#way too small and fast for my phone camera

[sirenontheloose]

(HI SAME ANON WHO REQUESTED THE STRANDED IN AN ISLAND FIC)

ah i forgot to add the part where reader is weirdly knowledgeable when it comes to survival stuff because she watches survival documentaries to fall asleep

Hey anon, tysm for requesting! I just realized I've never written an OT6 fic before, so this was...not an easy thing to do, but I do hope you enjoy reading this!

Not the Beach Trip We Booked

Usually, management would plan something fun after promotions. A short trip. A chill shoot. Maybe even a beach vacation. But apparently, that wasn’t the case for KATSEYE.

They thought it was a beach vacation.

Well, Megan did. She was the first to hop off the boat barefoot, arms wide like she was about to film a skincare commercial. The others followed behind with much less enthusiasm, squinting into the sun as they stepped onto the sand with one duffel bag each and zero explanation.

The boat didn’t even wait.

They had barely stepped off before it began to drift, slow at first, then alarmingly fast. Megan was still waving when she noticed.

"Wait. Are they... leaving?"

The motor hummed faintly as it pulled farther from the shore, growing smaller by the second. What had been a thirty-minute ride over, filled with boredom, heat, and a painfully slow current, had turned into a blink-and-it’s-gone retreat.

"That boat was crawling on the way here," Dani said, shading her eyes. "Why is it Usain Bolt now?"

Sophia turned toward the trees, frowning like she could force the situation to make sense. "It’s fine. They’ll come back, right?"

"They better," Yoonchae muttered. "I left my favorite hat on the boat."

Ten minutes later, there were no stylists. No cameras they could see. No buffet table. Just jungle to one side and sea to the other.

"Where’s the crew?" Lara asked, turning in a slow circle.

"I thought this was a photoshoot," Dani added, clutching her bag like it owed her answers.

Yoonchae walked up to Y/N, who stood quietly near the edge of the trees, eyes scanning the distance. "You think they dropped us off at the wrong place?"

"I think this is the shoot," Y/N said simply.

Sophia raised a brow. "No way. This is a prank. It has to be."

It wasn’t.

KATSEYE’s management, in response to months of fans begging for more variety content, had greenlit a special. Twenty-four hours on a remote island. No phones. No visible crew. Only hidden cameras placed strategically around the area, and staff under strict instructions not to intervene unless there was an actual emergency.

The girls, of course, didn’t know any of that. All they saw was the beach and bugs.

Two hours in, Megan started to suspect something was wrong. By the third hour, she and Yoonchae decided to fake a minor emergency, something small enough to force staff to reveal themselves. Megan screamed something about a bug. Yoonchae added a dramatic gasp about it being poisonous.

No one came.

Well, no one but Y/N.

She walked over calmly, crouched beside where Megan and Yoonchae had spread out a towel earlier, and leaned in to look at the alleged threat. Then, with the ease of someone cleaning up a spilled drink, she scooped it onto a leaf.

"It’s harmless. Pretty common in warm climates. Don’t worry, it won’t bite unless you annoy it."

Everyone stared.

"You just know that?" Manon asked.

Y/N stood, brushed sand off her knees, and looked completely unbothered. "I fall asleep to survival documentaries."

The silence that followed was long and judgmental.

"That’s concerning," Dani said.

"No, seriously. That’s impressive," Lara said, eyes wide with genuine amazement. "You just scooped that thing up like it was nothing. I trust you with my life now."

Y/N gave a small shrug, then laughed. Lara trusting her with her life was kind of funny, but sweet too.

Sophia looked around. "Okay. What else do you know?"

"Not much, but I’m going to take a look around... in case we can find something to use until they decide it’s time to come and get us."

Y/N turned and walked toward the tree line.

"Wait," Megan called. "Where are you going?"

"To find fresh water. You guys should start thinking about where to sleep tonight."

The group blinked at each other.

Yoonchae mumbled, "I think we’re in trouble."

Y/N disappeared into the trees like she knew exactly what she was doing. No hesitation. No "what if there are snakes?" Just calm, quiet confidence and a half-full water bottle swinging from her wrist.

The rest of the group stood frozen for a beat, watching her go.

"She really just left," Manon said.

"Like it’s not weird we got dropped off in the middle of nowhere with zero context," Megan added.

Sophia clapped her hands together, trying to re-center the group. "Okay. Shelter. We’re not going to just stand here. Let’s at least get something up before it gets dark."

"Is that what’s happening?" Dani asked. "We’re just supposed to figure this out? Alone? On a beach? Like a girl group version of Survivor?"

"Technically we’re still together," Manon replied. "So not alone alone."

"Do you want to sleep on the sand or under something that blocks the wind?" Megan interrupted, already scanning the area for driftwood. "Let’s get to it. Someone find leaves. Big ones."

"I can do vines," Lara offered.

Sophia stood with her hands on her hips, clearly trying to channel her leader's energy, though her tone was more uncertain than usual. "Let’s just build something basic. Like a triangle or whatever."

"Wow," Yoonchae said, perched on a flat rock, observing everything with mild judgment. "Inspiring leadership."

They tried. And failed. Spectacularly.

Dani kept calling out instructions that no one followed. Manon was attempting to weave leaves together even though no one asked her to. Sophia was mostly holding things and then letting them fall. Megan was genuinely trying but growing visibly annoyed at how little progress was being made. Lara vanished for a bit and returned with two large leaves and a lot of optimism.

"This is the worst episode of anything ever," Manon muttered, looking at the crooked mess in front of them.

"It’s... something," Sophia said.

"It’s a pile of sticks held together by friendship and delusion," Dani replied.

"You’re not even helping!" Manon snapped.

"I am helping. I’m pointing out flaws so we don’t get crushed at night."

"Oh, you’re welcome to sleep under your own roof then."

"I will."

"Good. It’ll fall on you."

"Then I’ll sue the tree."

"Girls," Megan groaned, rubbing her temples. "Focus. We’re clearly stuck here for longer than a snack break, and we need something up before night hits. At this rate we’re going to have to spoon for warmth."

That’s when Y/N returned.

Her sleeves were pushed up. Her hands full broad leaves, dry bark, perfectly straight sticks. There was dirt on her knees and sand stuck to her shoes, but she looked completely unbothered.

She paused in front of their so-called shelter, probably stunned by how well-built it was.

"...what is this?"

"It was supposed to be a shelter," Sophia mumbled.

"Until certain people decided to fight instead of build," Dani added.

"Say it again and I’ll seal your lips with coconut sap," Manon shot back.

Y/N crouched beside the leaning frame and poked one of the main sticks. It wobbled instantly and a leaf dropped.

She tilted her head. "You guys tried. That counts."

"She’s judging us kindly and I don’t know if that’s worse," Megan muttered.

Without another word, Y/N stepped a few feet away and started working. Calm. Quiet. Focused. She anchored the corners of a basic structure with sticks, layered palm leaves at an angle, tied everything with vines that actually held. It wasn’t fancy, but it looked like something you could lie under and not worry about dying.

The rest of them just watched.

"She’s just... doing it," Lara said, slightly breathless.

"With no tutorials and floor plan too," Manon added.

"How do you even know how to do this?" Sophia asked.

Y/N straightened up, brushing sand off her hands. "I told you, survival documentary."

They all stared.

"This is crazy," Dani said.

"It’s relaxing," Y/N replied simply. "And now it’s proven useful, so."

There was a long beat of silence as everyone just looked at her.

"So... should we start following her around?" Megan asked.

"I already am," Lara said, dragging her duffel over to Y/N’s shelter without hesitation.

Sophia crossed her arms. "No claiming shelters. We don’t even know how long we’re going to be here."

"Long enough to need shelter," Yoonchae said quietly.

Dani gave a sharp sigh. "Okay. Fine. New plan. We just listen to Y/N now. She’s the leader."

"She quiet quit her way into the leadership role," Manon muttered.

Y/N looked toward the trees again. "I’m going to check if there’s anything useful further in. Maybe a better spot for water."

"You’re just going to walk off again?" Sophia asked.

Y/N gave a half-smile. "Unless you want to keep building furniture out of sticks and regret."

Nobody stopped her.

As she walked off again, the group stood in silence.

"I feel safe and useless all at once," Dani said.

"Same," Megan agreed.

About thirty minutes later, just as the group was arguing over whether bananas could be grilled, Y/N returned again. This time with actual food. A couple of wild fruits. Edible greens. Even a small fish, cleaned and ready.

Everyone gawked.

"No way," Megan said.

"She caught a fish?"

"How?"

Y/N dropped her haul onto the flat rock near the firepit-in-progress. "Don’t ask. Just eat later."

Lara stared like she was witnessing magic. "Okay, I’m fully convinced. You’re not real."

Y/N laughed. "I’m just efficient."

"She says it like that’s a normal thing to be," Dani muttered.

Sophia sighed. "Okay. You win. You’re in charge."

"I thought we agreed on that an hour ago," Manon said.

Megan clapped her hands. "Alright. Who’s learning how to gut a fish?"

No one raised their hand.

"Fine," Megan said. "Y/N, teach me."

Y/N just smiled, pulled her hair back into a loose bun again, and crouched down to start prepping the food.

And somehow, despite being stranded, with no real plan, and no clue what time staff would come back... it didn’t feel that bad anymore.

[the-habitat-ring]

Lizard!

I freaking love lizards, and we saw several southern prairie lizards (Sceloporus consobrinus) on our hike yesterday!

[cinnamanz]

✦ ─── 2 𝓱ands , 𝓢ophia 𝓛aforteza keep your hands on me.

─── 𝓢ophia never considered herself the jealous type—until you got a haircut. overnight, it was like the whole world had started seeing you differently, comments about how fine you looked haunting her everywhere. no wonder she'd bossed you to have your hands on her at all times.

❝𝓷eed a little less talk, 𝓪nd a lot more touch.❞

౨ৎ 𝓹airing. sophia laforteza x katseye seventh member!yn ౨ৎ 𝓰enre. fluff, established relationship wc. 4417 a/n. good god i need to stop yapping ab details in fics i keep dragging them on on the other hand, this is my compensation for lowk neglecting u guys nd not bringing food to rhe tsble but i fear its school thats got me on a leash nd unless smn takes one for the team nd burns my school down thisll be happening more nd more often CS EXAMS ND ASSESSMENTS R COMING UP NF IMA BAWL CS WTFFFF EVERYTHING IS TOO FAST IM SO LOST FUCKKKKKKK may or may not have taken too long to get to the part where its actually inspired by 2 hands mbmb the use of 2 hands's lyrics was lowk cringy😟 NAWT PROOFREAD AT ALL🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️ enjoy homos❤️

❝𝓲 just want your two hands on me at all times, baby. 𝓲f you let go, better put 'em right back, fast.❞

JEALOUSY WAS NEVER SOPHIA’S THING—at least, that’s what she always told herself. she knew you—her girlfriend, loved her. knew with every fibre of her being that you would never do anything deliberate to hurt her, never purposely stoke the ugly fire that smoldered deep in her chest. 

so why was it that, right now, the green-eyed monster clawed its way up her throat, curled around her ribcage, and blurred her vision like a stain she couldn't scrub away?

you’d gotten a haircut a few days ago—something sharper, something that framed your face so effortlessly it was almost unfair. it was the kind of change that ensured the girl crush label stuck to you permanently, as if it hadn’t already. and somehow, impossibly, it made you look even better—dare sophia say hotter—than before.

and safe to say, sophia wasn’t the only one who noticed. unfortunately.

the moment you turned to management and asked if you’d need a wig to hide your fresh cut from the eyekons before going live—like the other members had to in the newest tiktoks they were dishing out—their response was quick, casual—no need, you were free to show it off. gain more attention and eyes on the group before the comeback.

and that was all you needed to hear.

without a second thought, you propped your phone up on the table in your shared room with manon and daniela, fingers adjusting the angle with practiced ease, lips curling into a giddy smile. 

anticipation thrummed in your chest, an excited buzz settling beneath your skin as you ran a hand through your freshly cut hair, contemplating whether to hide it beneath a cap before settling to just tugging on the strings of your hoodie, tucking your hair out of sight from the camera.

the viewer count came rushing in the second you’d tapped ‘start live’, and your curious eyes peered at the camera, squinting to see what they’d been commenting about before shaking your head, a small chuckle of amusement spilling past your lips. 

user56 bro u look like an egg tf user1 humpty dumpty who?? user9 i think she pulls it off idk bout yall user0 ion care she can still get it even tho she looks like an idiot user2 i like them a little weird user89 GIRL TURN IT AWFFF

“i look like an egg like this? oh wow, that’s interesting. thank you.” you deadpanned, amusement flickering in your eyes as you read the comment aloud. a soft laugh slipped past your lips, shaking your head before tilting it slightly, as if assessing your reflection on the screen.

you kept the playful banter going for a few more minutes, responding to teasing messages with quick-witted remarks, occasionally tugging at the edge of your hood in mock offense. finally, you sighed, dramatic and drawn out, before giving in with a knowing hum. 

your fingers found the drawstring of your hoodie, twirling it lazily around one fingertip before tugging it loose. slowly, almost teasingly, you pushed the hood back, revealing the slightly poofy and mussed strands of your fresh haircut, the soft layers settling into place after being trapped beneath the fabric.

the moment your hair was freed, your hands instinctively shot up, smoothing over the mess, fingertips gently carding through the strands in an attempt to tame them. a small mirthful chuckle escaped you, a mix of amusement and mild exasperation at the way the hood had left your hair slightly disheveled. 

but even then, you still looked effortlessly good. and judging by the flood of excited comments rolling in, and eyekons definitely agreed.

"we vibing with it, chat?" you murmured, tilting your head slightly as your fingers absentmindedly combed through your hair, trying to smooth down the strands that had been ruffled by your hoodie. 

your lips pressed into a thin line, dissatisfaction creeping in as you examined your reflection on the screen, the messiness making your fresh cut look a little less put-together than you had intended.

"shouldn’t have actually hidden it away from you guys," you admitted with a soft sigh, shaking your head. "or it wouldn’t have been this messy."

your hands worked quickly, gently pushing some strands into place, but after a moment of struggling, you huffed in mild frustration. deciding to leave it as it was, you leaned forward, reaching for your glasses resting on the table. with practiced ease, you slid them on, blinking a few times as your vision sharpened.

"my bad, guys," you said, lips twitching into a sheepish smile as you settled back into place. "couldn’t be assed to put on my contacts."

user90 raw raw ah ah ah or wtv it was lady gaga said user56 okay guys fess up who tf took my pants user4 iSWEAR my pants were just on user77 and the crowd is… undressing themselves⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ user78 omg girl dont play w me like that i might js make u mine user43 and FUCK whoever’s dating u bruh u look too good ima nut get OUTTTTTT user68 thank GOD my phone’s waterproof‼️‼️‼️ user70 TIL THE NEIGHBOURS LEARN HER NAME😭😭😭😭 user45 FLASH US

the chat exploded with reactions—some gushing over how good you looked, others teasing about your laziness, and more than a few keyboard smashes from people who were clearly losing their minds over the combination of the new haircut and glasses. 

you chuckled at the chaos, pushing your frames up the bridge of your nose before relaxing into the moment, letting the eyekons take it all in.

sophia who was watching just downstairs, however, wasn’t all that amused with the comments that flooded your live.

it was a jumpscare, truly. the moment sophia groggily unlocked her phone and opened tiktok, still blinking sleep from her eyes, she was met—ambushed, really—by an edit of your live from last night. the screen instantly flooded with clips of you, your freshly-cut hair falling effortlessly into place, set to the smooth, sultry beat of redbone by childish gambino.

typical, she thought dryly at the sound choice, but that didn’t stop the way her breath hitched slightly.

the light from her phone bathed her face in a bright glow, illuminating every tiny movement of her fingers as she instinctively scrolled down, her thumb hovering over the comment section before she could even think twice about it. she already knew what to expect, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

and sure enough, the comments were just as bad—if not worse—than the ones from last night. thirsting, keyboard smashes, people losing their goddamn minds over you. all of it blurred together in an overwhelming stream of admiration, and sophia could feel a familiar, unwelcome heat creeping up her neck.

because, god, of course everyone had to notice how good you looked. and of course, they wouldn’t shut up about it.

it didn’t help that the next few swipes on her for you page led to even more edits—clip after clip of your live from last night, set to sultry, slow-burning tracks that only seemed to emphasize just how good you looked. 

the way your freshly cut hair fell into place, the way your glasses slid down the bridge of your nose before you pushed them up absentmindedly, the way you’d smirked slightly at the camera without even meaning to—it was all there, replaying in high definition, edited to perfection, and worst of all, everywhere. god.

sophia groaned, flopping onto her back as she mindlessly scrolled, but she wasn’t about to just watch and let it slide. no, she was documenting this. saving receipts.

in less than an hour, she had added over fifty different edits of you into a private folder under your name, her fingers moving almost on autopilot. every new clip she found—save. another slow zoom-in on your face—save. a dramatic transition to the beat drop—definitely save.

by the time she was done, she was sure she had absolutely flooded the eyekons’ notifications, her name popping up repeatedly as she went on her little jealousy-infused saving spree.

but she didn’t care. not even a little.

because in her mind, this wasn’t just a collection—it was a statement. a quiet, possessive claim, a subtle way of reminding the eyekons exactly who you belonged to. every save, every tap of her screen, was her way of saying: watch all you want, but just know—she’s mine. and wait—no, no, no. jealousy is bad. an ugly feeling she shouldn’t be feeling. 

but the moment you’d walked into her shared room with yoonchae all mussed from sleep and seeking her out first thing in the morning, sliding into bed next to her, body molding onto hers and—to hell with it.

she’d decided to go live the next day out of pure boredom and cause chaos (unbidden flirting).

clad in an oversized black hoodie—one she had definitely swiped from your closet without asking—sophia lounged comfortably in front of the camera, the fabric swallowing her frame in a way that made it clear it was never hers to begin with. 

the sleeves fell just past her wrists, slightly bunched at her hands as she lazily adjusted the hem. paired with it was a black baseball cap, probably one of the few articles of clothing she actually owned, its curved brim casting a subtle shadow over her sharp features.

her free hand drifted to the waistband of the grey sweatpants she was wearing—another piece that was, without a doubt, stolen from your closet. with a quick tug, she adjusted the way they rested on her hips, ensuring they fit just right before letting her hand drop.

user44 GOOD GODDDDD user88 that hoodie looks rlyyyy familiar ms laforteza user51 SOPHIA LIVE OH GOD BLESS😭😭😭😭😭😭 user50 can u be my girlfriend for three seconds user41 BROOOOO I NEED U SO BAD SHUT UPPPP user32 how have u been sophia???

her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as she glanced at the screen, watching the comments flood in—messages filled with excitement, teasing remarks about her outfit, and, of course, plenty of people calling her out for very obviously wearing your clothes again. she simply raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence as she leaned in slightly, skimming through the chaotic flood of words.

but she didn’t deny it. not once.

it wasn’t until halfway through the live that the shift in the comment section became impossible to ignore. at first, it had been the usual chaos—people gushing over her, teasing her about the hoodie, and thirsting over every little movement she made. but then, as if on cue, the flood of questions about you started rolling in.

user55 hey queen so whats the deal w y/n?? is she single perchance😌😌😌 user63 is y/n there w u??? user80 is y/n single?? asking for a friend nd research purposes🌚🌚 user66 blink twice if y/n is in the room

mixed in with those were the more audacious ones—the teasing, flirty messages that made sophia’s jaw clench ever so slightly.

user90 how does one marry y/n?? help a girl out pls user82 can i marry y/n??

“no, you can’t marry y/n.” she’d replied, her fingers, which had been lazily toying with the hem of her hoodie, stilled. she blinked at the screen once. twice.

narrowing her eyes, she hooked her fingers under her chin, tilting her head slightly as she peered at the comment section with squinted, unmistakably disapproving eyes. her lips pressed into a firm line, and for a moment, she just stared, letting the weight of her silence settle over the chat.

and if the eyekons watching had any sense at all, they’d know exactly what that look meant.

“what’s that about me?”

sophia’s eyes snapped up from the screen of the live the moment she caught movement from the doorway, her sharp, narrowed gaze instantly softening at the sight of you.

there you stood, bathed in the dim glow of the room, your expression puzzled as you tilted your head slightly, brows knitting together in mild confusion. dressed in baggy clothes—an oversized hoodie that hung loosely over your frame and sweatpants that pooled slightly at your ankles—you looked effortlessly comfortable, the kind of effortlessness that made sophia’s chest tighten just a little. 

your prescription glasses perched on the bridge of your nose, a clear sign that it was far too late in the night for you to bother with contacts. in one hand, you loosely gripped a bottle of water, your other hand absentmindedly brushing at your sleeve as your bare feet padded quietly against the floor, carrying you toward her without hesitation.

completely unaware.

unaware of the absolute chaos happening in her live chat. unaware of the thirsting, the borderline feral comments flooding in, the way the eyekons were already losing their minds over the mere mention of your name. and most of all, unaware of the way sophia was staring at you—conflicted.

because in that moment, she wasn’t sure what she wanted more—to selfishly keep you out of the frame, away from their prying eyes, or to let them see you, let them understand exactly why she looked at you the way she did.

but before she could make a decision, you made it for her.

with an easy step forward, you popped into the frame, completely oblivious to the digital uproar you had just caused, a sweet, sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you greeted the screen. 

