#like heel girl more context is coming

[danakin-skywalker]

A KRAFT SINGLE jfkdkdkdk

YEAH MAN I got to like here

And I was like who the fuck brought him a Kraft single to sign?? In a public space??

Then fatefully the video continued and explained itself and no cheese was harmed in the making bless

[sttoru]

‘i told you once, that only two things will have me; you and death.’

☀︎｜tags. gojo satoru x female reader. fluff, angst, comfort. themes of insecurity: trust issues kinda (by reader). reader gets called ‘baby, princess, angel’. self indulgent. proof read? whats that

“aww, there’s my hardworking girl,” satoru coos whilst his arms move to hold your body captive against his chest in a much needed hug, “and she’s still lookin’ as pretty as ever! my god — c’mere.”

your over-excited lover cups your face in his hands and holds it like that for a second to admire. his thumb slides from your cheekbone to your lips, gently parting them before pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. of course, he doesn’t leave it by that. satoru never does.

“pretty,” a kiss on your right cheek — “beautiful,” a kiss on your left one — “gorgeous,” a kiss on the tip of your nose — “amazing”, a kiss on your forehead — “sweetest,” a kiss on your chin — “lovely”, a kiss on the top of your head;

maybe it was the stress of the previous days that made you tear up. satoru has made it a daily routine: you come home, he welcomes you with open arms, showers you with his unending love and attention until you physically have to pull him away from your body. you sometimes ask yourself what you did to deserve someone so loving.

if satoru had heard you say the latter out loud, he would have kissed your mouth again to shut the thought down instantly. ‘you deserve everything and more’, you silently recall him saying once.

“stop that.” you mutter. the ‘that’ referring to the butterfly kisses and tight hugs he’s giving you. you tried not to seem in the mood for receiving his affection today. the muffled giggles leaving through your gritted teeth tell another story however.

“nu-uh,” satoru lets out a low chuckle, going right back to giving you what you deserve, “it’s like you’re askin’ me to stop breathing, baby. i can’t just not do this.”

satoru lifts you up into his strong arms and brings you over to the kitchen counter, settling you there - somewhere away from all that he had been cooking since the morning. he’s grinning from ear to ear, glancing from the covered plates near the stove and back to you.

you tilt your head curiously as you watch satoru grab one plate and uncover it, revealing the content like it was a big surprise—

“open up f’me, my princess.” your lover hums as he’s already guiding a piece of cake to your lips. your favorite cake which he had oh-so-obviously cooked himself judging by the messy look of it. your gaze lingers on the piece for a second to appreciate the gesture.

when you look back up at satoru, his eyes are already on yours — patiently waiting for you to let him feed you. his blue eyes are sparkling with a sense of pure excitement; one he only has around you. his love for you was almost overwhelming at times like these.

“why?”

the simple, one word question made the white sorcerer stop in his tracks. his head cocks to the side, eyelashes fluttering lightly in confusion, though the handsome smile on his face remains. ‘why’ could mean a lot of things in this context; why do you want to feed me? why do you want me to eat this? why should or even would i?

out of all the possible interpretations, satoru knew the exact one you had meant the moment he saw the tears that welled up at the corners of your eyes; ‘why do you care so much?’

“do i need a reason to?” his voice was smooth and soft. almost way too soft now that he’s realised just how vulnerable you were in front of him. satoru’s smile only widens, however — the sight of his girlfriend being overwhelmed by his affection was one he couldn’t resist.

it’s part of your charm. the charm you don’t know about; the charm that made the gojo satoru fall head over heels for you. your lover shakes his head with a light-hearted laugh, putting the slice of cake back down on the plate so he could hold your hands in his.

“i love you, yeah?” he kisses the back of your hands with utmost care before planting another one on your forehead again. satoru cradles your head against his chest afterwards, making you rest your weary body against his for as long as you needed it; his warmth and comfort, “it’s because i love you. that’s the only reason why, angel.”

you just nod in response — needing a moment of silence to recover, which satoru grants you without it having to be asked verbally. it’s like he knows just what goes on in your little head and is always updated about your changing feelings.

that’s what surprises you most. satoru’s super attentive to every single detail about you. from your unnoticeable habits to the big facts. that is what love truly is. that is how it feels like to have a man love you unconditionally—without any underlying or ulterior motives. without expecting anything back.

“i love you too, ‘toru. forever.” you reply eventually in a hushed whisper. the sorcerer only tightens his grip around your body, hugging you closer to his chest like his personal plushie. he nuzzles his nose into your hair — your scent both relaxing yet addicting.

“yeah,” satoru sighs in content and closes his eyes—allowing them to rest. all his senses are focused on making you feel better. he won’t let go of you until he’s sure you understand that you’re deserving of it all; his loving hugs, kisses, words of affirmation, gifts, comfort, cuddles and support.

“forever and beyond that.”

satoru doesn’t mind reminding you how much he cherishes you. even if he has to remind you every day until the day he succumbs. you’re his number one priority; he’ll even make sure to tell you he loves you with his dying breath when the time comes.

he’ll make sure of it.

[vivwritesfics]

Steal Your Girl - LN4

Carlos is awful to his girl and Lando wants her. He gets what he wants.

THIS IS NOT A REFLECTION OF CARLOS SAINZ AS A REAL PERSON, ALL THESE ACTIONS ARE VRRY OUT OF HIS CHARACTER

18+ ONLY

Warnings: emotionally abusive relationship! smut! eating out, bj, finishing inside, fucking against the wall

Ex! Carlos sainz x reader, lando norris x reader

5.5k

Yes, I changed this up a lot from the original request, but Bianca and I have spoken a lot about this fic and it was decided that having it a friendship rivalry would make this so sweet so I changed Lewis to Carlos

Carlos Sainz walked into the British grand prix, his hand holding his girlfriends. It was warm for England, and he could swear it was getting warmer and warmer every year. Not hot, not compared to what he was used to.

Although he was now a driver for Scuderia Ferrari, he still had friends in other teams. Like Lando and Max. The year before he wouldn’t have minded being on a team with either of them again, driving alongside Lando in Ferrari or Max in a Red Bull.

But now Carlos was in a truly competitive car and, for the first time since his career began, he was a contender for the championship title.

As he looked at his girlfriend, she gave him a smile. Just a small one, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Carlos kept a tight hold of her as he pulled her through the paddock, heading to where he could see the orange hat on the smaller man’s head.

Lando was always his first stop if he could help it. Carlos loved him like a brother, the two of them becoming the best of friends for the short time they were teammates. Everybody in Formula One had their best friend. He had Lando, Logan had Oscar, Charles had… well Charles was a bit of a slut. He had Max and Pierre at his beck and call.

He let go of his girlfriends hand, reaching forward to smack Lando’s butt. Lando jumped out of his skin, spun quickly on his heel and came face to face with his best friend. His look of shock and horror turned into a grin and he wrapped his arms around Carlos, smacking his back as he did so. He looked to Y/N offering her a tight lipped smile.

Being Carlos’s best friend meant Lando got more of an insight into Y/N and Carlos’s relationship. All of the speculations he saw the F1 and WAG news sights posting, he could reveal how true they were. He wouldn’t; that wasn’t his place. If Y/N or Carlos wanted to come out about their relationship, they could. But he wasn’t going to do it for them.

But he felt sorry for her. He saw the way he treated her, how short and angry he was towards her after the race hadn’t gone his way. Lando had stopped himself from running over and getting between them several times. But, once again, it wasn’t his place. As much as he wanted to run over and grab Carlos, keeping Y/N behind him, he knew he couldn’t.

But he wanted to. Don’t get him wrong, he wanted to.

All Lando could do was watch, try and ask if she was okay without actually saying anything. He was observant when it came to her, noticed the way her smile wasn’t too wide.

I guess I should give some context. The year was 2024, and Lando and Carlos were both in the championship fight. It was intense – one week Carlos would be leading in the points and the next Lando would be. As much as it frustrated the both of them, it never affected their friendship.

The summer break was approaching and the two of them were way too close in the points for comfort. It wasn’t like the previous year where Max was practically a shoo in. You never would have guessed by the way they walked through the paddock together, Oscar joining them on Lando’s left.

He was another contender for the championship. It was only his second year in the championship, and he was fighting with the likes of Max, Lando and Carlos. It was insanely impressive, but not unexpected.

“You two got any plans for over summer?” He asked as they stopped outside of the McLaren hospitality suite.

As much as Carlos was happy to finally be in the competitive car, he still missed McLaren. As much as he loved driving alongside Charles Leclerc, he missed driving alongside Lando. But he loved fighting him on track.

Carlos wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her in close. “We are staying in Italy,” he said and kissed the side of her head. The smile Y/N shot in Oscar’s direction wasn’t a happy one. Her shoulders were hunched as she tried to make herself look small, her smile barely there and her eyes not meeting his. Whatever they were doing over the summer, she clearly wasn’t happy about it.

They went their separate ways, Y/N and Carlos heading off to Ferrari while Lando and Oscar headed into the hospitality suite. “Is she okay?” Oscar asked as he walked slightly behind Lando.

It was no secret how Lando felt about Y/N. It was no secret that he liked her. There had been one time where Oscar had physically held Lando back after Carlos had crashed earlier in the day and seemed to be verbally taking it out on Y/N.

Lando couldn’t answer. Because he really didn’t know. He didn’t know if she was okay, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t find out. He steadied himself and led Oscar into the hospitality suite.

***

It wasn’t a good race for Carlos. Y/N watched from the garage as he made contact with the Mercedes of George Russell and spun out into the gravel. “Ah fuck!” He shouted. “Fucking fuck!” He hit the steering wheel and pulled it out of the car, handing it to the steward that came running over. He climbed out of the car, keeping his helmet on as he made his way back to the pitlane.

As soon as Carlos sorted himself out, Y/N threw her arms around him. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered and kissed his cheek. Carlos didn’t respond. He just stared at the track at nineteen cars came speeding past the pitlane.

After the race and the ceremonies, when they were heading back to the plane, Carlos drove them. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he sped around cars, at a pace that was, quite frankly, terrifying to his passengers. “Carlos, baby,” she tried to say as she held onto the bottom of her seat.

But Carlos didn’t let her say anything. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled.

Y/N fell silent. If they weren’t driving down the motorway she would have demanded he let her out of the car, but she couldn’t. She just sat there, the familiar feeling of anxiety bubbling up inside of her chest.

If this was how she was going to be feeling for the rest of the championship, Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of this world. She loved Carlos and she loved travelling around with him, but it made her feel fucking terrible. He made her feel fucking terrible.

These feelings didn’t stop through the Hungarian Grand Prix or through Spa. They were miserable weekends for the girl sat in the Ferrari garage. In both races Carlos did well, which you may think  would mean he was happy. You’d think he’d be in a good mood and happily showing his girlfriend how much he loved her.

But for both races, a younger, less experienced driver beat him. In cars that seemed to be equal in terms of how competitive they were, Lando Norris beat him.

Although Carlos got a good amount of points from it, Lando had beat him, putting a bit more distance between them in the championship.

It made him vile to be around. The points, the championship, consumed his very being. Not in the way it did for most Formula One drivers, where their goal for every training session, every practice session, every qualifying and every race was to be the best. Carlos was a man obsessed it muttered about it, going back through past races to see if there were any way to take points away from his competitors.

He became snappy and rude to his girlfriend. She couldn’t even say his name without him sending a glare in her direction. Y/N was walking on eggshells around him.

It wasn’t as though she could avoid him. Carlos wanted her at every race weekend; her only respite was the few days she got to spend at her apartment.

During summer break, Carlos gave her a break from himself. He wasn’t crazy obsessive over points as they went to Italy. But that feeling of Anxiety was still in Y/N’s chest. Even as he took her out on the boat, she was still anxious.

When Carlos kissed her, she kept her eyes shut, unable to look at him. His touch was warm, but it still made her shiver. If he knew something was wrong, he didn’t say anything to her.

It was a sign, surely. A sign that she should have left him. But, no matter how anxious she felt around him, there was still a part of her that loved him. She always would love him, at least in some capacity.

Y/N pushed the feelings deep down. She loved him, she really, truly loved him, and she could get through this. They could get through this. As soon as the championship was over, things would go back to normal, she was sure of it.

As if to assure herself, Y/N walked over to Carlos, who had sat himself on the sun lounger in front of the pool, and wrapped her arms around him. She kissed the side of his head and closed her eyes as she pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

After their amazing summer break, Y/N thought maybe things would change between them. Maybe she’d get the old Carlos back, her Carlos back.

Spoiler alert, it didn’t work. Even though Carlos finished ahead of Lando at the Dutch Grand Prix, they still hadn’t quite come level with the points. Lando was still ahead of him and it was all Carlos could think about, all he could talk about.

The drivers went out that night. Well, a few of them did. Max took Lando, Charles, Carlos, George and Daniel out for the night. Everybody was invited to the club, but these were the few that went.

Of course, Y/N went with Carlos. Even with everything going on, she still didn’t want to head home alone. So, she dressed her best and walked into the club on Carlos’s arm.

Lando walked in behind them. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, and that little voice in the back of his head that usually told him that she was his best friend’s girl and he should stay away was suddenly quieter. Maybe it was because of the few drinks he had in his system already, but Lando wasn’t scared about Carlos seeing his lingering eyes.

But Carlos didn’t seem to notice. Maybe he thought Lando was being a good friend and keeping an eye on Y/N, who was definitely stunning enough to turn heads.

For the entire night, Lando stayed close to Y/N. He was behind them when she and Carlos danced together, followed her to the bar and got another round of drinks. And, when Carlos disappeared and Y/N found herself sitting alone in one of the booths in the club, Lando came to sit beside her.

“Hey,” he shouted over the music.

Y/N stared at him, clearly not happy. But she gave him a weak smile, leaning against the table in front of them. “You okay?” He shouted, furrowing his brows. Y/N shouted something back, but Lando couldn’t hear a word of it.

Standing up, he walked over and slid into the seat beside her. “You okay?” He asked and placed his arm over her shoulders. The drink must have been making him brave.

Y/N shook her head. “I want to go outside!” She shouted into his ear.

Standing up, Lando helped her. He shot Carlos a quick text and led Y/N to the smoking shelter outside of the club. Neither of them smoked, but they needed the fresh air, desperately. The smoking area was busy, but not as loud as the club; they could speak without much issue.

"What's up?" Asked Lando as he leaned against the wall.

Y/N looked at him and let out a huff. She folded her arms over her chest and looked up at the stars in the night sky. "I'm hoping you're drunk enough to forget this, but Carlos treats me like shit," she said and turned her attention towards him.

"I know."

Lando hadn't meant to say it, but it was too late to backpeddle now.

"And I fucking hate it," he finished.

Silence hung in the air between them. Y/N didn't quite know what to say. She was speaking to Carlos's best friend and she didn't want to slate him.

And Lando, well he was waiting for Y/N to say something. He didn't want to push and then have to deal with Carlos why she was crying. That wouldn't end well for anyone.

I think you should leave your boyfriend.

But he couldn't say that. It was a decision Y/N had to come to all on her own.

And she did. Just not for a while. Not until the end of the 2024 championship.

It was down to the wire, the deciding race for the drivers championship being the very last race of the season.

As Y/N sat in the ferrari garage she bit her nails, nerves bubbling up inside of her. It wasn't nerves over her boyfriend winning or losing. Well, it was, but more because of what he might've done to her.

Lando was the championship winner. Lando crossed the finish line less than a second ahead of Carlos.

As they climbed out of the cars and congratulated each other, it was clear Carlos was pissed. As he stood on the podium and listened to the British national anthem, he was angry, that much was clear.

Y/N could have left him then and there, but she didn't want to. There was a small part of her that loved Carlos and that didn't want to leave him.

But, after they had headed home that night, after skipping out on Landos offer of celebrating, Carlos was fucking horrible to her.

Never physical, just angry and verbally abusive. He roared at her, spitting in her face as he did so.

Y/N got up and left him then and there. She walked out of the door, not looking back.

There was a lot of speculation online on the couples break up. The news of it only came when Carlos was seen with a new woman, having moved on pretty quickly. Y/N just hoped this girl could handle him better than she could.

When the 2025 season started up, she missed it. But she couldn't even bring herself to watch it on the television.

She missed it, and she was missed.

By Lando, mostly. Although she'd made some friends from her time on the grid, it was Lando who missed her the most. He'd been the one to call her up and make sure she was okay when he found out about the breakup.

Ever since the 2025 season started, Lando had been desperately trying to get her to come to a grand prix. But Y/N shot him down every time. How could she go to a grand prix and face Carlos?

She couldn’t. As much as she would have loved to go to at least one Grand Prix, she couldn’t face Carlos. So, Lando had to find other ways to see her. He was the one who came to her apartment and spent time with her while she was having an emotional breakdown over Carlos. He was the one who brought her snacks and comfort her, watching movies and attempting to make her dinner.

In this time she and Lando became incredibly close. It didn’t feel right, the way she was relying on him for emotional comfort when he was her ex boyfriends best friend. At first, Y/N was scared Lando would just be a rebound, that she was feeling the way she did because she was upset about the breakup.

But, as time went on, she realised it was a lot more than that. She genuinely loved Lando’s company and she wanted to spend time around him. That didn’t mean she’d be going to a grand prix, though.

So, Y/N threw herself into her work. When she’d bought her apartment, she’d been with Carlos, and it was filled with memories of the two of them. She worked oh so hard to make it her own, erasing every memory of him from its walls.

On the few days before the British Grand Prix, Lando was in the UK. He was in Surrey, at McLaren before heading off to London. What was in London? Just the girl he was in love with.

Okay, maybe in love was a strong word. But everybody knew how he felt about her, knew how much he wanted her.

So, he hopped on a train to London (because there was no way he was driving through the city) and made his way to her apartment.

This was the first Grand Prix that he hadn’t been bothering her to attend. It was strange and, in and odd way, it made Y/N want to go all the more. It was too late now, though. She’d never get tickets she could actually afford.

There was a knock at her apartment door. Y/N stood up from her computer and strode over. She pulled open the door, coming face to face with none other than Lando Norris. “Lando,” she somewhat gasped, incredibly surprised to see him. “Aren’t you meant to be at Silverstone?”

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” he said and walked into the apartment. He took a seat at her kitchen table as she got him something to drink. “I want you to come to the grand prix with me,” he said. He’d said it so many times already this year. Maybe the answer would be different now he was here in person.

Y/N let out a huff and Lando knew what was coming. She was going to shoot him down, to say no and send him on his way. But she didn’t. She sat back and stared at him, tapping her nails against the glass of water in front of her. “Okay,” she said and sat up a little straighter. “But I have conditions.”

Lando gestured for her to go on.

“I’ll go if you can guarantee I won’t see Carlos.”

It was an impossible request, but Lando just grinned. He held out his hand for her to shake. “Deal.”

***

It was Lando’s second win at Silverstone, and the home crowd was going wild. Y/N was with the McLaren team. When Lando pulled into Parc fermé, Y/N was waiting at the barrier. She watched as he jumped towards his team, all of them patting him on the back.

And then she caught his eye. Lando pulled off his helmet, placing it on the ground and strode over to her. “Congratulations!” Y/N shouted over the noise with a wide grin.

But Lando didn’t respond. He pulled her close, just the barrier between them, and kissed her.

It was quick, Lando didn’t have long until he was pulled away to do post-race interviews. And then he was on the podium as Y/N waited back in the garage. What had just happened? Lando had won his home Grand Prix but, more importantly, he kissed her. Lando Norris had kissed her.

And she hadn’t minded. Did that make her a bad person? That she didn’t mind kissing her ex boyfriends best friend? Well, more than didn’t mind. She liked it, and she wanted to do it again.

Carlos hadn’t quite believed what he was seeing when he climbed out of his Ferrari, having just missed out on third place. He was in a foul mood anyway from his result, and this certainly didn’t make things better.

There was a feeling of betrayal that settled in his chest. He was ready to tear apart the Ferrari garage and not care about the consequences.

If she couldn’t be with him because of his racing career, what the fuck was she doing here? With him of all people?

He stormed past everybody, his body language aggressive.

But Lando and Y/N didn’t notice. Why should they? Lando was wrapped up in his win and she was wrapped up in him. In Lando.

After the race Lando drove her back to her apartment. She invited him in, cooked him dinner, which they ate with a couple of candles between them. It was romantic, and they were loving every second of it. It wasn’t what Lando had planned for his win; he was supposed to go out to dinner and party. But he’d told those who were set to come with him to go without him, and this was definitely better.

“I want to ask you to be mine, but I don’t want to push you,” Lando had said as they ate.

Y/N immediately shook her head. She reached over, placing her hand on top of Lando’s. “I wouldn’t have invited you in if I didn’t want this,” she said and let go of him.

They didn’t sleep together that night; Lando kept up with the whole not wanting to push her thing. He didn’t want to push her into sleeping with him and then have her regret it later. So, he took things slow, letting her make the first moved.

It didn’t take long for them to get together, Lando as her boyfriend and Y/N as his girlfriend. But it took a long while before she returned to a grand prix with him. Sure, the world had seen them kiss in Silverstone, but Y/N still needed time. She needed to mentally prepare herself for facing Carlos and the rest of the grid again.

It was towards the end of the season that Y/N went to the next grand prix. She joined him in Brazil, proudly walking through the paddock with her hand held in his. When the cameras started flashing, Lando leaned close and kissed the top of her head. That way there would be no doubts as to who they were to each other.

Lando didn’t win in Brazil. But he didn’t care – his girlfriend was there with him and that was all that mattered. She watched him stand third place on the podium, watched him spray champagne on Carlos and his teammate.

