reason."

his eyes narrow in suspicion, "is that any of your business?"

you raise a brow at his biting tone. you get it, you really do, the mistrust and the caution. you get all of it. but you're the head baker, and there were plenty of newcomers here since you'd been appointed your position that could force at least a civil tone, despite their misgivings.

"yes, it is entirely my business," you responded, frowning at him. "do you really want to piss off the head baker at the only bakery in sector one?"

he tenses at your response, glancing away. he mutters something under his breath.

you cross your arms, "excuse me? i didn't catch that."

"sorry," he mumbles.

"it's fine. just don't do it again. i wouldn't want to have to start a wall of shame because of you," you respond.

he snorts a little, rolling his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders has lessened the smallest bit, at least. after a beat, he says, "my friend is upset, and i wanted to get him something to make him feel better. he's a big fan of anything sweet. joy said to come here."

"anything specific for...?"

"his name is mingi."

"sounds like a cookie type of guy."

the pretty man says, "he is."

"well, i have some baking right now, if you'd like to wait a few minutes," you wipe your hands on your apron, before you meet his steady, almost unsettling gaze, and you ask, "and what about you? what kind of pastry guy are you?"

"I don't really like pastries anymore," the man shrugs as he breaks eye contact with you. you get that, too.

"that's fair," you say.

he leans against the wall, and the room falls into silence. you take that as a sign to return to your work, kneading the dough before letting it settle in a small bowl. you already have a few loaves of bread done settling. you can feel his eyes on you as you work. you're not sure if you like it or not.

the oven beeps - you'd been shocked to find a working oven in a world like this, so shocked in fact that you did not ask how the electricity was so constant, or how the pastry kitchen was so state-of-the-art. the kitchen used to cook was down the hall, and it was much bigger, with more staff than this one.

you take the cookies out, and the smell of baked chocolate chip cookies fills the little pastry kitchen.

the man stares in awe - at least you think that is it with the way his eyes widen, twinkling slightly under the bright fluorescent lighting. he seems to be fighting a grin.

you ramble, as you wait for the cookies to cool, "one of the groups found a couple packs of chocolate chips in an underground bunker. i didn't think i'd have these again, honestly. everyone's going to lose their minds."

you look up, and the mans expression is twisted, his brows furrowed, and frown prominent.

he doesn't say anything, so you don't push it.

instead, you pick up a ceramic plate, and place two warm cookies on it. they're hot to the touch, even through the plate. you hold out the plate to him, and you say, "here's one for your friend mingi, and one for you..."

you trail off, waiting patiently.

"yeosang," he says, after a long moment. "it's yeosang."

"well, yeosang," you say, smiling as he takes the plate, "bring back the plate. washed. or i really will create a wall of shame just to put up a big picture of you."

he nods briskly, his other hand shoved in his pocket.

you don't know if you like yeosang or not.

[luvelve]

˚ · . lucky strike - c. seungcheol

summary: your first time giving head to anybody and lucky for you, that anybody happens to be your boyfriend seungcheol. you’re kinda nervous because unlike you, this isn’t his first time.

pairing: bf!seungcheol x afab!reader

genre: smut (18+ minors dni!)

wc: 2.9k+ (got carried away again :<)

warnings/tags: making out, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, lots of praise, softdom-ish!cheol, shy & inexperienced reader, bigdick!seungcheol, mentions of food & alcohol, seungcheol & reader are a bit tipsy, use of petnames (baby, angel, pretty), throatfucking, gagging, crying, finger sucking, cum eating

a/n: this is tiktok’s fault for always showing me “he’s the type to talk u through it” type of men. and to me, that sounded like none other than choi seungcheol !! so here we are. forgive me for any warnings i may have missed :< as always, likes/reblogs/feedback are highly highly appreciated ok bye <3

it’s been bugging you for weeks now. it first crossed your mind when you and seungcheol were driving home from a night out with close friends and it just dawned on you how you and seungcheol haven’t done anything yet. well, aside from making out.

seungcheol had told you from the beginning of your relationship that he wanted to take it slow with you. he didn’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. he also told you that things would fall into place eventually and that there was no need to rush. you loved that about him.

but, being the massive over-thinker that you are, you also can’t help but compare yourself to your other girlfriends who have been in longer relationships and what they have possibly already done with their boyfriends.