"hi, eyekons," you murmured, voice thick with sleep, raspy in a way that sent an immediate shiver down sophia’s spine. "how’re we doin’ tonight? good?"

your words were slow, unhurried, tinged with the warmth of drowsiness as you blinked at the screen, adjusting your glasses with a lazy push of your knuckle against the frame. your lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as you nodded, as if genuinely pleased by the flood of chaotic responses rolling in.

user77 girl i cant do ts rn im ovulating bad user66 standing ovulation or wtv the saying is user62 heyyyy so lunch by billie eilish?? user79 MY DREAM RIDE😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻 user39 WHATT HEJVUKFMFK WHAT THEUCKVLVMK user50 CLEAN UP ON AISLE MY PANTS😭😭😭😭😭😭 user99 cldnt even edge to ts i exploded IMMEDIATELY😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 user34 the crowd would applaud but their hands are busy😭😭😭 user14 i swear my pants were JUST on

"i’m glad," you hummed, voice dipping even lower, softer—dangerous.

sophia didn’t stand a chance.

the moment the sound of your voice filled the room, she could feel the heat crawling up her neck, warm and betraying. without thinking, she subtly turned her face away from the camera, pretending to adjust her hoodie as she desperately tried to will away the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

but of course, you noticed.

your gaze flickered toward her, amusement dancing in your sleep-heavy eyes, and a quiet chuckle slipped past your lips—gentle, teasing.

"what’s with you?" you asked, voice lilting, but sophia refused to look at you, choosing instead to stare pointedly at her phone as if it could somehow save her from this situation.

it absolutely could not.

“nothing,” she tried to fib through her teeth. her face was half-hidden from the camera, but you knew her well enough to picture the exact shade of pink dusting her cheeks, the way she’d press her lips together in a tight line to keep from giving herself away. “don’t worry about it.”

a slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips, though you chose not to push any further—for now. instead, you shook your head in amusement, eyes twinkling as you took in the rare sight of sophia, who was normally so composed, absolutely crumbling before your eyes.

"someone’s suddenly a little camera shy," you mused, voice dipping into something teasing, playful.

sophia let out a quiet huff, still turned away, fingers absentmindedly tugging at the hem of the hoodie she’d stolen from you, as if focusing on that would somehow help her regain her composure.

and for a few minutes, she did just that—taking slow, measured breaths, schooling her features back into something neutral, forcing the heat in her cheeks to die down. when she finally popped back into frame, her expression was much steadier, though the faintest traces of pink still lingered on her skin.

thankfully, the purple lighting she’d chosen for the live worked in her favour, casting a soft glow that helped mask the last remnants of her flustered state. she busied herself with scrolling through the chat, acting as though nothing had happened, her posture relaxed, exuding an air of practiced nonchalance.

or, at least, she tried to.

because just as she started to settle back into her usual rhythm, her brows twitched—barely, but enough—as her ears picked up on something that immediately set her back on edge.

"oh, baby, you’re too sweet," you purred, your voice dripping with playful flirtation as you read a particularly bold comment from an eyekon. "but if you keep talking to me like that, i might just have to take you out on a date."

user51 MY TURN user23 A TEAR ROLLED DOWN MY LEG user89 OHMGYGOD IVOLUNTER ASTRIBYTE user62 RAWRAWRARAWRARWRAW user94 THISMADE BOTH OF MY LIPS SMILE user42 raw i meant AWWWWWW user82 this so made my hole weak I MEANT MY WHOLE WEEK user42 i am not cinderella but ik it fits user51 born to cowgirl, forced to fangirl💔💔💔💔💔 user41 i have nothing appropriate to say HER VOICE UGHHHHH user17 i finally got the water bed everyone wanted in 2016 user88 good now OIL UP user33 YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTE ANIMALS IN HERE WTF ENOUGH GUYS ENOUGH YOU HORNDOGS user21 all ten fingers.

sophia froze.

her grip on her the drawstring of your hoodie tightened slightly, her jaw ticking as she forced her gaze to remain on the screen, pretending to be invested in the chat. 

but anyone who knew her—especially you—could see the barely concealed flicker of irritation in her expression, the slight way her nostrils flared, the way her fingers twitched as if she were this close to reaching out and physically covering your mouth to put an end to whatever nonsense you were spewing.

she knew you were just playing around. she knew it.

but that didn’t stop the possessive heat from curling low in her stomach, nor did it stop the subtle shift in her posture—back straightening, shoulders rolling back, as if preparing to stake her claim without saying a word.

user1 guys im kinda scared of sophia user79 SHES LOOMING HELPPP user52 guard dog who user93 damn sophia my b for even looking at yn user84 im gna sleep now okay?? dont choke me in my sleep pls user77 I WAS JS PLAYING W YN PLS DONT KILL ME user91 holy shit i js got shivers down my spine

sophia hadn’t meant to react so quickly, so instinctively, but the second another flirtatious comment slipped past your lips, she couldn’t hold back anymore. before she even registered what she was doing, her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your arm in a vice grip—possessive, unwavering.

your amusement only grew at the sudden contact, lips parting slightly as you turned away from the chat, gaze landing on sophia. her expression was downright murderous, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

without a word, she yanked your arm toward her, grip tightening as if to silently remind you who you belonged to. both of her hands locked around your forearm now, as if afraid you’d slip away if she loosened her hold even slightly.

and then—thud.

in her urgency, her knee jerked forward, slamming against the table. the impact sent her phone tumbling forward, landing screen-down with a soft clack, the camera immediately blacking out. the live was still running, but now all the eyekons could hear was the sharp rustle of movement, the sound of fabric shifting, a muffled noise—

because in the very next second, sophia had tugged you forward, pulling you straight between her thighs with a force that left you momentarily stunned. and before you could even process what was happening, her hands were on you—one threading into your hair, fingers tangling at the base of your skull, the other firmly cupping the back of your neck, anchoring you in place.

and then she kissed you.

no hesitation, no teasing buildup—just pure, unfiltered need.

it was all-consuming, the way she melted against you, the way her lips moved with a desperation that sent your mind reeling. 

she kissed you like you were her oxygen, like she had been starving for you this entire time—which she has been to be fair, and now that she had you, she refused to let you go. her fingers tightened in your hair, tugging slightly, as if to draw you in even closer—though there was hardly any space left between you.

but just as you were getting lost in the heat of it—just as you felt yourself melting into her touch—she suddenly pulled away, her hands shifting to your shoulders.

and then, without warning, she pushed you back.

you barely had a second to react before your back hit the couch once again, a soft groan escaping you as sophia moved fast, swinging a leg over your waist and straddling you with ease, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of your hips.

you blinked up at her, breathless, dazed, lips still tingling from the kiss. but she didn’t give you a moment to recover. the rest of the world faded, the chat, the live, the teasing—nothing else mattered except this. except her. just like how she’d intended. and she leaned back in for more.

user77 HELLO??? WHAT IS GOING ON user51 GET ME OUT OF THE BASWMENY user11 BTCHCICHFUHFIE WTAFFDTFYE WHAT IS GOIUNG ON HELLO user78 I HEARD THAT user12 smn pick me up im scared user82 bon appetite to sophia ig user94 AT LWAST END THE LIVE????? user73 am i interrupting sumn user93 freak ON user44 media training went out the window im crying theyre not even tryna hide it HELPPP user25 probably making out in my cellular phone i pay for every month??? diabolical work i feel targeted.

sophia had no idea how she’d ended up here—pressed into the middle of a drunken, swaying crowd, the bass thrumming so hard it rattled her ribs, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and the kind of recklessness that came with too many shots and too little self-control.

this was not what you had promised.

"it'll be chill," you’d said, smiling so sweetly at her earlier, brushing your fingers through her hair as you reassured her that it was just a casual going-away party for your friend—nothing too wild. 

but now? some random guy had the audacity to press up against her, subtly—or not so subtly—trying to grind against her like she wouldn’t notice. like she’d let him.

with an irritated grunt, she shoved him off, barely sparing him a glare before weaving through the crowd, jaw clenched. she barely knew your friend, didn’t care to, really. she wouldn’t even be out of bed right now if it were up to her, more than happy to be curled up under the covers with you, watching mamma mia back to back before switching to your personal favorites—until the two of you inevitably dozed off.

but no.

you just had to have plans. just had to drag her to some bullshit party for a friend jetting off to europe to “find the woman of her life.”

sophia cursed under her breath, her usually calm composure cracking as frustration simmered beneath her skin. her hands itched—aching to grab ahold of you, to pull you against her and make sure every single person here knew you weren’t up for grabs.

the flashing, colorful lights of the room made everything simultaneously too bright and too dim, disorienting her as she searched. the pulse of the music did nothing to drown out the growing sense of urgency clawing up her spine.

she should’ve never let you out of her sight—oh, there you are.

sophia could feel it creeping in—the sharp, insidious burn of jealousy sinking its claws into her chest, wrapping tight around her ribs like a vice for the second time that week.

surrounded by a cluster of women, all too eager to lean in, to bat their lashes, to laugh a little too loudly at something you’d said—something that, knowing you, probably wasn’t even that funny. yet there they were, hanging onto every word, eyes lingering a little too long, bodies angled a little too close.

her jaw clenched.

her vision blurred at the edges, tinted green with something she refused to name, but it propelled her forward before she could think twice, her feet carrying her straight to you, drawn in like gravity itself had shifted. 

she slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, a mask of indifference settling over her features like second nature—calm, cool, unreadable. but beneath the surface? she was nothing but raw chaos.

without a word, her fingers curled around the fabric of your shirt, tugging you back, away from them, to her. her hands moved instinctively, slipping over yours, guiding them down, redirecting—staking claim.

she flattened your palms against her waist, holding them there, her body pressing into yours like she needed you closer. always.

“want your two hands on me at all times, baby.” sophia's voice was a low murmur, silk-smooth and deliberate as she tilted her head back, lips just barely grazing your cheek before trailing toward your ear, a slow, teasing whisper meant for you—but performed for the lingering eyes around you.

“and if you let go, better put ‘em right back fast.” her grip on your hands tightened, guiding them to press firmer against her waist, as if daring you to even think about moving them away. her fingers curled around yours, possessive, a silent command to stay put. her heart pounded, a steady rhythm against your skin. 

"want your two hands on me.” like my life needs saving, she’d have dared utter if she wasn’t too lost in the way your breath hitched, fingers twitching against hers.

and maybe it did.

she leaned in closer, lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear, her breath warm and slow, sending shivers down your spine. “let ‘em all know.”

her hand ghosted back, fingers featherlight as they traced along your jaw before tilting your chin up just enough to meet her gaze, dark and unreadable.

“can you do it like that?”

masterlist.

— please do not repost, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way without permission. thank you! xx

[sugawhaaa]

BANGCHAN ONE-SHOT

🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖•{Never sleep}•.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷

Warnings//genre:: SMUT, big dick channie, creampie, oral (f rec) face sitting, dick pics 😋, praise, teasing, hair pulling, groping, nipple play

Pairing:: dom!Chan x sub!fem!reader

A/N:: If u couldn't tell I took inspo from my dream last night 😍 also while writing this I listened to a lot of weird songs including gangnam style and sexy and I know it...

Skz masterlist::🍒

🎧::

A few days ago Chan was on tour, cooped up in his little hotel room dreaming of you. He wanted to be with you, feeling your warmth, smelling your scent, and feeling your touch. As he fantasized about his own girlfriend he found a tent forming in his loose jeans and he just couldn't fight it; he pulled down his jeans, palming himself through his boxers before finally setting himself free. He runs his cupped hand around his cock, rubbing softly as he thinks of your small hands, their warmth and sincerity. He lets out a frustrated groan before picking up his phone, opening the camera, and pointing it down to his girth. He takes a clear picture before sending it to you with a little message.

Chan>thinking about you sweetie

The message alone sounds innocent but with the photo his words become lewd. He grins to himself before setting his phone down, knowing that when you wake to see his messages you'll be feeling the same way as he is right now.

Throughout the night he sends many more messages, videos, audios, and photos. The next morning you wake up to at least twenty messages from Chan and as you open the messages your jaw drops. Photos of his cock, videos and audios of him moaning, and a photo of the mess he made of himself before blaming you with a little winky face. You didn't even know how to respond, how does one reply to such a "good morning"?

After those messages, he doesn't message you a whole lot due to being so busy and active around concerts and events. Fast forward to now and he barely just got in through the doorway and he already has his face buried between your legs. He abruptly pulls back and looks up at you, mouth and jaw wet. "Sit on my face," Chan orders as he lays back against the mattress.

"Babe, you just got home though, you haven't even unpacked yet!" You protest but it's too late, Chan has made up his mind and you will sit on him. He grabs your thighs and you lose your balance due to his strength. You get yourself situated on top of him and he gives you know time to prepare for his schemes. He sorts his tongue through your folds as his nose presses up against your clit, his hands situated on your ass, gripping the plump flesh hard. He sucks on your folds hard as his fingers trickle closer to your slit, one teasing around your tight hole. "C-Chan," You gasp softly as his tongue circles around your opening, tongue poking through your slit every now and then.

You hear Chan choking and struggling to breathe but he's insistent on getting you to cum. You release some of your body weight, letting him breathe for a moment, but he instantly brings you back down. You teeter over the edge as he fucks you with his tongue, his thumb stimulating your ass and his nose pressing up against your clit. That numbing warmth rides up your body as your head falls back and your voice is no longer yours to control, only moans. "Chan~" You moan as you grip his head, his mouth never resisting its assault on your core. "'cumming," is the only thing you can muster to say as the pleasure swallows you whole, your legs twitching and body trembling.

Chan can only moan into your core but you can tell by the soothing rubs of his hands on your ass that he is silently praising you. You bring yourself back down to earth and pull yourself off of your helpless boyfriend before looking down at him. His face is red, hair sweaty and face glistening but a grin of approval and lust lingers on his lips. "Sorry," You say softly but Bangchan just laughs.

"For what baby?" He sits up and gets you to sit on his lap.

"I don't know, smothering you?" You chuckle softly at the absurdity of your words but Chan smirks.

"That's exactly what I wanted," He brushes his lips against your jaw, making you moan softly. He slicks your hair to the side before leaving a dark mark on your neck. "What position do you want babygirl? Wanna ride me, or perhaps want me to bend you over the bed and fuck you till you cry, hm?" His voice has a hint of mischeif but you can tell there's a hidden sincerity. "Or maybe both?" He tilts his head before leaning back to hear your response.

"Both sounds good," You blush with a cheeky smile and he smirks.

"Let's see if you can take all of my built up love for you," He chuckles as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his jeans. You assist him in taking off his pants and tossing them aside, leaving his cock standing up against his stomach. "I'll go easy on you at first," He winks as he holds your hips up over his own, lining his cock up with your soaked cunt. You lower yourself onto him, moaning blissfully as his girth stretches out your tender skin. Chan doesn't fail to moan either, his head falling back as his lips part. "Fuck I missed you so much," He grins as he rubs your hips.

He brings his hands over to your ass, lifting softly, encouraging you to move. You do as he silently suggested and roll your hips against his, feeling the head of his cock rubbing up against the deepest point of your pussy. "I'm sorry baby but I can't fucking wait," He groans, gripping your hips hard enough to leave a faint red mark. He encourages you to bounce on his cock and you do just as requested.

"I don't mind, I missed you too," You whine softly as you feel his cock gliding in and out of you rhythmically, your walls tightly hugging his girth. You bring your hands up to his chest, using him as support as you bounce on his cock, your hair jumping with each plummet.

"Good girl," He growls as he intently watches your body. He grabs one of your tits, squeezing the tender flesh as he looks up at you, eyes filled with adoration with lust. "Fuck this pussy was made for me," He grins before sucking your nipple into his mouth, electing a little squeak from you.

"Your cock's so big," You whine as you feel swear accumulating on your body, your skin undoubtedly turning red at this point.

"Yeah? But you take it so fucking good, don't you?" He growls, thrusting his hips up to punctuate his words. You let out a broken cry and the sudden tension forming in your gut from his deep thrust. You nod with a whimper responding to his taunting question. "Look at you, so fucking cute when you're all fucked up like this," He rubs your cheek with a smile, honestly adoring you. "I need to fuck you baby," He blurts out and you pause. "Bend over the bed," He orders and you don't defy in the slightest. You slip off of him before bending over the bed, impatiently waiting for him to unleash his lust on you.

Bangchan looms over you from behind as his cock rubs up against your core. "I'm going to fuck your brains out," He whispers, his words not a threat but more of a promise. And so, he begins. His cock slides into you with ease with a little force, pushing up against that gummy spot, and since the two of you had already been at it, chan doesn't hold back. His hips slap into your ass, the room filling with the lewd sound of your skin clapping and his balls meeting your wet folds. You can't contain your moans, your jaw seemingly locked open as your body bounces with each of his thrusts.

"C-Chan," You whimper, your arms trembling as you try to hold yourself up. Bangchan grabs a messy fistfull of your hair and pulls it back, your head now tilted back as your body jerks up the bed with each pound. You let out a long moan, your eyes rolling back.

"Oh you like that don't you," He growls as he snaps his hips into you. "I'm close baby, gonna unload inside you and you're gonna take it all," He hisses, his words punctuated with his thrusts. Just when you thought it wasn't possible he thrusts faster.

"Fuck! Chan I-I can't!" you cry out.

"Oh but you can baby," He whispers in your ear. "Let it out baby, I can tell your close," His hips never relent as he reassures you. "Your little pussy is clenching around me, just begging to make you snap," He growls as you feel a warm tingle consume your body but you don't even need to announce your orgasm, chan is already well aware. "There it is~" He lets your hair go, knowing that you like to be in control when you cum, or more that you like your own pleasure to control you.

Not long after your body shakes and quivers Bangchan empties inside you as well. His load was big and somehow felt heavy, like he had been holding this release in for a while. When he's finished he lets out an exhausted moan and rests some of his weight on you. "Thank you...I really needed that," He sighs before slipping out and rubbing your swollen folds with his thumb. "Let's get a shower baby," He kisses your back before you stand up beside him. You nod in agreement and he quickly whisks you up, holding you bridal style before carrying you to the bathroom.

[astars-things]

Dada's side

Dad!Lando Norris x Mom!reader

You knew marrying an f1 driver was hard, with the media attention, them being away so much and the risk of driving 300mph not knowing if they were going to get out of the car unharmed, but nothing was harder than raising a child with an f1 driver. You knew what you were signing up for but your little baby Ivy didn't. It was easier when she was younger she didn't have a clue what was going on and you could take her to races more but when she turned two it was a lot harder, now, she was old enough to know what it meant when Lando packed a suitcase. Old enough to know that when you drove to the airport, she wouldn’t see him for days.

Ivy was a clingy toddler to Lando so when it came time for airport drop-offs it was hard for everyone. 

"dada no leave" Ivy screamed as Lando was hugging her goodbye "Bub I'm sorry but you get to see me on TV and I'll be home in five sleeps okay" Lando cooed, giving her a finally kiss on the head before putting her back into her car seat and shutting the door, you and Lando stood outside the car hearing Ivy cry her heart out, "I Love you y/n, call me if you need anything" Lando cooed to you and giving you a deep kiss "I love you too Lando" you gave each other one last hug before you watched Lando walk away 

You watched him until he disappeared into the terminal, then slipped into the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel tightly. You tried to hold it together, for Ivy’s sake, but as her cries filled the car, a few silent tears escaped. Quickly, you wiped them away before the cameras lurking nearby could capture them.

when you stepped inside the apartment Ivy was not having it crying, throwing things and more. You sighed giving Ivy the iPad and putting cartoons on for her so you could go have a shower and a moment of peace to yourself. Then, suddenly, the weight of it all crushed you, and that's when you fell apart you started off with small sobs and soon it turned into you gasping for air, and the worst part is Lando was 30,000 feet in the air unreachable while you had to deal with everything. 

Dinner went better than you expected you made Ivy dino nuggets with tater tots and you both just sat on the couch with both of your dinners while watching a Disney because you had no energy to fight her into sitting her in her high chair, soon it came to bedtime "I don't want sleep I want dada" Ivy screamed as you placed her in her bed with a bottle of milk and her night time essentials, "I know baby but the sooner you go to sleep is one sleep down until dada comes home" you cooed pressing a kiss to Ivys head 

"What if I go get Dada’s cologne and spray it on Ted Ted?" Ivy’s sniffles quieted, and she gave you a hopeful nod. You quickly grabbed Lando’s full-sized cologne from the dresser the one he always left at home since he traveled with a smaller one and spritzed a little onto her beloved bear.