When Y/N hadn’t been keeping up with the sport, before she and Lando were together, she hadn’t realised just how close the title fight was this year. She didn’t realise that the Red Bull car was, essentially, a piece of shit, and that the only real contenders for the title was Lando, Charles and Carlos.

She and Lando made their way out of the circuit together, hand in hand. “Well done,” she said and reached up onto her tiptoes to kiss him. Lando kept her walking as she stole his hat and placed it on her own head. “I love watching you race.”

“I love it when you watch me race,” he replied, squeezing her hand.

Ahead of them was Carlos and his girlfriend. Since she hadn’t been keeping up with the world of Formula One, Y/N didn’t know her name. But she was pretty and, if they were happy, then good for them.

Even though he had won the race, Carlos’s body language was tense. Y/N knew him well enough to know that. She didn’t say anything, though, not when he definitely hated her.

It took a few hours for anything to actually come from this. Both couples had decided that they would stay for the night in Brazil, get a good sleep before heading home. They were staying in the same hotel, rooms relatively close to each other.

That was why, when they were away from the prying eyes of fans of the paparazzi cameras, Carlos took a swing at Lando.

It was sudden and terrifying, both girls stood back in shock. Because, really, what could they do? Try and attack two athletes who were definitely stronger than them?

But then a full of fight broke out. They were punching and trying to tackle each other to the floor. Carlos had his arm around Lando’s neck as he punched him, Lando trying his best to get away.

But he was struggling, his face red. That was when Y/N jumped onto Carlos’s back trying to get him away from Lando. When Lando finally got away, Carlos got Y/N off of his back, knocking her to the floor.

Immediately, Lando got Y/N to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He spat at his old friend, holding his girlfriend close.

Carlos didn’t answer as he walked off to his own room, his girlfriend following him.

There was a moment where Y/N and Lando didn’t go anywhere. They put some distance between themselves and the Spaniard. Both their hearts were beating erratically, Lando’s breath coming out short.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N mumbled as they started walking again. “I can’t believe he did that.”

Lando held her a little bit tighter. “You don’t have to apologise,” he said as he pulled out their room key. “He’s being an asshole.”

Things only got worse between them as the title fight heated up. Just as it did the year before, it took the right to the end of the season, with tension between Lando and Carlos becoming worse and worse. The media speculated as they watched the two interact, most of the speculations having something to do with Y/N. They were right; the title fight was just a small part of it now.

***

Abu Dhabi, 2025. Carlos was leading for most of the race and looked set for the win. It would have been his first championship win, a dream of any Formula One driver.

But Lando? He was tricky, and he was fuelled by more than a desire to win. Just as Carlos thought himself set for the win, Lando overtook him. Carlos didn’t see it at first, he had already begun waving to the crowds as the orange car crossed the finish line just half a second ahead of him.

Y/N let out a scream in the McLaren garage. The atmosphere was insane, much different to the atmosphere in the Ferrari garage from the year before. Everybody was jumping around and cheering, rushing out to meet Lando.

When he climbed out of his car he jumped at his team, screaming, shouting and crying.

Just as he did in Silverstone, he pulled off his helmet and placed it down by his feet, leaning down to kiss Y/N. This time he didn’t care about the post-race interviews, he kissed her until he was starving for air. It wasn’t sweet of kind, it was definitely too much for the cameras. It was a promise for later, for what was to come.

That night they celebrated, the team out partying. Y/N and Lando left the party before everybody else, alcohol in their systems as they made their way back to their hotel room.

The two were giggling, drunken messes, kissing on the street every few steps. He kept a tight hold of her, hand just a little too low on her back, but not quite obscene.

In the elevator of the hotel, Y/N was pressed against it, with Lando finally holding her ass. He kissed her feverishly, his kiss bruising.

And she loved every second of it.

Lando was impatient to get her into their hotel room. He kicked the door shut behind them and began pulling off her clothes, only breaking their kiss when he pulled her shirt over her head.

"I fucking love you," he said and began kissing down her neck.

She let out a moan, eyes flying shut as she unbuttoned Lando's shirt.

When they pulled apart to undress themselves, Lando looked at the purple bruises he'd left on her neck, grinning as his tongue came between his lips.

He wasted no time in throwing her down onto the bed, her arms wrapping around him as he went back to kissing her.

He began moving down her body, kissing her chest and between her breasts, moving down to where she needed him most. Her breathing became laboured as he kissed her thigh and gently bit it, his manner teasing.

His large hands rested on her hips as he leaned down, licking across her folds. He sank off of the bed, pulling her closer as he began eating her out. Like a man possessed and licked and sucked at her folds, his skills expert.

Y/N moaned and whined, gripped his hair as he held her still. She tried to move her hips against his face, but Lando held her still, keeping her there as he worked. "Holy fuck," she cried, throwing her head back and gripping the sheets.

Lando grinned as he sat up, painfully hard. Y/N grabbed him, pulling him back up to kiss her. "I want you to fuck me against the wall," she whispered as she moved to kiss down his neck.

The chain he wore dangled between them, getting in her way, but Y/N didn't care. It was incredibly hot.

Lando whispered something in her ear and Y/N nodded eagerly. He set his phone up across from the wall he was going to be fucking her against, and pressed record.

Suddenly Lando was up against the wall, Y/N on her knees in front of him. He moaned as she bobbed her head up and down him. His hand rested on the back of her head, not pushing, just holding her as if he wanted to ground himself.

Before too long Lando was pushing her way. If he was going to celebrate his championship win, he was going to do it inside of her.

"Come here, baby," he said as he gave her one last kiss. He picked her up, Y/N wrapping her legs around him, and turned them around, so that her back was against the wall.

Using the wall to keep her held in his arms, Lando reached between them and lined himself up. He pushed forward, sheathing himself inside of her.

"Ready?" He asked, forehead pressed against hers.

Y/N nodded and Lando began thrusting. It was incredible how strong he was as he pushed into her, pulling himself out and pushing back in.

Y/N let out cries and whines and moans as he fucked her. Because it wasn't romantic, the pace Lando was thrusting inside of her was animalistic.

She moved against the wall, eyes shut as she tightened her legs around Lando, coming closer and closer to the edge. Lando was, too, slowing his pace, becoming sloppy.

When Y/N finally went over the edge she fell forward, leaning her entire weight against him. Lando kissed her head and squeezed his eyes shut as he came, painting her insides with his seed.

He pulled out and carried her back to the bed. Picking up the phone he pointed the camera at Y/N, keeping her on full display. "She's my girl now," he said and ended the video, sending it to the man who was once his best friend.

Lando went to the bathroom and ran the bath. He made it warm and filled it with bubbles. As he waited for it, watched the video go through to Carlos, watched as he opened the message.

He turned off the water and walked back out to the bedroom, where his girlfriend was still laying, her breath evening out. She was close to falling asleep, he realised as he walked over and kissed her forehead.

"Come on, baby," he said and gently coaxed her up from the bed.

Rather reluctantly, Y/N followed Lando into the bathroom. She leaned against the door as he climbed into the water, waited until he was submerged, and slotted herself between his legs.

Lando gently washed her, scrubbing the sweat from her skin and the mess between her legs.

***

Carlos wasn't sure when his girlfriend had left. It was just like last time, alone again after missing out on the championship. It was his fault, even if he didn't know it.

When his phone buzzed he picked it up, desperately hoping that maybe he wasn't so alone.

But then he saw the message, then he opened the video.

His face twisted with rage. He threw his phone across the room, the device bouncing of the wall, the screen completely shattered.

He was going to kill Lando Norris.

[weakformingyu]

You are my favorite

Pairing: Lee Know x afab!reader

Part 2 of Can I be your favorite?(Recommended to read the first part for context)

Genre: smut, fluff, angst(the tiniest bit)

Summary: you let your insecurities come in between your new relationship with Minho, luckily for you though, he's not gonna let you run away so easily.

Words count: 3,076

THIS CONTENT IS +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: oral(f. receiving), unprotected piv(wrap it before you tap it ffs), creampie, marking, hickeys, dirty talk(barely), Minho is possessive asf(is it even my fic if he's not possessive?), reader is insecure

You were sore when you woke up the next morning — or should you say, afternoon? It was already 2pm when you opened your eyes, finding Minho's place empty by your side.

You look around the room, now there's enough light coming from the windows for you to be able to see the room. You don't know how to explain it but it fits Minho perfectly, the decoration is discreet but not basic and it shows a lot of his personality, more than you're aware of.

You get up, not really sure what you're supposed to do. So you collect your things and start getting dressed, tying your hair in a ponytail to try and conceal the mess.

When you open the door, you look around before getting out, not sure if you're going to find someone and a bit embarrassed to be going away at this hour. You get down the stairs, walking past the kitchen at a quick pace but before you can turn the knob, you hear a voice behind you.

“Minho, your girl is trying to escape”, he yells, making you spin on your heels quickly looking at the telltale just to find a boy, who you're sure is Jeongin, the youngest of the frat house.

“Never thought you would be the type to smash and dash”, your crush says, popping out of the kitchen.

“I'm not!” You defend yourself, crossing your arms.

“That's not what it looks like to me”, he shrugs.

“I was just looking for you”, you lie and he scoffs, walking towards you.

“You shouldn't lie, princess”, he leans closer to you, making you gulp. “I don't like liars”, he whispers. Smirking when he sees your breath quickening and the way you lick your lips nervously. “Anyways, you can go if you want. I'll pick you up at 8”

“F-for what?” You ask, trying to recompose yourself.

“I told you I was going to take you out for dinner, didn't I?”

"I can't believe you're really going on a date with Minho”, Jihyo says, clapping excitedly while she searches for something in your wardrobe.

“I don't why he wants to go on a date with me”

“‘cause you're hot?” Your best friend says, as if it's obvious.

“He has a hundred other hot girls to take on dates”, you scoff, making Jihyo throw a pillow at you.

“Stop with the self depreciation, he doesn't want the other girls, he wants you. So get your ass over here so I can help you with your makeup”

You were hopeful but didn't think Minho would actually do as he promised. At exactly 8pm, you heard a knock on the door and Jihyo squealed, giving you a thumbs up and sending you to your date.

Minho was looking exceptionally handsome in all black, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. He stares at you up and down with a grin on his lips.

“You look good”, he tells you, enjoying seeing your cheeks turning a dark shade of red.

“Y-you look nice too”, you say, stepping outside and closing the door behind you.

You are seated in front of him, not really sure what to do next, you two ordered your food and some expensive wine that you never heard about. The ride to the restaurant was a bit awkward, you felt the need to say something but didn't know what to say so you talked about the weather not realizing that he liked seeing you trying, nervous like a bunny being hunted by a predator, him.

“So, what's your major?” He asks, taking you out of your thoughts. He's resting his face on his hand while watching you fidget on your seat.

“Engineering”, you answer, sipping on the glass of water the waiter poured to you.

“That's interesting”, he smiles. “I'm a dance major”, he tells you.

“I know”, you say without thinking, covering your mouth immediately. “I mean, everyone knows”, you smile sheepishly.

“Ah, yes. You like me, right?” He smirks, proudly, making your face turn as red as a tomato.

“Please, stop saying that, it's embarrassing”, you hide your face in your hands.

“It's embarrassing that you like me?” He chuckles, tilting his head.

“You were not supposed to know that”, you clarify, “it's pathetic that I have feelings for someone who didn't even know I existed until last night”, you sigh.

“I clearly knew you existed, since I knew that you like me”, he teases. “I don't think it's pathetic, the heart wants what it wants”

“Is that why you dated all those girls?” You ask, naively, making his eyes grow wide. He didn't think you'd be that straightforward.

“No, I'm not one to rejected a nice looking girl”, he shrugs, “they just didn't manage to be more than that to me, but I'm sure they can be something more for someone else”

“Ah”, you nod, feeling awkward.

“Do you want to date me?” He asks nonchalantly like he's asking how was your day, making you choke on the water you just drank.

“What?” You ask, shocked.

“I think I was very clear”, he answers, scowling.

“Why would you want to date me?”

“I guess you heard me well”, he teases, “you're my type”, Minho clarifies.

“I don't think I'm, though”, you oppose.

“I think I know better than you who is or is not my type”

“I mean, I'm not pretty like your other girlfriends”, you push.

“Firstly: why would I want someone just like the people I broke up with? Second: I think you're pretty”

You feel your whole face hot, covering your mouth instantly so he doesn't see the stupid smile you have on your lips.

“Also, I like fucking you”, he ruins the moment, smirking, “I wanna keep doing that”

“What a gentleman”, you roll your eyes, ignoring the heat growing on your lower stomach. He doesn't need to know that you'd give anything for him to fuck you right now on the restroom of the restaurant.

“I can be one”, he stretches his arm, grabbing your hand, caressing it. “Or I can be the opposite of that, it's your call”, he shrugs.

That's precisely how you ended up fucking on the restaurant’s restroom. He pulled you inside the confined space, bending you on the sink and before you could prepare yourself his cock was inside of you.

“Fuck, kitten”, he groans, covering your mouth, not slowing down his thrusts. “You have to be quiet if you don't wanna get caught”, you nod, crying out, seeing his smirk through the reflection of the mirror.

You ended up dating him. It's not like it's a sacrifice for you or anything but you couldn't wrap your head around the reason that the Lee Minho would want to date you of all people. People's reaction was different from the one you expected too, they didn't really care, thinking he was going to dump you in a week.

However, to their surprise and especially yours, he didn't. Minho never even brought up the idea of breaking up and when you realized, two months had already passed.

After two months you still couldn't believe you were dating him and how hot he is, you always thought he was the most handsome man you ever saw but dating him hits differently. Now you can see him after a shower, coming out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his hip, his muscular chest bare for you to drool over. He cooks for you, making your favorite foods or some you never ate before. He brings you snacks and makes side dishes for you to eat at home. Minho picks you up before class and takes you back home after or he invites you to sleep over at the frat. You're already acquainted with all his friends, they even come looking for you to show you things when you're in the house. It makes you wonder if they acted like that with all of his girlfriends. Two months of the sweetest romance and the best sex you've ever had.

At least it was. You're not going to deny it, you're insecure. Minho is someone you never thought you could reach, so to be his girlfriend? It's something you never imagined. As he told you before, he has a great number of options, so the possibility that he'll replace you anytime, scares you.

You try forgetting about that, try not to overthink, until you find him at the library with a girl all over him. She's beautiful, perfect skin and shiny hair, she's hanging too close to him, touching his arm and throwing her head back in an exaggerated laugh. She's actually touching him at any chance she gets and you're there paralyzed like an idiot, watching it.

You feel the tears brimming in your eyes and you turn around and walk to the opposite side. You are his girlfriend, you should definitely step in, but in all honesty, you are too scared. Scared he'll look at you like you are nothing, that he's finally going to look at you with cold eyes like you have been waiting for it to happen.

You don't talk to him for days, avoiding meeting with him and ignoring his calls. You know it's childish to just ignore someone like that but you just needed to prepare yourself for the dreadful conversation you were about to have. It's going to be for the best if you two break up, he can go back to the way he lived before and you can stop worrying about when he's going to get tired of you.

It's not a surprise when Minho shows up at your door, you expected that to happen but wasn't expecting his appearance. He has his hair disheveled, deep eye bags under his eyes and he looks furious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks, angrily, not even greeting you and storming inside your apartment like a hurricane. “Why did you disappear?”

“I needed to think”, you murmur, closing the door behind you.

“Think about what? You should at least have answered my texts”, he huffs, taking his jacket off and throwing it on the couch.

“About us”, you answer him, making his face soften a bit.

“What about us?” He asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“I think it's best if we break up”, you tell him at once, not really capable of dragging this conversation for too long, it was already so hard to say that sentence, you are about to cry at any minute.

“What are you on about?” He frowns, taking a step closer to you, but you take a step back.

“I'm trying to make the right decision for the both of us”, you sigh, “it's not like this is going to last anyways, you should go find someone who's on your level”

He scoffs, breathing a laugh. You expected any other reaction of him, but that one was not included.

“So that is what this is about”, he starts walking towards you and you start stepping back, until you bump into the kitchen table with nowhere else to run. Minho gets closer to you, looking down on you as he cages you between the table and his body.

“My kitten is insecure, is that it?” He asks, making you blush with the pet name. Minho never gets tired of making you flustered.

“I'm not”, you lie, avoiding his gaze.

“You know I don't like liars”, he tells you, “but I guess it's on me, if I did a better job as your boyfriend you wouldn't be feeling like this’, he pouts.

“You are a great boyfriend”, you murmur, trying not to look into his eyes, he's too close.

“Hm? I am?” He teases. “Then what's it, kitten, did you find someone more interesting than me?” He smiles, it was supposed to be a joke but the way your eyes widened with that simple suggestion makes him a bit mad. “Is that it?” He asks, narrowing his eyes to stare at you.

“No, there's no one like that”, you tell him.

“Then why did you hesitate?”, he raises his brows in questioning. You were just too shocked to answer right away but he doesn't let you tell him that. “Nice way to make me angry”, he scoffs. “I told you I can be a fucking gentleman so why do you always make me be the opposite of that?” He asks, taking a step closer to you and pressing his body against yours. His hands slide around your waist, caging you even more in his hold.

“Minho, I-”, you try to speak but he tsks, interrupting you.

“You need to learn a lesson”, he tells you, leaning closer and brushing his lips on your cheek, trailing it down to your jaw and then your neck. “You are mine”, he whispers before attaching his mouth to your neck, biting on your skin so hard you whine with the pain.

His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing it and pulling you up, to sit on the table. You were on your pjs already ready to sleep and that makes his access to your body easier, the thin fabric of your clothes can barely block the warmth coming from his body to yours.

Minho pops open his dress shirt, letting it slide and fall on the floor, watching your reaction to him. You bite on your bottom lip, staring at his muscular chest. He always looks so good, you feel like moaning just by looking at him.

“Min…”, you murmur, spreading your legs wide for him. It's not like you can resist him anyways.

“There you are”, he smiles, unbuckling his pants and letting it fall down at his feet, “my needy girl”

You avoid his eyes, pulling your shirt off to reveal your bare chest to him.

“You look so hot, all spread for me like this”, he smiles, getting on his knees. Minho pulls the waistband of your shorts and panties down, watching your glistening cunt in excitement. “Is this because of me or are you thinking about someone else?” He pushes, finally seeing you look at him, shaking your head frantically.

“It's all you, the only one I think about is you”, you confess, feeling your cheeks hot.

Minho grins, putting your legs over his shoulders and kissing your inner thighs. He licks your pussy slightly, just teasing you, making you put your hands on his head to force him against your core.

You can feel him smile, licking a long strip between your folds, attaching his lips to your clit next. Minho slides his hand between your legs, inserting two fingers inside of you, going in and out while he sucks your aching core, grunting and groaning with you pulling on his hair and he watches as you become undone in his mouth.

You can feel your orgasm coming, your toes curl immediately and you buck your hips against his mouth desperately, chasing your high and when the knot on your lower stomach finally explodes, you moan loudly, trembling in his embrace.

Minho stands up, cleaning around his mouth with his fingers and then licking on them.

“Still my favorite taste”, he smirks. You look stunning with your soft lips parted and hair disheveled, your chest rises and falls in a fast rhythm.

“This is going to be the last time I'll let you have your way”, you try looking the least bit believable while stating that, but that only makes him chuckle, stroking his cock a few times before he comes closer to you.

“And that only proves that you still haven't understood the situation you're in”, he tells you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock while he waits for you to stop him but you don't, you want to feel him inside you so fucking much that it seems like you're going crazy. He pushes in, feeling your cunt squeezing him deliciously. “Fuck”, Minho murmurs. Your arms wrap around his waist, burying your nails in his skin, the snap of his hips against yours making you breathless.

He kisses you, feeling your sweet lips against his only adds to the building up of his orgasm, you look so pretty, you're perfect for him, your pussy is perfect for him, he won't let you end things with him that easily.

He pulls away from you for a moment, your mouth is parted and your eyes are glossy, he wants to hold you forever.

“I'm in love with you”, he confesses, thrusts faltering a bit. Your eyes grow wide to his sudden revelation. “You won't get rid of me that easily, kitten”, he groans, pressing his lips against yours one more time.

That's enough for you to cum, squirming and trembling in his embrace, while you watch him breathlessly thrust inside of you, eyes locked with yours.

“Do it inside”, you cry out, overstimulated after your second orgasm. Minho groans, bending towards you and kissing you, spilling his hot cum inside you while he bites on your lips.

He rests his head on your shoulder, breathless, trying to recompose himself.

“Don't ever talk about breaking up, ever again”, he pulls away to look at you, finding your eyes brimming with tears.

“But I saw that girl hitting on you the other day at the library”, you pout, making him sigh, cupping your face with both of his hands.

“Yes, she was hitting on me but I told her I have a really smart, hot girlfriend and that I was not interested”, he tells you, making you feel like the greatest idiot in the world.

“I'm sorry, I should have checked with you first”, you say, “I just love you so much, I'm scared you're going to dump me”, you confess, making him chuckle. His heart beating like crazy, it's the first time you openly say you love him.

“Y/n, you're stuck with me for a long time”, he gives you a peck on the lips, “I won't ever do anything to hurt you, okay?”

You nod, feeling warmth spreading all over your chest.

“Now, you better prepare yourself, ‘cause you need to receive some punishment for disappearing and making me worry”, he tells you, showing you that devilish smirk of his and before you can run to save yourself, Minho is picking you up and dragging you to your room.