you feel like you’re ready to do more with seungcheol and that you’re not just pressured by the people around you. you so badly want to bring this up to him but every time you try, you end up steering away from the topic.

the wall clock reads twenty minutes past nine; it’s a friday night and you and seungcheol are in his apartment already in your pyjamas when you should be dressed for a fancy dinner, stuffing yourself with pasta and wine somewhere in hongdae.

it’s been snowing nonstop these past few days and even on the one day that you and your boyfriend reserve every week to go on a dinner date, whether it be at the fanciest restaurant seungcheol can get a reservation at or the mcdonald’s just a few blocks down from his apartment, mother nature just won’t let up.

the two of you were left with no choice but to cook the ramyeon in seungcheol’s pantry. you also thought it’d be a good idea to bust out the remaining bottles of peach and grape flavored soju that had been left over from your camping trip over a month ago.

that was all over an hour ago, soup bowls and chopsticks long forgotten on the table, soju bottles empty, with some random sitcom playing on netflix in the background. you now find yourself on the couch straddling seungcheol’s lap, with your lips heavy on his. both of his hands resting on your waist, just above the band of your his boxer shorts.

breathy moans erupt from the base of his throat and it makes you dizzy. his plump cherry lips find your ear, your jaw, and your favorite spot: your neck.

"baby..." he whispers in between kisses, his hot breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine. all you can do is look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and continue kissing him, but this time sloppier and more desperate. seungcheol notices this and matches his pace with your own, your tongues fighting for dominance.

you don't know if its just you or the alcohol that's in your system, but you know that you want to do more than just kiss seungcheol tonight. plus the fact that you can practically feel his bulge growing under you isn’t helping either.

"nng.." you groan, breaking away from his lips momentarily and resting your forehead on his. your jaw falls slightly open, trying to find the right words to say and immediately, there's worry and confusion painted on seungcheol's face.

"baby, what's wrong?" he says in a hushed manner, his right comes up to your cheek.

“angel, did i do something? hey, you can tell me. hmm?” he adds, not breaking eye contact with you. he carefully fixes his position on the couch, not wanting to bother you.

“i… i-uhh…” you cut yourself off, you’re not nervous but you do want to be careful of how you say it. seungcheol looks at you with his big wet baby cow eyes, silently telling you that you can tell him anything.

“okay… so i couldn’t be more grateful for you wanting to take things slow with the both of us. i mean, really. a-and while i love love being with you like this.. like this close to you…” you trail off, hoping he understands or at least has a bit of an idea of where this is going. you kinda hate how he’s not breaking eye contact, you can practically feel his gaze burning holes into your skin.

“mhmm…” he hums in agreement, biting down on his lower lip as he tries to suppress a smile. he does know where this conversation is going but he wants to hear it from you. his hand falls to the small of your back and he caresses gently, you can feel the callouses of his hands through the thin fabric of your sleeping shirt.

“i feel like i’m ready to… you know… do more with you.” you add, feeling your cheeks and ears heat up. you slouch so you can hide in the crook of seungcheol’s neck but he stops you from doing so. “hey hey, i wanna see your face.”

“so is that what my pretty girl really wants, hmm?" he exhales, the sweet look on his face now wiped away. he sits a bit upright, looking at you with dark eyes. you've never seen him this enamored by you, almost like he's hypnotized, and you haven't even done anything yet.

you only give him a slight nod, your breathing getting heavier, feeling like your heart's about to jump out your chest. again, you don't know what's gotten into you but downing soju in such little time definitely fuels what you're about to do next.

you move your hands from seungcheol's chest and onto his shoulders for stability as you rock your hips back and forth. you start slow and then pick up the pace when you see him lean back onto the couch and close his eyes for a few seconds with his jaw slightly open. you can feel his length get harder each passing second and it sends a pool down your panties.

you lean in to kiss him on the spot near his ears and on his neck and this sends shockwaves through his entire body. he feels like his dick is about to explode and all he wants to do right now is pick you up and lay you onto your stomach so he can have his way with you. but, for now he wants to savor this moment with you.

“mmh, just like that, angel.” he says softly, draping one arm over the couch and the other still holding on to your hips to help keep you stable. his words make you feel good, reassuring you that you’re doing something right despite never having done this before.

your right hand then leaves his shoulder and reaches down to massage the growing bulge under his sweatpants. you look down at him with hooded eyes, hand palming over his cock that’s dying to be sprung free.