"Ted Ted smells like Dada now," you whispered, handing it back to her. She clutched it close, inhaling deeply, and within minutes, she was fast asleep. For the first time that day, it felt like you could finally breathe, you cleaned the kitchen and made your way into your shared room getting ready for bed, slipping under the covers and pulling out your phone to mindlessly scroll on TikTok, half an hour into scrolling on TikTok you heard tiny footsteps coming towards your room and with a small push Ivy had opened your bedroom door "I miss dada" she cried running towards you 

You picked her up putting her and Lando's side of the bed giving her a light kiss on the head "I know baby" you cooed, rubbing her back Just then, your phone buzzed. Lando’s name lit up the screen. You quickly answered, putting him on FaceTime.

"Hi, my love, fu—" Lando started, voice groggy from just waking up. "Lando, Ivy is next to me," you warned, cutting him off before he let any colorful words slip. Lando chuckled. "Right, little ears." Then his expression softened as he caught sight of Ivy curled up in bed. "Hey, bub. You keeping my side of the bed warm for me?"

Ivy peeked at the screen, still sleepy. "Mhm. Smells like you," she mumbled, hugging Ted Ted closer. Lando’s heart melted. "I miss you, baby. But I’ll be home really soon, okay? Just five more sleeps." Ivy yawned, nodding. "Will you tell me a story?"

Lando grinned. "Of course, bub. What story do you want?" Ivy thought for a moment before mumbling, "Dada’s race car."

So Lando launched into a bedtime story, his voice soft and full of love. He told her about a magical race car that could fly and how its driver who looked suspiciously like him raced across the stars to get home to his family. As he spoke, Ivy’s eyes grew heavier, her little hand resting against your arm.

Soon, soft snores filled the room.

Lando smiled. "She’s out, huh?" You nodded, adjusting the blankets around her. "Yeah. That was adorable." "Glad I could help." Lando leaned back against the pillows in his hotel room, running a hand through his messy curls. "How was your day, love?" You sighed. "Busy. She was extra clingy today. I think she really felt you being gone."

Lando frowned. "I hate being away from you guys." "We miss you too," you admitted, voice softer now. "It’s not the same without you here." His expression warmed. "I’ll be home before you know it. And then I’m not letting go of either of you." You smiled sleepily, the warmth of his words settling over you like a blanket.

"Babe," Lando said after a moment, his voice gentle. "As much as I love your voice, I think you should go to sleep." You chuckled. "You’re probably right." "Get some rest, love. I’ll call you first thing in the morning." "Okay," you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. "Goodnight, Lando." "Goodnight, my love."

please reblog and like 🫶

My requests are open so feel free to send in x

[flaminhotlem0n]

𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

genre: phone sex, smut mdni

wc: ~600

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader

cw: established relationship, explicit language, sexual content, phone sex, pet name, masturbation, hyunjin being horny af

not proofread

꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷

It was past 2 a.m. when your phone buzzed.

hyunjin. facetime.

“hi my love” you answered, voice still sounding asleep

but he didn’t reply right away. he just looked at you. lying on his bed, hair messy, the warm bedside light soft on his bare shoulders. His breathing already a little too fast. And then his voice came, low and filthy

“tell me what you’re wearing.”

you bit your lip and answered

“nothing.”

his eyes darkened instantly. His breath hitched.

He swore under his breath.

“fuck…”

his hand dropped below the camera. you knew exactly where it went

“hyunjin…” you whispered

“shh… just let me look at you.” he murmured “fuck, baby. I miss you.”

his voice was already filthy. laced with longing, need, and a cruel edge of control.

“miss your taste… your hands pulling my hair while I fuck you with my tongue.” he started stroking himself, wishing it was your hand instead of his “miss hearing you beg—so needy, so fucking wet for me.”

you whimpered softly.

“you making me so wet, love…”

he licked his lips. his jaw was clenched tight.

you could hear the pace of his breathing—fast, shaky.

and even though the camera didn’t show it, the way his body tensed told you everything.

“then show me.”

you pulled the blanket off. skin flushed, glowing under the dim light.

You tilted the camera just right, fingers sliding between your thighs, already soaked.

“god, you’re so wet, so hot…” he groaned “touch yourself for me baby”

you obeyed, fingers circling your clit while you moaned his name

and he watched. fascinated.

chest rising and falling faster.

the soft sound of him jerking off in the background, just out of view.

“you open up so pretty for me… fuck, I’d eat that pussy for hours. I’d make you cry just with my tongue.”

you moaned louder, eyes fluttering shut.

“ughh hyune, you gonna make me cum like this”

“you’re mine.” his voice dropped. possessive. “you know that right? only mine. no one else hears you like this. no one else gets to see you fall apart.”

“i want your cock so bad…” you said

he groaned again. he head fell back a little.

“you dream about me fucking you deep, don’t you? holding you open, slamming into you until you’re begging me to stop?”

“yes—fuck, yes… I’m so close, hyune”

“don’t cum yet baby” his tone cut sharp. “wait for me. be a good fucking girl.”

you whimpered, nearly sobbing.

“i’m trying… but it feels so good—”

“then cum for me, my beautiful girl”

his voice hit you hard—commanding, filthy.

“let me see that pretty face while you cum thinking about my cock inside you.”

and you came.

hard. wet. desperate.

your whole body trembled, fingers still buried deep, mouth hanging open as his name tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

on the other side of the screen, hyunjin moaned deep and rough, coming right after you—his chest heaving, his hand messy and out of breath.

seconds of silence.

heavy breathing. small smiles.

you pulled the blanket up to your chest, still panting, flushed and floating.

“tomorrow,” he said with a lazy smile, “we’re doing this for real.”

“pomise you’ll say all that again… in my ear?”

he blinked slow, voice soaked in post-nut bliss:

“I promise…” he said adjusting himself on his bed “but with my tongue inside you this time. good night baby.”

call ended.

and you?

you couldn’t wait to tomorrow

[tsunaso]

hiii ur red hood fic really opened my third eye like it was scrumptious !! but may i request tim drake with a bimbo/himbo reader (gn or whatever u prefer !!) who is tired of people thinking that they're the submissive one in the relationship by the media (doesn't help that tim likes to be a brat and feed into the rumors) so they take it upon themselves to put him in his place ! yummy brat taming mmm

“LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!”

pairing. Sub!brat!Tim Drake x Top!himbo!male reader

synopsis. Tim Drake has the internet fooled—he’s got everyone thinking he’s the one in charge, And you? The soft, golden retriever boyfriend who carries his bags. It’s cute. Until Tim starts leaning into the act just a little too hard. Now it’s time to remind your baby boy exactly who’s in charge—and shut that bratty little mouth the only way he’ll learn. — 4.6k

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, brat taming, blow-job, soft dom, hair pulling, power play, dumbification, overstimulation, choking, light degradation, spanking, praise kink, subspace, name-calling (slut, baby boy, etc.), aftercare, Tim is a little menace <3

Tim Drake had been smirking all damn day.

It started small—barely-there glances during the morning interview, the casual way he leaned into your side when the camera panned your way. But it escalated. Fast.

By the time lunch hit, the internet was already eating it up. A now-viral clip of Tim sitting in your lap at last night’s gala, fingers twirling lazily through your hair while he whispered something into your ear. The caption? "tim got that man wrapped around his finger 😂😍"

You weren’t mad.

You knew what you looked like next to him—six foot something, soft-voiced, sweet to a fault. The golden retriever boyfriend. And Tim? Sharp suit. Sharp eyes. Sharper mouth.

Of course they thought he was the one in charge.

But Tim knew better.

“You’re really gonna let them think that?” you asked, sometime after dinner, when he curled up on the couch beside you, phone in hand and that same smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Think what?” he asked, too innocently.

You narrowed your eyes. “That you call the shots.”

Tim didn’t even look up. Just shrugged, thumbs still tapping the screen. “Well. I mean. Have you ever said otherwise?”

You stared at him.

He smirked wider.

“I’m joking,” he added, too quickly, slipping the phone into the pocket of his hoodie. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Tim climbed into your lap again, just like he had in the video. He settled in like he belonged there—like you were his throne—and looked up at you, all lashes and mischief.

“I mean,” he said, voice low, “you don’t exactly correct people when they say I keep you in check.”

You arched a brow. “Because I think it’s funny. You, keeping me in check? Baby, you cry when I change the Netflix password.”

“Okay, that was one time. And I was stressed.”

You leaned in. “You pouted for three days.”

“I missed my show!”

Your hands found his waist, big and warm and just a little firmer than before.

“And now you’re feeding into it,” you murmured, tone dipping, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear. “Retweeting the edits. Dropping quotes in interviews. Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, too fast.

“Like you want me to prove you wrong.”

That shut him up.

His breath hitched.

And when he met your gaze again, the smirk faltered just enough to tell you everything you needed.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw, light and sweet.

Then you whispered, “Upstairs. Now.”

Tim didn’t move right away. He blinked up at you like he hadn’t expected you to actually say it out loud.

You arched a brow. “Did I stutter?”

He swallowed. “No, sir.”

God, he was such a fucking brat. You loved him.

You stood, tugging him up by the hand. “Then go.”

He turned, smirking again—but quieter this time—as he walked. And you let your eyes drag over the way his hoodie hung too loose around his waist, the curve of his ass in those smug little tailored pants.

You followed him up the stairs. Watched him slow at the bedroom door, as if debating whether to keep the act going or not.

He stopped just inside the room and turned. “You sure this isn’t about your ego?”

You tilted your head. “You sure you want to test me?”

Tim stepped back, slow, walking toward the bed. “I’m just saying… all those edits aren’t wrong.”

You stalked in after him.

“You mean the ones where I’m apparently your soft little boyfriend who gets flustered when you hold my hand in public?”

“Mm.” He sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at you. “I mean, you do blush kind of easy.”

You stepped between his knees. Let your hand curl into the collar of his hoodie and tugged him up, just a little.

“I blush because you’re cute,” you said, lips brushing his. “And also because I’m thinking about shoving my dick so far down your throat you forget how to spell your own name.”

That broke something.

Tim’s smirk cracked.

You pushed him back onto the bed, gentle but firm. He landed with a little oof, arms spread, eyes wide.

You pulled the hoodie off. Tossed it to the floor.

Then crawled over him, bracing your arms on either side of his head.

“You think you’re in charge?” you murmured, voice low. “You think you can keep running that mouth, posting those captions, letting people think I’m the one getting fucked?”

Tim swallowed. “I mean, technically—”

Your hand closed around his jaw.

Not hard. But enough.

His words cut off with a sharp inhale.

“You’re real bold for someone whose knees shake when I say ‘good boy.’”

Tim exhaled shakily. “...You haven’t said that yet.”

You smiled.

“Oh, baby. You’ll earn it.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You dragged him upright by the wrist and sat down at the edge of the bed, spreading your thighs wide as you pulled him between them. He blinked at you, confused for half a second, until you patted your lap.

Tim’s eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh,” you said, gripping his hips and manhandling him across your legs, “I am very serious.”

He squirmed. “You can’t be—this is childish.”

You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear as your palm settled against the curve of his ass.

“You wanna act like a brat, baby? Then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

Tim went very still.

His breath hitched when your fingers hooked into his waistband and tugged both his pants and briefs down to his thighs in one smooth motion.

“You should be grateful,” you murmured, smoothing your hand over his skin. “Most people don’t get punished this pretty.”

He made a sound—half protest, half flustered noise—but you didn’t give him time to think.

The first spank landed with a sharp snap of skin.

Tim jolted. “F—fuck—!”

You rubbed the spot you’d just struck, fingers tracing the flush rising there.

“Language,” you said calmly. “Now count.”

Tim hesitated. Then, sullenly: “One.”

You nodded. “Good boy.”

And brought your hand down again.

Harder.

Tim gasped. “T-Two.”

“Louder.”

“Two!”

Another slap. Sharp. Deliberate.

He arched off your lap with a hiss. “Three.”

You kept going. Not fast. Not cruel. But hard enough that each strike landed with purpose.

“Four… Fuck, five—!”

You raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

Tim froze. “...Five.”

You hummed. “That’s not what I heard.”

He groaned into his arm. “C’mon—”

“No. Start over.”

His breath caught. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I sound like I’m kidding?”

You smoothed your hand over his burning skin again, slow and warm.

“Don’t make me add more.”

Tim growled softly under his breath, but said nothing.

He took a breath.

And started again.

“One.”

Smack.

“Two.”

Smack.

He was breathing hard now. Not from pain—but from the pressure of it. The control. The way you wouldn’t let him wriggle out with sass or sarcasm.

You felt him twitch every time your palm landed, felt the slight tremble in his thighs. His hips had started to subtly shift with each strike.

And his cock—trapped between his stomach and your thigh—was getting hard.

You grinned.

By the time he reached “Eight,” his voice was cracking.

“...Nine,” he whimpered, burying his face in the sheets.

You held still. Let your palm rest on the warmth of his ass.

“You sure about that number, sweetheart?”

He sniffled.

“Yes—Nine, I swear.”

“Mm.” You gave it a moment. Let him breathe. Let him sweat.

Then delivered the final blow—firm, with your hand curled slightly to catch the same spot as before.

“Ten.”

Tim’s voice was raw. “T-Ten.”

You hummed in approval. Ran your hand down his back.

“Good boy.”

He shuddered.

The words hit harder than the spanks.

You leaned over him, letting your mouth graze his shoulder.

“Now,” you murmured, “maybe you’re ready to earn a little more.”

Tim stayed there a moment too long after the tenth strike. His head was down, cheek pressed to the sheets, hips lifted like he wasn’t quite ready to move—like the weight of you across his back had melted him into something obedient.

You rested your hand on the curve of his ass again, rubbing gentle circles into the pink skin.

“Look at that,” you said softly, fingers dragging down the side of his thigh. “Didn’t even need to tie you down.”

Tim made a sound—something caught between a scoff and a sigh. “You’re acting like this was your idea of mercy.”

You chuckled and leaned in, letting your chest press to his back, breath warm against his neck. “Sweetheart, if I wanted to be mean, you’d still be on the first round.”

He shivered. You felt it beneath you—the slight tightening of his core, the way his hips shifted just enough to let his hardening cock drag against your thigh again.

“I see the little show’s over,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Where’s all that confidence now, huh?”

Tim groaned quietly. “I hate you.”

You smiled, wide and full of teeth, and kissed his shoulder again.

“No, you don’t.”

You let your hand trail forward, brushing down his stomach, just barely ghosting the underside of his cock—enough to make him jolt, but not enough to give him what he wanted.

His hips jerked forward instinctively, but you pulled your hand away before he could grind against your palm.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, clicking your tongue. “Not until you ask.”

Tim twisted just enough to look at you over his shoulder. His hair was a mess, cheeks red, lashes wet. His glare didn’t have half the heat it usually did.

“You really want me to beg?”

You tilted your head and let your thumb drag over his lower lip, pressing just enough to part it.

“I want you to be honest. With me. With yourself.”

He sucked in a breath and held it. You waited, still stroking lazy circles on the side of his hip, letting the silence stretch like silk between you.

Then, softer than you expected:

“I want your mouth.”

You didn’t move.

You didn’t answer.

You just kept looking at him—slow, patient, adoring.

Tim swallowed. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again.

“Please.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Please what?”

Tim’s lashes fluttered. His hips flexed again, like his body was begging faster than his mouth could keep up.

“Please use your mouth. I—I want you to suck me off.”

You could see the tension in his jaw as he forced the words out, how much it cost him to say them without a smart-ass smile. No games. Just need.

You kissed his spine, slow and reverent.

“There he is.”

Then you flipped him.

Strong hands under his thighs, you lifted and shifted him effortlessly onto his back, laying him out like a gift on the bed. His legs dropped open on instinct. His cock twitched against his stomach, red and leaking.

You settled between his thighs and looked up at him with a grin.

“You want my mouth, baby?”

Tim nodded quickly. “Yes—please, just—”

You cut him off with a kiss to the head of his cock.

“Then you better keep still,” you whispered. “Or I’m starting from one again.”

He whined.

And you licked the drop of pre from his slit like it was honey.

Tim tried not to squirm.

Tried being the key word.

You hadn’t even taken him into your mouth yet—just kissed the tip, licked him slow, let your tongue tease the slit until he was gasping—and he was already trembling. His fingers twisted in the sheets, tight-knuckled and white, like he was holding onto something just to keep from falling apart.

You looked up from between his thighs, chin resting lazily on his hip. “You’re shaking already?”

Tim glared down at you. “You’re teasing me.”

You smiled. “I’m preparing you.”

His breath hitched.

“For what?” he asked, voice breaking on the second word.

You leaned forward, dragging your tongue from base to tip, slow and deliberate.

“To get fucking ruined.”

He groaned—loud and raw—and let his head drop back to the bed.

You took your time.

You let your lips part just around the head of his cock, letting it rest warm and heavy on your tongue, your hands bracing his hips down to keep him from bucking. He gasped the moment your mouth closed around him.

“Oh—fuck—”

You didn’t stop.

You went deeper, slow at first, letting the weight of him stretch your lips open until your jaw ached in the best way. Your tongue flattened beneath him, tracing the underside with every pass. You could feel every twitch, every pulse.

He tried to lift his hips again. You pressed down harder, holding him still.

“Stay. Still.”

His voice cracked. “C-can’t—fuck, you’re so—”

You took him deeper.

Tim’s breath choked off halfway through the word.

You swallowed around him, gagged once—deliberately—and moaned around his dick like he was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

He whimpered. “Oh my god—”

You pulled off just enough to speak, spit clinging between your lips and his shaft. You smiled, voice hoarse and low.

“You wanted my mouth, right?”

Tim nodded frantically, his pupils blown wide.

You licked a slow stripe up the side, fingers tightening around the base of his shaft.

“Then fucking take it.”

You dropped your mouth back down—and this time, you didn’t stop.

You pushed deep, let his cock slide past your tongue, past the gag reflex, until your nose was buried in the soft skin of his lower stomach. Your throat clenched around him instinctively. You heard the breath rush out of him like he’d been punched.

“F-Fuck—M/n—!”

You didn’t let up.

You pulled back only halfway, spit bubbling around your lips, and sank down again with more force—deliberately.

Tim was moaning now—long, drawn-out, helpless sounds that echoed off the walls.

You kept choking on him, mouth slick and hot, eyes locked on his face the whole time.

He looked wrecked.

Beautiful.

Totally undone.

“I can’t—I can’t—gonna—gonna—”

You squeezed the base of his dick and pulled off just in time.

Tim sobbed.

His hands reached for you on instinct, desperate, grabbing for your shoulders, your hair, your face. You caught his wrist mid-reach and kissed the inside of it.

“You don’t get to cum yet.”

He looked like you’d just killed him.

“You’re evil.”

You grinned.

“I’m thorough.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You sat back on your heels, wiping the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand. Tim was panting, chest rising and falling like he’d just run ten miles. His thighs were still trembling.

You tilted your head, dragging your gaze down his flushed body.

“You’re shaking.”

His eyes fluttered. “That’s your fault.”

You laughed, rich and low, and ran your palms up his thighs—thumbs circling the twitching muscles, moving closer to where his cock still throbbed against his stomach.

“No, baby,” you murmured. “That’s yours. You’ve been like this all day, haven’t you?”

Tim didn’t answer.

So you leaned in closer. Let your mouth hover just above his navel.

“You were hard in the car. Hard when I told you to get upstairs. And I bet,” you whispered, dragging your fingers lower, toward his inner thighs, “I bet if I spread your legs right now...”

You paused.

Then pushed.

Tim’s knees dropped open without resistance.

And there—between his cheeks, slick already shining against his hole—you saw it.

You went very still.

“…Timothy Jackson Drake,” you said slowly, voice edged with something between amusement and hunger. “Did you prep yourself before I got home?”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just turned his head to the side, cheeks flushing deeper, the tips of his ears bright red.

You grabbed his chin gently and turned him back to face you.

“Answer me.”

Tim’s voice was hoarse. “...Yes.”

Your cock twitched.

You exhaled hard through your nose, trying not to let the groan slip free. But fuck—he really had. He’d done all this knowing how it would end. He’d spent the day riling you up, waiting for you to crack, knowing that when you did, you’d fuck him hard enough to shut that smart little mouth for hours.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” you muttered.

His lips curled into a small smile. “Takes one to—mmph!”

You kissed him—filthy, fast, full of spit and the taste of his pre. He moaned into it, open-mouthed, greedy. You pulled back only to let your voice sink into his throat again.

“You really want it that bad, huh? Couldn’t wait? Walked around all day with your hole fucking ready?”

Tim nodded fast, desperate. “I wanted you to make me wait.”

You blinked.

“Yeah?” Your voice dropped. “You like it that much? Laying there, open, knowing I wouldn’t touch you until you earned it?”

He bit his lip and looked up at you from under his lashes.

“I like being your problem.”

You groaned and kissed him again, hand sliding down between his legs, fingers slipping easily through the slick gathered around his entrance.

“You’re not a problem,” you whispered, sinking two fingers into him with no resistance, “You’re a fucking addiction.”