[dollfacefantasy]

I saw you made a bimbo x toji and I started to wonder how DI or ID Leon would work out so if you have the time and want to do it would you make a short story or a headcannon?

hii so just to clarify i didn't write that bimbo reader x toji fic, that was just something i reblogged from another writer cause i liked it.

and i only really like bimbo reader in like a smut context (so basically an extension of dumbification lol) so that's what i'm gonna do <3

leon kennedy x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink

when you wanna turn your brain off, leon has no problem pulling you into his lap. his lips land on your neck first, kissing down your throat to the spot that makes your breath hitch without fail. his hands slide over your curves, teasing your body beneath those tight, pretty pink clothes you always wear.

when you wanna turn your brain off, leon is quick to rip said clothes from your body. he savors your whines and weak protests telling him that this top was your favorite or that they don't sell that skirt anymore so be gentle. but he drops them to the floor all the same. he's even more obsessed with the delicate baby pink panties you wear and the lacy bra that matches.

when you wanna turn your brain off, leon can't stop himself from teasing you. as soon as he gets your bra off, he's all over your tits. he's squeezing them, kissing them, sucking little marks onto them. "think these things are bigger than your brain, babydoll," he murmurs. he can't stifle the laugh that comes out of him when you kick your heel into his calve and huff "that's mean."

when you wanna turn your brain off, leon always over apologizes, his insincerity clear in his tone. "you're right, my smart girl," he coos as he lays you down on the surface of whatever you two are making out on. "but you know, you don't have to think when daddy's around to do it for you," he says as his hand slides between your legs and rubs your clit through the sticky fabric guarding it.

when you wanna turn your brain off, leon's other hand rises to your face. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip before pushing inside your mouth. he feels his dick wake up as you suck on the digit like it's instinct, letting it pacify any of your prior protests. your soft tongue presses against the pad, and he can already hear a little moan in the back of your mouth. "that's right. that's what that little mouth is best at," he murmurs.

when you wanna turn your brain off, leon plays with your pussy till you're a squirmy, needy mess under him. only when your brain is already all mushy will he slide those panties down your legs, planting a kiss on your ankle before discarding them with the other clothes. he slides his thumb out from your mouth too, rubbing some saliva down over your chin. the cute little strands of drool make you all the more endearing to him.

when you wanna turn your brain off, leon watches your eyes when he pulls his cock out, that glassy-eyed stare you get when he's got you like this. he speaks to you like every word is a challenge to understand. "is that what you want, baby?" he croons, slapping his hard shaft down on your tummy, a preview of how it will fit. you give a weak little nod and he continues, "yeah? you want a treat, princess? want daddy nice and deep in that cute cunt?"

when you wanna turn your brain off, leon doesn't make you wait too long before he buries himself nice and deep in your tight pussy. he grips your hips, not that you ever try to run when you're like this. he listens for all your nonsensical little babbles, humming along with "mhm" and "is that right?" he angles his hips to make you squeal and lifts his hands to the back of your kneecaps to get you folded in half so he can rail you even deeper. "my dumb little girl. so good for me even when i've fucked your brain out," he coos while pounding into you.

when you wanna turn your brain off, leon thinks his favorite part of the whole thing is the big, dopey smile that takes over your features. the way you giggle out moans. your limbs bounce around with his movement as you've gone limp. he knows for certain that there's not a thing going on in that head right now. in this moment, he's your whole world. "you havin' fun, pretty girl?" he grunts, and the answer is always "yeah, daddy" followed by laughter.

when you wanna turn your brain off, leon ALWAYS gives you a creampie. he shoots his load as deep as he can, making sure you get that warm, gooey feeling in your belly. he rocks his hips a few more times to get a good look at the messy sight of your connection, the mixture of the two of you that coats the base of his cock. you always whine and kick your legs from the light overstimulation. he hushes you with a kiss on the forehead and promises to clean you up. he just wants to enjoy this a little more. having a fresh supply of cum fucked into you always keeps that pretty little head nice and empty for a few hours.

[star2fishmeg]

CONGRATULATIONS ON THE MILESTONE!!!

can i get a fluff # 38 with Quinn please?

Thank you for requesting <3 - Happy Halloween🎃

FLUFF #38 "This isn't what it looks like!"

📞 dialling…

It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. Halloween night was supposed to be some kick-ass night of partying and making memories to look back on, dressed up in embarrassing, funny or even incredible costumes but it just couldn’t turn out that way this year. It was just embarrassing, especially since it was an NHL Halloween party and she was spending a large portion of it draped over a toilet bowl in her bandit costume, retching up all the vodka cranberries Brock had somehow convinced her were a good idea. 

Leant against the sink cabinet in his sheriff’s get-up, Quinn stroked her back soothingly, doing his best every now and then to brush any loose hairs away from her mouth, worry written all over his face. It wounded him, seeing her like that, but as she once said, ‘what goes down, sometimes must come back up.’ It wasn’t how he expected his Halloween to go, especially not his early years of being the captain. 

When y/n took his hands with half-lidded eyes under the low colourful lights and started leading him out of the living room and towards the bathroom, he thought of the best, not-so-romantic but certainly enjoyable scenario a young couple could have at a party. Instead, she’d B-lined for the toilet, and he’d dropped to his knees and hands straight to her hair to keep it out of the way. 

“‘Atta girl, I got you,” he softly reassured, tearing off pieces of toilet paper and handing it to her, “we’re not leaving until you’re empty, even if I have to stick my fingers down your throat.”

She groaned, wiping her mouth and discarding the tissue in the toilet, sitting back on her heels, ripping off another piece of toilet paper, and dabbing it under her eyes to catch the welled tears. Thank God for waterproof mascara. “That was one- maybe two times and it’s not like you haven’t chosen to put your fingers in my mouth before.” 

“Different context though, very different context, pretty girl. Are you feeling better?” He chuckled, moving from his sitting position to a crouch, hands on his knees. 

“Yeah, thank you, again. Please don’t let me out of your sight now, Brock can be a terrible influence when he’s had vodka.” Y/n nodded, standing up and straightening out her outfit, Quinn running his hand through his hair, his shirt slightly untucking itself from constant position changing every five minutes. 

She took a glance in the mirror, screwing her face up at her smeared lipstick and used her finger to make herself look presentable at least. A fond smile spread across his lips, chest meeting her back as his thick arms wound around her waist firmly, nose burying itself into the crook of her neck and his eyelashes fluttered closed, relishing in the peace and quiet he had with her before venturing back out into the wild. Cherishing her floral perfume, the minutes when he could float on cloud nine without someone hooting and hollering in the back at him. Y/n leaned her head against his, letting his body melt like wax into hers and she smiled.

“Love you s’much, you know that, right?” he asked with a deep voice, muffled by her skin and clothes slightly. 

Thumbs rubbing gently over his arms, the hairs and warm skin, she hummed, “I love you too, more than words can describe.” 

For a minute the only sounds were the subdued music from the communal space and the buzz of the light, controlled breathing hot on her neck until he pulled away, placing his cowboy hat back on his head. She fussed around with her hair, attempting to make it less of a mess but messy enough to match her costume, Quinn’s love-sick puppy gaze watching her with adoration in his eyes, chest swelling with warmth. 

It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way, and they’d never live it down. Quinn let y/n slip past before closing the door behind him innocently, only to look up to make direct eye contact with bright blue ones and Prince Charming from Shrek smirking directly at him, eyes occasionally jumping to y/n. They both froze, hearts suddenly hammering in their chests for no reason. At all. But Brock was ruthless when it came to teasing Quinn, watching the sweat shimmer on the captain’s neck and the words slipped out too fast before Quinn could think of a way to play it off honestly.

“It’s not what it looks like!” 

It looked exactly what Brock thought it was; sweating, dishevelled hair, y/n’s missing lipstick, still slightly smeared under her lip, lovestruck eyes, untucked shirt. It was exactly how Quinn imagined his Halloween would go.

Brock’s smirk quirked into a grin like he’d struck gold, and he rubbed his beard, nodding cockily, like he was proud, “Huggy, you dog.”

[celuere]

Hii Alba! I've been reading your works, and they're all amazing! ❤️

Can I request an Arlecchino x Reader who is Pierro's adopted daughter? Maybe when Arlecchino became a harbinger and reader (they're the same age ofc) was her first (and maybe her only) friend there? And they grew up to become closer and closer? You can decide for the rest hihihi thank you! 🥰

Why Anon ofc, I‘m at your beck and call!!! I actually think that’s such a neat concept of getting to know her, like meeting Arle freshly after crucabenas assassination she is of course not the most extroverted person and it takes some time for her to start to open up to you AAAAAA I‘M SO GONNA GET TO WRITING THIS AND TY FOR YOUR KIND WORDS🫶

The Hearth is now extinguished.

Pairing: Arlecchino x fem!Reader

Context: As Pierro’s adoptive daughter you‘ve known the Knave for quite a few years now and you grew… close to her to say the least… always finding excuses to accompany your father to every possible Harbinger Meeting, to maybe even share the same mission locations together… and a bed on occasions. But little did you know, you sadly weren’t as sneaky as your father taught you to be.

Content: mutual pining, unspoken feelings, doomed yuri (my fav kind), suggestive (mentions of arle and reader being intimate, other than that sfwangst, pre-Fontaine arc, reader has a vision, ANGST.

I really hope I hit the nail on the head with the plot, let me know if you like it anon!<333

A/N: […] stands vor Your name! I‘m not a big fan of using Y/N as it lowkey ruins the sentence for me😭 I‘ve also been working on the second part of the Teased story, expect it to be a long one!

You remember the day just as clear as todays morning sky at which you’ve been staring up at for the past minutes. A soft breeze hit your face, brushing the strands of hair out of your face. You were a little nervous to say the least. You were waiting for somebody. Waiting for her so you can finally confess.

Waiting for her as your mind once again went back to the day you first met…

Blizzards have been raging in Snezhnaya lately as you stood next to the Jester, hands tucked tightly into the warmth of your coat. As Pierro‘s daughter, adoptive daughter to be more specific, you had certain duties. One of them was accompanying your father to appoint the next Fatui Harbinger.

The news about Crucabenas sudden death by the hands of one of her own children reached the Fatui HQ in the capital of the City of eternal winter a good four days ago. A 17 year old girl. Killing a Fatui Harbinger. Seventeen. The same age as you. To be honest you were by no means defenseless, being adopted by the first Fatui Harbinger himself came with a few perks, one of them being trained to perfection in almost every weapon category. It wasn’t uncommon either for your father to send you of to an assassination all by yourself at the ripe of age of 14 and being a Cryo Visionholder ever since your tenth birthday… well let’s just say that most high ranking officials weren’t a match for you. But thinking about even scratching La Signora, who was standing and waiting behind you… or just as much as breathe in the wrong direction of Capitano on your left… it wouldn’t came to you in your wildest dreams

So who exactly was that girl?

You were interrupted in your thoughts as the big wooden doors opened. Revealing a rather… small girl… even with the clacking sounds of heels against the polished marble floors, you could tell that she was around half a head smaller than you.

But her height wasn’t what caught your attention. Nor was it her white hair that‘s illuminated by the moon light shining down on her through the windows of the dome above her head.

Red.

It was the deep crimson x‘s adorning her pitch black eyes that you caught yourself staring at, the words coming out of your father‘s mouth completely drowned out as she strode up to the altar. Her face expressionless, almost cold in fact. Your breath got caught in your throat as she took notice of your staring, a tint of pink starting to form on your cheeks, you shifted slightly behind your father.

She was beautiful… not beautiful like Rosalyn… another kind…

And for the rest of the entirety of the meeting you couldn’t help but study her. Study the pretty earrings grazing her earlobes. How she didn’t even move a single inch once she came to a stop in front of you and Pierro. The soft eyebags underneath her eyes, probably the result of her hard training. But to your disappointment she didn’t even as much as looked into your direction ever since you made eye contact at the very beginning.

Arlecchino. That was the new name bestowed upon her. She inherited the title as Knave along with the House of the Hearth. Quite a lot for a seventeen year old girl, who just wanted to kill the monster that was called „Mother“ at the orphanage. Of course you knew Crucabena. And you knew Clervie, her late daughter. You knew she was a terrible person, someone who didn’t deserve the title „Mother“, how she treated her daughter and the other kids under her care, someone who hopefully is rotting in the depths of hell at this very moment.So you couldn’t help but feel anything else other than utmost sympathy for the girl in front of you.

You wanted… no. You had to befriend her. No questions asked.

So you secretly beamed in excitement when Pierro asked you to show her around Zapolyarny Palace and explain how things are operating from here on now. Stepping forward you revealed your hand from beneath the warmth of your coat and waited for her to take it.

„[…]. It‘s a pleasure to finally meet you.“, you hesitated before a soft smile tucked at the corner of your lips as you waited for her to shake your hand. And to be fair, it took her a few moments. She stared down at your hand for a while, as if she was debating something in her head. Then you finally noticed the movement underneath her coat before she revealed her own hand. And from there on you were mesmerized by her.

Pitch black hands along with dark-grey lines tracing the back of her hand before disappearing beneath her sleeves.

„It is rude to stare.“, to your surprise, her voice was deeper than expected.

„I…“, you quickly cleared your throat before taking her hand into yours, „of course, my sincere apologies…“. Goodness, her hand was soft. And she was even more prettier from this up close.

You heard Signora trying to hide a laugh behind her hand, along with Capitano clearing his throat, probably doing the same.

Insufferable old bags.

But little did you know, this handshake marked the start of an inseparable bond between the two of you. Of course, talking to Arlecchino at the beginning was… dreadful to put it mildly. Short answers. Never laughing. Always monotone in her voice. But you were never a girl who gave up so easily, you were quite the opposite. So you stayed strong, using every excuse under the sun to participate in ever meeting alongside your father, no matter how long it would take as long as you got to sit at the same table as her. Fortunately your efforts weren’t in vain because around four months after Arlecchino got appointed as Harbinger, she started to slowly get more comfortable around you. It started with small things. And I mean SMALL things, such as keeping the seat next to her free for you to sit down, accompanying you to take a walk through the capital city whenever she had a spare hour in her schedule, always staying by your side whenever a bigger event rolled around. She still didn’t talk much but you were satisfied with the progress nonetheless.

And after even more months, you could actually have a conversation with her. Turned out she hates the taste too flavorful foods, preferring more plain meals such as… raw meat on a toast along with some ketchup. It gagged you a little the first time she ordered it at a small restaurant she seemed to frequent, but you kept your mouth shut. She‘s just started to open up to you, making a remark in her taste in foods would only set you back in the progress you‘ve already made with her. You even accepted when she offered you a bite. And it tasted… strange. Not awful but also not exceptionally good either.

„You don’t like it?“, she brought up the the toast to her mouth before taking another bite herself as she studied the expressions on your face.

„It‘s… unique… I still prefer salted bacon on a toast instead…“, you washed down the weird taste with a few gulps of your water. As you did so, Arlecchino bent over the table to you, hand reaching out to your face. Your heart set out multiple beats as the butterflies in your stomach flared up.

What does she think she is doing?!

„Arle what-”, her hand gently touched your hair as she interrupted you while taking her hand back, „There was a spider in your hair.“. The small eight-legged animal crawling over her fingers as something akin to fascination washes over the Harbinger‘s face. This is your first time ever seeing something other than an indifferent facial expression on her.

„Oh…“, you leaned in closer to take a look at it, „are you fond of spiders…? You don’t seem scared to me like most people are…“, you could barely make the black spider out on her cursed hands.

„I had a pet spider when I was six years old. They’re easy to take care of. I like them.“, she set the small thing down on the windowsill next to your table. That statement somehow fit her so well. You couldn’t put your finger on why that was the case, but you were always happy to find out more about her.

By the time her 19th birthday rolled around you already taught her how to to braid the hair she‘s been growing out ever since her appointment as Knave. Your fingers delicately combing through her silky strand as you were sat behind her in front of a mirror. You were 18 at that time.

„It’s been getting in my way a lot lately. But I don’t want to cut it off again. I… like it more this way.“, her own crimson eyes skimming over a report from one of her subordinates as she enjoyed -yes. enjoyed.- your fingers running through her hair. Oddly enough it seemed to calm her down, causing her to lean more into your hands. Of course the sudden movement didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you didn’t comment on it. Knowing her, she would brush it off anyways.

„Good thing that you have me…“, you smiled at her through the mirror before you binded her together and set back. „There. All done. Do you like you it?“, you stood up from the floor to get something from your accessory box.

As you searched for a certain hair clip, Arlecchino looked at herself in the mirror, moving her head to the side to have a look at your handwork. „It‘s… simple. I think it suits me well. Thank you, […].“, her eyes landed on you as you walked back to her, a unique accessory in your hand.

„I‘ve had this clip ever since I was a small girl…“, you sat down next to her, revealing the metal thingy in your hand. At the first look it didn’t even seem like a hair clip. The curled up wings on each side looked more like something that belonged into a museum. „Let me put it in your hair really quick…“, you moved back behind her and took the tail back into your hand.

„You… really don’t have to. I‘m fine with this, I wouldn’t want you to give up something as beautiful as this hair clip for me.“, …what was that feeling stirring up inside her stomach…? It wasn’t quite new to her. She often feels like this whenever she‘s around you but she couldn’t exactly pinpoint it either. To be honest, she feels a lot of things whenever she is with you. Not that she would ever admit that of course. It wasn’t like this with Clervie, it was more… romantic…? Either way it confused her.

„Nonsense. I‘ve never worn this one in my entire life. It will only continue to collect dust here…“, you fixed the clip on her ponytail. „And it suits you way better than me anyways.“, you grabbed a smaller mirror from your bed behind you and held it up so Arlecchino could have a better look at her ponytail in the bigger mirror in front of you. „Much better, isn’t it?“

And from this day on, she wore that specific hair clip you’ve given her. At all times. Everyday. You actually never saw her with anything else keeping her hair together. It was always those metal wings adorning her white-red hair.

Time flew by faster than would’ve liked but over the months, years you grew… closer? That‘s a mild way to put it. There was something unique between the two of you. The way you‘d look at each other. The way Arlecchino would always be the first one to ask you for a dance at a formal event, one hand gently holding onto your waist, the other one cupping your hand as she led the both of your over the dance floor as the orchestra switched to a more… slower song.

The funny thing is… remember how she used to be half a head smaller than you about three years ago? About that… growth spurt seemed to hit her a bit late as you now had to lean your head back into your neck to maintain eye contact with her.

„Isn‘t your neck slowly starting to get stiff…?“, she bit her lower lip, the x‘s in her eyes shimmering from the chandelier light shining down at you two. She wore a tailored black-red suit that night, and you couldn’t help yourself but look her up and down multiple time for the duration of the evening.

„Shut it… your not that much taller than me.“, that was a blatant lie. She could easily rest your chin on top of your head. You both knew that. „My, my… feisty today, aren’t we?“, she let you spin around before pulling you closer to her chest again. In her eyes you were the most beautiful person to ever exist right now. The ballgown complimenting your body perfectly, your hair put up nicely, probably by yourself, which suited your face so well, it actually was hard for her to believe that someone could be so… so incredibly beautiful as you were…

It’s not like she would ever openly admit that.

Of course you noticed her shameless staring on that very same evening. How her eyes landed on your lips multiple times, often not adverting her gaze for a longer period of time. How she licked over her own whenever she took in your dress. You knew she wanted so say something. But you didn’t pressure her, it‘s Arlecchino after all.

You also remember how she pressed you up against the door of your sleeping chambers later that night. Left hand slipping underneath your dress as the other one undid your hair. Tongues intertwined while the hand that’s been sneaking up underneath your skirt grabbed onto your ass like you were hers to take. Hers to touch. Hers to kiss. She didn’t even let you break up your kiss when your mixed saliva was dripping out of the corner of your lips. She kissed you like it‘s all she ever yearned for. As if your lips might be the cure to the curse flowing through the blood in her veins.

But even after that night, neither of you dared to speak up on the feelings you had for each other. You just continued sharing a bed from time to time. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as she made whine her name out in ecstasy. Her kisses tasting after something forbidden. Something addictive, it was getting unbearable for you to keep your mind at bay whenever she was near you in public. How your father didn’t notice it, you had no idea. But it was better this way.

The problem wasn’t Arlecchino‘s gender but rather her occupation. A Harbinger was strictly off of the table for you. That rule applied to every member of the Fatui. You didn’t even want to imagine how he would react.

But you weren’t surprised as Pierro was now standing before you. Not the woman, you‘ve been waiting for. His glare stirred up your anxiety, causing you to start fidgeting with your fingers.

„I… I can ex-", you immediately shut your mouth as your father raised his hand to silence you.

„That‘s enough. I thought I taught you better than this. The Knave? You are smarter than this, […]. I raised you to be smarter than this. I have observed the situation long enough to tell that you two have gotten emotionally attached to each other. Especially you.“, he put his hands behind back, shaking his head.

Silence. The wind now suddenly gone. It was quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Something was about to happen and you hated this knowledge. Hated how it made your stomach sink. Hated how it made your legs heavy.

„Arlecchino will be transferred back to her homeland, Fontaine, to get a hold of the Hydro Gnosis. She is probably already on her way there. For the complete duration of her stay, you are strictly prohibited to even set foot at Fontaine‘s Borders. I’ve already put you on the blacklist for operations regarding the Nation of Justice. I think, I don’t have to explain to you that letters are off the table, too?“, a punch to your stomach would’ve hurt less than this. Hollow. That would explain best whatever you felt at this very moment. You didn’t even had the chance to tell her your feelings. That you never want to be apart from her again. That you want to grow old with her, no matter what.

„Too shocked to answer, I see…“, he put his hand onto your back. Guiding you back to the city, ignoring the tears starting to taint your pretty face. You hated him in that very moment. Hated Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated.

Hated.