“baby, can i put it in my mouth?” you ask. seungcheol’s turned on but also completely thrown off because if anything, he wanted to taste you first. aside from wanting to throw you around and bully his length into you, he’s always dreamt of being in between your thighs and tasting your sweet juices all while you tug at his hair as his name rolls of your tongue.

"i-uhh, baby are you sure you wanna do this? he replies, pushing his own fantasies aside first because he only wants to do more with you only if you're sure you want to. "yeah, i know i wanna do this. i've thought about it for quite some time now." you clarify. and that’s enough for seungcheol.

“okay, angel. i just wanted to hear it from you again." he claims, eyes fixated on yours. he quickly catches your lips for a deep kiss, you can feel the want that radiates off of him. he then interrupts, "although i was hoping that i'd be the first to... go down on you."

while his offer does sound nice and tempting, the thought of you being naked for the first time in front of seungcheol does intimidate you a little bit. not to mention that he's your first boyfriend. you think that it'll help ease your nerves and make you more comfortable if he goes first. a win-win situation, you tell yourself.

"well, i really like how that sounds... but i'm just super a little shy to.. y'know. be naked and all." you admit, struggling to maintain eye contact with him. seungcheol doesn't know whether to be mad, disappointed, or annoyed at himself because you feel this way. he thinks that he may have failed at being your boyfriend because you don't feel entirely comfortable around him. you immediately notice the shift in his face and quickly say something, "and it has nothing to do with you, i promise! it's just... i-i've never done this before." you run your thumb over the pout that's slowly forming on his lips.

you further explain the win-win situation that you came up with and seungcheol quickly processes your words and doesn't feel too bad about it anymore.

"so... will you let me?" you add, referring to your question earlier. he doesn't even have to think about it, and immediately agrees. "baby, i'd be stupid to not say yes."

"i'm gonna need a little bit of help though..." you whisper, looking at him with dark eyes and once again reaching down to continue palming his clothed cock as if nothing happened. "don't worry angel, i got you. we can go slow, yeah?" his voice breathy, and at this point he's already putty in your hands.

you're quick to get off seungcheol's lap and get on your knees in front of him. you're feeling nervous but also excited at the same time and so you reach for the band of his sweatpants to pull them down. he sees this and helps you, his hands hovering over yours as you do so.

despite this being your first time, there's still desperation in your actions. the way your dainty little fingers grab hold of his sweatpants and the way you look at seungcheol. as you pull his sweatpants down, you fail to muffle a gasp. fuck, he's bigger and thicker than you imagined. you already know that it's going to be a struggle holding him and putting him in your mouth. you feel your panties getting soaked at the sight of his throbbing cock in front of you.

seungcheol sits and watches you eagerly, his thick thighs spread out for you and his length already coated with precum. you sit on your heels, still admiring how heavy his cock is. "something wrong, baby?" he furrows his eyebrows, his eyes locked on yours. you don't know how else to put it so you tell him straight, "nothing, you're just... big."

he grins and even laughs a little, "i know you can take it." and so you do, you take the base of his cock into your hand and attach your lips onto his tip. you lower your head to get more of him into your mouth but you struggle to do so. you’re not entirely sure that what you’re doing is correct but you continue your actions. you come back up to swirl your tongue around his tip and seungcheol closes his eyes, "mmh, fuck. just like that, angel. slowly." he's so turned on by the sight in front of him that he can't even bring himself to close his eyes for too long.

he leans forward to gather your hair to one side and to press a quick kiss to your lips, practically tasting himself. you don't stop pumping his cock and so he moans into the kiss, feeling the vibrations erupt from his throat. he leans back onto the couch, and your mouth is wrapped around him again. your hand is settled at the base of his cock, stimulating him as much as you can while you cover his tip in spit. "use both hands, baby." he suggests, and so you do.

seungcheol watches as your hands and mouth move up and down in harmony and it's taking everything in him not to cum right now with your mouth so pretty around his throbbing cock. you take more of him into your mouth and your eyes are welling up trying to do so. his tip hits the base of your throat and he feels it when you gag. he expects you to stop but instead you keep him there for a few seconds until you have to gasp for air and you feel his body shudder at your actions. "angel, you're sure this is your first time?" he asks, gathering just enough breath.

