#which is how I…found out there was one in the first place

[puck-luck]

hallmates | quinn hughes

warnings: voyeuristic themes (thin walls), masturbation (fem), dirty talk, wet dreams, drunkenness, quinn pining but barely, garland mentioned before i found out he followed trump and tucker carlson on instagram..., PROTECTED p in v (for once), the smut in this is not as strong as previous pieces of mine, use of Y/N. pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader summary: when fem!reader moves in next to qh, there are two instances where she forgets just how thin the walls are. the second time, quinn is sure to remind her. wc: 5746

Your first grown-up job out of college has been great. You like your coworkers, you’re not bored with your daily tasks, and they gave you a very generous relocation package for your move to Vancouver. You were lucky enough to find a nice apartment with the money, and you paid the first three months’ rent easily. It’s your first one-bedroom apartment, finally living on your own for the first time in your life, and almost everything is perfect.

Almost everything.

Your one gripe is that you can hear your neighbor through the wall when he gets home from his job at weird hours, or when he has friends over during weeknights when you’re trying to prepare for work the following day, or even when he hosts holiday parties for what sounds like fifty-plus people.

It happens often enough that you’re annoyed when his presence makes itself known, but you’re not the kind of person to go over and tell him to knock it off. Plus, you decided that you’d give him a pass because it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose.

Well, that, and he’s cute.

The first time you met was on move-in day. You were lugging your suitcases up the stairs leading to the apartment and he offered to help you carry them in. He took them both– one in each hand– and lifted them like they were nothing. He brought them all the way to the lobby, then smiled softly at you instead of saying “You’re welcome” when you thanked him. You had to talk to the security guard to get your key before ascending up to your floor in the elevator, and in that time, the cute boy had disappeared. You hadn’t caught his name, but you had texted your best friends and informed them that there was at least one hottie in your building.

You learned his name the second time he helped you carry something up the stairs. You had gone grocery shopping at the market down the street and had conveniently forgotten your reusable bags. Before you realized your mistake, you had gone a little crazy with the fruits and vegetables. You’d had to pack all of your goodies into two bursting paper bags that one of the vendors had on hand, and they were filled to the brim. You made it all the way to the bottom of the steps to your apartment when the handles of the bags tore off and all of your hard work was suddenly for naught.

The bags went crashing to the pavement, dirty and littered with the fallen leaves that hadn’t been corralled when they first made their way to the ground, and the prized red onion that you were going to chop up tonight as part of your dinner rolled about a foot away. 

All in all, you should’ve been glad it was the onion. You always peel the skin off of an onion before you cook it, and you always wash it thoroughly before cutting it up, but you reacted like it was the end of the world. Your prized onion was tarnished by the ground, which was silly, because they come from the ground in the first place. 

The onion rolled all the way to your neighbor’s feet. He was arriving home with a friend, a short brunet with floppy hair and a mustache. “You okay?” Your neighbor asked. He picked up the onion and cradled it in his palm.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “Just not sure how I’m going to carry all of this upstairs without the handles.”

“We’ll help out. You live next to Huggy, right?” The friend said, bending down to lift one of the bags. He cradles it in his arms and your neighbor does the same.

“Huggy?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

Your neighbor, in the meanwhile, had blushed beet-red and stooped down to pick up the other bag of groceries. “That’s me. It’s a nickname.”

“Huggy Bear,” his friend cooed, bumping his arm and knocking your neighbor off balance. 

“It’s Quinn. My name. You can call me Quinn,” your neighbor said, diverting your attention from the silly nickname.

“How do you know which apartment I live in, Quinn?” You questioned. You walked alongside the men as they took your groceries up the stairs, into the elevator, and into your apartment.

Quinn had cut his friend off by replying first. “Moving in makes a lot of noise. I live next door and we share a wall. You weren’t really quiet when you built your bed. I’m glad you have somewhere to sleep, but I could live without the expletives.” He reveals the information with a smile, the same slight curve of his lips that you’re starting to really admire.

That was that. They dropped the groceries off on your kitchen counter and you thanked them for the help, then sent them on their way.

The third time you saw Quinn– well, it started this whole mess. He’s been nice to you twice, so you thought you would repay him with the best thing you could think of: brownies. You’d just gotten the recipe from your aunt to make them from scratch and, hey, he’s a guy, right? Guys like baked goods. 