„While we are at it, the son of one of Pantalone’s most successful business partners recently asked me about you. A nice man, indeed. Intelligent, promis-”

„No.“, you halted in your tracks. It took every fiber in your body to not smash something in his face. You were seething with anger. And he only added more fuel to it on purpose.

„Hm… too bad, daughter. Let me know once you changed your mind.“.

As you trotted back to HQ you were a shell of yourself. The letter you prepared for her in advance along with a ring was burning a hole through your pocket.

——————————————————

Some angst for the soul. I‘m sorry I just saw the opportunity right in front of me and took it guys, please don’t bother sending in your therapy bills🙏🏼 anon I hope you liked this one and let me know your thoughts on this!

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 5 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

warning(s): weed mischief

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4

You were sitting at your table, chatting amicably with everyone, when Gretchen finally graced you with her presence. She was glowing, that much you could admit.

"Hey, guys!" She gave an energetic greeting. You smiled and waved.

"Oh em gee, Gretch!" Regina said as she stood up. She was considerably taller than the bride, with killer heels that gave some significant inches. They did air kisses on each cheek and cooed and squealed for a little.

"It's been so long! You're so rarely in town I wasn't sure you'd come!" Gretchen enthused. Her husband stood on the sidelines, looking quite put out but trying to hide it.

"Oh, you know I always make time for you," A blatant lie but you weren't going to say anything about it. "I'm so happy you've found love!"

"Me too," Gretchen gushed, snaring her boo-thang by the arm. He'd zoned out so startled a little but recovered quick with a dashing smile.

"Hi, I'm Michael." Of course, his name was Michael. What was next? Chad? Tucker?

"Regina. Regina George." Regina said, then turned to you. "And this is my partner."

You stood up and shook his hand, then said your name. "Nice to meet you. Congrats."

Michael nodded, smiling uncomfortably. He'd seemed sociable and open with the other guests so you didn't get why he was being all shy now.

"Thanks!" Gretchen chirped. Her eyes flitted between you and Regina. "Sorry if this is abrupt, but you two are still together?"

"We did go on a break right before college." Regina chose her words deliberately. "But after that, we just couldn't resist. True love just pulls you in, doesn't it?" She put her arm around your waist and pulled you to her. You stumbled a little, falling into her. Your arms came around her neck.

Gretchen looked quite unsettled by the close embrace. "It totally does." She said, tone falling flat.

"Mmh. Well, what plans have you got? Honeymoon?"

"Michael's been planning it for us," Gretchen said. That surprised you considering she was such a control freak. Perhaps you were wrong.

"There's no keeping secrets from her," Michael laughed. "Surprising her is too damn hard." His Southern twang was prominent. Something was charming about him, you supposed.

"I just want it to be right, Mike!" Gretchen teased, lightly hitting him on the shoulder. "I've been better haven't I? I let Deborah do the flower arrangements."

"Yes, dear," Michael said, looking down at Gretchen with real, genuine love in his eyes.

Seeing them interact, so sweet on one another, made you sad. First of all, because you were so similar. You were on the same level, people just the same as them. Looking at them like this, in just the context of the moment currently playing out, you didn't want to ruin their wedding.

But you had history. Gretchen had outed you to the school in junior year of high school. It'd had devastating effects on your life as a whole. Your father went from cold neglect to open disdain, you lost the jobs you were doing around the neighbourhood, your peers ostracised you. Those close to you, Regina mostly, got targeted rumours spread around and more negative attention than ever.

Gretchen was not the sole reason for your and Regina's break up but definitely one of them. You had settled to forgive and forget when you came back to town, to stay away and not say anything in a silent, mutual agreement. You buried the hatchet and thought she had, too.

You should've known better. Watching her make googly eyes at her husband as if the things she did had no bearing, no weight, infuriated you. She had ruined your life. Things had progressed since you were in high school and outing didn't have quite the same fallout, but what she did to Kylie was still unforgivable. There hadn't been that much progress. Gay marriage was still illegal in some states.

"Man, Gretchen, seeing you like this brings me back." You said, eyeing her. "Those sure were the days," You sighed and played wistful.

The bride and groom shared glances. Regina picked up what you were putting down and got involved.

"You'll be seeing just how much of a wildcat she is, Michael," Regina said, laying it on thick. "You have my number, Gretch, just give me a call if you wanna relive old times on your wedding night." She finished off with a saucy wink. You almost couldn't hold in your laughter.

"Toodles," Regina wiggled her fingers and took you by the arm, leading you away.

Once you were a safe distance away, you asked: "Wonder if they'll talk about that in private?"

"About Gretchen being involved, allegedly, in a lesbian threesome sandwich? I'd bet on it." Regina grinned.

You steered towards the exit to the parking lot where your car was. You had the kazoos and water pistols in the trunk. Maybe you spent a good fifteen minutes pinning Regina to the side of your flashy vintage—Betty the Catalina, you introduced—sucking the soul out of her through her mouth. Making out. Whatever, that was neither here nor there.

While Regina set out to find a gullible mother to deceive into giving out kazoos and water pistols, you called a guy. Rick was his name and he owed you a favour. He happened to be the owner of several karaoke bars. He'd hook you up.

"Yeah, anything will do, just needs to connect to the loudspeakers—uhh, pretty new I'd say, nothing too fancy but they didn't skimp out, that's for sure—yeah, yeah, I'll give you the address. Can he get here in an hour? Maybe less? I can pay his speeding tickets, no worries."

After making sure a karaoke machine would be delivered to the reception, you strutted back towards the building. On the way, you spotted three youths huddled in a non-descript spot by some shed. They were only visible from the parking lot. You knew what they were up to.

"Hey, kids," You sidled up to them, prompting the tallest of them to fumble with the joint he was trying to light. He had acne all over and residues of black eyeliner on his eyes. He had a strip of hair dyed stripey like a racoon tail. It was pretty cool, to be honest.

"H- hey," He stuttered, voice cracking as he swiped some hair from his eyes. Oh, to be young.

"You got weed?" You decided to be blunt. (Ha, blunt.) The two others were shaking like leaves in their tuxedos.

"No. I don't, like, even know what that is," The ring-leader crossed his arms defensively and leaned casually against the wall of the shed. Or, well, he was going for casual but looked extremely spooked.

"Well, that's a damn shame 'cause I was just looking to buy some." You said and reached into your breast pocket to pull out your wallet. You opened it and pulled out a couple of fifties. "I got all this cash to burn. But, hey, if you don't got any..."

"You'd pay that much for weed?" The boy eyed the bills hungrily.

"I'll be straight with you, kid-"

"I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen." He grumped. "Flint. Or Finnigan, I guess."

"Alright, Flint, I'm gonna put this bluntly. Your family sorta sucks." You looked at the other two. They were probably all cousins. Wouldn't tattle if Flint, the Cool One, told them not to. They didn't seem that much younger. As a responsible adult, you should've probably said something along the lines of 'don't smoke it's bad for you' but you were just glad they weren't shooting up or anything.

"Understatement of the century," He scoffed.

"Which side are you from, by the way?"

"The groom's." They all said in unison. That explained why you'd never seen most of these folk.

"I don't know much about him to be fair, but if he's shacking up with Gretchen I'm pretty sure they're equally sucky. Anyway, I'm trying to get everybody as fucked up as possible." You clarified, skirting around exactly what you were trying to do which was to ruin the wedding. Maybe these kids had better morals than you. "The bride sorta caused a rift between my girlfriend and I years back, outed me to the whole school, it was a scandal, we broke up and I spiralled. It was bad and I want revenge."

"She outed you? Like..." Flint looked around, looking scared someone was gonna hear. Nobody else was around. "Like you're gay?"

"I'm here with my girlfriend today." You said, smiling dopeyly. Your cheeks hurt. "I think we're back together. It's complicated. So, you wanna sell?"

"Hell yeah," He grinned, teeth crooked to the ninth degree. "Can we get in on it? Michael totally sucks, he orders us around like we're his minions or something."

The other two nodded along empathetically. They all had the same boxy, swoopy haircut that kept falling into their eyes. What luck that ran into the angsty teens of the clan.

"I don't know how much you'll be able to do without getting in trouble with your parents. Gotta be at least a little subtle."

Flint dug into his backpack and pulled out a plastic tupperware. There were some decent-looking nugs in there from what you could see through the frosted plastic. You handed over the cash.

"Pleasure doing business with you." You contemplated for a moment. "Any chance you could pull the fire alarm for the cake-cutting?"

The three matching evil grins were enough of an answer for you. Their little emo faces made your chest feel warm. You wanted to take them under your wing, or something.

"By the way, weed is fine. It's not great, I don't recommend it, but if you're gonna do drugs then this is best case scenario." You shook the plastic case in your hand. "Never do hard drugs. It's gonna make your hair fall out and teeth hurt like a bitch."

You left the three teenagers to smoke their blunt, knowing that your little shpiel probably went through one ear and out the other. You hoped they pulled through but if they didn't, you were planning on doing enough wicked shit that the sprinklers triggering would just be a cherry on top.

You found Janis smoking a cigarette at the same spot you'd been at earlier.

"You got a grinder?"

You opened the lid of the box, blasting the air with the potent smell of cannabis.

"Where the fuck did you get all that?" She asked as she reached into her purse.

"Not important. What is, though, is how we'll get the guests high."

Janis, the bright mind that she was, immediately got to work. You didn't even bother asking what she was up to when she crouched on the floor and began grinding away. She had fast hands, you observed, with how quick and clean she was rolling several blunts. Now that you saw clearly into the tupperware, lord almighty Flint had a lot of kush.

"What's the plan?" You asked after a moment, holding the box in one hand and blunts in the other. You stubbornly ignored the compulsion to stick one between your lips and light up. That was over for you.

"Find a Helen, a Beatrice, and or a Leigh-Anne, and convince them this is a miracle herb harvested from the government-protected, top-secret alpine springs of Florida, known for reversing wrinkles, repairing hymens, and with long-term use reducing hair growth neck down. It might even accelerate or delay menopause, depending on whose asking."

"Florida is the flattest state in the continental USA." You pointed out.

"Exactly." Janis didn't spare you a glance, just kept on rolling.

"So we're spinning a multilevel-marketing scheme on these people."

"Not really." Janis paused and turned to you. "We're just scamming them. Not even with money, with the devil's lettuce."

"That's arguably worse. I think this might be a felony."

"Oh, it definitely is."

Notes: The ball is rolling! At last! It only took five chapters good golly god.

Taglist posted seperately! If you want on it, comment so on that post!

[pasukiyo]

Omg i just read "wrapped around your finger" and JDJLDKSKS it was so good 🤤🤤 could you maybe do a part 2 where tom asks mr and mrs Lestrange to marry her and they're completely baffled and tom is just wildly in love (smut is appreciated)

𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | tom riddle

tom riddle x f!muggle-born reader 7,072 words warnings: smut, prejudice against muggle-borns. notes: reader is hufflepuff, this can be read as its own imagine, but it is part two to this fic. i would suggest you read part one for more context. summary: it’s been a few months since the lestranges’ famed christmas party. a month before graduation, tom riddle comes to a realization that you are what he wants. he doesn’t care about anything else, all he cares about is having you and how powerful you make him feel.

 “Tom… we have… to get… to class,” she managed to say between kisses, his hand in her hair, the other resting on her hip. He kissed her deeper, taking the moment and stretching it out as far as he could until she tapped his shoulder, signaling that it was really time to go. He pulled away, his chest heaving as he panted, and he gazed down at the Hufflepuff girl he had pressed against the door of the broom closet. 

 His hand dropped to the nape of her neck and he could feel the heat as it crept up her skin as she straightened her robes, pressing her fingers to her lips where the phantom of his kiss still lingered. He didn’t move, only let his gaze linger on her before finally, she broke the silence that had since ensued. 

 “Tom… I have to get to Transfiguration…”

 “Can I see you tonight?”

 She blinked and stared up at his handsome dark eyes, still visible even in the dim broom closet. She shifted beneath her weight, “I don’t know, Tom. I have to study for my Potions…”

 “Please.”

 She knew she wouldn’t be able to resist when he used such a tone, and she mentally groaned, damning him for having such an effect on her. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and nodded, swiping the hair on either side of her face behind her ear. He kissed her temple when she did, and he dropped his head so that his lips could ghost over the shell of her ear, shivers slithering like snakes down her spine. 

 “Meet me in the Astronomy Wing tonight.”

 He began to back away and out of the closet, her hand in his all the way up until it naturally slipped out, and she smiled. “Alright,” she agreed, and he hummed in approval. “Excellent,” he said before turning to stride off down the long corridor, and she stepped out of the broom closet to watch until he disappeared around the corner, heat searing her cheeks. 

 She hugged her Transfiguration book to her chest as she touched her lips with her free hand, barely managing to contain her smile before she spun around on her heel and headed for the Transfiguration Courtyard. Clara Wingrave, a fellow Hufflepuff with brown skin and shoulder length, curly black hair joined her side as they approached the doors leading out to the courtyard, and she smiled at the girl. 

 Clara tilted her head as they stepped outside, the corner of her lips curving into an amused smirk. “You seem quite happy,” Clara said, and she flushed, brushing hair back behind her ear. “Do I?”

 “Yes, you do.”

 Clara looked around the courtyard as they strode through, making their way for the Transfiguration classroom. When she was sure nobody else was around to eavesdrop, she leaned into her friend’s shoulder, her lips close to her ear. “Who’s the boy?”

 She blinked and stopped walking altogether, taken aback by what Clara had been asking. Clara giggled behind her hand as she turned to look back at her astonished friend. “Oh, come on. Why are you acting so surprised?” Clara asked, and her friend shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean by boy,” she replied, hugging her books tighter as she began to walk again, but Clara still stuck to her side, teasingly prodding her finger against her shoulder. 

 “Don’t act coy. I know love when I see it,” Clara chuckled as they entered the Transfiguration classroom where most of the class already was, and they took their seats beside each other. Clara leaned in closer as they set the things down, and she furrowed her brows as she gazed at her friend. Clara grinned, “you’re in love.”

 Scarlet embarrassment burned her skin and she crossed her arms on the desk in front of her, hiding her face between them. Clara laughed again as she turned to face her, eyebrows pinched. “Have I been that obvious?” She asked and Clara rolled her eyes, leaning in and putting a hand over the top of hers. “It concerns me that you don’t think you’ve been obvious,” Clara whispered and she groaned, resting on her elbows to hide her face in her hands. 

 Clara leaned back in her seat and laughed again, “so, who’s the lucky boy?” She asked again, and she peeled back her fingers to peek at her friend between them. Neither she or Tom had told anyone about their relationship, neither daring to risk outing themselves to her brother, mostly in fear that she’d be tormented to no end. 

 But she could trust Clara. She knew she wouldn’t dare spill her secret to anyone else, so she leaned in, cupping her hand around Clara’s ear, shielding her lips away from everyone else as she told her friend her secret. “Tom Riddle,” she murmured her lover’s name, and when she leaned back into her seat, Clara’s lips were ajar so wide her jaw may as well have been on the ground. 

 “You’re snogging the Head Boy?” Clara asked, perhaps a little too loudly for her comfort, so she swatted her friend’s shoulder, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t make me Obliviate you,” she warned, and Clara shook her head, her laugh coming out as more of a breath. “No, no I just…” she leaned back in her seat, tapping her fingers on the top of the desk. “Wow. I just wasn’t expecting that.” 

 She tilted her head, curious. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She inquired, and Clara shook her head again, moving her hair out of her face. “Nothing, it’s just…” she rolled her bottom lip around between her teeth, contemplating her words. “…he just doesn’t seem the type to… date, you know? I’m just surprised, is all.”

 She hummed, nodding as she relaxed back into her seat. She could definitely agree with Clara there, she never imagined Tom going out with anyone before, much less to be the one he was seeing. She could only imagine how other people saw him, especially students who weren’t of Slytherin House, considering the people Tom was usually seen hanging around with didn’t have the brightest of reputations— her brother especially. 

 But she knew he wasn’t like her brother and his gang. Tom Riddle could never be like that. 

 “I thought so too but…” she trailed off as the Professor began her Transfiguration lesson, and she leaned into Clara’s side to whisper, “he surprised me too.”

 And Tom always did. 

 Later that night, she tread carefully through the corridor leading to the Astronomy Wing, the sky bruised with a dark purple, slowly morphing into black above. She searched the hallway for Hogwarts’ Head Boy, painfully aware of how close to curfew it was. Unfortunately she was not a prefect, and she didn’t dare risk detention so close to the end of her last year. 

 She paced back and forth, searching for her lover and his dark head of hair, mentally cursing as she leaned back against the wall. She couldn’t see him anywhere, and although she knew it was unlike him to forget, but still, she couldn’t help her impatience. 

 It wasn’t until she felt a pair of hands grab her waist and tugged her back that she yelped, turning in the arms of her sudden captor to gaze into the dark eyes of Tom Riddle. 

 “Tom!” She squealed, pushing her fist against his chest, stumbling back when he removed his arms. “You scared the living daylight out of me!” Tom held her hand gently, his touch so light it felt barely there, and if it weren’t for his warmth, he may as well have been a ghost. He leaned down to press his lips to the top of her knuckles, all the while gazing up at her through hooded lids. 

 “Apologies,” he murmured against her skin, giving her hand a firm squeeze when he stood back up. “And I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting. Ran into Professor Slughorn, you see.”

 She pressed her lips together and hummed, stepping closer to where Tom stood with his back against the wall, slithering her arms around his middle. “I can only imagine what he’d want to talk to you about, Head Boy,” she tittered as she rested the side of her head against his chest, feeling the tension in her muscles unravel when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his lips on the crown of her head. “Hilarious,” he muttered, his kisses working down her face and to her lips, and he hummed against them before pulling away, taking her hand in his. 

 “I want to show you something,” he said, beginning to lead her down the hall and up one of the large, spiral staircases. She furrowed her brows when they reached the top and he led her down the corridor only to stop at the end, turning back around to face her. 

 “Where are we going?” She asked, curious when his eyes shone, even in the darkness of the castle. “Just trust me,” was all he said before he paced back and forth down the corridor, exactly three times. She watched him in bewilderment even as he turned to gaze over at her and gestured for her to come forth.

 It was then that her eyes set upon the wall in front of him. She was certain there hadn’t been a door there before. 

 She blinked a few times, convincing herself that it must be her eyes that were tricking her. Tom released a breath that could pass as a laugh as he approached, grabbing her hand once more. “I don’t think anyone else in the castle knows about this room,” he murmured as he led her towards the door, and she watched as his opposite hand cradled the knob and twisted. 

 “This…” Tom said as she gazed around the room full of just… things. Things everywhere. Every type of thing imaginable. “…is the Room of Requirement.”

 She raised an eyebrow over to him, glancing back into the room of things. “The Room of Requirement?” She murmured, admittedly skeptical. “And you think we’re the only ones in the castle who knows about it?”

 “I’m certain,” he reassured, palm against the small of her back, his opposite closing the door behind them. “Way I see it, the other imbeciles at this school are much too ignorant to find this place.” She turned to glance at the door, eyebrows knit together. “But why wasn’t the door there before? What…” she shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

 Tom approached and grabbed either of her shoulders, letting his palms soothe down the length of her arms all the way down to her wrists, and back up. She relaxed in his touch’s wake, but still remained curious, skeptical, even. “This place only shows up when you’re in need of it,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips were against the shell of her ear, his breath icy hot, frosting over her bones and making her body shudder. “Can you guess why I invited you here tonight?”

 He leaned away to catch her eyes, and she felt all tension in her bones melt away when their gazes met. She pressed her lips together and drew near again, their faces so close their breaths were becoming one in the same. “I think I may have an idea…” she whispered, her glance fleeting between his irises and his lips. 

 And Tom couldn’t resist any longer.

 His lips surged into hers, like two violent waves in the sea in the midst of a storm. His hands were everywhere from her waist, to her hips, to her thighs, back up her chest all the way to the sides of her neck, creeping up until they cradled her face. She whimpered against his lips when he pressed himself closer to her, feeling her center throb and ache for more of his touch. 

 “Tom,” she whispered when he pulled away for air, his fingers tangled in her hair as he backed her into the wall, his forehead falling against hers. Tom’s lips were back on hers in an instant, and she moaned when he pulled away, his thumbs swiping over her closed eyelids to coax her into opening them. And when she did, his dark eyes were staring right back, and she was quick to get lost, falling deeper and deeper into his void. 

 “You’ve no idea how much I think about you like this,” he whispered, “I can never stop thinking about you.”

 And he kissed her again, this time with much more fervor, for Tom could never fully relate to her in words how he felt. But he could kiss her, and he could kiss her good. And when he kissed her like this, she was like water in his hands, free to be warped and manipulated in whichever way he pleased. 

 Tom loved this about her. 

 He loved how in control he felt when he had her like this, how he knew that she was totally and completely his. She could lose herself in him, and he knew it. 

 It drove him absolutely insane. 

 Her chest heaved when she panted as his kisses ventured down her jaw and to her throat, sucking dark marks into her skin. Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his robes when she gripped either of his shoulders, her knees wobbling and threatening to give out beneath her when his fingers curled around the hem of her skirt beneath her robes. 

 “I don’t…” she began, breathless as Tom’s kisses trailed back up to her face, finding her lips again. “…I don’t suppose the Room of Requirement believes we require a bed?” She managed to ask between toe-curling kisses, and Tom’s smile grew like a crescent against her lips. He gazed down at her, his eyelids hooded over his irises. 

 “I think we’ve managed quite well without beds, don’t you?”