His voice came out wrecked—quiet, needy, breathless.

“Then don’t stop until I forget my own name.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

“F-fuck, M/n—too much, too much—”

Tim moaned like he’d lost his mind.

It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t contained. It was loud, cracked, real—the kind of sound that only came out when everything else had already broken down.

You had just pushed into him—slow at first, just enough to stretch him—but the moment your hips met his ass, flush, heavy, full?

He sobbed.

You gripped his thighs harder, pinning them to your sides. He was already shaking, the insides of his knees clenching around your waist like he was trying to keep you close and push you away all at once.

“You’re the one who got ready for this,” you said through clenched teeth, sweat already rolling down your neck. “You did this to yourself.”

Tim was barely listening. His hands were in your hair, on your shoulders, grabbing at your arms like he didn’t know what to hold onto.

“You’re so fucking deep—”

You leaned down until your forehead pressed against his, panting into his mouth as you rolled your hips once, slow and hard. He whined like a kicked dog.

“I’m not even moving yet.”

His whole body jolted when you pulled back and thrust again—harder this time. Sloppy. Loud.

There was no rhythm. No grace. Just slick skin, the sound of your cock sliding into his soaked hole, and the wet slap of your hips hitting his ass, again and again.

Tim gasped, voice high. “Don’t—don’t stop—just like that, just like that—”

“You sound so fucking needy,” you growled, hands sliding under his back to lift him, to pull him in tighter. “Is this what you wanted all day? Getting stuffed so deep you can’t even lie to yourself about who owns this pretty little ass?”

Tim couldn’t form words. His head tipped back, mouth open, voice caught in his throat.

You slammed in again, dragging a scream out of him. “Say it.”

His lips moved, but nothing came out.

So you stopped moving entirely—just kept yourself buried, cock twitching inside him, chest heaving. “Say it, Tim.”

His eyes snapped open. Desperate. Wrecked.

“You,” he croaked. “It’s yours, it’s all fucking yours—please, don’t stop—”

“Good fucking boy.”

You grabbed his legs, shoved them higher, nearly folding him in half, and pounded back in without mercy.

The moan that ripped out of him didn’t sound human.

You drove into him like you’d lost patience—like he needed to feel it in his ribs—and you knew the angle was hitting him dead-on because he kept clenching around you like he couldn’t take it.

His cock was leaking all over his stomach, untouched.

You didn’t reach for it. You didn’t need to.

Not when he was already babbling.

“Fuck—oh my god—yes, yes, right there—M/n, I’m gonna—”

You snarled and leaned down, biting at his neck just hard enough to make him jolt. “You better not cum without permission.”

Tim whimpered.

You could feel it—his whole body was right on the edge. His toes curled. His legs shook. He was crying, soft little gasps mixing with broken moans, eyes rolled halfway back.

“You wanna cum?”

He nodded frantically, face flushed and wet.

You slowed your thrusts, just enough to grind.

“Beg for it.”

His voice cracked. “Please—please, let me—let me cum, I can’t—I can’t hold it—please, sir—”

You slammed into him one last time, rough and deep, and held there, grinding into his prostate with punishing pressure.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Tim screamed.

His cock jumped against his stomach, ropes of hot cum shooting up his chest as he seized in your arms, whole body spasming from the force of it. His hole clamped down around your cock so tight it dragged your own release right out of you.

You didn’t even pull out.

You just buried yourself deeper, groaning as you emptied into him, your fingers digging into his hips, holding him still as you spilled everything inside him.

You stayed there—buried deep, panting against his throat, still twitching inside him as your cm warmed his already-slick hole. He was limp beneath you, chest rising in shallow pulls, lips parted in that dazed little O-shape that always told you you’d wrecked him just right.

But you didn’t move.

Didn’t pull out. Didn’t let go.

Instead, you kissed his cheek, soft and slow, and murmured, “You still with me, baby?”

Tim made a sound. Not a word—just a breathy little whimper that cracked at the edges.

You smiled.

“That’s a yes,” you said gently, brushing your nose against his temple. “Color?”

He nodded once against the pillow. “Green.”

His voice was small. Floaty. Like his brain had drifted somewhere far, and he was only now swimming back toward you.

“Good boy,” you whispered.

You pulled back just enough to look at him—his flushed cheeks, tear-slick lashes, and mouth still a little open like he hadn’t remembered how to close it.

“You look so dumb right now, sweetheart.”

Tim blinked at you slowly, like the words were getting stuck on the way to his brain.

You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth.

“You like getting used like that, huh?” you asked, voice soft and low, like you were telling him a secret. “Letting me fuck you stupid? Letting me fill you up ‘til you can’t even talk?”

He moaned again—soft, almost shy.

But you could feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

You hummed and rocked your hips forward, just enough to grind. Not thrust. Just let him feel the weight of you still inside him.

His body jolted like a live wire.

“Sensitive,” you said, smiling as he whimpered. “Poor baby.”

“I—I can’t—” Tim’s words stuttered out. “Too much, I already—”

“I know,” you cooed. “You already came so hard, baby. Made such a mess for me.”

You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, one hand sliding down to his thigh. You traced lazy circles on his skin with your thumb.

“But your pretty little hole is still so greedy,” you murmured, giving a slow, shallow thrust that made his eyes roll. “Look how it’s holding onto me. Like it doesn’t wanna let go.”

Tim keened. His fingers scrabbled at your shoulders, his whole body arching without control.

You kissed the underside of his jaw. “You can take one more.”

He shook his head—but his legs were already spreading wider.

You smiled against his throat.

“I’ll go slow,” you promised, voice velvet. “Won’t hurt you. I’ll make it so good, baby, you won’t even have to think.”

You started to move—deep, slow grinds that made him feel every inch. His walls fluttered around you, overstimulated, raw, and dripping, but he didn’t say stop.

He never did.

“Look at you,” you whispered, lips ghosting over his ear. “My sweet little thing. All open. All mine. Can’t even form a sentence.”

“C-can,” Tim gasped, but it was a lie and he knew it.

You chuckled low and deep. “Okay. What’s your name?”

He blinked.

His mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

You grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

Your next thrust was harder. Not punishing. Just firm. Measured. Intentional.

His whole body jerked.

You kept your voice soft. Sweet.

“You love when I talk to you like this, don’t you?”

Tim was crying again. Quiet, overwhelmed tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.

You kissed one. “You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking good for me.”

You shifted your angle, pulled one of his legs higher, and aimed a thrust directly into that sweet little spot inside him that made him scream.

His voice cracked.

His cock jumped, untouched.

“You gonna cum again just from this?” you murmured, breath warm against his lips. “Gonna let me fuck your brains out till there’s nothing left in that pretty little head?”

Tim nodded frantically. He was gone. Gone.

“I wanna—wanna cum, I wanna—”

“You need permission, baby.”

“I—I—please—please, let me—”

You slammed in one more time and held there.

“Do it.”

Tim shattered.

He came untouched—again—cock spurting weakly between you, body twitching under yours like he didn’t know how to stop.

You rocked through it, slow and careful, riding out his orgasm until he went limp again, arms wrapped around your shoulders, breathing soft and uneven.

And this time?

You pulled out.

He whimpered when you did.

But you kissed his lips, slow and sweet.

Then you cleaned him—gently, warm cloth and whispered praise, your fingers rubbing soft circles into his hips and arms while he blinked up at the ceiling, too blissed out to speak.

You crawled into bed with him afterward, pulling the covers over both of you, letting him curl into your chest like always.

He pressed his face into your neck and mumbled something soft you couldn’t quite make out.

You smiled and kissed the crown of his head.

“Love you too, baby.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You were half-asleep.

Tim was curled into your chest, breath soft against your skin, legs tangled with yours under the blanket. He hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. Still twitchy, still sensitive. But content.

You were just about to drift off when the tablet on the nightstand lit up.

You didn’t even flinch at the ringtone—Wayne comms had a specific ping. One that usually meant: “Gear up.”

Tim groaned into your collarbone.

“Don’t answer it.”

You reached blindly for the device, not bothering to sit up. “It’s probably just an update.”

The moment you tapped accept, Dick Grayson’s face filled the screen. He looked sweaty, in uniform, leaning half-out of a fire escape window somewhere across the city.

“Hey, sorry, quick one—Tim are you doing Uptown or should I grab it?”

You blinked blearily, still squinting against the screen glare. “Tim isn’t scheduled for tonight.”

Dick frowned. “Really? I thought Tim was on the rota for North End—”

Then he paused.

And tilted his head.

“…Are you naked?”

You didn’t answer.

Dick’s eyes flicked to the side, squinting.

“Is that—oh my god, Tim?”

You turned the tablet slightly.

Just enough to show the very flushed, very shirtless, and very recently-ruined boy sprawled half across your chest, lips kiss-bruised, neck marked, hair destroyed. His eyes were open but barely.

He blinked once.

Then groaned into your shoulder, trying to hide.

Dick lost it.

“Oh my god. I’m hanging up. I am hanging up right now.”

“You could’ve just called,” you said calmly.

“I thought this was urgent!” he snapped, already fumbling for the end call. “I didn’t know I was about to see my little brother looking like—fuck, Tim, are you drooling?”

“I hate you,” Tim mumbled.

Dick’s cackle echoed even as the screen cut to black.

You tossed the tablet face-down on the nightstand.

Tim didn’t move.

You kissed his hair once and pulled him closer.

“I’ll cover your shift.”

He groaned again. “You better. He’s never gonna let me live that down.”

You grinned against his temple.

“That’s what you get for being a little shit.”

[heesmiles]

TAKE ME FOR A RIDE ; l.hs ׅ 𐙚 ׄ .

SYNOPSIS ──── heeseung takes you on a ride in his new car. ( warnings ) ──── ㅤノㅤ𓈒ㅤlee heeseung x fem ! reader 765 word count. 彡 not proof read, smut mdni, pwp, recording, chain pulling and biting, dirty talk, kinda subby!hee & dom!reader?, handjob..... pure filth ✧:･ﾟ

It was silent save for the rattle of your shaky breath, lips glued to Heeseung like your life depended on it. His hands explored your body with virtue — his tongue ever so slick against your lips. His brand new leather seats clings to your naked thighs with discomfort. The air in his Mercedes was thick, your heaving breathing filling up the car like smoke in an already burning building, but you were in too deep to care. Too intoxicated on the feel of his lips against yours; the heat pooling between your legs was almost unbearable. You needed something, anything — to satiate the desperation you felt; wanted feel him, wholly. 

Your lower half was naked, as was Heeseung, your hand pumping his cock with a slow precision — enough to drive him absolutely insane; just how you liked it. Pre-cum beaded at the tip of his cock, your hand rounded it using the sticky substance as lubricant as you moved your hand faster up and down his shaft. “Holy fuck.” He groaned, a guttural sound deep in his throat. It served as your encouragement. You continued your movements, searching his face for pleasure. A slow smirk spread across your lips as Heeseung kept his eyes screwed shut, his hand gripping the center console so hard his knuckles were white. You loved this side of him; the side that allowed himself to give way to the pleasure completely. The Heeseung who groaned and moaned like no one was listening. 

“I love your new car, baby.” You smiled, a sweet smile that would otherwise turn Heeseung to mush. You had him right where you wanted him. “It’s perfect for times like this..” You trailed off, your hand yanking at Heeseung’s silver chain around his neck — pulling his face closer to yours. His eyes were heavy lidded watching your every movement. His heavy breath fanned across your face. Your lips wrapped around the chain, biting down on the metal like an animal in heat. 

“Oh my god.” Heeseung’s eyes were wide as he watched you. “You’re so fucking hot.” His hands lifted from your waist to paw at your clothed breasts, squeezing them in his hands softly. “You have the best tits, baby.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, letting his chain fall back down against his chest with a thud. “I’d say you’re the hot one….” You reached your hand down while still keeping a slow languid pace on his cock. “I need to keep this moment forever, Hee.” You grabbed your phone that sat perched in the car's cup-holder before turning it on and opening the camera app. “Can I do that, baby?” You asked, “Can I record you?” 

Your hand quickened, rising and falling so fast your fist smacked against his thigh. He jerked forward, grappling at anything nearby to center himself; bring him back down to earth. “S-shit.” He gasped, “Y-yeah, yeah you can.” You smiled a small smile, cooing at him before pressing the record button on your phone. Your hand was shaky causing the camera to tilt a little but you didn’t mind. The video was for your eyes and your eyes only anyway. You lifted your phone catching Heeseung’s face in the frame, his eyes once again heavy lidded with the pleasure coursing through his veins. 

“Do you wanna cum?” You asked, your voice low and sultry with need. Heeseung only nodded, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. “I said…” You trailed, tanking your hand from his cock, “Do you want to cum?” 

Heeseung reached for your wrist “Yes! Fuck, don’t – don’t stop.” Your hand found his shaft again, working him up and down like he asked. He was whining, damn near with tears in his eyes. It was a sight to behold; one you were glad to be capturing. 

“I want to see you cum on camera, Hee.” He was close, his breathing quickened; his head thrown back against the seat of the car. He groaned, low. It had your core throbbing at the sight. You couldn’t believe he was yours. 

“I’m gonna cum.” He nodded his head — his eyes screwed shut. You angle your camera just right; ready to capture the moment like it were a cinematic masterpiece — You the director and Heeseung the shining star. “Don’t stop, I'm gonna cum.”

“I’m not going to stop.” You cooed as you watched the show. Heeseung came with a groan, low in his throat. His spend coating your hand and dripping down your arm. 

“Like I said.” You smirked, watching him come down from his high. “I love your new car.” 

(♬) - @beomiracles @biteyoubiteme @hyukascampfire @dawngyu @izzyy-stuff @1-800-jewon @xylatox @firstclassjaylee @teddybeartaetae @hoonjayke

[azzibuckets]

all the little things

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: it’s the little things that paige and azzi miss about each other

a/n: i combined a bunch of different requests into one fic so it’s a little bit of a mess but like always, pls bear with me…also it’s been 1 year of me writing on tumblr which is crazy🙈 time flies so fast

word count: 2.8k

masterlist

Paige misses Azzi as soon as she disappears through the automatic glass doors. She cranes her neck, trying to follow Azzi’s increasingly small figure as she walks through the airport, but soon the crowds of busy travelers engulf her and Paige gives up.

She stares at her hands on the wheel, wondering how it’s even humanly possible to miss someone so bad that it feels like a part of her is gone too. Sighing to herself, she pulls out her phone, shooting a quick text asking Azzi to let her know when she boards and when she lands and when she gets home safely.

Azzi’s reply is immediate: you do know you have my location right

Paige bites back a smile, knowing she’d be tracking it regardless of whether or not Azzi texted. She shoots back a reply: god forbid a girl wants to make sure the love of her life is safe

Azzi: fuck, dallas already making you sassy as hell. should i be worried for the next time i see you

Paige: exactly this is why you should turn around and come back right now

Paige: i miss you already

Azzi sends her a selfie, lips puckered up into a kiss, brown eyes glimmering with amusement, and Paige almost drops her phone with how fast she fumbles to save it to her camera roll. She hearts the photo, sends back a quick selfie, and groans when the car behind her honks.

She checks her blind spot before pulling back into the left lane. Home seems like a weird name for her destination, an empty and unfamiliar apartment with only a bed frame and a couch and no one to share it with. Her heart twinges thinking about her teammates at Connecticut, her family spread across the states even further now, and the bittersweet feeling of starting over again in a new city.

Her phone lights up with one final notification, and she checks it briefly.

Azzi: drive safe honey. i love you

Azzi: and i miss you more. text me when you’re home

Paige smiles. The car ride isn’t too long, but she’s so lost in her thoughts she forgets to put the music back on. Azzi and her had always been in close proximity for the last four years, never really spending more than several weeks apart, and god, she’d fucking loved it, wouldn’t change it for the world, but now it’s even harder to be so many miles away when she’s used to seeing Azzi every day. Even the little things Azzi had done that she’d always used to roll her eyes and complained about, she misses now. Her heart clenches again.

༉‧₊˚✧

Paige is dreaming about her next meal when she’s stirred into consciousness by a hand shaking her shoulder. Groaning, she rubs away the sleep from her eyes and dreamy remnants of In-N-Out burgers and Diet Cokes she swears she can taste. It’s been months since she’s been able to indulge in either, and she’s longing for the day season is over to be able to get her hands on both.

“Paige, honey, wake up.” Knuckles brush against her cheek, lingering in her warmth for a moment before trailing down to chuck her chin.

Paige is very much not a morning person, so she sinks deeper into the bed, pulling the sheets a little tighter around her head. Maybe if Azzi sees how deeply she’s sleeping, she’ll leave her alone.

“Paige. Get up.” Azzi’s losing patience, her tone becoming a little more demanding, and usually this is when Paige would roll over and let her girlfriend have her way, but she’d stayed up late the night before finishing up a discussion post and now she can feel the warm, lethargic fingers of sleep pulling her back into its heavenly state of nothingness. So, naturally, she makes the barely-conscious executive decision to cancel the early morning run Azzi had planned, and lets her eyes fall shut, succumbing to the weight of exhaustion.

Paige feels the bed creaking as Azzi slips off the edge, and she thanks God. She decides that when Azzi comes back, she’ll join her for the gym portion; after all, she’s a hooper, not a track star. Doesn’t make sense to waste her energy wearing down the pavement when she could save it for beating Azzi in 1v1s.

Yet Azzi is back in a matter of seconds, this time shaking Paige more insistently. “P, wake up.”

Not wanting to be the victim of Azzi’s wrath this early in the morning, Paige finally untangles herself from the mess of sheets, blinking as her eyes adjust to the piercingly bright yellow light now flooding the room. “Jesus, Az,” she mutters. “You didn’t have to turn every lamp on.” She runs a hand through her mess of hair, yawning tiredly. “What time is it?”

“3 AM.” Azzi at least has the decency to look a little bit guilty, her bottom lip tucking ruefully under her teeth.

“Azzi, what the hell.” Paige flops back into bed, attempting a dramatic attempt of feigning her return to sleep, but Azzi slaps her arm.

“I need to change my pad but I left all my extra ones downstairs.”

“Okay.” Paige grabs a pillow and starts suffocating her eyes with it, willing the light to go away. “Then go get it? Did you bleed through or someth—actually, don’t answer that. I’m way too tired to deal with changing the sheets, I’ll just sleep at the edge of the bed.”

“No, I didn’t bleed through. Chill.” Azzi says, voice strained. “But, like, you need to come with me.”

“What, you need someone to help you walk or sum? You’re not the one with the torn ACL,” Paige complains.

“Paige,” Azzi says exasperatedly, staring at her as if Paige could suddenly understand her logic behind waking her girlfriend up in the ass crack of night to go with her downstairs, but Paige just stares back, lost. “Paige,” she repeats, almost embarrassed as her eyes flick from the door to the blonde still sitting in bed. “It’s 3 AM. It’s dark and the house is making noises and there’s too many windows downstairs.”

“Windows?”

“Someone could be looking at me from outside and I wouldn’t even know it cause it’s so dark.”

“Azzi, you’re being ridiculous. No one’s standing outside.”

“That’s what all the victims who get murdered first in Criminal Minds say,” Azzi replies automaticaly. “God, you have zero survival instinct.”

“If I have zero survival instinct then why are you bringing me with you?” Paige grumbles, but she’s already standing up and slipping on a hoodie, already missing the body heat of her best friend and the warmth of her blanket.

Paige is too tired to argue when Azzi forces her to lead the way. Muttering under her breath, she pushes open the door and trudges across the hallway and down the stairs. She’s too lazy to take the extra steps to flip on the light switches, usually the type to stumble her way through the dark and inevitably bump into five different pieces of furniture, but Azzi demands requests her to use her phone flashlight to guide their steps, claiming that there could be someone hiding in the corner for all they know.

Once they reach the bathroom, Paige leans against the wall, finding relief in its sturdy support against her head. “Okay.” Azzi fingers the door handle nervously. “You’re gonna be here when I come out, right?”

“I won’t move at all,” the older girl promises, raising her hands in innocence.

“I’m serious, Paige. You can’t leave or I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Azzi, I swear to fucking god-,”

“Alright, alright,” sensing that Paige is close to reaching her last straw, Azzi closes the bathroom door behind her. As soon as she hears the lock clock, Paige leaves. But she heads into the kitchen, rummaging around the medicine cabinet for the bottle of Midol she knows is hanging around in there. Spotting the familiar unicorn heating pad on the couch, she grabs that and pops it in the microwave for a couple of minutes.

Azzi’s still in the bathroom when the microwave beeps, so Paige flops down on the fooor and curls around the unicorn, basking in its heat. She’s almost fallen asleep on the ground, which is honestly a lot more comfortable than it looks, when Azzi finally emerges, wiping her wet hands on her t-shirt. “Sorry,” she apologizes. “I had to poop.”

Shaking her head, Paige pushes the heating pad into her hands along with a couple pills. Azzi looks up at her gratefully. “Thank you.” Paige offers a lazy smile in reply, pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead before rushing them back into the room and into the bed.