The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Not that you’re trying to get to Quinn’s heart. You wouldn’t mind it, but you’re not… trying.

Thirty minutes later, you’re knocking on Quinn’s door with a plate of brownies. Half of your goods are on the platter, ready for Quinn to dig into. The rest are on your counter, their yummy scent rising in waves from them like in a cartoon and waiting for you to return. 

You only know that he’s home because you can hear him through the wall. After he told you that the walls were thin, you’d been noticing the same thing. It wasn’t just when he gets home or when he has people over. You can hear him moving around and cooking throughout the day. You can hear his sports channels through the wall– yes, that’s right, channels. Multiple. You’re not sure, but he might have two or even three TVs. 

Long story short, Quinn’s home. It takes him a few minutes to come to the door when you knock. “Who is it?” He asks, voice muffled through the door.

“Your friendly next door neighbor,” you reply. “With a plate of fresh brownies.”

The lock slides open and Quinn appears from behind the door. You hold the plate out to Quinn and he takes it from you with one hand. The other rests above his head on the doorframe. He leans over you, smiling softly. 

Suddenly, you don’t know what to say. You don’t know where you were going with this. Your eyes are drawn to his neck, which looks muscular and, well, biteable.

“Enjoy the brownies,” you squeak out, then you turn on your heel and bolt away.

Like any normal woman who is shocked by her sudden visceral attraction to her admittedly-hot next door neighbor, you call your best friend. She talks you through it for a little while, then starts to stray into enemy territory: “Go out, Y/N. Get your mind off of it. Have a drink, get a little tipsy, then go over to his place and tell him how hot you think he is. You’ve never heard a girl’s voice, right? I feel like you would’ve, if he has a girlfriend. The worst he can say is that he’s not interested.”

When you try to weasel out of it, speaking in low tones so that Quinn doesn't hear you through the wall, she reminds you that your resolution for this “new stage of your life” was to stop being so anxious about what someone could say to you. You had declared that you wouldn’t let your own anxiety affect your ability to be vulnerable, especially not with the people that you find attractive. 

Damn your best friend. How dare she look out for you. She even promises to call you in four hours to check in on your drunkenness.

You make plans with the girl in your office that you’ve been taking lunch with. She’s also new– not compared to you, but within the past year. She remembers what it was like to be brand new to Vancouver, so she’s eager to go out with you and offer up her friendship. She takes you to two bars in the downtown area: when the first one gets too full with what she calls “the sport crowd,” you move to the next.

Your coworker’s favorite liquor is tequila. After three shots, which make you cringe despite filling your stomach with warmth, she pulls your troubles out of you. You tell her all about your “sexy” roommate– that’s right, Quinn has been upgraded from “hot” to “sexy” as a result of the alcohol– and she encourages you to try and bag him, just like your best friend did. She agrees that there’s no reason not to and that you should be fine because you’ve been bolstered by the tequila.

She tells you about the person she’s currently seeing and how confusing it is, rambling on and on. When the time comes, and you’re still out, your best friend does call. You talk to her for a second, then she meets your coworker through speakerphone, and they bond over the fact that they both think you should hook up with Quinn.

You party into the night, getting more and more loopy. Your confidence skyrockets by the end of the evening and your drinks are tasting like water. You’re probably too far gone to actually talk to Quinn tonight, but who cares? You feel good. You needed a night out like this.

By the time you’re getting in the Uber, there’s a goofy smile that hasn’t left your face since maybe your fifth drink. You’re able to stumble up the stairs to the lobby and gleefully greet the nighttime security guard at his desk, then you ride the elevator up to your floor. You look up and see yourself in the mirrors on the ceiling of the elevator, which is a treat for Drunk-You. It’s almost a shame when the elevator dings, having finally reached your floor, and you have to leave.

You walk down the hall and consider going up to Quinn’s door, but your phone vibrates in your pocket and you dig it out. It’s the newly minted group chat between you, your coworker, and your bestie. It distracts you, and the clock in the top left corner informs you that you’ve gotten home at a crisp 1:30am, so you decide to go to bed. 

You go to bed, alright. You get ready, you get comfy, and then you remember Quinn’s neck. 

The skin looked so soft. The hair from his beard had started to creep down towards his adam’s apple, but it was neatly maintained. You can imagine how scratchy it would be in your palms, or against your cheek when he graces you with a little kiss, or against your neck while he sucks hickeys onto your skin… or against the sensitive expanse of your own thighs.