 She hadn’t much time to laugh before his lips were back on hers, his fingers working open her robes, letting them slide down her arms until they pooled in a black heap on the floor. Her shirt was the next to go, his kisses trailing down to the tops of her breasts as he worked the clasp of her bra, letting it, too, slip from her shoulders. Her hands were in his hair as he sucked marks onto either of her mounds of flesh, his fingers curled around the hem of her skirt, tugging it down her thighs until it dropped to her ankles, and she was quick to kick it away altogether. 

 One of his palms soothed down her waist, around the curve of her hip until it could snake its way between her thighs and she gasped when his fingers traced a line up and down her slit, her slick making his skin glisten. Her eyelids peeled open just in time to catch Tom’s dark, hooded stare, his pink lips pressed together as the tip of his forefinger prod against her pearl, her body quaking in his wake. 

 “What do you want?” He asked lowly, the tip of his nose touching the top of hers as he looked down at her. “Enlighten me.” She whimpered when he circled around her clit, her back arching off the wall, her chest heaving into his. “Tom,” she whined. “Stop being such a tease.”

 He kissed his way back to her ear, his smirk evident against her skin. “Haven’t I told you I expect an answer when I ask you something?” He whispered coolly, ice frosting her skin at his words. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten? I thought you were better than that.”

 She mewled when he applied just a little more pressure on her nub, her fingernails etched so deep in the fabric of his robes, she was sure to have torn through. “M’… m’sorry I… I just want you,” she managed to breathe out, his breath like fire as it fanned over the side of her neck. “I… I want you to… please,” she whimpered when he teased her entrance. “Just want you to fuck me.”

 “Hmm,” he hummed, flattening his middle and forefinger down against her slit, rubbing up and down once again. Her chest heaved as she panted, tears falling down her cheeks like a river stream. Tom gazed at her now and could no longer help how his heart burned when he saw her like this, how it stuttered in his chest with the overwhelming feeling of desire. 

 It was then that Tom Riddle decided that he was going to marry this girl. 

 “That’s what you want?” He asked in a low murmur, removing his fingers from her sex, and she flushed when she caught a glimpse of how they glistened, even in the dimness of the room of things. She nodded, watching as he unfastened his robes, slipping the noir fabric down his shoulders, letting it join the sea of clothes on the floor. She watched his fingers as they unbuttoned every single button on his shirt, the way his veins showed through his flesh, and watched as he tugged the material off his torso. 

 There he was again. Tom Riddle was a beauty unlike any other, beautiful in his own, entrancing way. Tom was like wine, and the more she drank him in, the harder she found it harder to resist. She couldn’t, she realized, it was impossible to resist him when she knew he was utterly and completely hers. As she watched him tug his trousers down his legs, she felt her heart flutter in her chest. 

 She still couldn’t believe she could call him hers. 

 Tom’s hands were on her again and oh, she could feel his cock as it pressed against the inside of her thigh, and one of his hands slithered down to wrap around the back of it, lifting it up so he could have access. His other rested on her hip, his dark gaze surging back into hers, drawing her in, keeping her and holding her there. His lips were but a mere inch away from hers, and she fought the urge to kiss him again. Instead, she inhaled a shaky breath, waiting for him, letting him make his move. 

 She hissed when she felt the tip of his cock prod against her entrance and she felt herself throb, yearning for more of him. The hand that had been resting on her hip ascended to cradle the side of her face, the pad of his thumb soothing just underneath her eye. Her bottom lip trembled, the moment so tender she thought she’d melt to the floor and join the heap of clothes beneath their feet. 

 “I love you,” Tom said at last, and she blinked, feeling crystals of tears weighing heavy on her lashes. She was so lost in his irises now, venturing further into his ravines of darkness, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she saw was him, all she felt was him, her heart burned with him. 

 And he burned for her too. 

 Tom Riddle loved her. 

 One of her hands weaved through the dark hair on the back of his head, feeling his tendrils between her fingers, her breath shaky as she inhaled again. Her other hand rested on the side of his neck, his skin so warm, melting like wax into hers. 

 “Oh, Tom,” she sighed, her voice wet like her tears. She tugged him forward until his forehead was on hers, each breath she took one of his own. “I love you too.”

 And she gasped when he pushed himself inside of her wet, throbbing heat, hissing between the crevices of his teeth at how good she felt. He’d taken her so many times since Christmas Eve in the Lestrange Manor, so many times that he’d honestly lost count. But still, he could never get enough of her or this feeling. He was drunk on it, intoxicated by her. He could no longer bring himself to fear it any longer, for this burning for her only made him feel stronger. 

 She threw her head back against the wall as Tom picked up his pace, his thrusts steady and even but hard and heavy all the same. She gripped his hair tight, so tight she felt a small worry in the back of her mind that she was hurting him. But Tom didn’t care. In fact, he thrived off of the bittersweet pain of her fingers tugging at his scalp and her nails etching crescent moons into the flesh of his shoulders. It only made him burn more, made him want her even more. 

 He was so deep now, his tip was hitting the spongy part so far inside of her with every single stroke of his hips, and she cried, her sobs permeating the Room of Requirement. Tom even resisted the urge to moan himself, considering no one would be walking in on them and she just felt so good. He gripped her thigh tighter as he lifted it up just a little higher to get a better angle, and her back arched off of the wall yet again, her erect nipples grazing his chest. 

 “Tom!” She shrieked at a particularly hard thrust, her fingers so deep in his skin now she was certain he’d bleed. She felt her walls clench around him and through pursed lips, Tom groaned, his eyelids fluttering closed as he relished this feeling of feeling so infinite. “I think I’m… oh, Tom… I think I’m close…”

 Tom’s eyelids peeled open and with his hand not supporting her thigh, he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her gaze back into his. “Is that right, darling?” He whispered, and she nodded, her teeth sunk into the pillowy flesh of her bottom lip. “Does it feel good?” He asked and she nodded, groaning at another especially hard thrust. “Oh, yes,” she moaned, cradling the back of his head closer to hers, their foreheads pressed up against one another again. 

 Tom felt his hips stutter and his member pulse when she clenched around him again, her heat so tight and warm he knew he was bound to break any moment now. His eyes remained fixated on hers, and every time she closed her lids or looked away, he was there to fix her gaze back onto his. 

 “I want you to look me in the eyes…” he began, thrusting harder and harder and harder, “…while you tell me how good I make you feel. Tell me how good you feel while you come.”

 While her vision blurred with tears, she could still make out his dark eyes through watercolors, still feel the intensity of his stare without really even seeing it. Tom was so deep now, his cock coaxing her orgasm out of her, encouraging her to let go. She could feel the bundle of tension knot at the pit of her stomach, pulsing and begging to be unraveled. 

 She was like a glass wall shattering when she came. 

 She cried and gripped Tom tighter as she released, telling him how good he felt through incoherent blubbers, not sure if she was even really making any sense. “T… Tom!” She shrieked as her body shuddered and quaked against his, his hands the only things keeping her grounded. “You feel… so… it feels… can’t… I want… Tom!” She sobbed, his chest glistening with her tears as they dropped like rain on his skin. 

 Tom was rocking harder into her now, chasing his own high as he fucked her through hers, his eyes never once leaving her bleary ones. His head rolled against hers and his nose brushed against her own, but never once did he dare tear his gaze away from hers. There was something so intimate about staring so deep into his lover’s eyes in their most vulnerable moments, so mesmerizing about losing one’s self in another’s irises. He felt so powerful when he looked at her, so in control and in his element. 

 Even when he came, Tom still felt the strongest he’d ever been. 

 Tom still remained inside of her even as they both came down from the force of their highs, their hearts beating to the same drum against one another. Tom held her close to his chest, craving the warmth her body produced, yearning for the touch of her skin. She hummed at the feeling of his fingertips absentmindedly tracing shapes into the small of her back, her lips curved into a smile as she lifted her head from his shoulder to peer up at him. 

 For a moment, neither said anything, only looked at one another. But their gazes held every unspoken word, their gazes held understanding, their gazes held love. 

 Tom never anticipated falling in love. He never felt it was a priority or a necessity, never thought it was in the cards for him anyways. He didn’t think it was necessary on his road to power, in fact, he used to think love was but a mere obstacle, something to blind him, to throw him in for a loop. 

 But love like this was none of those things. 

 As a child, Tom could never imagine that love could be so powerful. But when he found her that Christmas Eve and held her and had her, he felt infinite. He felt like the most powerful being in the universe, like she was the missing piece of his puzzle. And he had found her. 

 Tom couldn’t give a damn what Tiernan Lestrange or Clarence Avery or Liam Mulciber or the others would think of her. He couldn’t even care about her muggle-born status, he couldn’t care about any of those things. There wasn’t much that Tom cared about other than himself in this world, but he cared about her. 

 And that was all he needed. Himself and the girl in his arms. 

 It was not even a month later that they graduated Hogwarts, and Tom wasn’t sure how to feel. For seven years, Tom had known he belonged somewhere, and for seven years, he had a home. Hogwarts was in fact the only home he’d ever had. 

 But now that he was older, Hogwarts would no longer be his home. He resented that. 

 He knew he would stop at nothing to get the job he so desperately desired, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and he knew Professor Dippet would be a fool to turn down the best Defense Against the Dark Arts student Hogwarts had ever seen in all his years. But where would he go if the Headmaster was foolish enough to turn him down? He couldn’t stay at the orphanage, and he hadn’t any money to buy himself a home.

 Although Tiernan and the others all celebrated and laughed all around him, Tom couldn’t bring himself to do either of those things. Instead, he searched through the sea of bow graduated Hogwarts students, past the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors until his eyes set upon the particular Hufflepuff he always found solace in. 

 And found that she was already staring back. 

 She smiled when their eyes met, and although Clara Wingrave’s arm was wrapped around hers, tugging her back to celebrate with the other Hufflepuffs, she couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes away from the former Head Boy across the room. 

 Because she, too, could only find solace in him now. 

 She had no home, the Lestrange Manor was never a home to her, and now that she had graduated from Hogwarts, she hadn’t anywhere else to go. Hogwarts was her only home, the only place she knew she truly belonged. Where would she go now?

 But when she found Tom Riddle all the way across the Great Hall, when she met his dark and intense stare, she knew she still had a home somewhere. Her home was Tom Riddle. 

 And just like the first day she saw him, sitting on the stool at the front of the Great Hall, waiting to be sorted into his House, she knew that wherever Tom Riddle was, was where she wanted to be. 

 “My father’s already got a job lined up for me at the Ministry,” Clarence Avery was saying to Tom and the rest of their friend group as they packed their things in the Slytherin dorm. Tom had very few belongings, far less than the others, but he still took his time packing them. It was still bittersweet, leaving Hogwarts. “Mine too,” Dolohov was saying as he heaved his briefcase off his bed, sighing down at the mattress that had been his all year. “You know, I have to say, I’ll miss getting a good night’s sleep on a Hogwarts bed.”

 The others talked and talked but Tom Riddle was listening to none of it. His mind was still on the future, and on his lover. He had meant it, all the way back in the Room of Requirement when he thought he wanted to marry her. He wanted to marry her. He would marry her. 

 Perhaps they could build a home of their own together once he became the Dark Arts professor and she, whatever job she desired. Perhaps she’d support his dream to become the most powerful wizard of all, maybe they could even have their own little family, perhaps a son and a daughter to continue Salazar Slytherin’s bloodline. 

 The future remained unknown, but only one thing was for certain. Tom Riddle was going to whisk that girl away, away from the Lestranges and give her the life she deserved. Perhaps there would be a happy ending for them after all. 

 “What about you, my Lord?” Tiernan Lestrange asked as he gripped the handle of his briefcase. Tom turned to look at the group of boys now turned men behind him, realizing he was the only one unfinished with their packing. Calmly, he gathered the rest of his things and placed them nearly in his briefcase, letting the locks snap shut before gripping the handle and heaving it off the bed. 

 Tom turned to face them, his face expressionless, void of any emotion, the face they had all grown accustomed to. “I’m going to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job,” he replied, sauntering past them and exiting the dorm room for the last time, the rest scurrying to follow close behind. “Of course,” Liam Mulciber hummed. “Dippet would be foolish to turn you down, my Lord.”

 “Yeah. You are the best student Hogwarts has had in years, perhaps ever,” Rosier agreed, and Tom said nothing more as they made their way out of the Slytherin common room, out of the Dungeons, up the Grand Staircase and out of the castle. 

 Tom searched through the crowd for his lover as they made their way to Hogsmeade Station, coming to no avail. Tom tried to not show his disappointment as he waited along with the rest of Hogwarts’ students for the train to arrive, Lestrange and the others laughing and pushing each other around. 

 “So, what’s the mudblood going to do now that she can’t pretend to be one of us at Hogwarts?” Tom could hear Nott ask, and he turned his head immediately as Lestrange snickered, shrugging his shoulders. “Dunno. Personally, I hope mother and father throw her out on the street,” Lestrange sniggered. “Now, that’d be very full circle. Wasn’t wanted then by filthy muggles, isn’t wanted now.”

 Tom never tried to show his anger unless it be in private, and Lestrange and the others had grown used to seeing their Lord rage in private, although they still trembled at the idea of it. But it was unlike him to show it around others, in fact, in all his time at Hogwarts, Tom never once showed emotion to this extent around anyone else. 

 So when he towered over Lestrange and grabbed the collar of his shirt, the boys jumped back, the hair on the back of their necks sticking straight up. Tiernan Lestrange’s eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as heads turned their way, students gasping at this strange display of anger from Hogwarts’ former Head Boy. 

 “I do not want to hear you speak of her that way ever again,” Tom warned lowly. “Or it’ll be your head. Is that understood?”

 Tiernan Lestrange was trembling in Tom’s grasp, and all he wanted to do was shrivel up into a ball and wither away beneath his Lord’s dark, intense stare. His lips fell open with the intent of speaking but nothing could come out, so instead he nodded excessively, his bottom lip trembling. Tom held his collar for a few moments longer before shoving the boy away, turning back to face the tracks as the train approached, picking his briefcase up from the ground. 

 “Good,” he muttered as the train doors opened, and he stepped inside, the others following close behind, Tiernan Lestrange hanging back, trying to catch his breath. 

 She could see her adopted brother from across the station, her eyes wide as Tom stepped on the train, leaving Tiernan to catch his breath alone. She’d never seen Tom do such a thing before, and although she certainly was not mad that her “brother” had been put in his place, she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that had provoked her lover. 

 Her mind was thrown off its course as she heard her name being called, and she turned to face Clara Wingrave as she elbowed her. “Come on!” Clara tugged at the sleeve of her friend’s dress. “Don’t want to miss the train now, do we?”

 She smiled weakly at Clara. She would, in fact, not mind if the train forgot her. 

 She complied though, grabbing her suitcase and heaving it up the steps into the train, handing it to the conductor before following Clara down the walkway and into one of the compartments. 

 She sighed as she settled herself down into her seat, gazing out the window at Hogsmeade Station. She hoped this would not be the last she’d see of Hogwarts or Hogsmeade. 

 Her future was uncertain, she had no idea what the Lestranges would do with her when she got back. Perhaps they’d make her a maid, or perhaps they’d kick her out of the manor altogether. 

 She wasn’t sure which she preferred more. 

 Her mind drifted to Tom, what his plans were for after Hogwarts. She knew he desired the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, and there was no doubt in her mind that he’d get it. But what about her? What could she, a muggle-born with no money, do? She had nowhere to go, no home to go back to…

 …all she knew was that she couldn’t go back to living like a pile of rubbish with the Lestranges. 

 She found herself longing to know what Tom was thinking, if the future he had planned for himself had her in it. She hoped it did, because she wanted him. She wanted him to be her future.

 “Hey, did you hear what I said?”

 She blinked up at Clara, her expression softening in apology as she shook her head. Clara pressed her lips together, brushing her curly hair back behind her ears before folding her arms over her chest, leaning back in her seat. “Perhaps you should get some sleep,” she said. “It seems you need it.”

 She knew her friend was right, but still, she frowned in apology as she leaned her head against the wall of the train, her eyelids feeling heavy over her eyes. 

 “I’m sorry,” she said and Clara shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. “No need. I’ll wake you up when we arrive at King’s Cross.”

 When they arrived at King’s Cross station, Tom was one of the first to leave the train. He turned back towards the train as he watched the students leaving all of the exits, uncaring when his group joined him at his side as he searched for the girl. He couldn’t even bring himself to care when Mr and Mrs Lestrange approached, greeting Tiernan and the others before greeting Tom. 

 “Tom, my boy!” Mr Lestrange bellowed as he clasped a hand around Tom’s shoulder, giving him a firm shake. “How nice it is to see you!” Tom turned to give the Lestranges a small friendly smile and nod, turning back towards the train. “It’s a pleasure to see you too, sir,” he said, distracted. 

 “You know, you’re welcome to stay with us over the summer,” Mrs Lestrange said, wrapping an arm around Tom’s shoulders, giving him a squeeze. “I’m sure my husband can arrange a job for you at the Ministry, if you’d like.”

 Tom still searched the exits, longing for even a glimpse of his lover. His heart was pounding, all he wanted right now was her. 

 “Certainly!” Mr Lestrange exclaimed. “Way I see it, the Ministry would be lucky to have someone like you on board.”

 Tom was suffocating. Where was she?

 “Tom?” Mrs Lestrange asked, circling around to stand before him, cupping either of his cheeks. Mr Lestrange joined her at her side, eyeing him up and down in concern. “Are you alright, son?” He asked. “You seem a bit ill.”

 What Tom wanted to say was on the tip of this tongue, and he could no longer hold it all back, letting the words slip out of him like vomit. 

 “Can I marry your daughter?”

 To say the Lestranges were surprised would be the understatement of the century. Mrs Lestrange gasped and removed her hands from his face, grasping the scarf around her neck instead. He could see Tiernan and the others out of the corner of his eye as they gaped at their Lord, but were unable to protest or speak against him. 

 Not after what he did to Lestrange back at Hogsmeade Station.

 “What? I…” Mrs Lestrange was struggling to find words, to even form a coherent thought. “I’m sure that there are… other more suitable girls other than my… my…” 

 It was then that Tom saw her, his lover, step out of the train in a simple teal dress, cinched at the waist by a brown ribbon. Tom’s expression softened at the sight of her, and her eyes found his, her heart pounding when she noticed her adopted mother and father standing beside him, incredulous looks upon their faces. Tiernan and the rest of his friends were there too, sharing uncertain gazes with one another. 

 Despite all this, Tom reached out for her, and she gazed at him, hesitant. They had kept their relationship a secret thus far, and were they really about to expose themselves in front of the Lestranges? 

 But Tom gazed deeper into her eyes, and for the first time, she felt like he was pleading with her, pleading with her to take his hand. So she did. 

 Her shaking hand slipped into his and he clasped his fingers around hers, tight and warm. He helped her down the rest of the steps of the train, guiding her into his side as he stared up at the Lestranges, the Mother and the Father’s faces lips agape. 

 She didn’t dare look at them any longer. 

 “I want to marry her,” Tom said again, and she tensed at his side, feeling her heart stop for a moment. This was why the Lestranges look as though they’d been to Azkaban and back? She glimpsed up at Tom and when he looked down at her, she knew he seemed the most sincere he’d ever been. 

 He wanted to marry her. He wanted her to be a part of his future. 

 She felt like she’d burst into tears any moment now. Her bottom lip quivered the longer she looked at him and through her watery gaze, her lips curved into a smile. Tom let his gaze linger on hers for a moment longer before turning back to Mr and Mrs Lestrange. 

 “Son…” Mr Lestrange began, staring uncertainly between Tom and his adopted daughter. “…I’m afraid she hasn’t been entirely honest with you. She’s… you see… she’s a mu—“

 “I understand perfectly well who she is,” Tom interrupted, his voice cold, his stare blank but intense. Mr Lestrange blinked, for once at a loss for words. “And I do not care what you think of her.”

 Mrs Lestrange scoffed, a hand over her chest. “Tom, do you not see? She’s a mudblood, she’s filthy!” She exclaimed, gesturing towards the girl. “I’m afraid I cannot let you ruin your bloodline for this… for this…”

 “Don’t you dare speak about her that way,” Tom warned in a low voice, and behind him, Tiernan Lestrange trembled, very well remembering the way his Lord spoke to him back at Hogsmeade Station. “I think I can determine who is filthy and who is not very well.”

 Mr Lestrange’s glare hardened as he took a step forward in front of his wife, staring at Tom. “Do not dare speak to my wife like that,” he warned, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. “This is the mudblood’s doing, isn’t it?” He asked, his finger now pointing at her. She gripped Tom’s arm tighter, and Tom stood up straighter, clear that he wasn’t backing down. “This… this behavior of yours… it’s because of her, isn’t it? Because that’s all mudbloods are good for, ruining perfectly good—“

 “I would watch your tongue if I were you, Mr Lestrange,” Tom warned, his voice low and menacing. She swore that even the Father shuddered where he stood at Tom’s tone. “You don’t know what kind of people may be listening. You don’t know what some people are capable of.”

 Mr Lestrange blinked as Tom gazed down at the girl on his arm, feeling his heart burn brighter than it ever had before. “I’m going to marry her,” Tom announced again, no longer a question, no longer asking. She could feel tears stream down her cheeks. 

 She was leaving. She would never have to even step foot inside the Lestrange Manor again. Tom Riddle was her ticket to a better life, and she knew it. 

 Tom turned to gaze at Mr and Mrs Lestrange again, a small knowing smile creeping onto his lips that made them tremble. 