Azzi bustles around the room for a little bit as Paige gets settled back into the sheets, arm thrown across her eyes. “You good, mami?” she murmurs once all the lights are back off and Azzi’s slipping into bed next to her. She feels a hand on her waist and a chin on her shoulder, and a faint whisper of an “i love you” before she’s fully fading into unconsciousness.

When Azzi wakes up four hours later, she spends ten minutes debating whether to wake up Paige with her. Well, five minutes to be exact - the other five are devoted to staring at Paige as she snores, pink lips slightly parted as she’s curled in her fetal position. She really is beautiful, her blonde hair almost a golden from the hazy sunlight falling through her open blinds.

Azzi decides to let Paige rest. She’s getting out of bed to brush her teeth when a hand curls around her wrist. “I think that midnight disturbance warrants a morning of sleeping in,” Paige says, voice raspy with sleep.

“You can sleep in,” Azzi says. “I still wanna run.”

“Nah, you’re staying. Can’t sleep without you.” Paige folds herself over Azzi, face snuggling into the crook of her neck, hip to hip with their legs intertwined, letting out a sigh of contentment as she relaxes into the younger girl’s body as if they’re one. And really, who would Azzi be to say no to her girlfriend?

༉‧₊˚✧

Paige shakes herself out of her memories. Her chest feels heavy, yet she feels a little silly for getting all emotional about something as trivial and embarrasing as missing her girlfriend’s fear of the dark. Honestly, she should be glad she’ll now be able to sleep through the night without interruptions.

But Paige misses it anyways.

•••••••

Azzi walks through the airport, music blaring in her Bose headphones. She walks past a baggage claim and sees a familiar face on the TV, green and yellow streaked across the image. She smiles and takes a photo to show her parents later.

It’s still a little crazy for her to see her girlfriend’s face plastered across billboards and posters across her new city, a city that welcomed Paige like she’d grown up there. All these people passing by see her, but Azzi relishes the fact that there’s a part of Paige no one else knows, a part reserved solely for her.

•••••••

Paige has been unnaturally quiet all night, and it’s not like Azzi has been stalking her girlfriend, per se, but there’s always been a little part of her acutely aware of what the blonde is up to. The entire team, including the coaches and managers, are at Azzi’s grandparents house for their yearly pre-season barbecue, but the two of them haven’t been able to talk much all night - Paige has been chatting with the coaches, while Azzi was busy helping prepare food before getting thrown into a conversation with Caroline and KK for the past half hour.

KK brightens up when CD excuses herself to take a call, calling Paige over. “Come here Boogers, I’m telling a funny story.”

Paige hesitates for a second before making her way over to join their circle, slumping down into the cushion between KK and Azzi with a tired sigh. “You alright?” Azzi murmurs softly, instinctively leaning into Paige’s space and reaching to brush the hair from her eyes. Paige wordlessly offers a small smile of reassurance before turning her attention to KK’s monologue.

Azzi had stopped listening ten minutes ago, so she’s thankful when KK backtracks so she can give Paige context. Caroline is already out of it, staring at the carpet as she fiddles with her watch. KK’s saying something about the prank she’d plotted with Ice and played on the freshmen the week before, and usually Paige would be eating this up, hollering alongside the sophomore, but tonight she remains restless, nodding along but clearly only picking up half of what’s being said.

Mid way through her story, KK pauses, seeming to catch onto her older teammates’ lack of enthusiasm. “Paige, you aren’t even listening!”

Paige’s eyes snap up towards KK. “My bad, KK,” she apologizes, tone genuine. “Just tired.”

“Man, you’re no fun,” KK grumbles, flicking Paige’s forehead. “What’s up with you?” Paige tiredly swats back at her hand, and KK laughs, pushing back at her shoulder to try and initiate one of their many wrestling sessions they’ve been keeping a running tally of (Paige 9, KK 4).

“Alright, leave her alone,” Azzi defends, sensing that Paige is clearly not in the mood to fool around. “Go play with the freshmen or something.”

“Y’all gentle parent me and shit like I’m a kid,” KK mutters, but takes off to probably go find Sarah.

Paige leans back into the couch, head tipping back. “What’s up?” Azzi says softly, cupping the back of her neck and running her thumb alongside her jawline. Paige’s eyes flutter shut at her touch as she slowly exhales.

“Don’t know,” Paige admits. “Not feeling it today. Too much going on.”

Azzi plants a soft kiss on her temple, lingering and sweet. “Wanna take a break in the guest room?”

“Please.” Paige sends her a grateful look.

After making sure her girlfriend is good in the guest room, Azzi returns to the living room, where the entire team is now piled in and playing Mario Kart. Before long, they get bored and switch over to Fortnite. “Yo, someone get P,” someone calls out, knowing Paige would give them shit for hopping on without her.

Ice pops up, but Azzi waves her off. “I’ll go check on her,” she replies. It’s been an hour, so knowing the older girl is likely asleep, she opens the door quietly and tip-toes inside.

Paige is sprawled out in the bed, unmoving as she clutches a pillow to her chest, but her eyes are open. “Thought you were asleep,” Azzi whispers as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “You been up this whole time?”

Paige flips over and looks at Azzi, grabbing her hand in her lap. The feel of Azzi’s hand, warm against hers, is comforting. “Yeah. Can’t sleep.”

“What’re you thinking about?”

Paige breaks eye contact to stare at the ceiling, mind clearly running. “I don’t know. I was talking to the media after practice earlier, and it - it was just a lot. There’s a ton of pressure and outside noise this season and I know I should be used to it by now but - I’m just tired of it all, you know?”

Azzi nods, quiet. Paige shifts over in bed, and Azzi takes the invitation to slip underneath the comforter and nestle in beside her. “I just can’t stop thinking about how much shit we need to do,” the blonde admits quietly, voice so soft Azzi has to strain to hear. “We lost to fucking Columbia last week. We were down by 14 in the second quarter and usually I can hype everyone up and keep maintaining that good attitude but this time, all I could think about was how much we still need to work on. Couldn’t even look at the other girls in the eyes. And I’ve been meeting up with some of the younger girls, tryna talk about what they need to work on and creating goals for the season and I don’t know, I’m just overwhelmed by all of it and I feel guilty.” Paige’s voice cracks on the last word, and she subconsciously clenches Azzi’s shirt as she buries her face into her chest. “I guess that’s why it’s hard for me to talk to them right now.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” Azzi says. “You’re doing a lot. It’s only natural to feel overwhelmed.” She runs her fingers through Paige’s scalp, gently messaging, and tension seems to escape her best friend’s shoulders. “But think about the good things. Ice and Jana are becoming more confident and aware in the paint, you can see it with every practice. Mo and Allie are having a hard time adjusting but god, look at Sarah. She could win a championship just by herself.” Paige laughs a little at that, and Azzi takes that opportunity to start peppering her face with kisses. “The team’s becoming more cohesive by the week and I’m like, half a day away from coming back. And you know when I’m on the court, you don’t got anything to worry about,” Azzi says, her voice teasing.

“You sound like you’re joking but you’re right, you know.” Paige’s hand falls to Azzi’s knee, her palm closing over the scar like a shield. “Fuck, I’m actually counting down the minutes til you get cleared.”

“Yo, you guys decent?” KK barely waits a second before pushing the door open. “Azzi, we gave you one job, now you’re here all snuggled up in bed with Boogers,” she complains, taking in the scene with a wary look on her face.

“Should’ve let me go,” Ice grumbles from beside her.

Azzi groans. “If y’all don’t leave us alone we’re gonna start making out in front of you right now.”

KK, who’d been roaming around the room curiously, immediately turns on her heel, grabbing Ice’s arm to drag her out with. “Y’all are some nasty mother fuckers,” she calls over her shoulder as they both run out.

“You’re such a liar.” Paige laughs. “You hate PDA.”

“I don’t hate PDA,” Azzi defends. “It’s not my fault your definition of PDA included shit like ass grabbing. I’ll never forget the poor look in that one kid’s eyes.”

“His eyes were wandering too much anyways,” Paige says. “What was he eyeing you up for? I hate men.”

“He looked 9, Paige.”

“Don’t care.”

༉‧₊˚✧

Azzi stretches out her legs in front of her. She was able to get a window seat this time. She looks down at her phone again, still open to the photo Paige had sent with her own kissy face in return. Maybe she would be okay with PDA if it meant a few more minutes with Paige, she relents. She would never admit that out loud though.

[euphorajeon]

if it's a dream (i'll come around)

— request: jeongguk + yes or no - jungkook

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff

— word count: 3.1k

— warnings/tags: idol!jk, college student!oc, best friend!jk, most likely inaccurate desc of new york, jk is still pining, jk orders food excessively (again), cliches (sorry)

— summary: something in the new york air makes jeongguk feel a rush: a rush to admit, a rush to tell, a rush to take a leap. he's just not sure whether you feel it too.

— author's note: it's finally here!! i'm sorry for taking so long to write this request. thank you areyousure!jeongguk for inspiring me to finish this request. hah. i hope you still enjoy!! (its unedited. maybe i'll come back someday to edit.)

a continuation of opposite of sun and light of the morning. please read the first two parts before reading this!

masterlist

Jeongguk never thought that it could be so hard to walk around New York.

There are people everywhere, going in a thousand different directions than him, and they walk so fast Jeongguk struggles to keep up even with his long legs. The shops he caught his eyes on were always full too, making him turn away from the door and look for other places that aren't so filled to the brim. Maybe he should’ve gone somewhere not as touristy as Times Square.

But above all, the hardest part of his stroll today is walking alongside you and having to feign nonchalance about it.

Jeongguk’s life as a singer doesn’t really allow him to have much free time, and even when he does, you either have work, class, or anything in between. As a result, the both of you can’t meet often. Jeongguk is so used to just seeing your face on his phone screen, talking to you via a video call connection, that seeing your form walking beside him throws him off balance.

It’s a good thing your face is mostly covered by the camera in your hands, otherwise Jeongguk would’ve spent the entire day with a blush dusting his cheeks just from holding eye contact with you.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Jeongguk squints his eyes past the camera lens covering your face, searching for your eyes which are shaded by the faded black cap sitting on your head. You only respond with a shrug, gesturing towards the camera as if to remind Jeongguk of its existence. He sighs, lifting your cap with a finger so he can look at your eyes. “Bun.”

“You’re not supposed to talk to me, you know?” you huff, trying to balance the device in your hand so Jeongguk’s face is still in frame. “I’m your cameraman for today, not your best friend.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Camerawoman,” he corrects, “and who says I’m not allowed to talk to you? Do you think I talk to myself the entire time I’m filming vlogs like this?”

“Seems like it,” you say. “Sometimes they’re funny, but most of the time they just make me think ‘what even is he saying?’”

A slow grin spreads on Jeongguk’s face, his eyes still trained on you instead of the camera. When you look away from the small screen of the device in your hand, Jeongguk feels like his smile could split his face into two, and it must look bizarre on camera, but he doesn’t care. What he does care about is—

“You watch my vlogs?”

Suddenly, Jeongguk feels like he is not a popular singer with fans all over the world who tune in to his regular vlog updates, but just Jeon Jeongguk, a boy with a crush to impress. The way you unintentionally confirmed that you watch his vlogs makes him feel all giddy inside that it slipped his mind that you already said the same thing this morning in his hotel room.

Maybe this is what people mean when they say love makes one stupid.

“Only to see what other stupid shenanigans you do this time,” you mumble, dabbing around your face with the back of your free hand. It suspiciously looks like you’re trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks, but Jeongguk immediately throws that thought away from his mind. It must be the New York heat that’s making your face hot like this.

“Just admit you enjoy seeing my face on your phone that much,” Jeongguk says cheekily, settling for a response that’s annoying, teasing, but familiar for the both of you. Maybe he’ll address the not-blush on the apple of your cheeks some other time.

“Where was this confidence about me watching your Times Square performance, huh?” You punch his shoulder lightly, which he’s sure makes the image of him on camera shake and blur. “Saying I ‘ghosted’ you because your performance is ‘bad’. What nonsense was that.”

“Hey, I was really worried about you, okay?” Jeongguk pouts. “Besides, I still need your opinion on my performances, whereas my vlogs are usually just me messing around. It’s different.”

Whatever response you have prepared in your mind gets interrupted by your phone ringing, which startles you so much you almost drop the camera from your hand. Good thing Jeongguk has fast reflexes, immediately enclosing his hands around yours before you could do any damage to the device. Upon checking the caller ID, your expression turns to one of worry.

Jeongguk takes the camera away from you. “Take the call,” he says. “I’ll just be here.”

While you step away to do just that, Jeongguk takes the opportunity to finally pay attention to the camera that he has been ignoring for the past few minutes, checking himself out on the small screen and running his fingers through his hair while holding eye contact with the lense. He goes on social media often enough to know that his fans will cut this specific clip from the vlog and fangirl over how good he looks while doing that.

Sometimes he wonders whether you see those clips and have the same reaction as his fans. Do you see them and scroll past them like they’re nothing? Do you scoff at his antics? Do you shake your head with a small laugh?

There’s also a possibility of you not even seeing those clips at all, but Jeongguk likes to think he’s popular enough that his clips can’t help but still end up in your feed. (Also, it hurts his little heart too much to imagine otherwise.)

You come back to him from your phone call with anxiety written all over your face. Jeongguk doesn’t even need to inquire before you squeak out your concern yourself.

“The deadline for my midterm paper has been moved. It’s now due in five hours. Jeongguk, what do I do?”

The both of you end up going back to Jeongguk’s hotel to fish out your brick-ass laptop from your gigantic backpack, the camera in his hands still recording. You’ve told him that he could continue exploring New York on his own, bringing the camera noona like the initial plan was, but Jeongguk insisted on coming with you instead. Why would he go with anyone else when you are here?

Still, though, because he doesn’t want to lose the sense of exploring a new place, he drags you to a dessert cafe near his hotel, offering to hold your laptop in his arms while you walk the short distance to the cafe. Despite your protests, Jeongguk manages to convince you to leave the camera on for the entirety of this laptop fiasco, capturing every moment from the laptop tug-of-war in Jeongguk’s hotel room to his grin in response to your sulking face when you’re both seated in the dessert cafe.

His video editor would hate him for this, but Jeongguk doesn’t care. You’re here, in New York with him, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try his hardest to preserve any memories you make here.

“I don’t understand why you’d rather be stuck here with me than be out there exploring sunny New York in all its glory,” you huff while waiting for your laptop to turn on. It takes a while, Jeongguk notices, but your pout prevents him from saying anything about it. “What idiot has free time in New York and chooses to spend it cooped inside some random cafe?”

Jeongguk pretends to adjust the camera sitting on the table—angled in a way that it captures his face only—so he doesn’t have to look at your face when he says his next words: “Your idiot, Bun.”

You level him with a flat stare. “So you admit you’re an idiot.”

If it means being yours, sure, Jeongguk thinks. He really should stop thinking thoughts like these lest he blurt them out in front of you, on camera.

“I’m gonna order, what do you want, Bun?” Jeongguk asks as an attempt to steer the conversation away from idiots with feelings.

You look up from your (finally on) laptop screen with your head in your hands. “Anything except americano,” you mumble. “Thanks, Jeon.”

“Sure, Bun.” Jeongguk stands up from his seat, grabbing the camera to bring with him to the cashier. “You sure you don’t want anything else?”

The way you shake your head dejectedly is so uncharacteristic of you, given you’re both in a cafe filled with the smell of baked goods—something that usually brings a light of excitement into your eyes. Jeongguk can only imagine how stressful it is being a college student and having your midterm deadline be moved to hours earlier, and to experience all this while being jet lagged from a 14-hour flight prior surely doesn’t help.

Jeongguk has to physically hold himself from ducking down to engulf you in a hug, squeeze his arms around your frame until your frown is turned upside down and he can bear witness to your smile once again. For now, he can only wish that the cafe sells the type of bread you like so he can at least alleviate some of your burden with the sweet treat.

When he goes to the cashier to order, his polite smile is responded with a gasp from the cafe worker, clearly recognizing him as the popular singer. His smile turns into something more genuine—albeit a bit shy also—when the worker mentions that she’s a fan of his. After exchanging some pleasantries with her, Jeongguk proceeds to order. He just doesn’t realize how many desserts and pastries in the display case he’s pointed at until the worker asks him a question.

“Are you here with your crews?” she inquires, still tapping away at the computer screen in front of her. When Jeongguk only stares at her with wide eyes, she continues. “We can provide individual utensils for each of you if you’d like,” she offers.

Oh. Oh. Jeongguk thought she was asking for conversational purposes. “Uh, just two sets would be fine. Thank you.”

Still, it doesn’t register in his brain that he’s ordered too many pastries for two people until he’s coming back to your table with only both of your drinks on the tray in his hands. He sets your drink down next to your laptop, on which you’re typing furiously like you’re a madman chased by a tight deadline (in a way, you kind of are.)

Only when three cafe workers come back to back to your table to drop off his order of various kinds of desserts and pastries does he realize that he might have gone overboard with his order. Jeongguk can only flash a guilty smile your way when you tear your eyes away from your laptop to gape at the array of desserts in front of you.

“Are you trying to feed an entire village?” you ask incredulously.

“Hehe,” Jeongguk offers. “I was thinking about you and how you looked so stressed out because of your deadline and I just … ordered pretty much everything … for you.” He scratches his head sheepishly while setting the camera to its initial position on the corner of the table. He hopes the camera doesn’t pick up the way his cheeks blossom with heat. Or if it does, he hopes the editor cuts this part out.

Jeongguk doesn’t know if he imagines this part or not, but your eyes soften at his words and your next words are more gentle in tone. “Thank you, but there’s no way I would be able to finish all of these by myself.”

“Did you forget that you have Jeon Jeongguk for a best friend?” There’s a smug smirk on his face now, replacing the sheepish one he was sporting a few minutes ago. He likes it when you’re soft with him, vulnerable in a way only he’s allowed to see, but that’s exactly the problem: you’re both on camera, and whether or not this gets shared to the world, it’s still not as private as he would’ve liked. So he’s back on his annoying best friend persona to stop your vulnerable side from coming out.

You roll your eyes at him, but there’s a sliver of a smile on your lips.

The both of you spend the next few minutes enjoying your desserts and drinks, with Jeongguk cutting the desserts into bite-sized pieces so you can eat them with ease. He also does not forget his job as an entertainer, showing each and every one of the desserts to the camera and making sure his delightful hums are loud enough for the camera to pick up. He’s humming along to the song being played in the cafe while chewing when it suddenly plays an intro of a song he knows by heart—and judging from the way you look up from your laptop, you do too.

“Did they know you’re here?” The smile on your face is teasing.

“The cashier recognized me, said she’s a fan,” Jeongguk explains, turning his head in the direction of the cashier, trying to find the aforementioned worker. Upon making eye contact with her, Jeongguk mouths a thank you! with a smile, which she responds with a thumbs up.

“You must have made her day by coming here. Her whole week, even,” you chuckle, going back to typing on your laptop. The smile quickly drops from your face as you’re forced to go back to thinking mode for your midterm paper. Jeongguk nudges a fork full of pastry into your hand, silently asking you to eat.

“Then would you still say I’m an idiot for choosing to be here with you?”

Jeongguk said he’d leave this topic alone, revisit it later when he’s got the courage to do so, but what can he do? Your presence here with him makes him overwhelmed with feelings that sometimes it slips in between his words.

The only response he receives from you is silence. Jeongguk doesn’t know whether it’s because you didn’t want to respond or you simply just didn’t hear him. It’s most likely the latter as any attempt he makes to make you eat the desserts are useless as you’re too immersed in your paper. He ends up just feeding you bites after bites of desserts, grateful and giddy that you take them without protests as you’re typing.

As he’s cutting up more pastries for you to eat, the song changes to ‘Yes or No’, the fifth track on his latest album that he performed live two days ago at Times Square. He remembers you telling him that your friend, Yeseo, became a fan after listening to this song. Jeongguk tries to suppress a smile by biting his bottom lip as he listens to the lyrics of the song.

Are you feeling the rush?

Are we falling in love?

Say yes or no

In an interview, Jeongguk told the public that no songs from his album are based on his personal life, although he hopes he still delivered the messages of the songs well enough. What he doesn’t say, however, is that he thinks of you whenever he listens to or performs this song. It’s a song about a person in love and still wonders whether the other person is feeling the same way. Sometimes he wishes he could be honest and sing the words to you, pour out his feelings along the way, and he wishes you could feel the same way.

Jeongguk stops his activities of cutting desserts into bite-sized pieces and leans his back against his chair, staring at you. You’re still hyper-focused on your paper that you don’t notice his gaze, typing away on your laptop without a care for the love pouring out of his eyes.

Jeongguk knows you love him.

You love him enough to answer his video call at two am when you were studying. You love him enough to sacrifice sleep to watch his performance. You love him enough to book a flight to New York immediately after even though you still have a midterm paper to finish. You love him enough to walk around JFK with a heavy backpack hanging off your shoulders. You love him enough to join him exploring New York instead of resting off your jet lag.