You know just how sensitive and delicate the skin is on your thighs because it’s where your fingers are dancing. 

As you drift off, mind still foggy from your drinks, your touch starts to feel much more like you imagine Quinn’s would. His big fingers, on that manly hand, would touch you so carefully. He’d be so determined to play you like a fiddle.

As you imagine your very sexy next door neighbor touching you, you’re making a lot more noise than you realize. It starts with a whimper here and there, then crescendos into actual moans and desperate keens. You’ve shoved your face into the pillow below you, but it does very little to muffle your moans– considering you’re a big fan of breathing, your face is more turned to the side so that you don’t actually suffocate yourself while in the middle of getting off. Your middle two fingers are shoved into your cunt, your index finger erratically sliding against your clit. 

“I know, baby, you feel so good. You want it so bad, don’t you?” Quinn’s imaginary and gently deprecating words wash over your brain like an intrusive thought. 

You bite your lip and turn into the pillow, pleading with him belligerently into the cushion. You’re fighting for your life in this little fantasy, feeling so overwhelmed, and the man you’re imagining isn’t even here. But, in your mind, he’s the one with his fingers inside of you, making you gasp out his name once when his finger passes over your clit just right. In your mind, he doubles down and turns you into a mess. The drinks clogging your mind are able to make it feel more real.

You’re so caught up in your own pleasure that you forget just how thin the walls are. You miss the sound of your neighbor tossing and turning in his bed, even standing at one point and pacing around his bedroom.

It’s only after you come that you hear his bedframe creak with the weight of his body and the faint music that he seems to be playing– maybe just as white noise to fall asleep. You write it off and succumb to the clawing hands of your own slumber. 

You see Quinn again the next day. You’re heading to work with a heavy hangover weighing on you– why did you listen to your best friend when she told you to go out on a Sunday? Why did you listen to your coworker when she brought out the second and third round of shots?– and Quinn seems to be heading to his own job. You still don’t know what that is.

You meet him in front of the elevator, waiting for its doors to open and let you in. You’re honestly not sure if the movement will make you feel more sick, or even push you over the edge and make you dizzy and on the verge of throwing up, like getting out of bed did when you woke up later than you meant to and you had to rush to get ready. Everything is too bright.

Quinn yawns three times in two minutes. You’re the only two in the elevator and the silence is growing more uncomfortable than the ache in your head, since you consider Quinn to be your… friend now? General acquaintance, distant crush, or next-door neighbor might be a better categorization. 

“Long night?” You ask. 

His cheeks turn pink, bizarrely, and Quinn seems determined to face straight forward. His eyes look a little more deer-in-headlights today, rather than the calm and serene blankness that you’re used to. Not that you’re used to looking into Quinn’s eyes. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologize, feeling for him. You’ve been the victim of a restless night many times over, so you know how dreadful it is the following day. “Do you know why?”

Quinn swallows harshly. “Um, I have an idea.”

It’s a weird answer, only because he doesn’t elaborate any further. You keep waiting for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. That is, until the elevator arrives in the parking garage under the complex, when Quinn starts to head one way towards his car and you start to go the other way to your own. To make things even more confusing, Quinn says in a very stilted voice, “Thanks for the brownies.”

Then, like you did when you dropped the brownies off the previous day, he bolts. 

At first, you’re confused, but you let it go. Maybe he was late for work. At least he took the time out of his day to thank you for the brownies, right?

You consider gifting him some of your sleepy-time tea, since he was having trouble sleeping and it’s clearly affecting him. Then you think to yourself that if you kept bringing Quinn treats, you would seem like a cat dropping a mouse at their owners’ feet… so you decide not to.

You feel vindicated with your choice in the coming days. Each time Quinn sees you, his eyes go wide and he scampers away as quickly as he can. It proves itself to be very confusing because he was so nice before. 

After a tough week at work, and another near-miss with Quinn, you’re just… tired. It’s been a weird few days. What you really want is to snuggle up in your bed, throw on some ambient music, drink a glass of wine, light a candle, and fall asleep early– after blowing out your candle, of course. You’d be damned if you were the reason the entire apartment burned down in the middle of the night.