 “And you’d do well to remember this day when you are bowing down at my feet, begging me for my mercy.”

a/n; IM SO SORRY I TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE THIS i was having a bit of writers block but i got coffee this morning and it made me want to write lol hope you all enjoy this one! i don’t like it as much as part one but hey, i finished it at least lol

| 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

@darkmoviesquotespizza @upsidedownspidey @michelle-26 @lyis 🥹🫶

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #8

The day Bruce Wayne knocks on her apartment door Sam knows it's going to be a doozy.

"Mr. Wayne, I really do hope no one saw you," she says, ushering him in. "And for the record, a text ahead of time would be appreciated."

"I parked the car a few streets away," Bruce says, sticking a finger in his heel to peel his polished leather shoes off. Sam raises an eyebrow. "It's a sedan, not a Lamborghini."

"You own a sedan?"

"Taught Dick to drive in it...after he crashed the Lamborghini."

Sam snorts despite herself. The charm Bruce Wayne exhibits would usually rub her the wrong way, too reminiscent of wealthy men that feel comfortable placing a hand on the small of your back at a crowded gala, but Bruce is honest enough about his playacting that she has come to find its insincerity comforting. She's actually sought him out more than once, leading to several annoying headlines that can't seem to decide if she's aiming to date him or one of his eligible sons. None of whom are eligible by the way, as they are a) taken, b) legally dead, c) practically a minor, and d) an actual minor.

Sam's generational wealth is peanuts compared to Wayne Industries, so naturally her parents have been thrilled and rooting for option c.

"I also didn't want Danny to see I'd texted you. Or force you to lie to him."

Sam doesn't quite tense, but it's a near thing. She does slide to the other side of her kitchen island, under the context of finishing prepping her feta fried eggs, laid on a bed of smashed avocado and warm tortilla. She pulls a bottle of crunchy garlic oil out of the fridge and drizzles hot red crisps across the runny yolk. She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, not so much as offering him a glass of water.

"You realize, Mr. Wayne, I have no intention of lying to Danny now?"

Bruce sits at the stool on the opposite side of the island. "I understand. And if you want to ask Danny to return home before we continue, I'd understand that as well. I didn't mean to discomfit you--"

"Please do not lie to me now, Mr. Wayne," Sam says, rolling her eyes. "By your own admission you showed up at noon without warning knowing my superhero boyfriend wouldn't be present. If I am discomfited, all the more likely you get your information, right?" Golden yolk runs down her fingers, and she sacrifices it to the napkin rather than lick up her arm in front of her boss, with no small amount of resentment. The yolk is the best part.

"Get to it then," she demands.

Bruce straightens in his stool, chin raising and firming in a jawline she most often sees under a cowl. His eyes attempt to pin her in place, but Sam has stared the Master of Time in the face and demand he reschedule so she is built. different. She takes another bite of egg taco.

"I was not aiming for you to feel threatened, and moreover, I doubt you could be."

Except a smart person should always feel threatened by a threat, no matter their capability of handling one. It keeps them alive.

"Can you tell me how I'm not like all the other girls after lunch? You'll spoil my appetite."

Bruce clears his throat. "I'll get to the point--"

"Thank you."

"--Danny has been exhibiting paranormal behaviors beyond his baseline. We welcome all biologies; human, alien, and paranormal alike, but I have observed actions unlike what he had previously established as his, for lack of a better word, 'normal'

"I want to make sure he is not experiencing any unwelcome outside influence. Or, if this is merely a facet of his evolution, I'd like to know if this is something we or his family should be monitoring."

Sam has been an eco-consultant with Wayne Industries and unofficially, the Batfamily, for half a year now and this is the most she's ever heard the man speak in one sitting.

"Wow," she says. "How long have you been rehearsing that one?"

"A while." Bruce grunts, voice finally taking that final drop into Batman's gravelly rasp. "I see you're not surprised by any of this."

"No, not really," Sam says. She pours him a tall glass of lemon water from the pitcher, freshly sliced that morning, and he takes a polite sip.

"So what can you tell me?"

"Probably a lot. And Danny would probably prefer that I do, knowing him, the big baby," Sam sighs. "Listen Mr. Wayne, I can appreciate that you came here from a place of caution rather than intrusion. And if Danny was undergoing something negative or from an 'unwelcome outside influence' that would be the right call, and I, albeit begrudgingly, encourage you to do so in the future."

"But he's not."

"He's not," Sam confirms. "And in fact, I think he could really use someone to talk to about it. Outside of his family."

"I see..." Bruce says, shifting.

"If you want to tag team this one with one of the higher EQ players, such as Superman, I give you permission." Sam does not think she's imagining that slight sag of relief.

"Thank you," Bruce says, sliding off the stool. "I don't suppose you have material we could consult...?"

"Actually yes, I happen to have a pamphlet right here. 'So your ghostly body is changing, and how.'"

"You're being more sarcastic than usual."

"You interrupted my lunch, Mr. Wayne."

[back2bluesidex]

Lightning - PJM (18+)

Pairing: Heartthrob!Jimin X Fem!Reader

Word count: 1465

Summary: You don't understand why you find Park Jimin everywhere you go. Also, why his eyes stay only on you.

Theme: Smut, PWP

Warnings: Public sex (foreplay), fingering, panty keeping (idk what I am writing here), mentions of drinking, very vaguely discussed context, party/club settings, Jimin is a bit mysterious. MDNI!!

Part 2: Like Crazy

**************

"Lightning strikes everytime she moves..

Everybody's watching her,

But she's looking at you."

Yes, exactly. Lightning strikes everytime Jimin moves. He is the life of the party. When he moves everyone only stares. Sometimes you feel Jimin isn't even real. Does he even dance or does he just float on thin air?

When it comes to Jimin, age, gender, status nothing matters. Everyone is a fan, everyone is in love, everyone waits to be picked by him. Be it for a night or for a dance, everyone is ready to surrender themselves to Park Jimin.

Now as he dances or more likely grinds on his girl for the night, you stare at him from the corner of your eyes, sipping on your drink. Every pair of eyes are on Jimin but Jimin's eyes can't seem to leave you. Everybody is watching him but he's looking at you, only you.

"So, my place or yours?" The guy sitting beside you asks. He has been flirting for a good ten minutes now. Even though you have hardly been hearing anything he says you know he just can't ask whether it will be your place or his. You're not going to sleep with him.

You roll your eyes, "keep on dreaming" you say as you hop off the bar stool to head towards the exit. The guy blocks your way.

"Hey, c'mon. We can have a good night." He pursues.

"Sorry but I am not interested." You reply, you are already starting to get irritated.

"Oh really? So who are you interested in? Park Jimin? You think you have a chance with Park Jimin?" He chuckles rudely. Your eyes go wide. Who this little dick thinks of himself! How the fuck he gets to insult you like this? You are about to curse at him very badly but…

"That's for us to decide. Not you, Mr. Whoever you are." Says the man in question, Park Jimin. You didn't even register when he left the dance floor and came to you. You stare at him with blown out pupils as he brushes past you and stands between you and the guy.

"Leave" Jimin commands the guy and he leaves after glaring at you for a bit. You turn your heels to leave as well. But it's too late. Jimin is already holding you by your elbow.

"Mind having a dance with me?" Jimin says as his stare pierce directly through your soul.

"I- I can't dance." You fumble upon your words. It's the first time you two are exchanging words and it makes you more than nervous. You can't even think of dancing with him.

"I'll lead you, Y/N" he says before pulling you towards the dance floor.

Your eyes go wide again, how does he know your name?

"Wait, you know my name?" You shout over the music as you reach the dance floor.

Jimin wastes no time. He places both of his hands on either side of your waist and pulls you closer to him. Your body presses onto his, your tits onto his firm chest, his crotch onto your stomach. You can feel his bulge. Your breath hitches.

You have always admired him from afar. You have always known your place. You have always admitted that Park Jimin is a dream, a dream that can't take the shape of reality. You knew it all so you stayed away. You never threw yourself at him unlike others.

You two don't even attend the same classes nor do you share the same group of friends. There's a sky-to-earth difference that persists between you two. But somehow you find Jimin everywhere you go. Be it a party or a seminar or a random university get-together. You find Jimin everywhere. And his eyes seem to find you just like everyone's find him. You thought it's a mere coincidence but maybe you were wrong.

"I know a lot of things about you, Y/N. More than you can even think of." Jimin smirks. One of his hands reaches down to stay on the swell of your ass. You grasp at the sudden intimacy.

"How?" You ask him as you try to match his steps. Swaying your hips as his hands guide you.

"Do you really think it's a coincidence to find me everywhere you go?" His eyes stay trained on yours, once again piercing through your soul.

He leans down towards you, reaches your level, and whispers in your ear, "I have been chasing you for a long time now…. Finally you are in my claws."

Shivers run down your spine…. Park Jimin has been chasing you? Why? But before you could voice your question, he bites your earlobe. You moan out a little. You know it's probably not audible since the volume of the music is way too loud. But Jimin hears it.

His hand encircles around your waist tighter as he pulls you towards him even more. Your faces are inches away from each other. And you forget that the world exists.

His plump lips are so inviting that you give in and place your lips on his, giving him a chaste kiss. You hear Jimin groan when you part your lips from him.

"Fuck" he curses as he attacks your lips again. His hand leaves your hip and that reaches to grope one of your tits. He massages it gently but the kiss gets rougher and hungrier each passing moment.

Jimin rubs his erection on your stomach and you know he is quite hard already. He breaks the kiss and looks at you for a moment. You take the chance to admire his beauty. His black locks falling on his eyes, his plump glossy lips, his smooth skin, his Adam's apple and of course his midnight blue sparkle-y two piece dress, everything is perfect. Everything emphasizes his beauty beyond imagination. And for a moment you wonder, if it's another wet dream you're having. Maybe to prove you wrong, Jimin leans down again.

"Remove your panty" he whispers in your ear as you take a moment to register his words.

"W-what?" You ask, bamfuzzled.

"I said remove your panty, baby. Right. Now." His demeanor changes to a more demanding one. You can't help but feel yourself getting aroused. And you obey his words.

Scanning the surroundings for a bit you understand everyone's too busy to keep an eye on you two, since Jimin already found someone, no one is wasting their time anymore. So you take the chance and put one of your hands under your little black dress to remove your panty. As soon as the deed is done, you see Jimin's hand extending towards you as he points the piece of garment with his eyes. You place it on his palm. He puts it in his pocket while licking his lips, eyes staying on your face.

Then once again he pulls you closer to him. this time he attacks your neck, biting and sucking every inch of skin available to him. One of his hands stays on your waist when the other one pushes your dress slightly higher.

You moan out loud when you feel him nipping on your neck and at the same time his thumb presses on your clit.

"So wet and ready for me" he says between kisses. The pad of his thumb makes patterns on your clit as two of his digits slide into you.

"Ji-Jimin" you moan.

"Yes baby? You like that?" He asks. You nod your head as you're unable to form a sentence.

It's been long since you have had anything called sex. And the way Jimin's fingers are restlessly pumping into you, your body can hardly take it. Moreover, the fact that there are people surrounding you, all or most of them want Park Jimin for themselves but you are the one getting his fingers to abuse your cunt like this, is making your pleasure ten fold. As a result, you clench around him embarrassingly early.

"You wanna cum already?" He asks with a low seductive voice, staring at you.

"I'm close" you breathe out as he reaches to kiss your throat again.

"Cum. Make a mess on my fingers, here on the dance floor, Y/N" he commands and you comply.

You cum on his fingers. As he sucks a bruise on your neck. Then he parts his lips from your skin, removes his fingers from you, stands tall and stares at you with his siren eyes.

He brings his fingers coated with your juice to his lips and puts it on his tongue. He hums at the taste, you start to get wet again just with the view.

"Fuck. You taste so good." He says as he completes sucking his fingers. You bite your lips and release a shaky breath.

"Let me drop you home." He says as he starts pulling you out of the club.

**********

A/N: anyone want a part 2?

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

[minispidey]

03: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. previous part. series masterlist. next part.

03. Everyday she wears pink.

(A/n: your feedback on the last chapter about me writing the moon knight system is so amazing tysm! i referenced mpgis here and more legally blonde. i wanna note that reader has been a lawyer for a couple years now and amazing at it 🤸‍♀️ btw update tags are open!)

warnings: mention of cock, swearing and cursing, mention of blood.

the cock line is from my bubs @ominoose ily

"This isn't just a date. This is a date!" You told yourself as you threw random articles of clothing behind you as you hunted for a specific dress.

You thought maybe you shouldn't wear pink. Maybe you have a pretty dress he hasn't seen you in.

You barely slept due to excitement.

The way he talked and looked at you made you swoon over him. Just thinking about makes you-

You squealed as your leg involuntarily kicked up. You blinked twice in confusion "That is so weird..."

Maybe you were horny.

"Oh gosh, not again. Bad leg!" you scolded your beautiful leg as it kicks up again "Down girl, down! No nasty thoughts about... about... about the hot neighbor across us- no!"

You almost moaned at the though of his lips against yours... You shuddered as you kept remembering the way he looked at you. You laid down in the pool of clothing as you imagined how your little lunch date will go.

As usual, you two walked out of your flat at the same time, discussing where the two of you were going for lunch.

"Wetherspoons..." you parked your pink corvette outside, looking at the flowers decorating the place. Your high heels clicked on the pavement as you walked inside, still in your pink work suit despite planning on changing.

It was a busier day than you thought, but of course lunch time is important.

Your eyes lit up as you spotted Steven, sitting up rather stiff "Stevie!" you smiled as you walked over to his table "Hi, so sorry I'm a bit late. Traffic and all."

But Steven looked back at you with such a loving look in his eyes "It's alright, love. I haven't been waiting long."

The truth is, he thought you weren't gonna show up.

"Have you ordered yet? Gosh, you must be starved." you opened the menu and browsed.

"I haven't." he shook his head, opening his menu as well.

"Cross examination was a success." you smiled "Next week's the next trial with the witness."

Steven didn't know what you were talking about, it was out of context "That's great!" he responded.

"So then he was like no and I was like, you are. Then he was like no but then I was like you are! And he was like, I kinda am. So long story short he's like, totally gay." you said as you looked at your compact mirror.

"Thank gosh I figured it out, because no way can he say my Chanel is so last season when his shirt is so last year. My client was totally bugging, but we figured it out and I, like, totally won that. How about you, Stevie? How's your day?"

Steven smiled back at you "T'was alright, love. Just the usual." he says sarcastically "Donna's been a real-"

"Excuse my language— Bitch? Cunt? Pain in the ass?"

He chuckles "Yes. A pain in the arse, love."

"She always sounds like she's giving you a hard time. You sure you don't want me to talk to her?"

"I don't think it's lawyer-worthy. It's really alright, love." Steven shakes his head "Just another typical day."

"Yeah, which can be classified as workplace abuse."

"Really. I'm fine."

You press your glossy lips into a thin line before sighing "Alright. But if you need someone to represent you in court, I'm your girl." you playfully winked at him.

Steven blushed before nodding "I'll keep you in mind then." a waiter comes up to the two of you and he began to order "-and a cocktail. Uh, how about you?"

"Um, I'll have the Soup of the Day with half a baguette, and Pasta Pomodoro with salmon. And— wait did you say a cocktail?" you blinked twice at Steven "I'll have a cocktail too, thank you."

You smiled at the waiter as he repeated the order to you two before walking away.

"Jeez, Stevie. It's only lunchtime." you giggled at him.

"I-I just wanted something strong."

"Work's really stressful, huh?"

"It really is." he sighed "Working late again tonight. But this uh lunch date is really cheering me up."

Your cheeks felt hot, making you smile "That's so sweet... tell you what, I'll pick you up from work tonight again. I'm working late too anyways."

It was Steven's turn to blush. His hand shakes with his head "You're way too nice. I don't wanna bother you. It's quite overwhelming too." even his ears turned red.

"Steven, you shouldn't turn away blessings." you winked as you giggled. Your cocktails were served just a few minutes later.

"I haven't had a cock in a while."

Steven felt his drink rush to his nose and he quickly grabbed a napkin. He coughs a few times before looking up at you.

"Oopsies, I meant a cocktail." you covered your mouth, smiling "Well, I mean... I haven't had that in a while either."

You took a sip of the drink and Steven stared at the lipstick mark left on the edge of the glass. You always wore a certain shade of lipstick, and it always drove him crazy.

There were times he'd imagine smudging your lipstick... in more ways than one.

After lunch, the two of you laughed as you drove to the museum. Steven just kept falling more and more into your wonderland of pink and diamonds. He stared at you with half-lidded eyes, listening to every word you said.

The thing about Steven is that he loves to ramble and talk a lot, and so do you. He knew you were perfect.

"-and I was like, thank gosh I talked her out of buying an orange chiffon scarf. It doesn't suit her spring tones at all! There's a fine line between terracotta and brown."

That evening, your pink corvette was parked outside of the museum, waiting patiently for Steven after a long day of reading case papers. You puckered out your lips to reapply some lipstick before popping and smiling at your reflection.

Your freshly manicured nails tapped on the steering wheel while humming a small tune.

Then suddenly someone knocks on your window.

"Steven?"

He looked like he was roughed up, red staining his clothes, but it's not his blood. It didn't even look like the same clothes he was wearing during your lunch date.

"Oh my gosh, Steven-"

...but that's actually not your main concern.

"-I told you, blue and black as a combo is a total crime against fashion. If it were me, I'd make it law." you groaned, opening the locks of your car "Get in."

His eyes widened but he doesn't respond, only taking the passenger's seat like you commanded.

"Oh, you have a little stain there." you pat the patch of blood using a pink handkerchief with lace trim and your name embroidered on the corner.

He continued to stare at you as you took his hand and placing your handkerchief on his palm "Here. You can give it back to me some other time because I seriously I need to take you shopping this weekend."

You thought maybe he's always tired after work, that's why he's so quiet, like yesterday.

"Maybe I can figure out your color palette so I know what looks best on you. Your shirts are cute, I'd have to admit, but some of them are... meh. No offense but some prints are worse than the last. OH! I know, we'll do a whole shopping day on the weekend. An hour or so won't cut it. I know it's your weekend off, but trust me when I say when your pretty neighbor's a fashionista, your life is gonna change."

Steven looks at you from the mirror's reflection before shifting his eyes towards the body— Jake. Unlike Marc's creepy silent behavior from the night before, Jake actually looks at you as you went on and on.

He even responds with small nods.

"Can we not make this a habit? First it's Marc pretending to be me in front of her, now it's you. I don't need your help with her. Can I please go in my own pace?" Steven tells Jake, but Jake shook his head in a not now kind of motion.

As Jake entered the apartment after waving goodnight to you, he's met with a poor attempt of a glare from Steven "Don't look at me like that, you wanted the girl so I gave it a push."

"I want to do this on my own. Marc doesn't want me to, I don't know about you, but I don't need help. Can I please do it my way? It's all I ask."

"Can you ask her out?"

Steven pressed his lips into a line before letting out a sigh "Give me the body. I'll... try."

"Alright, alright. You go on ahead."

Steven, now in control of the body, swung open the door and he sees you struggling to find your keys. You blinked twice before smiling at him "Hi again, Stevie. My keys are just- ugh, a lot." your keychains jingle as you tried to find the right key.

"Can we go on a date after shopping this weekend?" he blurts out quickly. Steven was red as a tomato "D-Dinner date."

Your eyes lit up and you felt the butterflies in your stomach again "I'd love that! I'll just- oh! I found my key!"

And you also found the key to your locked-up heart.

UP NEXT: the best weekend ever! a date with steven and a little breaking and entering 💅

tags: @red-hydra @monsterroonio @pastelpinkpilatesprincess @letmehavemyfictionalmen @uncle-eggy @superduckmilkshake @3zae-zae3

[maruiin]

description: everyone knew that Y/n was Kaz girl

Warning: jealous Kaz

It was funny because any possible 'suitors' for Y/n magically disappeared but no one said anything. Of course, they didn't, if they wanted to keep their lives then they wouldn't dare.

That was fine, everyone just kept to themselves and prayed to the saints that they weren't a possible threat to Dirtyhands. What frustrated the Crows is that neither Y/n nor Kaz would admit their feelings towards each other.

The Crows (for once) were all down in the crow club not planing one of their evil heists that usually mess up the world, today they were just relaxing.

Well, maybe not Kaz. Kaz never really fully relaxed, at least not with so many people around.

He saw Y/n laugh with Inej and Nina and he couldn't help the way his eyes travelled down her body or the way that he wanted to keep hearing that laugh on repeat for the rest of his life.

He also couldn't help the fact that he wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that.

Kaz sighed internally, even he knew, the bastard of the fucking barrel is head over heels for Y/n L/n. The girl who would make him dance in the rain with her, the girl who he would gladly kiss if it wasn't for his touch aversion.

She perched her head up a bit and scanned the crowd seemingly looking for something.

Or someone.

Kaz felt something boiling bubble up in his gut but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Why would Y/n be looking for someone? It better not be for a date...

Okay, maybe he did know what he was feeling at the moment because he felt it almost every day when another person was around Y/n that wasn't him.

And fuck, he knew it was because he was no good. She deserved so much more than someone who couldn't even brush his hand up against someone without getting near to a panic attack. But he couldn't, he really couldn't get out of the mood he was in now till the situation was over. Trust him he tried.

A man who was fairly good-looking comes up behind Y/n and tackle's her into a hug. He nearly goes up to stand but she starts laughing and embracing the boy like they haven't seen each other in years.

He grips onto his cane harder than he ever has in his life. Don't make a scene, don't make a scene. Please, don't make a scene.

Y/n giggles and kiss's the boy on his cheek and all his self will goes out and dies in the harbour.