"mhmm.." you swallow, looking up at him with sweet and not so innocent eyes, shooting him a shy smile. you're hit with a wave of confidence by seungcheol's words. he quickly lifts his left hand to push his thumb into your mouth, wanting to feel your tongue. he feels selfish, as if you sucking him off isn't already enough, but he just has to. you follow him by sucking on his finger without hesitation, doing the same things that you were doing to his cock a few moments ago. "fuuck, you're so pretty like this." he thanks his lucky stars because he has absolutely no idea what he's done to deserve you and what you’re doing to him right now.

your mouth returns to his cock, where your hands are still stroking him up and down. you make it your mission to make him cum tonight, wanting to see him all breathy and speechless. your hands and mouth increase their speed, and so does seungcheol's breaths. you can tell he’s close because his chest is rising and falling faster and you’re pretty sure the neighbors can hear the lewd noises spilling from his mouth. you wrap your mouth around him again and again, your head bobbing up and down while you look at him through your long lashes, slowing down your pace for a few seconds to tease him just a bit. where the hell did she learn to do that? he thinks to himself.

all seungcheol wants to do now is pick you up and throw you onto the couch so he can return the favor, but he wants to give this to you. he wants you to finish what you started, because he knows it’ll make you feel good. “taking me so well, baby. doing so good f’me.” the praises rolling off his tongue as he runs one hand through his hair.

seungcheol can feel himself getting closer and closer to his high and so your hands work double time twisting his cock. you spit on his tip and sink your head down, his cock bottoming in your throat again. as you come back up for air, he quickly bucks his hips up to chase the feeling as he’s on the brink of his orgasm. you can’t help but let out a small choke with tears falling from your eyes. “-m sorry, angel. couldn’t help it.” he quicky apologizes. “s’okay…” you reply with a sweet smile.

“hmm fuck, i’m gonna cum. you ready for me, angel?” he trails off, taking control as he strokes himself and his length just inches from your face. you watch him as his big hand goes up and down his cock at an erratic pace. you lift your hands up to rest them on his knees but seungcheol has other plans in mind. “uh-uh, hands on your sides.” he says firmly, and you comply. he wishes he could take a picture of you right now, obeying him and being his good girl.

“open your mouth.” seungcheol adds, his demeanor now completely different but you love that he has two different sides to him when it’s just the two of you behind closed doors. your jaw quickly falls into an ‘o’ and soon after, seungcheol reaches his high. he feels his orgasm throughout his entire body, fireworks shooting down all the way to his ankles. his vision goes white and his body writhes in pleasure. white ribbons of his cum shoot out from his tip and onto your face and in your mouth. you feel the warm liquid on your tongue and you don’t know whether to spit or swallow.

you close your mouth just enough that your lips don’t touch, the salty liquid resting on your tongue. you wait for seungcheol to come down from his high, his breathing getting slower as his hand moves from his cock and onto his thigh. your chest swells with pride because you couldn’t believe what you just did to him. your eyes are focused on him as he leans forward, “you can spit or swallow baby, it’s up to you.” he says, and you feel his breath fan over your face as he brings his hand up and uses the pad of his thumb to wipe off the cum that’s on your cheek and just below your lip.

you finally close your mouth and swallow his salty release, completely tasting him. he watches as your adam’s apple bobs up and down as you do so. “good girl.” he comments, ultimately sending butterflies to your stomach. seungcheol then wastes no time to connect his lips with yours, tasting a little bit of himself. this time around, you’re the one moaning into the kiss and biting his lower lip. he deepens the kiss, holding your cheek to get better access. it’s not rushed though, it’s one that says ‘thank you’ for giving me the best head of my life.

he pulls away and you feel his arms at your sides, pulling you up. he slots you between his thighs, your knees sinking down onto the couch and he looks up at you. “your turn?”

© luvelve — please avoid copying, reposting, revising and/or translating my work on any platform.