You’re lucky enough that your plans for the night work out. You get to settle in with a book– a spicy romance novel that your coworker recommended to “take the edge off if you won’t knock on Quinn’s damn door.” She seems to think that the reason you’re having a bad week is because you haven’t hooked up with Quinn yet. You don’t think there’s any correlation.

There does seem to be a correlation between the spicy book, the mention of Quinn, and what happens later. You fell asleep with your book open against your chest, having been lulled to sleep by the comfort of your own home. 

It starts simple. Quinn’s lips are sliding against yours, his hand resting securely on your waist. You’re laying in bed and you’ve got a thigh over his hip, grinding into his generous length. Before you know it, and in dream-land it seems like a flash, Quinn’s length is inside of you. He’s got a thumb on your clit while the other plays with your hair, sweet kisses gracing your lips. Quinn’s content teasing you, thrusting as shallowly as he wants and leaving you whining for more. 

“Quinn,” dream-you insists between kisses. 

“Not enough for you, sweetheart?” dream-Quinn chides playfully, his voice riddled with fondness. “You weren’t even supposed to take my cock tonight. But no, you just had to be full. You couldn’t be content with warming me either, huh? You need me to fuck you whenever you want. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Quinn, I need you,” you confirm, whining a little bit and pursing your lips so he finds them again.

“Music to my ears,” Quinn tells you with a smile. “Let me make you come, yeah?”

“Quinn,” you moan again, his touch reducing you to a mess that can only say one word: his name.

You wake to a loud knock on your apartment door. “Y/N!” The person calls, and it sounds like a man, which alarms you in your freshly awoken state.

You roll out of bed and tug on your bathrobe, which you had thrown in the dryer during your first stint in bed, the one that had sent you into sleep. And– and– had sparked that weird dream that has you wet in your panties and wishing Quinn had been there when you woke up.

You tie the belt of the robe around your waist and look through the peephole– it is Quinn. Your wish came true, in a bizarre way. He’s here and he looks concerned. He’s lifting his hand to knock again, but you open the door.

“Quinn, what’s–”

“Are you okay?” He asks. He’s wearing sweatpants and an undershirt, as well as his tennis shoes. He probably just slipped those on to come over here. “You were saying my name. I heard you through the wall. You said you needed me. Are you hurt? Is something wrong?”

The barrage of questions leaves you rattled. You blink in surprise, trying to process all of his inquiries. “What?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut hard to try and wipe the sleep away. 

“You were saying my name,” Quinn repeats. 

You squint, crossing your arms over your chest. “I was asleep,” you say, aware of how confused you sound.

“You were asleep,” Quinn repeats. He blinks twice, then repeats himself, sounding more sure. “You were asleep.”

“I was asleep,” you agree.

Quinn goes to leave, then faces you again and tilts his head to the side. “What were you dreaming about?” He asks. 

You feel your face flood with embarrassment. You’ve never been good at controlling your expression. “It was nothing.”

“Was I there?” Quinn checks. “Is that why you were saying my name?”

“You were there,” you confirm, hoping it’s enough to satisfy him and he leaves. 

Quinn smiles. He looks extra handsome when he smiles. He was smiling at you in your dream. He was doing a lot of good things in your dream. If only you could fall asleep and jump right back in– you were so close and his cock was filling you so well. 

“What was I doing in this dream?” Quinn crosses his arms and takes a step closer to you. 

You move closer to the door, keeping your hand on the doorknob, ready to slam it behind him as soon as he heads back to his apartment. “I don’t remember,” you lie. “You know, most people forget their dream within ten minutes of waking up.”

Quinn nods, still smirking. “You didn’t forget this one, though, did you?” He teases knowingly. 

“Bits and pieces.”

The next thing Quinn says is Earth-shattering. 

“Were you dreaming last time, too?”

You wish you could melt into the floor or camouflage yourself against the wall. You had a theory that Quinn had heard you getting off through the wall the night that you were drunk, although you don’t imagine that he understood your wanton noises. That was why he was running away so much. 

But… he’s not running away this time. He’s here and he’s pressing you for more and more details.

“What do you mean?” You ask, swallowing hard.

“The last time you were saying my name,” Quinn prompts. “Were you asleep then, too?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t think so,” You reply, scrubbing over your arms. It’s a sign of being uncomfortable. Hopefully Quinn picks up on that and goes, sparing you any further humiliation. You’ll never talk to him again. He’s heard you make sex noises twice, and now you know that he knows. It’s embarrassing.