He shoots up out of his seat and walks faster to Y/n and the terrible man than he should with his bad leg and slams his cane in between the two. He glares his worst glare basically seeing red when he looks at the man and all of him wants to bash his head in as an example to everyone. His mind doesn't even think it's a bad plan but he knows Y/n would not like whoever this was to die like that so he would have to somehow come up with another plan.

"If you dare look at her again you won't ever see again," Kaz says lowly and icily calm contrasting to what he's really feeling inside. Red hot rage burst's inside him becoming an ugly green that grows and infects him.

"Kaz!" Y/n semi-yells trying not to make a scene, but he was sure eyes were already on him. He was Dirtyhands after all.

He turns to her sharply knowing his expression isn't one that even a spider would want to see but it sits on his face all the same.

"What." He growls out trying so hard to not snap at the angel before him.

Without thinking his gloved hand goes to lightly touch her neck and he doesn't feel nausea and sickness. He only feels the warmth of the girl that he loves even with the gloves on. Fuck he loves her, and he had to admit it to himself right now?

She visibly shivers at his touch like she enjoyed it but her face quickly turns back to the angry one that she was wearing before.

"He's my brother!"

Now that he thinks about it he did look similar to Y/n, and the context of everything looked more sibling-like more than anything. How the hell did he not see it? He groaned on the inside, he was never doing anything without thinking it through first again. He guessed that plan was shit though because he could barely think around Y/n.

Speaking of Y/n...

The young woman growl and he feels his eyebrows raise. Oh shit. She balls her hands into fits and stomps off. He tries not to run after her but because of his leg,he can't go nearly as fast as she can and he quickly falls behind.

"Y/n!"

He gets to her room and she slams the door in his face.

Great.

He picks the lock of the door for a few minutes as he curses himself for letting her use one of the harder locks to get into. But after just under a minute he hears the familiar click and he slides open the door.

Luckily the girl is in her room and he's happy that she didn't run off right away. Though her arms are crossed around her chest and even someone standing two buildings away could tell this girl was pissed beyond hell.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" She says lowly trying not to yell at him.

He wasn't thinking, all he could see were his arms around her and her lips on his cheek. Kaz was surprised he managed a sentence when he decided to make a 'scene'

"I haven't seen him in years! Kaz, years! All I wanted was a happy reunion but you had to screw that up too!" She throws her hands in the air in exasperation.

Kaz knew that she wasn't planning on staying in Ketterdam at first and he didn't even know why she did stay, but his friends (or the closest people he could call friends) told him it was because of him. Brushing off that topic before was easy, but now look where it got them.

"I wasn't thinking." He finally finds the right words and breaks the silence that was washing over them both.

Don't screw this up Brekker.

"I didn't think he was your brother."

"So what? I was just another investment you had to protect because you thought I was stupid." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. He swallowed trying to find the right words. But he couldn't, there were just no words how he could describe how he feels for her.

So show her dumbass.

Slowly taking off his gloves he place's a hand on her cheek. It's feather-light and barely there, but he doesn't feel the cold or the waves and he doesn't feel like he's drowning. Her skin feels warm and it makes him feel alive, he hasn't felt like that in what seems like forever.

"Oh." Is the only thing that comes out of her mouth and she smiles a bit?

He rolls his eyes at her and takes his hand away. "Ya, oh." He rasps.

Y/n reaches out and carefully takes his left hand in hers and slowly but surely they intertwine their hands together.

Her smile slowly fades away as she looks at their hands.

"What are we?" The question hangs in the air creating more space in between them than ever before. Kaz close's his eyes for a second and lets that hungry feeling wash over him. The feeling of jealousy and the feeling of possessiveness when he thought she was with another man.

But then he lets the little moments warp him in their warm embrace. The moments when she offhandedly mentioned that what her favourite flower was, so then those flowers would just appear in her room. Or when she saved him and he couldn't think of any moment where she looked more beautiful, more saint-like, more like herself than ever. He sucks in those moments never letting them go.

"You are mine." His other hand goes to her neck again. "And I am yours." He lets his eyes rake her body committing every single little detail to memory and he sees her blush faintly a bit as he drinks her in.

They stand there in silence just enjoying each other's presence till Y/n looks un at looked more beautiful, more saint-like, more like herself than ever. He sucks in those moments never letting them go.

"You are mine." His other hand goes to her neck again. "And I am yours." He lets his eyes rake her body committing every single little detail to memory and he sees her blush faintly a bit as he drinks her in.

They stand there in silence just enjoying each other's presence till Y/n looks up at him an oh shit look in her eyes.

"How the hell are we going to explain this to my brother!?"

[cottonlemonade]

Hello Sunny!! I adore your writings so much, I read (well re-read) all of them during my study breaks and it is such a good pick me after an exhausting day 🥹❤️

Congratulations on your milestone ❤️❤️❤️

One of my favourite works of yours is Archnemesis with Osamu Miya (I love ONE Onigiri Man 😞❤️)

For the event, I take Menu A with strawberry milk and dorayaki and sit next to Osamu Miya ❤️❤️

Have a great day/night ❤️❤️

Archnemesis [part 2]

word count: 771 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: 3rd year rival!Osamu x chubby!Reader (feat. The Inferior Twin ™ (affectionate))

genre: fluff, pining, rivals to lovers

warnings: none

request: fluffy, jealous rival Osamu

[part 1] for context

Osamu was pouting. 

Had he or had he not carried you to the infirmary?

Had he or had he not avenged you with those jerks who dared to insult you? 

And had he or had he not brought you food in the hospital after his match the next day?!

And now what? It was the semifinals and he was about to go up against Karasuno again and you came to cheer them on?

School allegiances aside, why didn’t you even say Hello to him? 

Cheeks stuffed with rice he angrily munched on the onigiri, drawing mildly concerned looks from his team as they sat in a corner of the gym, waiting for their turn to warm up. 

Past Suna’s wild hair he had a clear view of you and the rest of the girl’s team sitting and chatting idly with the Karasuno crows. Your arm was in a sling but there was more color in your soft cheeks. He cringed visibly when he heard you laugh loudly. Whatever that libero had just said couldn’t have been that funny. 

Another annoyed bite of onigiri followed, finishing the rice ball off.

“I‘m gonna get some water.“, he grumbled as he watched you poke the short guy‘s shoulder.

“We have water here, idiot.“, Atsumu said.

“Going to the bathroom, then. I‘ll be right back.“

Since the upcoming match was highly anticipated, the corridors were fairly empty. Only a few people waited in line at the concession stand or talked to a coach in the lobby. Osamu went over to a water fountain and took a few gulps of cold water, using the back of his hand to dry his mouth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Hey, Osamu-san.“

His heart set out for a moment before he turned to see you standing a couple of steps behind him. He only now realized that he had never seen you in anything other than volleyball clothes. Your audacity to look this beautiful in a simple shirt and jeans made his blood boil.

“Oh, so yer talkin‘ to me now?“, he sneered, raising a brow and immediately regretting it when you looked down at your shoes.

“Sorry, I didn’t know how to… uhm. I wanted to thank you. For… for what you did.“

“Don‘t mention it.“, he said dismissively, “People might get the wrong idea.“

When you dared to tilt your head in a way that made his heart pound he added, “Can‘t have my team thinkin‘ I‘m fraternizin‘ with the enemy.“

You giggled and a small smile sneaked on his face, too. 

The corridors were empty now. It was probably about time to warm up.

“Well…“, you said, your free hand fiddling with a belt loop, “Thank you again and…“

Osamu was fully convinced he was hallucinating when you closed the gap between you and, standing on your tiptoes, gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

He was one hundred percent sure that he must have dreamed it until you said, “good luck in the game. I hope you win.“ You looked away and hid a small laugh, “Just don‘t tell the boys I said that.“

Osamu was still too stunned to say anything at all. Bold of you to assume that he would have enough mental capacity left to form any kind of thought, let alone words after what you just did. It was truly diabolical to mess with his head like that - a worthy opponent even when too injured to play. 

You turned on your heel and were about to jog off when he gently grabbed your wrist to hold you back. The surprised look in your eyes told him his ambush was successful but… now what? You were so close and - and why did you come closer?! Alarm bells went off in his mind but without meaning to he leaned down, meeting you halfway. Nothing had ever tasted as good as your kiss. His brain completely shut down and he scrunched his eyes shut, cupping your face with one while pulling you further into him by your hip with the other hand. 

Your plan was working. There was no way he would be able to concentrate on the game when this was so much more important. You could most likely smell the fry of his brain when you parted your lips to let him slip his tongue between them.

“Samu! Didya get lost on the crapper?“

His brother‘s voice rang loudly through the hallway and Osamu reluctantly let you out of his embrace. 

Whatever happened during the match, he’d make sure his rival wouldn‘t get away so easily afterwards. 

a/n: thank you so much for your request and your kind words! I’m so grateful that my silly little stories seem to brighten your day a bit and woah, I didn’t think anyone really liked “Archnemesis” 😅 thank you so much! It was one of my favorites to write!

I really hope you enjoy this one, too 🌟

[icepoptroll]

@rtcpickyourpoison day 4: Ricky - Karaoke/Drag Night

I've seen a lot of art of Ricky and Noel being the perfect drag queen duo and I'm in total agreement. Their fabulous costume changes and wildly imaginative songs in canon are proof enough for me that these two would absolutely kill it in a drag performance, ignoring the haters and putting on a great show!! Starrypoet is such an awesome but oft-forgotten ship.

I felt like doing something with Ricky's love for who he is, his creative endeavors, and his bright spirit. Noel was also fun to explore here in that he's both very loving and very firey. I imagine that, after reaching adulthood, Ricky would become a comic book writer/illustrator and Noel would work in a drag bar, and they'd both take great interest in each other's work. It's bring your boyfriend to work night at the club!! hehe

Image description under the cut.

Page 1:

Panel 1: Shown is Ricky and Noel's reflections in a lighted mirror. The adjacent wall is made of bricks and there is a garment rack with various dresses hanging on it in the background of their reflection. There is a long, wavy, pink and purple wig hanging on the mirror. Ricky is smiling a bit shyly, wearing a voluminous, long purple wig with bangs. He has on pink cat ears, a sparkly silver necklace, a black leather strap wrapped around his arm and a pink bodysuit with black tiger stripes. His makeup is hot pink and bright purple with purple false lashes, glitter along his cheekbones and black tiger stripes painted on the sides of his face. Noel is wearing a dark bob wig, a sparkly dark purple gown, and four strings of pearls around his neck. He is wearing sparkly purple eyeshadow, glitter on his face and body, and dark red lipstick. He is leaning over and kissing Ricky on the head, saying, "Ugh, Ricky darling, you look absolutely sickening!!" Ricky's narration explains, "I knew that, in the context of a drag culture colloquialism, Noel meant "sickening" as a compliment.

Panel 2: Ricky's narration continues, "But I don't think I was meant to take what this other performer said as a compliment." Noel is in the background walking past, now with long, dark, violet gloves on, as a drag queen in a curled blonde wig, pearl jewelry, a black and white polka dot dress with red frills and red high heels walks by Ricky, who is sitting in his wheelchair, smiling and waving, wearing silvery fingerless gloves of uneven lengths. The drag queen says, "Okay, I'll bite. Who invited the make-a-wish kid?" Ricky goes on to explain, sarcastically, "Oh yeah, she got me. That was so funny that last time I heard it I laughed so hard I almost fell off my dinosaur."

Page 2:

Panel 1: Ricky continues, "She went for the low-hanging fruit. Noel went to bat for me." Noel comes up, pointing to himself. He says, "Uh. That would be ME. Got a fucking problem?"

Panel 2: The other drag queen gestures to Ricky, who looks on, bemused and annoyed. She says, "Monique. Honey. Baby girl. Look at him, I mean, seriously? Do I even have to say it?" The dressing room mirrors are in the background.

Panel 3: Closeup of Noel's face. He looks angry as he says, "Ha! After your shit performance tonight I wouldn't bother saying ANYTHING more about him. Save yourself any further embarrassment." Ricky explains, "I didn't mind the comments all that much."

Panel 4: Noel is getting up in the other queen's face, pointing an accusatory finger up at her as she crosses her arms defensively. He says ". . . Aaaand another thing!!" Ricky continues, "Noel did warn me some of his colleagues could be kind of mean sometimes. And, as he would say, I looked "fierce," and I knew it."

Page 3:

Panel 1: Ricky's narration continues, "And, I guess you could say Noel actually sort of WAS granting me a wish." HE propels away to go do his own thing, looking back with a sense of concern and weird curiosity as the other two argue. Noel says, "I can't even, you're just mad that Ricky is a cute young thing, and underneath your makeup YOU look like the damn crypt keeper!" She replies, "Crypt keeper??? Oh, you little. . . "

Panel 2: Ricky continues to explain, "Noel works as a performer at a drag bar and he told me about lip-syncing being a big part of drag shows. While I am unable to sing, I've always loved lip-syncing to my favorite songs." Noel continues to yell, "This is some shady shit. Even for YOU."

Panel 3: Ricky is surrounded by drag queens against a sparkly hot pink background. His narration continues, "So I told him I would love to try it, and he brought me to work with him, did my makeup, and gave me some tips. We even developed a persona for me: Savannah, with the Fiercest Smize. To 'smize,' I'm told, means to smile with only your eyes. I was so excited, though, I wound up smiling with my whole face." A queen with light skin in a sparkly green dress, big wavy brown wig, and floral accents stands in front of Ricky, a hand laid over her chest. She says, "I LOVE silent acts. So mysterious!" A queen with tan skin and dark hair in a high bun dressed in a sharp gold dress and matching jewelry says "Her hair is EVERYTHING!" as she examines Ricky's wig and looks up at her friend, a tall chubby queen with dark skin and a purple afro, with purple jewelry and a sparkly purple body suit. She smiles and nods approvingly. Ricky goes on, "No one else seemed to mind my being there. In fact, people liked Savannah."

Page 4:

Panel 1: Noel and Ricky hug. Noel says, "No one will EVER dull your shine, love. You're beautiful and you know it. Let's get to work, okay?" Ricky says, "I knew."

Panel 2: Ricky and Noel are performing. Noel is dancing at Ricky's side. Ricky is lip syncing, holding a microphone and leaning back, his other arm spread out. The song he is lip syncing to is True Colors by the Studio Killers:

Show me your true colors

In their blinding brightness

Show me your true colors

Like they glow in the night when you are dreaming

Forget about the others

The unbearable lightness of our being

Even spy satellites won't see this coming

Our love that's hiding in the dark

Reach out and I promise you soon we'll be lovers

'Cause it's our true color

[fillinforlater]

Just Testing continues...

(READ THIS FOR CONTEXT LOLOLOL)

He looks like an addict who got another dose injected right into his veins. His hair is wild and all over the place, his eyes unfocused and euphoric, his movements uncoordinated and—he is gone. You follow him quickly, leaving two girls complaining and one in the mannequin-like state from before. Their voices become background noise and then an afterthought when you find yourself in the wide hallway from before.

“You better have something interesting,” you snark when the director excitedly points at the same room you fucked Tiffany’s face in. “You just pulled me out of heaven, this better be good.”

“Well, you might need a towel for this one,” the co-host jokes. 

You enter the room confused at those words. There is no water in it, but what looks like a thick salmon-colored blanket rolled out from one end of the room to the other. You wonder what it might feel like to fuck on this fluffy feather-filled futon, when an unexpected shove on your back reminds you that this is what you are here for.

“What the fuck?” you shout once, then twice on impact. It’s not a futon, more a waterbed filled with something similar to water but definitely not water. Stiff and less comfortable to what you were looking for. This was not in the script. 

“It’s filled with lube,” another familiar girl says. “See?” 

She slams down the pointy end of her heels dangerously close to your crotch and watches the clear, slightly viscous liquid spill out of it. Before you can react to the surprisingly warm lube hitting your skin, she starts to pounce on you, soft fingers not-so-softly wrapped around your throat.

“Yu-Yuri, what the he—st-op that!”

“Make me.”

Like so many girls today, Yuri squats down. However, she is the first to press her clothed pussy onto your cock while boring more holes for lube to spill and shoot out. The more pressure she puts on you, the wetter the surface becomes. 

Your first attempts at freeing yourself are futile, everything is slippery, nothing gives you the stability to get upright. Especially Yuri’s arm, thighs and high boots make your fingers slip again and again while she goes in again and again to attack your chest and shoulder with nibbles and quick bites.

“F-fuck you, you bitch!”

Finally, you get a hold of something. Your hands slip into the openings of Yuri’s white, now see-through bodysuit and with all your might you yank her to the side. More and more lube swells out and now Yuri has trouble getting up. Her heels get stuck in another set of holes and you finally have the upper hand, pinning her back down into the wet mess. 

"You think you got me, huh?" Yuri barks at you, realizing that it's her turn now to lose grip on oily skin. 

"Oh no, I guarantee I got ya."

Spin Yuri round and around in the puddle below her lilith frame, find that her shorts have a conveniently placed zipper on their backside. Open up, press her down, until enough lube has come out to cover her small ass. Inserting will be the easiest part, it's a lot harder to keep the brat down, especially when she suddenly starts swimming in the viscous lake.

“Oh-oh my God, i-it’s so big,” Yuri screams out, clenching around your unstoppable member creeping deeper into her anal cavity. A variety of wet sounds soon fill the microphones and the headphones of horny consumers, who’d love to see more of Yuri’s small, yet perfect bottom. Sadly, she still wears those damn white shorts. At least those with a thing for heels will have the time of their lives. 

“Stop being such a bitch, Yuri,” you groan into her ear, her body firmly trapped beneath you. In the meantime, your hands attempt the impossible task of controlling her slick hair or slicker hands. “If you behave, I’ll make you cum.”

“Y-you can never make me cum!”

“I bet you are already so clo—hey!”

In a moment of pride and distraction by the insanely pleasurable way her asshole narrows and widens, Yuri is able to crawl forward, out of the pit of lube and sweat, onto a flat part of the excessively large waterbed. She did not make it very far, so you reach for her shorts and try to pull her back. However, in an unforeseen twist that will leave everyone satisfied, the shorts come off, slide down Yuri’s legs and get tangled up with her high boots. Yuri tries to escape further, but you basically have her on a leash and easily pull her back into her cage—the pit beneath your body.

“Okay, okay, I give up, don’t hurt me please” Yuri begs and looks at you with wide open eyes. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

“Then be a good girl and scream and cream while Daddy fucks your tight little ass-pussy.”

Woah, where did that come from? Not in the script, but now it’s too late to take it back. Better follow it up with something distracting, no one will notice if you’re playing it cool now. How can they forget about your misuse of the parental replacement word, when Yuri follows your command without fail and even puts in extra effort each time you fill her fully?

“Daddy, yes, Daddy! D-destroy my ass, use it as your hole, I-I’m your—”

A sudden pause, Yuri must be very close.

“Hm? I’m waiting,” you tease her and stop your annihilation of her wrong-but-right hole. 

“I-I’m your slut, Daddy, your pleasure girl! Fuck my ass-pussy—fuck, harder, Daddy, harder!”

Fuck it, this stays in the final cut. Not only because you don’t want to let this lube-filled waterbed idea go to waste, but also because Yuri is the literal definition of a slut for a Daddy. Overused kink or not, they will lap it up like hungry dogs anyways.

Yuri’s moans grow in pitch, in loudness, while her ass grows in tightness. She is riding the edge, while you ride her ass, it has to end somewhere, in absolute bliss. Daddy’s little pleasure girl, a slut fitting for his cock needs to cum violently, or else she isn’t really useful.

“Then cum like a slut!

“Cum for Daddy!”

Yuri still twitches and whines on the red plastic, when you get up and grab a nearby towel to dry yourself. One towel is not enough, you need two, three before you can walk on the smooth tiles without the constant threat of slipping. Ignore the words coming from the co-hosts mouth, something something ‘first time’, something something ‘gentle, careful’, why is he talking so much right now? Nod along and enter a room with an atmosphere cold and uneasy like north kor—the north pole, of course.

“Hi, I’m Sullyoon,” a girl quickly says, barely getting her words louder than a whisper. She stands in the corner of the room, politely smiling at you, but hesitant to get closer. Her legs fidget in place and her fingers rub the plain brown skirt nervously. 

"Hey, no need to hide it," you tell her with a bright grin to ease the tension roaming her body. "You're nervous, I can see it."

"Ye-yeah, a little bit," Sullyoon admits, averting her gorgeous face when you approach her.

"That is completely fine and very understandable. I think everyone feels unsure about their first time."

Gently place a hand on her shoulder. Sullyoon squirms, her feet shuffle closer together, her puppy-like eyes shimmer with uncertainty. Such a great actress.

"We don't have to continue this," you whisper.

"But wouldn't that put you, give you like trouble?" she returns the whisper. "I don't wanna cause problems."

"I should be the least of your concerns, Sullyoon. Think about what you want and don't be ashamed to tell me."

Sullyoon stares down to your semi-erect cock, her finger hesitantly reaching for it. She then looks to the camera, the formerly pale face in a rosy hue.

"I want to try it, I mean, try to put it in my mouth."

"You're cute, Sullyoon, and brave. Just pinch me when things go too far."

"Like this?" she giggles and giggles a bit louder when you hiss and jump at her nails pinching your thigh. Anything to make her feel secure and to lighten the mood.

"Yes, yes, I see you're good at that. Now, how about you try to get down? You can hold onto this… wall for stability."

Sullyoon takes labored breaths when she is eye to eye with your you-know-what. Who can blame here? Its semi-hard state is still enough to dwarf her hand and fill most of her mouth. Sullyoon knows, thus she remains cautious. First, the tip of her tongue on your tip, tickling your slit gently, while you gently pat her head.

"This is nice," you hum slowly.

"Does it really feel good?"