[moonlight-records]

Iconic Duo | LN4 (SM AU!)

pairing: lando norris x cosplayer!reader

summary: an f1 driver who does photography on the side and a cosplayer start dating

warning: the last "post" is suggestive sorry not sorry

fc: @/ani_makocosplay on insta & @/ani_mako on pintrest!

a/n: y'all seem to eat these fake smaus up and in honor of spooky season i present whatever this is!

yourusername posted

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend, and 304,593 others

yourusername its getting HOT in here🔥🔥🔥🔥

view all 1.2k comments

user302 YESSS LETS GOOO!!!!

user20 I KNOW THAT'S RIGHT!!!

yourbestfriend GOD DAMN 😩😩😩😩

yourusername i know i know yourbestfriend live action one piece is in the works sooo LIVE ACTION FAIRY TAIL WITH MY SIS AS NATSU LETS GOOO 🗣️🗣️🗣️ user592 AGREED user093 YEP YEP yourusername y'all flatter me 🤧🥰

user573 ACE AND NATSU?! I WIN!!!

user029 MOTHER IS MOTHERTING!!!

landonorris suddenly i have a thing for fire users

yourusername 🤭

landonorris tagged yourusername in his post

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 1.3m others

landonorris dinner date at 7, party at 8 🍾

view all 1.1m comments

user2947 MY FAVORITE COUPLE!!! 🧡🧡

user34 the switch up is FIIIRE 🔥🔥

oscarpiastri nice shirt

landonorris thank you

user9874 THE SHIRT AHAHAHA

user3950 PLEASE user097 it's SO him user793 y/n never misses with the funny shirts

carlossainz55 you should wear that for every after party, it is very you amigo

landonorris 😑 haha very funny

yourusername omg who got you that shirt? landonorris oh my very sexy beautifully hot girlfriend yourusername damn, she must know you very well landonorris i know, im so lucky oscarpiastri get a room 🙄 carlossainz55 please landonorris 🖕🖕 yourusername love you both as well!

yourusername posted

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, and 1k others

yourusername anybody need a wife that's secretly an assassin?

view all comments 928 comments

yourbestfriend ME ME ME ME ME

yourusername anything for you 🥰

user597 MOOOOOOTHER!!!!!!

user829 YOR FORGER COSPLAY?!?! YES 🔥

user044 ❤️❤️❤️

landonorris I VOLUNTEER @/yourbestfriend BACK OFF

yourbestfriend HELL NO I WAS HERE FIRST yourusername guys we're suppose to be nice landonorris babe it's your hand in marriage, THERE IS NO BEING NICE yourbestfriend THIS IS THE ONLY TIME I'LL AGREE

yourusername posted

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc, and 1.6k others

yourusername face card? lethal

view all 1.1k comments

user403 FACE CARD LETHAL INDEED!!!

yourbestfriend GOD WOW MY BEST FRIEND IS SO FUCKING HOT🥵🥵🥵

yourusername 💋💋 landonorris STOP STEALING MY GIRL yourbestfriend NO landonorris I'LL BUY YOU LUNCH FROM NOW ON yourbestfriend ...deal yourusername SERIOUSLY? yourbestfriend you know i'd sell you for a corn chip yourusername yeah, you got me there

user328 HELLOOOO!!!!

user973 i'm so glad i had my gay awakening 😩😩

charles_leclerc it's criminal this does not have more likes

yourusername it's how the cards have been dealt charles_leclerc i will fix this.

user830 TOO LETHAL, IM BURNING!!! 🔥🔥

landonorris i've never wanted to be a podium so fucking badly--

yourusername lando. landonorris you can use my face next time yoursername LANDO. landonorris I AM ONLY BUT A MAN, BABE. ONLY A MAN. STOP BEING SO DAMN HOT, don't actually im lying, please continue being hot.

landonorris posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, yourusername, charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 1.8m others

landonorris september photo dump 😮‍💨

comments on this post has been limited

charles_leclerc and no crowns for us? 🤨

yourusername sorry, only royalty 💁‍♀️ charles_leclerc I AM DUBBED THE PRINCE OF MONACO yourusername and i am a queen, silence youngling ✋

yourbestfriend ugh fine i'll admit it y'all are cute

landonorris YES LFG!!!! yourusername thank you, bestie ☺️

oscarpiastri so those cookies 👀

yourusername i ate them sadly, sorry 😔 oscarpiastri betrayal.

yourusername we're so cute 🥰

landonorris you're* yourusername BOY IF YOU DON'T--

yourusername posted

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri, 1.2k others

yourusername ATLA 🔝 (stay tuned for next weeks cosplay 🤧)

view all 920 comments

user204 QUEEN QUEEN QUEEN

user30 day one of asking for a sokka cosplay--

yourusername 👀 user30 👀

oscarpiastri 🙌🙌🙌

yourusername 🙂‍↕️

user394 is this my sign to rewatch? i think so!

user555 imma need the whole aang squad + korra STAT!!!

landonorris so like is azula looking for a man? or a dog?? i can bark--

yourusername babe 💀 yourbestfriend SCREAMING carlossainz55 PR is going to get him soon oscarpiastri for sure

yourusername tagged landonorris in your post

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, and 2.5k others

yourusername "No, please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!" 🔪

comments have been disabled

[imaginesig]

“Could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived”

pt2: "Ditch the clowns, get the crown / baby I'm the one to beat"

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

SMAU

The reader is a singer-songwriter who just broke up with long term fiancé Lewis Hamilton. Of course she wrote a gut wrenching album to cope.