But does that mean you love him enough to return his feelings the way he wants you to?

As he ponders the answer to that question, his hand moves on its own accord to continue feeding you the dessert he has cut up. You continue accepting the food he feeds you, and Jeongguk thinks maybe he needs to stop being selfish and just be content with whatever he has with you right now: friendship.

Although, in this moment, feeding you desserts while you do your paper, he feels like your college boyfriend he wished to be nights ago when you were a mere video on his phone. He already dresses the part—jeans and oversized hoodie—and feels the part, but that’s the thing about parts, isn’t it? That they’re not real, that they’re only there in his head.

You have cream on the corner of your lips from a particular big cut of dessert Jeongguk just fed you, and it feels like autopilot when he leans forward to swipe the cream off your lips with his thumb. He slots the thumb in between his own lips, sucking the cream clean off his skin. The innocent round of his eyes are met with the shocked round of yours, unblinking as you stare at the thumb previously on your lips, now on his.

“What?” he asks dumbly.

You shake your head. There’s an unmistakable crimson on the apple of your cheeks. “Nothing,” you say, clearing your throat. The blush on your face remains, and if Jeongguk’s sight serves him right, deepens instead. “Just, remember that you’re on camera the next time you want to do that.”

“So I can do it again if I turn off the camera?”

Jeongguk surprises himself by how steady he sounds. A tad too serious, too, and if he’s not careful, you might take it that he really wants to do it again, for real. His heart hammers in his chest as his hand inches towards the camera, fingers ready to turn the device off.

“Jeongguk,” you say slowly in a warning tone. “Namjoon will kill me if you try anything funny.”

Letting out his signature big grin, Jeongguk retracts his hand from the camera.

“Sorry, Bun. I’ll let you finish your paper in peace now.”

If you have cream on your lips again, maybe he’ll swipe it off with his lips instead. Maybe later, when he has the courage to. Maybe later, when he’s let you know how he really feels.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

a/n: thank you for reading! i still have 1 (one) more idea for this couple pair of bestfriends but not sure if i have the brain capacity to actually write it out ahaha let me know if you want to see more of them though :D

[baigepueckers]

Paige Bueckers X Reader

Practice Girlfriend

Bright, white hot, and relentless like they’re trying to peel her skin back, layer by layer, until all that’s left is something for them to dissect. Paige smiles through it. She’s good at that now.

“Paige! Paige! Over here!”

“Looking gorgeous tonight, who styled you?”

“Paige, are you seeing anyone?”

That last one sticks.

Her expression doesn’t flicker, doesn’t even flinch. She’s been trained for this. Smile, nod, say something witty if it’s not invasive and deflect if it is. She’s wearing a tailored navy suit and sneakers, the sleeves pushed up just enough to flash her wrists and the internet will eat it up.

“Nope” she says easily. “Just me, the gym, and my jump shot.”

A few reporters laugh. Cameras flash. The next question comes. But you catch it, the way her shoulders hitch, just slightly, as she walks away.

You’re close behind her on the red carpet, press pass swinging from your lanyard. Your job isn’t glamorous, you’re technically part of her “personal digital content team,” which basically means following her around with a camera and trying to keep her from melting down under pressure.

You’re also her best friend. Or something like it.

It’s gotten blurry lately.

Inside the car after the event, it’s quiet. Paige sits back in the black SUV, scrolling through her phone. You watch the way her brows pinch together, the faint crease between them that never used to be there.

She exhales a long, tired sigh and turns the screen toward you.

#PaigeBaeWatch trending on X. Again.

Some fan account had zoomed in on a photo of her standing too close to a teammate at warmups and captioned it: “idk guys this feels a little too friendly 👀👀👀”

“God” she mutters. “I can’t breathe without someone thinking I’m dating someone.”

You offer her the second Diet Coke from the mini fridge, cracking the tab open and placing it gently in her hand. “To be fair,” you murmur, “you are very photogenic.”

She lets out a half laugh, but it dies quickly. “It’s just… distracting. I don’t even care what people think. It’s that I can’t do anything without it being a story.”

You watch her for a second. Her face is tired. Pretty, still. But tired.

Then she mumbles it under her breath, more to herself than to you.

“Maybe I should just fake a relationship or something. Give them what they want so they shut up.”

It’s supposed to be a throwaway line. Something sarcastic. But something about the way she says it quiet, resigned…makes your heart clench.

You look at her from across the car.

And before you can stop yourself.

“Want me to be your practice girlfriend?”

Her head turns so fast you’re sure she didn’t expect that. Her eyes flick to yours, wide but unreadable, like she’s trying to gauge if you’re serious. You’re not even sure if you are. It came out too naturally. Like it’s been living in the back of your throat for months.

You try to save it with a smile, make it seem light. “I mean, I already know your angles. I’m basically your emotional support assistant. We could absolutely pull it off.”

She’s still staring.

“You serious?”

You shrug. “I’m just saying. It’d be easy. Post a couple photos, let people freak out, and boom mystery solved. Everyone gets off your back.”

Paige leans her head back against the seat, exhaling like she’s actually considering it. You didn’t expect that. You expected her to laugh, roll her eyes, make some joke about how you’re the worst fake girlfriend on the planet because you’d forget to text back.

Instead, she says, “I trust you.”

Your throat goes tight.

She glances at you again, more tentative this time. “You wouldn’t think it was weird?”

You force yourself to shake your head. “Nah. I mean unless you make it weird.”

She smiles at that. Not the big, media ready grin. A small one. The kind she only gives you when it’s just the two of you.

Then she says, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

And for a second, your heart stops.

“…Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” she says, voice calm, but her fingers fidgeting slightly with the Coke can. “Let’s fake date.”

You try to swallow the rush of adrenaline, the stupid hope buzzing in your chest. It’s fake. This is fake. You offered this. You don’t get to panic.

“I’ll need a contract,” you say, aiming for lighthearted. “Weekly coffee payments. One forehead kiss per game day. Access to your closet for oversized hoodie privileges.”

She snorts. “Done. But I get plus one rights at every event and I’m picking the first Instagram post.”

“God, you’re already drunk with power.”

Her laugh lingers in the small space between you. Then quiet again.

You sit back, let the city lights flash across her cheekbone as she stares out the window. You don’t know what she’s thinking. But you do know this:

This won’t be easy. You’ve liked her for a long time. Maybe too long.

And now you’ll have to pretend to be the one thing you’ve always wanted to be for the whole world to see.

Just pretend, you remind yourself.

You can handle pretend.

Then Paige turns toward you again, eyes soft and unsure.

“You know this might… get messy, right?”

You nod. Your voice is steady, even if your pulse isn’t.

“Only if one of us falls in love.”

And then she says it…quiet, teasing, but her gaze lingers too long.

“No promises.”

[mickyschumacher]

[BABY FEVER! PT.1]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after seeing you with play with some young fans you and charles meet on the streets of monaco, charles can't get his mind off having his own. or in which, charles has got a case of the baby fever. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: established relationship, fluff, 18+ (minors DNI), unprotected sex (wrap it if u don't want babies), breeding kink (obvi), charles meeting the bare minimum requirement to be a good human (lmao), slight lactation kink, mutual orgasms, handjob, pussy rubbing(?), reader is sensitive as shit, google translated french (my bad to the french speakers), a questionable perversion of having children that always comes with this context, also questionable whether this qualifies as baby fever but yeh

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: wrote this one when i first started if you can't tell by the mention of pedro and tlou! my absence explained in another post! ♡︎

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Charles loved his fans, especially Tifosi. After you, his family and friends, they were the most important people in his lives and constantly motivated him. Most of them were kind and sweet to him and loved and cherished you more than they loved him.

That's why whenever fans asked for photos with you, the both of you or autographs, Charles always accepted. He rarely refused them unless the fans gave off a certain vibe that rubbed him the wrong way; crazed fans or fans who liked you a little bit too much for his liking.

His favourite fans normally, however, were children. It was definitely pressurising to have that many children look up to him but Charles found it rewarding. They were so young and full of dreams that he could help fulfil. They always looked at him wide-eyed with their jaws open as if they had just seen an angel walk by, similarly to how Charles reacted when he had first seen you in the streets of Monaco.

Today was no exception. It was currently the mid-season break and you two were roaming the partially empty streets after having breakfast out, relishing in the privacy of Monaco. Halfway through your walk, you and Charles had bumped into some small fans, literally.

A set of 3-year old twin sisters and a boy who only seemed a year or two older had run to Charles and you yelling 'Charles!' and 'It's Ferrari!'.

Charles instantly was smiling at them, crouching down to talk to them and entertain all their bombarding questions that flew one after the other.

"Is the car really that fast?"

"Can I go in the car?!"

"I hope you win!"

You chuckled softly as Charles answered them with ease. You looked at the parents who also seemed to be equally as excited as their children. "Do you want me to take a photo for you guys?" You inquired softly.

The parents looked at you with wide eyes. "Can you? If it's no bother!" The father fretted, sharing a slightly alarmed expression with his wife.

You shook your head and smiled. "It's not a problem." They held out their phone and you took it into your hands, opening the camera. You hummed as you looked at the group. "Let's do three photos. One with the three angels, one with the parents and one family one?" You asked.

The parents were about to nod when the kids suddenly refused. "Four! We want one with a pretty girl!" One of the sisters yelled out, pointing at you.

Your mouth fell open while your body flushed with slight embarrassment. Charles grinned at you, agreeing with the children profusely. You gave a playful sigh and nodded. The children and parents began to poise for the camera several times and left the last one for you to take a selfie with them.

The parents turned to Charles, inviting him into a conversation as they apologised for the kids running to him all of a sudden.

You could hear Charles say it was fine when you felt a tug at the bottom your dress. You crouched down to the children who now crowded you.

The boy looked at you wide-eyed while the two girls poked your arm and asked "Are you a princess?"

You smiled softly. "I am!" You implored, "How did you know?" You asked in a hushed tone.

The children giggled. "Princesses are always pretty, that's why!" The boy said with red cheeks.

You hummed, pondering over the statement. You brought your hand out to pat the girls' heads and pinch the little boy's chubby cheeks. "That must mean all of you are also princesses and princes, hmm?"

The children cheered in agreement, giggling to themselves before discussing who was the best prince or princesses out of them all.

"I'm the best prince!" One sister said, putting her hands on her hips in determination. Her older brother looked at her almost offended. "How can that be? I'm the best. I'm older."

The other sister looked at her siblings dumbfounded. "Why can't we all be the best?" She sighed.

You grinned at her answer. "You're right! You are all the best. Equally. You know why?" You asked.

Three pair of big eyes looked at you with curiosity swirling within them as they shook their small heads 'no'.

You brought their hands together and held them in your palm. "Because you're siblings. You're family. That's the best."

The kids stared at you blankly, probably trying digest your words as much as they could at that age. The previous sister smiled widely, letting out a deafening yell, running to her mother. "Did you hear that, maman? We're all the best!" She screamed with joy.

You stood from the ground slowly, grinning at all the kids. "I did. We all heard that, ma cherié. It's true!" The mother chorused, giving you a thankful smile.

You smiled in response, shaking your head as if it was nothing. The parents and kids began to say goodbye to you and Charles, although the latter did so rather reluctantly as you walked over to your boyfriend.

You raised a brow at the dazed expression on Charles' face. "Cha? Mon amour, what's going on in that head of yours?" You hooked your arm with his, resting your head on his shoulder.

Charles blinked. "Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking about those kids. Cute, right?" He breathed out, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You smiled. "Very," You agreed as the two of you began to walk to Charles' car.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Arriving home, the two of you decided to lounge in your living room, not bothered to do anything else for the day. You had managed to put on the newest episode of 'The Last of Us', eager to find out what was happening next.

You and Charles laid on the couch; your head resting on his chest while he cuddled you from behind. You were intently watching Pedro Pascal after being besieged with edit after edit of him on TikTok. Charles on the other hand wasn't focusing at all.

All he could think about what those kids you and him had met earlier that morning. Specifically, you conversing with them. You hadn't realised since you were so caught up with them, but at one point him and the parents had stopped talking and tuned into your conversation with the kids.

Charles had talked to you about kids before. You both wanted them and although Charles always talked about having three kids specifically, just like him and his brothers, he would leave it up to whatever you wanted because at the end of the day, it was you giving birth, not him. He would prefer to have children when he was slightly a bit more older, you both had more control over his life, and obviously with at least one championship under his belt.

But after today, Charles was prepared to throw that plan away. As lewd as it was, the idea of you getting you pregnant and having a family not only touched his heart, but immorally touched his cock.

Knowing that he would have to ensure that his cum was entirely within you, stuffed into your cervix, and not letting a single drop come out made him feel feral. To make matters worse, you would look like a goddess when pregnant because hell, you were so beautiful now. Round and full with his child because he made sure to fuck you till you were overflowing with his cum. Or when your breasts became heavy and sensitive to his touch, leaking sporadically, giving him the opportunity to clean you up with his mouth.

God, he was an animal. The worst.

"Charles, what are you doing?" Your voice erupted into the air, breaking him out of his deep train of thought.

Charles blinked at your question in confusion before he looked down, seeing his hand traversing under your dress and up your inner thigh. He looked over to your amused eyes peering at him.

"Sorry," He let out with a sigh, rubbing the warm flesh of your thigh softly. "I just... I can't stop thinking about children."

You raised a brow, not seeing the correlation to Charles' wondering hand. "Children?" You iterated, running a hand through his hair.

Charles shut his eyes at your actions, feeling at ease. "Those kids today... make me want our own children. Now. I want to have children now."

Charles peeked his eyes open, looking at your astounded expression with a bit of fear. "What about our plans? What was it? Thirty-three, a championship, lives under control, and then children?" You queried. "I-I'm not mad or anything, Cha. Just curious. Why the change of heart all of sudden?

You had now turned to face Charles, knees on either side of him, straddling his lap as you became fully attentive to him.

Charles played with the tresses of your hair that had fallen past your face before tucking them gently behind your ear. "You would just make such a good mother, mon ange. You're so sweet and kind. You now how to talk to them. God, pregnancy would look so good on you. I can't stop thinking about you pregnant," Charles let out a small moan a thought. "You all round with our child, hormonal, sensitive at my touch."

Charles' fingers brushed over your neck, making you shudder involuntarily. You melted at his words. Charles thought a great deal of you. You weren't opposed to the idea either, in fact all of his words were making you hornier by the minute.

"You know what?" You queried, "I also want to have children. You would make an amazing father, Cha. I know you would," You softly said, pressing a brief kiss to his lips.

Charles pulled away, boring his gaze into you. "Yeah?" He whispered, eyes soft and full of lust and love.

"Yeah," You repeated. "A father of all three," You teased, giving him a small knowing smile.

Charles' eyes darkened slightly at your words. His hands rested on your hips, his half-hard on in his pants turned harder, pressing into your clothed pussy. "Mon amour," He whispered into your ear, making the hairs on your body stand straight. "Should I fuck a baby into you?" He pulled his face back, waiting for your answer.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, relishing in his words. "If you're going to fuck a baby in me, Charles, you better do it right the first time."

Charles groaned, grinning at your words. Staring at you with a fiery gaze, he quickly brought you down into a hungry kiss. His grip on your hips tightened while your hands became entangled in his hair. Another groan fell against your lips when you tugged at his locks.

Your heart slammed against your chest, beating loudly in your ears. Your skin was heated with Charles' touch ravaging all over you; grazing your arms, squeezing your ass only for you to press further into him. Your stomach surged with desire, feeling his clothed cock grind into you. "Fuck," Your swollen lips uttered out, high with an intoxicating buzz circulating your veins.

"Charles, I need–" You began only to be cut off by your own whimper as Charles bucked his hips up into you, setting a pace of stimulation with the tent of his pants and the gritty material of his shorts.

Charles smiled at the sight of your head thrown back and your back arching. "What do you need, ma cherié? Hmm? Tell me and I'll give it to you, my love," He sighed out, feeling his cock ache in its restraints.

"Fuck, j'ai besoin de ta bite, Charles," You murmured, feeling the temperature of your body rise with every passing second. Fuck, I need your cock, Charles.

Charles grinned at your use of French so early on. Normally when you were nearing your climax, you would lose yourself to all the French you knew. "As you wish, princesse," He stated. "Let's get this off, hmm?" He began to slid down the straps of your dress, pressing warm kisses on your shoulder. The sight of your bare breasts made him sigh in content, licking a strip from the base of your neck and down the valley of your breasts.

You felt a shiver crawl up your spine, feeling Charles' hands wander down your back while he pushed the fabric past your ass, hooking his fingers under your the waistband of your panties. You lifted your body up, aiding him in getting rid of your dress and underwear.

You settled back down on Charles' lap, pushing your wet core against his clothed cock. Charles nipped at your neck, dazed at the feeling of your pussy on him. Your hands reached out, rushing to get those shorts and shirt off of him. Pulling his shirt of him, you placed a trail of kisses down his chest. You could feel his lower stomach tense as you neared his waistband. With a grin, impatiently, you took off his shorts and the boxers underneath.

Your stomach churned and pussy throbbed at Charles' red, aching cock springing up, begging to be touched. You flickered your sultry gaze to your boyfriend, reaching over to put your fingers in his mouth.

Charles maintained eye-contact, lubing your fingers generously with his spit before he felt a shudder rip through him when you teasingly pushed your pussy to graze the angry tip of his cock.

"Vous taquinez," Charles uttered out almost with a whine after you removed your fingers. You tease.

"Don't be too sad, mon amour," You breathed out, trailing your wet fingers over his v-line before wrapping them around his cock. Charles sucked in a sharp breath as your hand began move up and down his shaft, mixing his spit and his pre-cum together, giving him a new, unique shine of his own.

"You wanted to see me pregnant, right? Full of your cum. So pregnant that everyone will know in a few months that you fucked me that good," You started, eyes trained on him while you pumped his cock with a tantalising grip. "We need a lot of your cum today. I'm just getting you prepared," You purred.

Charles let out a series of high moans, letting your words wash all over him and mix with his euphoria. His fingers reached out to your wet folds, stroking your heated slip with need. You trembled at his touch, bucking your hip against his fingers, increasing the pace of your hand on his cock.

Both of you moaned loudly while you jerked each other off, breathy sounds bouncing off the walls of your apartment. "Merde," Charles swore, pressing his head further into the couch, hips sensitively bucking into your hand as you brushed the slit of his cock.

He pushed himself, refusing to slack at your pleasure. He rubbed your pussy, groaning at the wet, glistening folds that were coating his fingers. You moaned, feeling a familiar buzzing pool in your stomach. "I need to," Charles panted out, covering your hand with his to stop you, "I need to..." He trailed off once again, pulling you closer to him.

Charles could barely think straight. He didn't know what he was saying or what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed to feel your pussy against his cock.

A guttural whimper escaped your mouth when Charles rubbed his cock against your folds. God, the both of you could get off just like this. He sighed out, eyes clouded with pleasure while he bathed in the warmth of your pussy. He could feel you jerk time to time against him, sensitive from nearing your climax.

You were was a sight to behold. You couldn't control your hips or yourself. You were just so receptive, automatically rubbing your pussy and clit up and down the head of cock. Your head falling back, supported by air while your back arched with lust. Sweat clung to your warmed body and your dry hair was now coated in a light sheen of grease. Face contorted with pleasure and flushed with heat.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck," Charles hissed out, partially angry that he already was about to climax but how could he not at such a view and feeling?

You blinked through your pleasure, remembering how you had gotten into this situation in the first place. You pushed your hips to him, hovering over his cock and sliding down onto him. You whimpered, feeling full with his throbbing cock in you.

Charles groaned, feeling your warm walls clench around him as you began to move your hips up and down. He watched your breasts bounce, making him flicker to that thought of them being full with milk once he got you pregnant. He would be selfish and have a taste of them himself.

Your pussy was a siphon, drawing and pulling his cock even further into you. Charles placed his hands on your hips, pushing you down on his cock to ensure he was balls-deep within you, fully sheathed. The breathy air was now replaced with both of your lewd moans and the sound of your skin slapping and sticking against one another.

"Merde, merde," Charles began to chant, increasing the pace of his hips snapping and rutting into your folds. Your hands fell to his own hands, tightening around them as pleasure bubbled at the pits of your stomach.

"Fuck, Charles. Cum in me, mon amour. Fais de moi une mère. Hmm? Imagine it. I'll be even more sensitive, my tits will be heavy and sore with milk and I'll ask you to massage them... everyone will know what we did," You moaned loudly. Make me a mother.

Charles's hips came to a halt, shaking with pleasure while he poured ropes and ropes of his hot cum deep into your walls. He let out staggered moans, feeling you clench around him and take even more of his load. Charles pressed his swollen lips onto your, kissing you dizzy while he thrusted out his high, ensuring his cum was staying within you.

Charles sighed out, pressing his forehead against yours. Realising you were once again on the brink of cumming, with his cock still in you, he brought his fingers to your engorged clit, rubbing the sensitive nub gently yet harshly.