You nod to Sullyoon's innocent question and feel her grow more confident with each lick, until she puckers her lips to let you enter. Instead of bobbing her head up and down like the more experienced actresses, Sullyoon stays motionless, except for her tongue swirling tornado-like.

"Hm, try, try taking more of it," you encourage her, but Sullyoon shakes her head.

"I-I'm scared. C-can you take the lead?"

"Uhm, sure. First, I need you to spit on it."

Sullyoon makes this adorable expression when she gathers water in her mouth, then lewdly unleashes it onto your base, missing most of your shaft.

"Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No no, just—drool on it. God, you're fucking cute like this."

Rub Sullyoon's cheek. There she goes, trying to hide her embarrassment behind quick actions, but you see right through it. The clear string of drool leaking down her lower lip engulfs your glans, then the rest when you put your shaft inside her.

Well played, all the faux innocence and shyness. Sullyoon is a professional, and like a professional she knows how to struggle while not struggling. Gawk gawk, you could go faster and fuck those plump lips, ruin what might look pure but surely isn't. However, you are supposed to have different plans. 

Don't fuck over the director again, so you slow down a bit and coo to Sullyoon who coughs, coughs, coughs, tears in her orbs, the dozen of times you've seen it today alone. Now you have to pretend to care.

"Everything alright, sweetie?" Play with her pink lips. "You are doing great by the way."

"Thanks. I think you can go harder."

Oh no, who would have thought? This is ridiculous, but they don't need to know. They just have to imagine themselves in your shoes, they are actually the one thrusting, filling a virgin mouth with their girth, and the cute girl loves it. She wants them to take her rougher, claim her; the only one claiming her is you.

Bulge her cheek, a slip up perfect for the camera. It moves from her face to her throat where you bulge again and she gurgles. When a mixture of pre-cum, leftover lube and, of course, Sullyoon's sweet spit land on the lens, you have to cover your mouth to muffle your laughs. Those laughs are suddenly moans, when Sullyoon eagerly sucks faster than you can thrust.

"Oh shit~ Would you look at that, she can do it on her own.

"Quick learner."

Feed into the lies one final time, fondle her dark brown hair one final time, hear her gag one final time—time to leave her tender, warm upper cavern for what you know will be warm too.

"Any other tips for the first blowjob?"

Your co-host’s constant interruptions and unnecessary questions have become stale and almost as annoying as his creepy face peeking in the frame from time to time. In their haze, some might not notice, others on the other hand might get annoyed, so you have to show them how to ignore him. Let’s be honest, they are only here for the testing, so you will give them exactly that.

When the following room was pitched to you, you were excited. When the responsible manager told you the actress they’d like to have for this scene, you became ecstatic. One of your favorites in a cozy room, the temperature meticulously adjusted to the point you can’t feel where your skin ends and the air begins. You don’t walk into the room, you melt into it, becoming one with your surroundings.

“It’s a high pleasure to see you again, Hitomi,” you greet, voice exalted and booming. “I hope you're comfortable and equally excited.”

Hitomi grins cutely, the upper row of her flawless teeth shines white like the snow. She has her head turned to watch you over her shoulders. Her petite frame is bare on the floor which is the right amount warmer than the air to keep the coldest feet warm and her body in heat. 

“I came all the way from Japan for my massage,” she giggles and you lean down to kiss her. Straight on the lips, dive to the cheek, then back on the lips. The two of you have a perfect understanding of the others preferences, so there is nothing that can go wrong. Hitomi is smooth sailing, every part of her body is a feast for your eyes, and you can’t help but show her off. 

“Show me your abs again, please,” you whisper. Hitomi hushes you with a motion, her arms around your nape, her tongue on your lips, her body easy to lift up from the ground. When the short girl is on her feet, you turn her nude body to the camera. Wordlessly, your fingers indicate the perfections: hard abs as mountains and valleys for sweat to run over, almost flat tits with hard nipples in a faint pink, the elegantly trimmed bush above her tight innie. 

“Magnificent, absolutely astonishing.” Your ravishing compliments are cut short by Hitomi getting back into her initial prone position.

“Thank you a lot, darling, but I thought you were here to test me.

“Put it in, pretty please~?”

The significantly shorter japanese girl can grab you and throw you like a ragdoll from one fever dream into the next; you don’t oppose it, you long for it. The way her tiny butt wraps around your enormous length, the way she squeals at first, just to fall into bliss and moan like a cockslut, it’s what you would call greatness. 

Things get even greater when your blurry vision finds the two purple braids on Hitomi’s head. They bounce in the same rhythm as she does, as you do, and with a simple tug they stop. Hitomi gasps, the unexpected pain scaring her. You quickly let go of them, apologetically fucking her asshole faster.

“D-don’t let go. Hold them, pull them!"

Hitomi's chest rises from the ground, her screams not muffled from the heated floor and instead sent to the ceiling. The more your fingers entwine with the braids, the tighter she becomes. This is new, something fresh for your friends-with-benefits relationship. Things will never get boring with Hitomi.

"Her snug hole is good, fuck."

Spread her ass cheeks, spread her legs for the camera to film the penetration. The soft skin tries to milk you, pull you back in and you gladly surrender to another slam, followed by another, and another. 

"This is the best!" Hitomi groans, the only not obscene words in between all her grunts and groans.

"Fuck, it is. The floor, this ass, y-you're too good, I'm so close."

"Time to fulfill your promise." That was not Hitomi’s voice. Who the hell—

"N-Nayeon?!"

Out of nowhere, Nayeon wraps her arm around your throat and forces you to pull out. Your throbbing, swollen, burning cock is about to burst, which is why Nayeon does not waste a second. She gets in position right next to a trembling, sulking Hitomi. Your crotch instinctively turns towards her face, that stupidly gorgeous, slutty face. Her tongue hangs from her lips and like a mindless maniac she jerks you off.

Pain, so much pain. This is what some artists were talking about. Pain and painting are eerily similar, Nayeon's pale face and an empty canvas too. From her temple hidden behind thin strands of gold hair to her pointy chin, your paint brush erupts the watery-white color on her, but as expected, she does not stop there. 

Nayeon rubs your cock from side to side, smearing her entire gleeful face until your knees give out and you stumble backwards into the awaiting arms of a staff member. It's out of the camera's point of view, so luckily the footage isn't ruined by your ugly, breathless expression, though Nayeon's game is not yet over.

"Thank you for keeping your promise~"

"What, what pro-mise?" you stutter.

"Don't you remember?" Nayeon pouts. "Last time you creamed my pussy and afterwards told me you'd have some for my face soon. Does ‘Beverly Hills mansion’ ring a bell?"

"Ah… I guess… yeah."

She is oblivious to you dying under her semen-glazed nose. You know she is not the last, there is still a way to go until you can finally rest, but how? It's impossible, you can barely move, your loins are on fire, your mouth is dry—

A bucket of cold water. Dunk your head in it, lap some of the life-saving elixir, cool off the roaring fire on your skin. A close call, Nayeon made you go up in flames and she is ready to do it again. Your eyes have been purified by the clean water, just for Nayeon to dirty them again. She collects some of your seed from her soft features with two fingers and quickly shoves them into Hitomi’s ass. The japanese girl whimpers when Nayeon doesn’t stop drilling it deep down.

“U-unnie~!”

The way she smacks Hitomi’s ass with the back of her hand while blowing bubbles with the cum dripping into her mouth is a dagger. Your mind goes blank. Someone somehow shoves a blue pill in your mouth. The camera is oblivious to what you do, still focusing on Nayeon. She fingers, she licks, she hums, all for the fans, all for Hitomi to not go without her fair share of pleasure. 

In the hallway is a table. Two members of staff sprint away when you sprint towards it, eager to test the extraordinary effects of the pill. They have just brought in the table, unfortunately the test object is still missing. She is still backstage, still on her phone, still dressed for crying out loud. Step through wires and confused stylists, slap the phone out of her hand, she yelps.

“Hey, what are you—wait, huh?”

A perk of your Asia Tour: all the girls are small and light. The same goes for this one, you easily pick her up and place her down on the table. Her hips instinctively rise up, you can unbuckle her belt and get rid of her gray denim shorts. 

“Okay what the fuck is this?” you growl at her and reach in between the voluptuous buttocks and pull at a red thong.

“I thought you’d like it,” the girl sulks and wiggles her trunk seductively.

“I’d like it if it was the same color as this.”

‘This’ is Chaeryeong’s ass. ‘This’ gets a harsh spank that wakes up the camera crew from their Nayeon-Hitomi-induced trance. They run over to film Chaeryeon’s blissful face as you beat her ass violently, changing up your hands and targets until it’s red all over. Not necessarily the crimson red of her thong, but it will do. Pull it aside to find her desperate, delicious-looking hole, begging to be stretched. 

Chaeryeong’s dazed eyes shoot wide open when you widen the circumference of her ring with your cock, hammering away with the same unrelenting force you hit her ass with. The table creaks and sways, definitely not made for this, but for the sake of science you won’t stop turning it into plywood.

“Stupid bitch with a fat ass!”

That was her scream, and she is goddamn right. Every moan by Chaeryeong and every gasp from behind the scenes further encourages you to break through. Don’t worry about her butt, it’s thorough usage can be seen in all kinds of amateur and professional videos. Don’t worry about the table either, you're just testing its durability. When the first wooden leg begins to splinter, you know it’s over.

“Verdict,” you growl through gritted teeth grinding the great depths of Chaeryeong’s rectum. “An absolute failure.”

“Yes!” she screams, holding onto the table’s edge for fake stability. “I’m useless, just a trunky butt for people to breed!”

“No, not you, the damn tabl—”

Right on que, the wooden structure breaks in two, three, more and more pieces. At this point you might as well beat Chaeryeong’s ass on the marble floor, it’s natural coldness could heal the sore parts a bit. She seems to be the person who is the most opposed to this however. Her hole sucks you back in, telling you to annihilate it and Chaeryeong’s vocal cords until the next scene starts.

“Don’t stop hitting it, I deserve it!” Chaeryeong babbles. “Break me like the table!”

You find yourself in a dilemma: On one hand you could do this all day, the continuous pump and smack, on the other hand you fear for both your and her health. Your hands and her ass have the same burning red color, they need a rest, some distance from each other. The clacks of plastic shoes save you from this addictive, yet dangerous session.

“Enough Chaery—” Sakura complains in a stern, sexy voice. “—more cherry.”

You watch intently as Sakura gets in position. You did not notice her carrying a glass bowl of fresh cherries as well as a bottle of spray cream, both of which she places down before her. In the crouching position, her pink miniskirt made of wool hugs her slender body perfectly, the checkered crop-top meanwhile forms a contrast as it makes her chest look extra big with its bagginess. 

Sakura reaches for two of the cherries, fully ignoring you approaching her and leaving behind a mewling Chaeryeong, ready for more. You can’t give the horny brunette more, she had her turn with you, though there seems to be someone willing to relieve her remaining horniness. 

“Hold still.”

Tiffany. Where did she come from? She must have teleported behind Chaeryeong, pushing aside some of the rubble to get her face up close with the younger girl's ass. She puts her nose on the gaped hole and accompanies her tongue brushing over Chaeryeong’s slit with an echoing slap to her bottom.

“Hey, keep your eyes on me!” Sakura angrily whispers, but it’s hard to oblige her. To get you back into the scene, she has to go all out. Both cherries find their way to her sweet lips. They have a very similar, though be it a bit darker color, and they engulf the fruits. Sakura pulls off the stems, then roughly pulls your cock closer to her mouth. 

You surrender to her idea. The woman in her legendary golden hair is well-known to take the lead. After some adjusting, you find your tip disappearing into Sakura’s mouth, her cheeks bulging from the inside thanks to the cherries resting in each of them. You feel the firm skin of the fruits press down on the sides of your member, an astonishingly different sensation from everything that happened before. 

“Oh fuck,” you groan in bliss.

“Oh fuck!” Chaeryeong screams in lust. You can’t help but turn your head and look over your shoulder as Tiffany rams a strapon into her Dongsaengs awaiting butthole. 

Sakura’s hands reach for your butt, mercilessly digging her nails into the skin and forcing you further down her throat. You meet her angry, tearfilled orbs as she gags on your erection. Throw your head back. The cherries have your base in a tight choke-hold, sort of like a cock ring. 

“F-fuck, I’m sorry, Sa-Sakura,” you apologize. “I did not know y-you were into foodplay.”

Not only your member, also the two fruits fall out of Sakura’s mouth when she backs off. The heavy coughing does not prevent her from catching them. Full of concern you want to reach down, but suddenly her fingers craze your balls.

“Put them in your mouth and shut up.”

Take the two red, fruity objects and follow her instructions. Sakura pulls up the bottle of spray cream and rapidly shakes it up and down. Something something ‘can you do that to my cock, please?’ but you can’t say that, unless you have a death wish. A few seconds later, Sakura aligns the tip of the bottle with your base and sprays a perfectly straight line of whipped cream up to your tip. It’s freezing cold, you hiss and accidentally bite into the juicy flesh of the cherries.

You have a taste, Sakura has a taste. She slurps the white treat off of your cock, licks up the remnants with a quick deepthroat and immediately goes to repeat the process. This time, your more sensitive underside gets attacked by the coldness of the cream and then the hotness of her mouth and the strong slurps of her lips. You start to chew—hopefully Sakura does not. 

“Delicious. Finally, your dick tastes good.”

“E-excuse me?”

“I said—shut up! Who told you to eat those cherries?”

In her anger, Sakura spills some of the cream on her crop top. 

“Ah fuck. All because of you, you stupid moron!”

“S-sorry…”

Sakura sighs and pops open the two buttons holding the crop top together. The handful of her breast looks ready to be glazed and licked, but instead of her cherry-red nippled you bite on cherry-red cherries.

“At least make yourself useful.”

Sakura opens her mouth wide. She sends lots and lots of white stuff into it; not the kind of white stuff you’d like her to eat, but the way she fills her mouth with whipped cream looks insanely hot. The moment she is finished you put your cock up to the stuffed cavern and fuck into it. 

Like an avalanche, the cream topples down to Sakura’s chest, hitting her nubs, making her squirm. This elegant woman has never looked messier. She is certainly no stranger to weird, chaotic shoots, but never has her mouth been such an overflowing, dirty hole. Sakura chokes up some more when you finally reach the hot back of her throat, launching cream all over your crotch. 

This surely must be the finale, the last scene, because you need to clean up, need to take a break from it all. The final shot of Sakura’s face as you groan her name should be enough, an excellent fit for a thumbnail. It alone would sell a hundred-thousand copies, therefore no need for anymore, just please say cut!

“Here, you’ll need it.” Your co-host hands you a couple of wet wipes.

“What for?” you respond, the mask of acting not on your face, just exhaustion.

“The next test, of course.” He points to the far end of the hallway, the room next to the mirrors. “There is one more bed, one more person, I think you remember her?

“It was your idea, after all.”

“Mina.”

A nod. 

“Clean yourself, would be a pain in the ass for her if you didn’t, hehe.”

You might not have any other choice, but he definitely could have worded that better or not at all. However, it’s probably not on camera anyways because everyone’s eyes have switched back to Tiffany and Chaeryeong. The older has one leg of the younger on her shoulder while roughly penetrating the tight hole in a standing position. Chaeryeong’s sticky hands try to balance her numb body on the wall behind her, leaving her more vulnerable to the thrusts and consequentially, screaming louder than ever.

This is your chance to sneak away, and you take it. The best for your spent, hurt cock would be to flee the set altogether, but with only one more girl remaining, separating you from glory and a sweet, sweet paycheck, you decide to get it over with. In Mina’s room, the smell of a freshly washed bed and of a rose petal perfume pulls the brakes on your hastiness. You come to a halt, in awe at what’s before you.

“Hey~” Mina coos when she lifts her gorgeous face from the white sheets in which it was buried. She stretches her arms out and you see her eye-lashes flutter quickly.

“Have you been sleeping?” you ask her with a chuckle.

“Just dozing. Believe it or not, this bed is probably the best I have ever laid in.”

Inch closer and lean down to her face as Mina bites her lips and tugs away the blonde, no, golden hair behind her cute ears. Though it’s just as bright as the pillows, blankets and the metal frame of the bed, her hair still has the biggest contrast to it all. Mina’s pale skin and white, oversized shirt camouflage her very well. 

“I’d love to make a cringe joke out of what you just said, but to be honest, I don’t want to hear them anymore. It’s been a long day.”

“Aw, I really wanted you to follow it up with the ‘get laid’, but nevermind. Where is the camera?”

“It will be here in a second. We should get ready—only if you are really, really certain, one-hundred percent positive though.”

Mina rolls her eyes and rubs your abs tenderly, gasping at the sweat and the remnants of other liquids on them.

“You sound like your manager. I signed the papers, all the agreements and contracts and the other bullshit. Usually, boys don’t ask ten times before they go for it.”

“Understandable, with that ass of yours.”

“I knew you’d get it.” 

Mina pulls the hem of her shirt up to expose her round, juicy ass to you. Reach over to it and fondle it while you walk around the bed behind her. Hasty steps echo through the hallway, the crew must be on their way. In the last seconds of uninterrupted intimacy, you nuzzle down to Mina’s ear while your cock is already trapped in between her cheeks. 

“Congrats on debuting. Everyone will see that your pure-looking face and bubble-butt were made for porn.”

Your final growl leaves Mina trembling, her ass jiggles, her orbs find the lense of an unsteady camera peeking through the door. Triumphantly, you wave the cameraman over to you. He takes deep breaths, keeps the camera focused on Mina’s body, so you can start the final testing session.

“We’ve seen so much today,” you announce with your best impression of a CEO giving a year-end speech. “Too many crazy ideas, crazy girls—it’s time to get back to the fundamentals. A bed, simple and comfortable and a woman, pretty and horny. Nothing more,—”

You spread Mina’s cheeks apart, spit on the beautiful tight ring and find the perfect angle to get inside her. 

“—nothing less.”

Repeat what you have done fourteen damn times today. You can use flattering words, exquisite or humorous remarks, suddenness or gracefulness, in the end it’s all hard buttfucking. They are here for it, seeing a huge ass ripple, a beautiful girl moan, a cock move in and out—as long as the neuron activation hits, they won’t be able to resist it. 

“Isn’t she the one and only acceptable pick for this bed?” you ask the audience as Mina’s ecstatic moans bounce off the walls. “The right color scheme, the same scent, similar addictiveness to use it—her—every night. Only the sheets have to get a bit more ruffled like her hair.”

Your fingers run through Mina’s angelice locks, making her raise her chin high towards the viewer's point of view. She is looking right into their soul, their tired, horny, blissful eyes of envy and adoration, whatever is left of them. They don’t need to be inside her tight ass, she can wring them dry with her allure alone. 

“How do you like your first on-cam cock, Mina?”

“It’s big—it’s so damn good, fuck.”

Grab Mina’s slutty little waist and pick up the pace. She digs her teeth into the sheets to muffle the loud noises from her mouth for whatever reason—it’s an amateur mistake. Everyone is too focused on her bottom anyways, especially you as your testing of her depth continues with a new-found final spurt of stamina. 

“The platonic ideal for a non-platonic relationship; a good fucking bed for a good fucking.” Your voice cracks, falls silent afterwards. The last seconds are nothing but pants and firm claps of skin on skin. Mina’s eyes roll into the back of her head, her slit leaks juices onto the bed. Thrusts, pumps, twitches, it all comes to an end in a gaping hole whose neediness mirrors that of Chaewon’s, Chaeryeon’s, Hitomi’s…

There you go. You did it, you fucking bastard. Fall unconscious as the director shouts ‘cut’, your life has to end right on cue. It’s ironic, the audience will only notice you throughout the video; what happens afterwards is irrelevant. You are basically dead. 

You are basically dead—unless some of the porn sites freeze and the poor, horny soul has to stare at it forever until regretfully smashing their device to bits, never daring to repair it. Oh no, they might have to admit to watching porn to some random repairman, how scandalous. 

You are scandalous, holding onto a pillow at night, wishing for someone to be there for more than mere sex. Although you love doing it and could do it all the time, there is no love in it. Even a robotic, seemingly heartless sex machine like you wants some love, some cuddles, some kisses—

“Where is this pretentious buffoon?”

“Yeah, I want to beat his ass as well; idiot thinks he can just cum on me and leave, ts.”

“I’ll put him out of his misery after the two of you are done.”

Three women stand in the frame of the door. Befitting of her character, Wonyoung was the first to speak to you and is currently the first to climb onto the bed. Her thin body is once again wrapped in the black suit, but her fabulous legs are on full display and kick you down into the mattress as she towers over you.

The second to speak was Seungyeon, who utters more and more complaints while getting closer to the bed until Wonyoung hushes her with a deadly glare. From then on, Seungyeon focuses on showing you her reserved anger in a different way: she uses both hands to press your chest down and immobilize you fully. 

The last to speak was Tiffany. She pays you no mind, instead sitting down next to the still dazed Mina and carefully pats the younger’s head. Strange, she is never this wholesome with you, but with a newbie like Mina it’s no problem? Maybe she really wants to put you out of your misery today.

“Wh-what is happening?” Mina asks, utterly confused as she watches you staring at Seungyeon’s bare tits swinging right over your face. “I thought the shoot was over.”

“Oh it is, sweetie,” Tiffany smiles, while Wonyoung goes to stroke your dick with both her hands and slowly crouches down towards it. “We are just testing.”

“Testing what?”

“Testing when this imbicel’s heart will stop from cumming too much.”

“Won-Wonyoung, please, no!”

Your plea goes unheard—it’s on tape nonetheless. 

Fin

(A/N3: Thank you for reading this mess!)