This is gonna be a lot of shitting on Lewis— absolutely no hate! I just love a good heartbreak and the Tortured Poets Department

Also dates aren’t accurate bc I don’t have time to worry abt all that and I totally stole all of this from real life- not an ounce of originality

yn_ln

Liked by lewishamilton, mercadesamgf1, user28, and 928,928 others

yn_ln: pinky promise to always by your side 🏎️

Tagged: lewishamilton

lewishamilton pinky promise to always be by YOUR side

yn_ln ♥️

mercadesamgf1 always a pleasure to host our pop princess!

yn_ln always a pleasure to be hosted!!

user1 looks always kill in the paddock

user2 ugh to be in the F1 paddock watching my driver fiancee on weekends I'n not touring

user3 stunning!!

user4 the pinky promise makes me physically ill😭

user5 fr WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

carmenmmundt gorgeous! Always a good time with you 🫶

yn_ln dinner soon?

carmenmmundt yes please!!

Load more comments

lewishamilton

Liked by yn_ln, user2, mercadesamgf1, and 810,298 others

lewishamilton: could’ve been better but back to work for next week

Tagged: yn_ln

user1 being a Hamilton fan used to be fun, I used to be happy

user2 the second photo is so fanfic coded I can't

user3 omg yes!!

user4 maybe Ferrari will be championship #8

user5 hottest couple in the paddock

mercadesamgf1 watch out Australia 👊💥

yn_ln

Liked by lewishamilton, sabrinacarpender, user92, and 929,290 others

yn_ln: Argentina I’m so glad we were able to dance my best dress with you! Until next time 🫶🎇

tagged: no one

user1 BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE

user2 babe wake up a dancing Taylor post just dropped

sabrinacarpender such an electric crowd!!

yn_ln thank you for your hype work

lewishamilton: wonderful show once again!!

user3 best night ever

user4 AHHH STUNNING

user5 manifesting tickets so hard rn

lewishamilton posted a story

Caption: Help me hold on to you ♥️

ynupdates

Liked by user1, user5, user9, and 819,109 others

ynupdates: Superstar Y/n L/n and boyfriend Lewis Hamilton after her show in Argentina!!

tagged: lewishamilton, yn_ln

user1 LMAO the update account rlly said she's everything and he's just Ken

user2 the wine was iconic!!

user3 omg that's my photo!!

user4 we thank you for your service

user5 you know she was jumping with joy bc of those boots

user6 omg irl! I can't imagine how her feet feel after heels all show

user7 they are so sweet

user8 get yourself a man who takes you out after work

user9 my fav couple fr fr

Twitter—

yn_ln

liked by sabrinacarpender, carmenmmundt, user9, and 928,029 others

ln_yn: Round of applause for Brazil for their incredible rain show!!

tagged no one

user1 the first pic 😳

user2 chills, literal chills

user3 the entire vibes of the whole show was wow

user4 I agree and I was watching through a fuzzy live stream

user5 anybody else need illicit affairs (angry verson) on Spotify now

user6 me me me!!

user7 Y/n make it happen

user8 it kinda felt personal ngl

user9 best night ever!! I went as fearless in a gold dress and to say I danced in a storm in my “best dress” with Y/n was incredible!!

user10 omg that’s so lucky!!

yn_ln

liked by user92, sabrinacarpender, girlsinred, and 928,929 others

yn_ln: Thank you South America for welcoming me with open arms for this leg of the tour!! I will miss you all dearly over break but rest and relaxation is important for an awesome European leg!!

tagged: no one

user1 I’m gonna miss the fuzzy live streams 😭

user2 gets some rest Queen!!

user3 I can’t wait for the second leg!! Let’s go Europe🫶🫶

user4 it’s go time to get my Eras outfit

user8 I need ideas!!