He felt your walls grip him even tighter if possible as you began to convulse in his arms. "Jesus fucking Christ," You sobbed out, waves of your euphoric climax hitting you.

Christ, you were so sensitive, hips jerking up against his fingers, grinding to maximise your stimulation. He couldn't even stop you if he wanted to.

"Merde, ma cherié, cum for me. Yes, just like that," Charles coaxed, groaning as you somehow managed to get more cum out of him.

You let out a final whimper before collapsing onto him, feeling Charles' softening cock drive and push the cum deeper into you. You let out a low moan against his chest.

Charles pushed your chin up with his finger, looking into your eyes. He smiled, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your lips. "You did so well, mon amour," He praised, running a hand through your sweaty hair, getting a better glance of your face.

You gave him a weak smile, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "You think we did a good job?" You queried, voice quiet and tired. "You think we'll have a child soon?"

Charles grinned at you, planting another kiss on the side of your head. "If I didn't, I'll fuck you again and make sure that test has two lines."

𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[mashtatosworld]

insta famous

Summary: your baby gets hold of jiyong's phone

Jiyong swirled the deep red wine in his glass, watching the way it caught the dim lighting of your living room. You were curled up beside him, legs draped across his lap, flipping through the channels absentmindedly.

The house was too quiet.

And it was never that quiet with a nearly two-year-old.

His fingers tapped against your thigh. “She didn’t even call for me tonight.”

You glanced at him, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe she’s growing up.”

He frowned. “Don't say that! She’s not even two yet.”

You shrugged. “Maybe she’s learning independence. She is at nursery twice a week now.”

Jiyong exhaled dramatically, taking a long sip of wine. His eyes stayed on you, watching the way you absentmindedly played with the hem of his oversized t-shirt you were wearing.

“You look good like that,” he murmured, tracing circles on your thigh.

You smirked but didn’t look away from the tv. “Like what?”

“My shirt. Messy hair. Bare legs.” His voice dropped lower, fingers grazing up your thigh. “All mine.”

You finally looked up, meeting his dark, mischievous gaze. “You always get like this when you drink wine.”

He grinned, setting his glass down. “It’s not the wine, jagi.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your heart flutter all the same.

Then, he sighed again, his head tilting back dramatically.

You knew what was coming before he even said it.

“I think it’s time for another baby.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jiyong.”

“I’m serious.” He turned, fully facing you now, eyes warm with adoration. “Our baby is growing up too fast. I miss how needy she was, how small she felt in my arms.”

Your heart softened a bit, but you weren’t giving in that easily. “You just want another excuse to stay home all the time.”

“Yes.” He didn’t even try to deny it. “That, and I love seeing you pregnant.” His voice dipped lower, teasing. “You were so beautiful.”

You groaned, shoving at his shoulder. “Stop.”

He grinned, catching your hand and kissing your fingers. “Think about it.”

“I’ll think about it when you don't have an album release coming up.”

Jiyong huffed. “That’s unfair. I asked you before - "

“I know but having two children under two would have been a nightmare."

He shook his head. "Not our children. Look at our baby. Could she be any more perfect?"

Before he could argue, your phone vibrated on the table. Then again.

And again.

And again.

Jiyong arched a brow. “Why is your phone blowing up?”

You reached for it, unlocking the screen only to see a flood of messages.

[Rin] Did Ji get hacked??

[agent] tell me he didn’t mean to post that

[mother] YOU HAVE A BACK TATTOO YOUNG LADY?

Your eyes widened.

“Oh my god.”

Jiyong immediately sat up. “What? What happened?”

You opened Instagram -

And almost choked.

Six new posts.

Six.

“Oh my god, Ji.” You gasped, clicking on the posts. None of them had captions or tags but had all been posted within the last twenty minutes. "Look,"

He scanned his eyes over the pictures. "Those are from my camera roll. You're so hot, Jagi. Why didn't they post a good one of me?"

"I'm sat on a toilet." You scoffed, shoving the phone closer. "But - that's not important here, Jiyong. They leaked your album release date.”

Jiyong’s face drained of colour, squinting at the screen once more, having been distracted by the other posts. “WHAT?!”

Before he could completely combust, you noticed something else.

“Holy shit! It says you’re live.”

You immediately clicked on it, him watching over your shoulder -

And the screen filled with the close-up face of your very mischievous daughter.

There she was. The so-called hacker.

Face pressed right up to the screen, making her chubby cheeks look even chubbier.

Blowing raspberries into the camera, the spit catching in the light.

Her tiny fingers tapped the screen, fascinated by the hearts floating up the side. She babbled something completely unintelligible, then giggled, clearly entertained by her own reflection.

The comments were flooding in.

'OH MY GOD IT’S DIVA??'

'WHY IS SHE SO CHAOTIC I LOVE HER'

'She looks just like Jiyong!!!'

'Not her leaking his album date 💀'

'Diva is a real one'

Jiyong exhaled loudly.

“She didn’t forget about me,” he breathed out in relief, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back on the sofa. “She’s just distracted.”

"Jiyong." you prompt him, holding up the still active live stream of your toddler. "Our baby..."

He was already moving.

Launching off the couch, sprinting toward her room and nearly tripping over the cats who followed him.

You watched on the live as he burst through her door.

“Yah - ”

The screen wobbled as she gasped, clearly realising she was caught.

Then - chaos.

“MY FONE!” she wailed as Jiyong tried to pry it from her tiny grip.

“Ay - no! - give it to Appa.”

“NO!”

More wrestling.

More squealing.

The screen spun wildly as they fought for the phone, Diva kicking her little legs, Jiyong's face leaning over the crib.

And then -

Black screen.

Live ended.

Your phone buzzed again -

[Rin] Me and Bae are dying 😭😭😭😭

[agent] this has made my night. we'll do damage control in the morning.

[mother] She is so smart. You have your hands full.

You leaned back, cackling, as Jiyong came stomping back into the room, Diva perched on his hip, her little face tear-streaked and scowling.

“Ohh,” you cooed, smirking. “Appa took your phone, huh?”

She sniffled, cheeks puffing up. “Yah.”

Jiyong collapsed onto the couch with a groan, adjusting Diva so she was comfortably seated against his chest. You reached over, gently wiping away her tears, her little lips trembling in frustration.

Then -

She suddenly perked up.

And pointed at your phone.

Jiyong tutted, gently pushing down her arm. “No.”

You burst out laughing. “She’s your kid, alright.”

Jiyong peeked at Diva, shaking his head. “You’re banned from Instagram until you’re twenty.”

She just blinked at him, then pointed again.

You grinned, pulling your phone far out of reach.

“Not happening, baby girl.”

Jiyong sighed, cuddling her closer. “This is why we need another baby. One that doesn’t know how to use social media.”

You flicked his forehead. “Not happening.”

But the way he was looking at you - mischievous, adoring, completely smitten -

You knew this wasn’t the last time he’d bring it up.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Bonus Diva tweet:

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

i had so much fun writing this one <3 baby diva gave the people what they wanted!

as requested by the lovely, @charizznorizz <3

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford

[no-144444]

lies and flights- o.piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Skyf1interviewer! reader

summary: you two have a moment, the moment ends, and so does something else...

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He sighed as he walked into the paddock, cameras all over him as question after question was thrown at him. He answered as many as were appropriate and off he went, signing hats and t-shirts as he went. He had so much to do, so much to get through before qualifying, yet all he could think about was you. He didn’t mean to make it a big deal, he just wanted to take care of you. You’d fainted, for god’s sake. He was worried about you. 

He caught a glimpse of you walking in with Lando as he was filming some random content for one of the sponsor's instagram pages, and his mood sank lower than it already had been. You with Lando. 

It’s not like either of you had confessed, but you’d both felt the chemistry between the two of you, right? He finished up with filming and followed Tom into one of the meeting rooms, ready to look over data, when he (literally) bumped into you, sending you flying. 

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered as he caught you, holding you by the waist. “My bad.”

You smiled. “Saving me two days in a row? You should be a bodyguard instead of a driver,” you chuckled. “Thanks Osc.”

Lando’s jaw dropped when he heard you call him ‘Osc’, and a sense of pride bloomed in his chest. Osc was getting the girl! Lando sent him a quick thumbs up behind your back as he also held the camera. 

“What’re you doing here?” Oscar asked, not yet letting go of you. His hands were so warm, radiating heat through your whole body and making you nervous. You had a love-hate relationship with interactions with Oscar. He made you so nervous, no matter what. Your years of media training and professionalism could get stripped back by one small chuckle, one small smile, making eye contact. It was embarrassing. You liked him so much, which was a separate can of worms itself, and he looked at you the same way he looked at everyone.

“Motorhome tour,” you explained, looking up at him. He could’ve sworn he saw something in your eyes, something that practically asked him to make a move, to kiss you here in front of everyone. Then it was gone just as quickly as it appeared, your professionalism taking precedence over your feelings. “Moving on,” you turned back to the camera as Oscar dropped his hands from your waist, allowing you to move on. “To the driver’s rooms!”

He chuckled as he watched you and Lando run towards the other side of the motorhome, and Oscar started walking again, not unaware of the eyes Tom was giving him. 

“You two seem close,” he smirked. “The shoes aren’t a dealbreaker, no?”

He laughed. “Why does everyone bring up the shoes?!”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Congratulations on P3, Judgy McJudgy Pants! How did the race feel?” you questioned. You were doing post-race interviews today, and Oscar had gone from P5 to P3. 

“Yeah, it was difficult but we kept a good pace, Max was just too fast to catch,” he nodded, his eyes staring into yours. 

“I’m glad to hear, are you glad for the race to be over?”

He nodded, chuckling. “Very glad.”

“The heat must be something else in those cars, on top of the regular heat. Does that make getting out of the car a lot more of a relief?” 

“It does, but I was more excited about the interviewer,” he smirked. He was not doing this right now. He was not flirting with you on live television. You got the signal that the interview should end and you let out a quick breath of relief. 

“Well thank you, but I in fact need to interview your fellow podium drivers, thanks for your time.”

Lando walked over, ready to take the mic and he smirked at Oscar. “Getting bold?”

He shrugged with a smile. “What’s the worst she can say?” 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

"Oscar Jack Piastri!" Nicole's voice rang out as he lifted his phone to his ear. "My son flirting with people on live television is not something I want to see."

He chuckled as he mother continued berating him, and they chatted about the race for a while, before he had to go to the airport. When he walked to his door, ready to leave, he wasn't expecting a knock at the door, nor was he expecting it to be you.

"Hey Y/n," he smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm good thank, you?" you were out of breath. Had you ran here?

"I'm great, thanks. Are you alright?"

You came in and closed the door behind you. "What are you playing at?"

"Excuse me?"

"The interviews, the pictures, everything. What are you doing?" you questioned.

"Isn't it obvious?" he chuckled. "I like you, like, like like you. I thought I made that clear?"

You grimaced and his heart sank.

"It's fine if you don't-"

"Oscar, no, just... it's kind of awful timing and we can't be together, right? That would never work, we hate each other, right?" you rationalised, willing him to agree with you.

As much as he wanted to scream and rip his hair out, he nodded, a flat smile on his face. "Exactly, that's why I was just joking."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God!" you chuckled. "Well, congratulations on the win and I'll see you in Qatar, thanks Osc."

"Bye," he smiled half-heartedly, then flung himself back on his bed when you left. You didn't like him back. And what did you mean by 'bad timing'? He spent his entire flight, awake and wondering about what you meant, and thinking over every interaction, wondering if he'd really just made it all up in his head.

But the way you looked at him, it couldn't just be platonic, right?

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charlesleclerc, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 2,928,733 others

yourusername: @.f1, you've been my home for many years and I love you, thank you for starting my career, but also for being my favourite series of motorsports since I was a little girl. But now @.skysports is branching out and I'm moving across the pond at the end of this season to cover @.Indycar and @.nascar ! I'll miss everyone so much, but I am so so so excited to see that the future will bring! 6 races left! (also sad to be missing the historic season that 2025 will be, but oh well!)

comments

user83: oh I'll kms.

pierregasly: we'll miss you xxx liked by: valterribottas, zhouguanyu, landonorris, danielriccardo, charlesleclerc, carlossainz, alexalbon, francocolapinto, liamlawson, yukistunoda, estebanocon, fernandoalonso, jensonbutton, aussiegrit, kevinmagnussen, nicohulkenburg, lewishamilton, georgerussell, kimiantonelli, olliebearman, isakhadjar, paularon, arthruleclerc, lancestroll, checoperez, maxverstappen, alexandrastmleux, kikagomez, lilymhe, rebeccadonaldson.

skysportsf1: We'll miss you most! xxx

tedkravitz: It's been a privilege and an honour to work with you. You truly are the funniest person I've ever met. Your segment on Ted's notebook will be thoroughly missed. You will be thoroughly missed.

charlesleclerc: Bonne chance mon amour! ❤️

yukistunoda: who will organise interviews with me and pierre now? 😿 -> yourusername: I'll ask ted :(

danielriccardo: legend of the sport :) -> yourusername: looking in a mirror are we?

mercedesfmg: we'll miss you y/n! 🩵

mclaren: missing you already! 🧡

user72: guys... has anyone told oscar? -> user21: he must be so upset :( -> user92: yeah his best friend and his crush leaving F1 in the same year.

stakef1: missing you 💚 -> yourusername: manifesting hulkenburg podium next year

lewishamilton: I'll miss you, but you definitely have to come back for some hot laps... maybe Austin next year? -> yourusername: I'm there :)

maxverstappen: sad to see you go, but i can't wait for all the stories :)

landonorris: FUCK I'M CRYING WHAT I'M GOING TO MISS YOU TOO MUCH PLEASE DON'T GO -> yourusername: IT'LL BE FINE LANDO YOU'RE A BIG BOY

patooward: YAY WE GET Y/N!

haasf1team: our favourite interviewer ever ❤️

alpine: missing you loads 🩷

jackdoohan: NO I'M FINE THAT MY BEST FRIEND IS MISSING MY ROOKIE SEASON -> yourusername: I'LL BE IN MELBOURNE AND AT THE LAST FEW RACES!!! -> jackdoohan: ...forgiven.

liamlawson: NO DON'T LEAVE ME HERE ALONE -> yourusername: JACK WILL BE THERE NEXT YEAR CALM DOWN

kimiantonelli: miss you xxx

olliebearman: will be in need of your smoothie recipe since you won't be here to make it :( -> yourusername: I'll send it to you :)

user829: someone check on oscar rn...?? -> user36: fr he's probably sobbing his celeb crush is leaving the paddock for good ->user292: BRO IS IN THE LIKES !!!!!!

redbullracing: we'll be staying tuned to watch shine -> user88: wow a better send-off than daniel got lmao

logansargeant: CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU AGAIN 😁😁😁😁 -> yourusername: ME NEITHER

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He stared at his phone in shock.

What. The. Fuck.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

[bioblsm]

WHAT DOES THEIR CAMERA ROLL LOOK LIKE?

❀ ꒰warnings꒱. boothill backstory spoilers, not proofread ಥ_ಥ

𖧷 characters. jing yuan, blade, dr ratio, ruan mei, aventurine, sunday, boothill

☆彡 notes. aventurine 🤝 boothill — being some of the most gay ass mfs i’ve seen in a hyv game (apart from bronya and seele) seriously their flamboyance still gives me whiplash…anyways this has been on my mind for months now but i’ve never gotten around to writing it!!! >_<

JING YUAN 𐚁 景元

[◉"] 2,304 photos, 83 videos

⌖ if you scroll really fast down or up his gallery, all you’ll actually manage to see is splotches of pink, blonde and silver

⌖ everything ranges from cute candid shots of yanqing (he takes multiple if yanqing’s fallen asleep while on duty), to sneaky pictures of fu xuan as she’s working where he’s in the foreground doing peace signs — the final picture of course being her looking at the camera lense directly to glare up at him

⌖ reaching weekends when he’s slightly a little more free or allows himself a small break to stroll around town, his camera roll is either filled with pictures of food he’s eaten or swords that yanqing may or not definitely ask about that he’s now more inclined to buy as he’s seen them in person (he’s a boy dad who loves spoiling his child, alright?)

⌖ the large majority of his photos unfortunately are work related, only really the recent ones being deleted from his gallery to clear up some space

⌖ however, while his photos are preoccupied with either his two kids or random scrolls with messy and rushed handwriting, each video is of you; jing yuan thinks a picture would belittle your beauty too much.

⌖ he needs something a little more real, a little more active and animated to help him quell the chirping loneliness that creeps up on his heart whenever you’re away from him for a prolonged period of time; if he’s feeling particularly mischievous he might sneak a quick but blurry picture of himself to send to you ♡

BLADE 𐚁 刃

[◉"] 9 photos, 2 videos

⌖shit is BARREN. literally a complete EMPTY VOID. if you snatched his phone somehow you’d assume he just got it despite him not having changed it ever since he received one

⌖ perhaps on the occasion you’ll find a cameo picture from one of the stellaron hunters as his phone is left unoccupied and someone decided to blast his entire gallery with their face (silverwolf specifically just hacks into his phone to keep putting random screenshots he’s never taken in his gallery to make him believe he’s taken them)

⌖ maybe sometimes he’ll screenshot different ways to die or health clinic locations he can avoid when he’s fortunately bleeding out but otherwise? nothing.

⌖ if you’re a massive yapper and love sending him pictures, he won’t go out of his way to download them for later usage (whatever that may be…) but he also won’t go out of his way to delete it if it’s accidentally automatically downloaded on his phone — maybe elios intended for it to be there?

⌖ it’s quite nice having a reminder of his significant other where he doesn’t have to actively listen to their voice… that’s a little exaggerative; but he loves just mapping out the features in your face, it helps him sleep just the slightest bit better with no ailment if he’s able to trace your features like a constellation on his blank, dark wall

DR RATIO 𐚁 真理医生

[◉"] 1000 photos, 100 videos

⌖ call it a form of ocd, but he NEEDS to have a decent ratio (i didn’t even mean for this to be a pun i’m so sorry) of his photos to videos; he doesn’t care if it’s 10:1, 2:1 1:5, he needs something that’s at least somewhat pleasing to the eyes

⌖ ratio immediately deleted anything he doesn’t need or thinks he won’t find use in for at the very least the month (this includes every single cameo shot aventurine or you have taken of yourselves on his phone without his permission, which by the way, he didn’t hesitate to scold you two for)

⌖ maybe if he’s feeling particularly loving (when is he ever?) he’ll allow ONE picture to stay.

⌖ his camera roll is purely filled with test results, written exams, student emails he needs to read over, things concerning the guild or the ipc and secret purchases of ducks he’s made (he’s not ashamed, he just doesn’t want you to know he’s buying ducks that are bigger in size every time so he can fill your shared bathroom)

⌖ realistically, maintaining such a perfect ratio of photos:videos is rather impossible unless you’ve got impeccable timing with things you save and delete so, in order to bypass this, ratio made a photo library to help serve as a base number of sorts

⌖ that photo library is of course a secret and locked haven filled with pictures and videos of you, none of which you can even recall taking. all of them hold at least some sort of significance to the both of you, but the ones that dr ratio loves the most is the ones that are just natural

⌖ the ones that show you being yourself, whether it’s where you’re cuddled up near a blanket reading something with a leg hiked up over the sheets or where you’re sleeping with your mouth wide open because you’re sick and unable to breathe through your nose properly; he loves it all

RUAN MEI 𐚁 阮•梅

[◉"] 505 photos, 28 videos

⌖ she tries to keep it as neat as possible; that means no sneaky pics taken of her by you, accidental blurry shots she’s taken (god forbid, those ones are immediately scrapped and done anew especially if related to an experiment of hers) thought that doesn’t mean she clears it in the regular

⌖ ruan mei actively saves any photo you send her, sometimes she’ll even screenshot the chat itself if she finds herself clutching at her heart as she swoons over a few lines of flirting that apparently you couldn’t hold yourself back from due to how much you missed her

⌖ she’s not someone really sentimental so despite having photos of her little cake-cat hybrids, she rarely ever rechecks them unless the trailblazer sent another report on their status to match

⌖ honestly her memory is impeccable to the point she doesn’t even need screenshot reminders of things like dates and experiments saved (would it even be called machine reductionist to call her a walking computer model at this point?) therefore, anything she saves that’s work or science related probably has more intricacies that she can account for

⌖ her gallery is a little boring otherwise. for someone of her morally grey standards you’d expect at least something worth mentioning, maybe even something dumb like a secret recipe she uses to make the sweetest (anti-truth serum…) pastries but no— nothing.

yet the reason for that is very blatant; not even her beloved has the privilege to witness her mendacity.

AVENTURINE 𐚁 砂金

[◉"] 8,793 photos, 777 videos

⌖ it’s a complete and utter mess to say the very least; dr ratio refuses to so much as glance at it whenever he’s near and topaz just gets an ick:

“how do you even manage to find anything?”

“luck.”

⌖ his photos range from absurd, to sweet to egotistical. things that remind him of you such as random rocks he finds, alcoholic beverages that have the same colour scheme of an outfit you wore the night before, an animal he saw that he swears if reincarnation was real would so be you

⌖ he has a specific library for just solely screenshots based off your chats, most of them including a significant amount of “i love yous” and goodbyes that promised a little something more when you met up next; everything that aventurine utterly cherished and craved

⌖ …and then the rest was either him showing the background of him photobombing others, pictures he took to send to you (or one of the ipc members to piss them off, sometimes even the trailblazer for a cheeky laugh) and on the even more popular occasion, all his extraordinary wins whether it be in poker, pool or uno

⌖ compared to his photos, his videos are slightly more interesting. a near 50/50 split that ranged between him telling dumbass jokes to piss off his coworkers, recordings of the back of dr ratio’s and or topaz’s head just for the future laughs (he likes the reminder that he does actually have friends and they aren’t just deliberate hallucinations born of loneliness).

⌖ but of course, all his “favourited” videos involve you somehow. sometimes it’s just a slip of your name while he’s sneakily recording a meeting, him telling you he misses you or vice versa, other times it’s just when he feels like he has a home. you snuggled up on his chest, hands intertwined together as your breathing nearly synchronises with him…moments where he feels as though he could forget the trademark imprinted onto his neck.

SUNDAY 𐚁 星期日

[◉"] 777 photos, 111 videos

⌖ now as much as i want to say “oh it’s all you! he has a special folder for you <3” i unfortunately can’t.

⌖ it’s almost most definitely videos of robin’s concerts, solo shows, videos he stolen off of audience members with good seats when he wasn’t available to personally hide in the crowd…a lot of the photos are also the same way; robin’s promotional pictures, screenshots from her recent advertisements and negative hate comments or news stories that he’s going to personally deal with later

⌖ that doesn’t mean he values or priorities you over his sister, absolutely not. you two are the only people in his life who he would unironically take down the skies and survive utter torment for if it meant your voices were the last things he heard as bellowing winds sliced past his eardrums to tune the world out in order to hear his own final breath

⌖ he tries his best not to be sentimental or nostalgic, as he’s been told as he grew up into the bright and maybe just slightly tragic and guilt-infested man he is today, those things in his eyes are an innate weakness of humanity. clinging onto something thats not tangible anymore.

⌖ but he can’t help but hold on to every video you send him. every picture of you smiling, laughing, every text of you saying i love yous, quoting love songs to him or showing him pictures where you jokingly said “that’s us” (did he tilt his head a few times when you kept sending animals to him with that particular correspondent message? perhaps, but it never made him blind to the intentions).

BOOTHILL 𐚁 波提欧

[◉"] 12,113 photos, 191 videos

⌖ he truly doesn’t gaf (give a fork) about how messy it is, all the things that are genuinely important are already locked and loaded into his noggin’, there’s no point in being frugal with the space he’s been given on a little cellular device

⌖ you wouldn’t believe it, but he rarely uses it unless it’s for emergencies. there’s plenty of trouble that comes around when you’re a galaxy ranger, which means having a constant tracking device on you like a phone that you update daily is a stupidly bad idea; which is precisely why his photo gallery is a mess

⌖ he quite literally can’t go in and clear it out otherwise it risks giving out sensitive information.

⌖ not applicable to you, that is. in boothill’s eyes, you’re an “emergency”. if you’ve texted him, it’s obvious you want his attention, which potentially means you could be in danger and he has to rush to the rescue like the flamboyant cowboy he is (no he absolutely knows you don’t need help, but there’s always that nagging “what if” factor, you know?)

⌖ he inwardly blesses whoever invented screenshotting because it would be an understatement to say that little as half of his gallery is littered with you. he’s just a bit of a boomer when it comes to technology like this, despite being a whole walking charging port himself ehem, so a lot of the pictures he has saved of you that you sent over whenever he cutely pleaded;

“missing ya, send me a lil�� somethin’ wont you?”

unfortunately are uncropped and framed with the outline of whatever messaging app you’re on.

⌖ if he lets you scroll up far back enough, maybe you’ll get to see just a glimpse of how similar his adoptive daughter’s smile was to his

© BIOBLSM ✮ do not copy steal or repost

[mingi-s-dimples]

Laced in Couture - C.SN

"Whenever I’m away from you.. I get closer and closer to insanity.”

~ a special for today's dgfw25.. because I simply couldn't resist.

pairing: san x fem!reader

genre: 18+, slightest filth, fashion au, model au

summary: san just couldn't take his eyes off you at the show, even if he was the model himself... and he ruins you.

wc: 3.5k

warnings: san is needy and desperate af, slightly teasy reader, model x manager, fashion au, kitchen sex on a counter, he's so desperate he doesn't get fully undressed, lots of kissing, neck kissing, manhandling, teasing, pussy eating, cum eating, unprotected (boo use protection irl!), completely consensual, might have forgotten something, might edit later.

author's note: everyone around me had to hold me from falling and turning into dust when i saw how this man looked today.. hello >.< he's fucking insane... and it's even more insane *upcoming bia fun fact and childhood lore* that i've been a dolce & gabbana fan and fashion hard fan since I was.. 9 or 10. so when he was announced as an ambassador y'all can bet i ran 50 laps that day. anyways here's a small fic combining two of my most prized obsessions: san and dg.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

Milan had been a fever dream. A whirlwind of flashing cameras, hushed conversations in back corridors, and the ever-present scent of expensive perfume and burning stage lights. Fashion Week had its own rhythm—fast, relentless, intoxicating. Models, designers, managers, press—all moving in a delicate choreography, where one misstep could ruin an entire show. And yet, amidst all of it, there had been him.

Choi San, draped in Dolce & Gabbana, skin kissed by the stage lights, walking with the kind of controlled, effortless confidence that made people stop breathing. He was untouchable out there, a vision sculpted in luxury, every step leaving an imprint in the air. But you knew the truth. Knew what lay beneath the carefully constructed poise—the way his fingers twitched slightly when he walked off stage, adrenaline rushing through him, the way his eyes always found you first in the crowd. No one else noticed, but you did. Because you knew him.

No one else knew about the nights spent behind closed doors, the whispered words between hurried touches, the stolen glances in rooms too full of people. The industry thrived on secrecy, on illusion, and the two of you had perfected the act. In public, you were just a manager, and he was just another model. But behind locked doors?

That was something else entirely.

Now, Fashion Week was over. The lights had dimmed, the crowds had dispersed, and the city had exhaled its last breath of excitement. Milan was quiet again. And so were you, sitting in the back of a black car, your body still buzzing with the adrenaline of the past few days. Your phone vibrated once in your hand. A single message.

"Penthouse. Door’s open."

Your heartbeat tripped.

San wasn’t one for unnecessary words, but that didn’t mean his messages weren’t heavy with meaning. Penthouse. The place he had been staying—hidden away from the chaos, away from prying eyes.

The car pulled up in front of the sleek, modern building, the kind that exuded wealth and exclusivity. You stepped out, heart hammering, fingers tightening around your phone. The elevator ride felt endless, anticipation coiling low in your stomach.

When the doors slid open, the hallway was silent. And just as he’d promised—the door was unlocked.

You stepped inside, closing it softly behind you. The space was dimly lit, the glow of the city outside spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was beautiful, expensive, but your eyes didn’t linger on the decor. Because there—leaning against the kitchen counter, dark eyes locked onto you—was San.

Still dressed from earlier, black slacks hanging low on his hips, a half-unbuttoned shirt revealing the golden skin beneath. He was watching you, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips, his head tilted slightly in that way he did when he was waiting for you to make the first move.

And just like that, the last few days, the restraint, the distance—it all melted away.

Because here, behind closed doors, there was no need for pretense.

There was only him. And you.

Your heels clicked softly against the marble floor as you stepped further inside, the air between you humming with something electric. San hadn’t moved from where he leaned against the counter, but his gaze was heavy, dark, intent.

“You were unbelievable tonight,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended, still caught in the spell of watching him command the runway. “The way you carried yourself, the confidence—San, I swear, the entire room was holding its breath.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, barely acknowledging the words, but his body had started moving. Slow, deliberate steps, closing the space between you inch by inch. His fingers toyed with the next button of his shirt, slipping it undone, exposing more of the golden skin underneath. “That so?”

You exhaled a quiet laugh, tilting your head. “Yes. You were stunning, San. The way you—”

The next button popped open. Another step forward.

You caught the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes before his hands moved again—this time, undoing the last button in one slow, teasing motion. His shirt hung open now, framing the toned planes of his torso, the silver chain against his skin glinting under the city lights.

“Are you even listening to me, baby?” you asked, amusement lacing your voice, though your breath hitched slightly when he reached you.

San’s hands found your waist immediately, warm and insistent, pulling you flush against him. His lips hovered just above yours, his breath fanning across your skin as he murmured, “Haven’t heard a single word, love.” His voice was low, thick with want. “I’m too gone for you.”

And just like that, his lips were on your neck, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin as his fingers gripped at your waist, at the fabric of your clothes, needing more, needing all of you.

You bit back a smile, pretending to ignore the way his lips were trailing heat along your neck, his fingers gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away. Instead, you let your hands wander up his chest, your touch featherlight, barely there.

“Too gone for me, huh?” you teased, your voice sweet, playful, your nails tracing the curve of his collarbone. “Then maybe I should keep talking, just to see if you can actually focus—”

San exhaled sharply through his nose, and before you could say another word, his hands were cupping your jaw, tilting your face up just so—and then his lips were on yours, claiming.

The kiss was deep, urgent, his mouth moving over yours with a hunger that stole the air from your lungs. His fingers slid into your hair, tilting your head to deepen it, his body pressing flush against yours, letting you feel just how affected he was. His teeth scraped your bottom lip before he sucked it into his mouth, pulling a quiet, breathless sound from you.

“There,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky, satisfied. “That shut you up, didn’t it?”

You would’ve fired back with something equally teasing, but then his hands were on your thighs, gripping firmly as he lifted you with effortless strength, setting you down on the cool marble countertop.

Your knees bracketed his hips as he settled between your legs, his touch everywhere at once—hands splaying over your thighs, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your skin, lips pressing against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“God, you’re unreal,” he breathed, fingers slipping to the first button of your shirt. He took his time, unfastening it slowly, brushing his knuckles against your skin with every movement. His touch was soft, reverent, but his body was needy, his hips pressing closer, his breath uneven as he drank you in.

He pushed the fabric apart, his fingertips tracing lightly over your newly exposed skin, his lips trailing down the column of your throat. “So perfect,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, warmer, almost possessive. “I don’t know how I lasted all week without this.”

His hands tightened on your waist, his lips finding yours again—deeper this time, almost desperate.

A slow, knowing smirk curled at your lips as you shifted slightly, your legs tightening around his hips. The movement pressed him closer—enough for you to feel the unmistakable hardness beneath his slacks, straining against the expensive fabric.

San’s breath stuttered, his fingers flexing against your waist, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he pressed closer, as if daring you to acknowledge what you’d done to him.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence, but your hand was anything but as it trailed down his chest, over the planes of his stomach, before finally reaching the bulge between his legs.

Your fingers traced the outline slowly, deliberately, watching the way his jaw clenched, how his lashes fluttered as he exhaled heavily through his nose.

“Hm,” you mused, your voice laced with amusement. “You are faaar gone for me.”

San let out a breathy chuckle, but it was strained—like he was barely holding on. Then, in one swift movement, he caught your wrist, pressing it down against the counter beside you. His other hand grabbed the edge of your blouse, and before you could tease him again, he finished undoing the last buttons, peeling the fabric from your shoulders, exposing you completely to him.

His gaze devoured you, dark eyes trailing over every inch of newly revealed skin, his lips parting slightly, his tongue flicking out to wet them as he swallowed. His grip on your wrist loosened, his palm sliding down your arm, fingers ghosting over your ribs before settling on your waist, his touch possessive.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, voice thick with need. His hands squeezed at your sides, his hips pressing forward.

Then, he leaned in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You know.. I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your fingers clutching at his arms as he kissed down your throat, down the curve of your shoulder.

And judging by the way his fingers were trembling slightly against your skin, you knew—he wasn’t just saying it.

He meant it.

San didn’t waste a second. The moment those words left his mouth, his hands were on you—gripping, touching, taking. His fingers slid down your back, over your waist, then lower, bunching up the fabric of your skirt with a sharp tug.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his forehead pressing against yours, his hands roaming everywhere.

His lips crashed against yours, messy and desperate, while his fingers hooked into your panties. He didn’t even bother easing them down properly—just pulled them aside, then down, letting them slip past your thighs before he tossed them somewhere onto the kitchen floor.

Your breath hitched, and he felt it. Felt the way your thighs tensed slightly around his hips, how your fingers curled into his arms. He groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip the back of your knees, pulling you open for him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost pained, his fingers trailing over the soft skin of your inner thighs. “You know what you do to me, don’t you?”

You barely had time to answer before he reached down, fumbling with his belt. His fingers were quick, impatient, pushing his slacks down just enough—just to his knees, no further. He couldn’t be bothered to take them off completely. Not when he needed you now.

And then he was pressing forward, his body crowding you against the counter, his cock heavy and hard, brushing against your bare skin.

His hands never stopped moving—gripping at your waist, sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples, before skimming down again, squeezing, claiming.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whispered against your lips, panting now, his fingers digging into your hips as he lined himself up. “I can’t—”

And then he was pushing in, his head dropping to your shoulder, a wrecked moan slipping from his lips.

“Jesus, baby,” he gasped, his arms wrapping around you completely, holding you flush against him. His hands wouldn’t stop—palming over your back, up to your shoulders, back down to your ass, like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you the most.

“God, you feel unreal,” he groaned, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your throat, his hips already rolling into you, deep and slow, like he wanted to savor it.

But you could tell—his control was slipping. His breath was uneven, his fingers gripping at you like he needed to anchor himself, his body shuddering slightly every time he buried himself deeper.

And then, in a voice so desperate it nearly broke you—

“I need you.”

His lips crashed against yours again, his thrusts growing faster, rougher, his hands gripping at your waist like he was trying to pull you closer, trying to consume you completely.

Your breath hitched as he bottomed out, your walls stretching around him, the ache bordering on overwhelming. He was thick, every inch of him forcing your body to accommodate him, and he knew it. He felt it—the way your walls clenched around him, the way your nails dug into his shoulders, the way your thighs trembled against his hips.

“Shit,” San rasped, his forehead dropping against yours again, his breath ragged, uneven. “So fucking tight—so perfect.”

His thrusts stuttered for just a second, his hands tightening on your waist, as if he was trying to breathe through it, to keep himself from absolutely losing it. But then—

“...these damn glasses,” he muttered, frustration lacing his voice. In one swift motion, he reached up, yanking them off and tossing them onto the counter beside you without a second thought. And as soon as they were gone, it was like something in him snapped. And of course, you thought that was so hot.. that you clenched your thighs further on his hips, pulling yourself flusha against him

His hands were back on you instantly, gripping, pulling, dragging you into him as he fucked into you with a newfound desperation. His teeth scraped over your jaw, his lips trailing fire down your neck, his breath hot and needy against your skin.

“Look at you,” he groaned, voice thick with lust, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze. His now bare eyes were blown wide, pupils dark and hungry, his brows furrowed in something close to agony. “You’re taking me so well—fuck, I could stay inside you forever.”

His hips snapped forward, rough and deep, pulling a choked gasp from your throat. He drank it in like a man starved, his fingers digging into your skin, his body pressing you so tightly against the counter that you had nowhere to go, no way to escape the way he was completely wrecking you.

“Feels so good,” he panted, his lips brushing yours with every ragged breath. “You feel so fucking good—I can’t—fuck”

And the way he said it—so raw, so utterly desperate—made something inside you snap.

His thrusts turned frantic, his rhythm faltering as he slammed into you, hips stuttering against yours. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the sheer effort of holding on just a little longer. But he was so close—you could feel it in the way his grip tightened, in the way his moans grew more desperate, in the way his cock throbbed inside you, thick and pulsing, dragging against your walls with every deep, shuddering thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping against your shoulder, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses against your flushed skin. “Baby, I—fuck, I can’t hold it—I’m gonna—”

And then, with one final, wrecked thrust, he broke.

A deep, guttural moan ripped from his chest as he came, his arms locking around you, pulling you impossibly close. His entire body tensed, his hips pressing flush against yours as he spilled inside you, warmth flooding deep, his fingers digging into your skin like he needed to hold onto something or else he’d completely fall apart.

His breath was ragged, his body shuddering slightly as he rode out his high, his lips still pressing weak, open kisses against your jaw, your neck, your collarbone—like he needed to worship you even as he unraveled.

But then—his breath hitched. His fingers flexed against your thighs.

And suddenly, despite his own exhaustion, his head lifted. His dark, blown-out eyes flickered down between your bodies, taking in the way you were still trembling, still clenching, still needing.

And just like that, his own pleasure wasn’t enough.

“No,” he murmured, his voice still breathless but laced with something firmer. “My baby hasn’t come yet.”

Before you could even process his words, he was pulling out, a slick mess of both of you trailing down your thighs. But he didn’t give you a second to mourn the loss—because the next thing you knew, he was dropping to his knees.

His hands grabbed at your thighs, spreading you open again, his breath hot against your soaked, swollen skin. And then—

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs as he stared. “So messy. So pretty.”

And then his mouth was on you.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as his tongue flattened against you, licking a slow, deep stripe through your folds, gathering up every last drop of you and him combined. He moaned at the taste, his hands tightening their grip, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

And then he devoured you.

His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves before dipping back down, thrusting into you, lapping at everything you had to offer. His pace was ruthless, desperate—like he needed this just as much as you did, like he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were shaking, crying for him.

“Come for me,” he groaned against your heat, his voice wrecked, his fingers digging bruises into your thighs as he pulled you closer. “Come on, baby—let me feel you.”

San did not let up. If anything, your sounds—those breathy little gasps and whimpers—only fueled him, made him even hungrier. His tongue worked relentlessly, dragging through your folds, swirling over your clit, sucking and devouring like he couldn’t get enough of you. His nails dug into your thighs, spreading you wide, keeping you right where he wanted—helpless, shaking, his.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” he groaned against you, his lips slick, messy, his voice thick with obsession. “So sweet, baby—so fucking mine.”

And then—his fingers.

One pressed against your entrance, then two, sliding in so easily from how wet you were. He groaned at the way you clenched around them, his tongue never stopping, flicking, sucking, teasing, demanding your pleasure.

“Fuck—so tight,” he rasped, curling his fingers, stroking right there, right where you needed. “Gonna come for me, baby? Hm?”

Your entire body tensed, your thighs shaking against his shoulders, your breath breaking into short, desperate gasps. You were so close—too close. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, curling perfectly, his lips wrapping around your clit—

“San—wait, I—ah—!”

But it was too late.

The pleasure slammed into you like a tidal wave, your back arching against the counter, your fingers tangling in his hair as you came, hard, uncontrollably, a broken moan spilling from your lips. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs trembling as the orgasm tore through you, overwhelming, mind-numbing.

And San? He didn’t stop.

His tongue lapped up every drop, his fingers still moving, working you through it, dragging out every last tremor, every last pulse of pleasure. He groaned as you clenched around him, as you gasped his name, as you trembled beneath his mouth.

“Fuck,” he panted and looked up at you, still on his knees, his voice raw, ruined. “You look so pretty when you come, baby.”

San finally pulled back, his fingers slipping from you, leaving you trembling against the counter. He pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, trailing them up your stomach, over the curve of your ribs, all the way to your heaving chest. When he finally reached your lips, he kissed you softly, a stark contrast to how he had just wrecked you.

His hands found your waist, lifting you onto unsteady feet. The second your legs wobbled, a breathless chuckle escaped him, and he tightened his hold, steadying you against his body.

“Shit, baby,” he murmured, smirking against your temple. “You can barely stand.”

You let out a weak laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder, your fingers gripping his biceps for balance. But then, as you pulled back slightly, your gaze dropped—and you saw it.

San’s cock was still achingly hard, standing thick against his abs, flushed and leaking, twitching slightly with every deep breath he took.

You giggled, lifting a shaky hand to brush over his abdomen, teasing. “What about you?”

San groaned, tilting his head back with an exasperated sigh, his fingers flexing against your waist. “We’ll take care of that later,” he muttered, though the way his jaw clenched told you just how difficult that decision was for him.

You arched a brow, still teasing. “Later?”

His dark eyes flickered back to yours, burning with something deep, possessive. His hands slid down to grip your ass, pulling you tight against him, making sure you felt just how hard he still was.

“Yeah,” he rasped, his voice low, almost dangerous. “Because if I fuck you again right now, I won’t stop—and I need you in one piece, baby.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but before you could respond, he leaned in, lips brushing against your ear.

“Whenever I’m away from you,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw, “I get closer and closer to insanity.” His hands squeezed at your hips, his breath hot against your skin. “You ruin me, baby.”

And the way he said it—so raw, so needy—made you realize one thing.

You were absolutely not done for the night.

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