user4 me and my boyfriend are going as Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

user9 I’m dressing in a white dress with a small veil that says “fucked in the head” and messed up makeup bc champagne problems is one of my favs

user10 I love it!!

user5 anybody else sad Lewis wasn’t at these last few shows, nor was she at any races or seen near mercades home base

user6 they’ve been together for 6 years, I’m not worried abt them spending some time focused on their jobs without each other

user7 yea and they’re really private so I’m sure they’ll catch up plenty during her break

lewishamilton

liked by mercadesamgf1, user1, user8, and 928,292 others

lewishamilton: not the results we needed but that’s what growing is all about

tagged: no one

comments have been disabled

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussel, mercadesamgf1, user83, and 718,292 others

lewishamilton: that’s P2💪

tagged: no one

mercadesamgf1 that's our driver!!🏆

georgerussell congrats man! bloody good driving today

lewishamilton double point weekend

comments have been limited

Twitter—

yn_ln

liked by user4, user9, ynhq, and 918,918 others

yn_ln: All’s fair in love and poetry, April 4th

tagged: no one

comments have been limited

Twitter pre-album release—

Twitter post-album release—

yn_ln

liked by: user433, user94, user93, and 282,209 others

yn_ln: surprise!! "The Tortured Poets Department: Eros" out now!! This edition includes two new songs, "So High School" and "The Alchemy"

tagged: no one

comments have been disabled

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

Introducing Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader

🎵 Name in the Sand by Lil Skies

In which Brat!Reader lives directly below Neighbor!Matt and his brothers. Her beauty sleep is constantly disturbed by the boys rowdiness. After dealing with their bullshit for months, she finally gets the courage to go upstairs and give her noisy neighbors a piece of her mind. The only thing she didn't expect was him and his Mattitude. This quickly turns to a neighborly feud — Matt making sure to stomp thru his shared apartment every chance he gets. Especially when he takes notice to his bedroom being directly above Brats. His pettiness pushes her to her boiling point once a week, she’d stomp up the stairs, red-faced while pounding on their door. Matt was always the one to deal with her and he always had a pissed off scowl engraved deep into his face. Deep down, a part of him just loved seeing her beat red in the face, her voice so angelic it barely seemed like she was mad. He'd never admit that, though.

Brat!Reader

🎵 Normal Girl by SZA.

Twenty-One. Party girl. Baddie vibes. Only child. Mommy issues. Daddy's Girl. The color red. Vinyl records. Her cat, Wendy, is her life. Always has the least lighting possible in her apartment. Works from home. Door dashes every meal. Struggles with her mental health. Hates being alone. Goes out almost every weekend. Always stuck in her head. Likes peace and quiet, unless it's her that's being loud. Messy queen. Hard exterior but so soft once she lets her guard down. Does not want to be fucked with - at all. Hates how attractive Matt is because she can't stay mad at him. Can't fucking stand her noisy upstairs neighbors, they're always disturbing her beauty sleep.

Neighbor!Matt

🎵Nuts by Lil Peep

Twenty-One. Homebody. Loser yet bad boy vibes. Triplet but gives off middle child energy. Commitment issues. Stoner. Gamer. Struggles with his mental health. Mattitude. Always tired. Lonely but loves his solitude. Would rather cut his own foot off than talk to a stranger. Secretly wants to catnap Wendy. Protective af. Always keeps an eye out for Brat to come home. Has no problem telling Brat like it is/putting her in her place. Lowk an asshole at times. Doesn't bite his tongue for anybody. Has the biggest crush on his bitchy downstairs neighbor, but he always denies it when asked. Loves messing with Brat because he knows she'll come pounding on his apartment door, its the highlight of his week.

♡‧₊˚ New au alert 🥰 I've been writing about babydaddy!Chris so much that I was missing my boy lol. Let me know your thoughts! Big thanks to @sweetshuga, @strnilolover & @chrislilcumslvt for helping me out with this one, I appreciate you guys soo much 🫶🏻

First Blurb

Tags - @lvrsturniolo @ribread03 @unknvhx @m11rx @sweetshuga @loveparqdise @frickin-bats @delusional-4-fake-people @katie-tibo @leila-marie4 @thepubeburgler @courta13 @shadowthesim @trevorsgodmother @watercolorskyy @chrislilcumslvt @luvr4miya @strnilolover @sagesturns

Masterlist

Taglist (comment to be added)

© M00NL1GHTS1VT - please do noy copy my work