Quinn takes another step forward. He’s right in the doorway now, inches away from stepping across the threshold and entering your apartment. “If you have another dream,” he says, pushing his long sleeves up to his elbows and revealing his arms. He dips his head, lowering his voice to a timbre that has you growing damp again. “You know where to find me.”

Like a final stamp of approval on an official document, Quinn touches the knot at the front of your robe. It’s a brief, fleeting touch and it’s so close to where his hands were originally planted in your dream.

He turns to leave and gets all of three steps away before you call him back. “Quinn.”

“Mhm?” He asks, knowing smile on his face. 

“How, um… how much did you hear?” You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. 

“The first time?” Quinn asks. “Or this time?”

You don’t really want to know the answer, but you nod anyway. “Uh...both?”

“Well,” Quinn says. “Today, you didn’t seem to get very far.”

No thanks to you, you think bitterly. I would’ve liked to see how that dream ended.

“But the first time, I heard everything,” Quinn informs you with a little shrug. “You… you sound really pretty when you come.”

It’s a sheepish admission and it has your jaw dropping. You fishmouth at him for a second, unable to think of something to say. He can just say shit like that? What? How?

“I guess I was hoping…” Quinn licks his lower lip, then looks you up and down. “That if I interrupted you this time, I’d get to… experience the real thing. Not just listen in through the wall.”

“You want…” you trail off, overwhelmed by the information he’s giving you. Quinn wants to have sex with you? But he’s your neighbor crush– this is a new development in the dynamic that you were not expecting. You’re not usually the kind of girl whose little crushes are reciprocated, at least, not like this.

Quinn raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to complete the sentence. When you don’t, he asks another question. “What was I doing in your dream, Y/N?”

“We, um, we were in bed,” you stammer out, feeling unsure. He wants to know– he’s made that very clear. Still, you’re somewhat reluctant. It might be coming off as coyness by accident.

“Can I come in?” Quinn asks. “I need to get the full picture. I don’t know what your bed looks like.”

You stand aside and allow him in. You close, and, out of habit, lock the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom. You try to see it through his eyes for the first time, although you’ve been living here for a while, so it’s hard. It’s just your bedroom.

“So this is where we were,” Quinn says. “Then what?”

“We were laying down,” you explain.

Quinn starts to take off his shoes, then his socks, then he climbs into your bed. “Like this?”

You feel lightheaded. What is he doing? This is so bizarre.

“Kind of?” You reply. You join him. “It was more like– this?” You pull at his arm until he lays on his side, facing you. You face him, bringing his elbow up so it rests on the pillow. 

He asked, you remind yourself. He wants to know. He asked. It’s weird, but you’re just showing him. 

You resolutely avoid his eyes, which have been trained on your face this whole time. Your cheeks are probably going to remain stained pink from the constant blush on your skin. You lay your head on the curve of his arm, then touch his cheek. Just his cheek. You’re still avoiding his eyes. It’s getting harder. “And then, um, my leg was over your hip, too.”

“Like this?” Quinn asks, bringing his warm palm to the curve of your knee and guiding your leg into place. He leaves his hand there.

“Like that,” you confirm faintly. 

All of your neurons are firing like crazy, making you question if this, too, is a dream. Has your subconscious gotten so meta that you can’t decipher what’s real and what’s fake?

“What else did we do?” Quinn’s voice has dropped to a whisper. His hand is still on your thigh.

“Well, your hand was here,” You say, correcting him and bringing his hand to your waist. “And you…”

Quinn gives your waist a little squeeze. “I… what?”

“You were kissing me,” you say, your voice barely a breath. This can’t be real. 

Quinn surprises you. “Good,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do that.” He leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours before he meets you completely. He’s hesitant, waiting for you to relax with him. 

You don’t fully, still confused from waking up and the fact that this happened so quickly and in such a bizarre way. When he pulls away, you voice your confusion. “Are you real?” You question under your breath.

Quinn chuckles, leaning in to kiss you again. “I’m real.”

He continues to kiss you. Over and over, until you finally melt into his touch and start to do exactly what you were doing in your dream– grinding against him. 

“Were you doing this in your dream?” Quinn asks. He’s helping guide your movements and you can feel him swelling beneath you. He’s not wearing underwear– you can tell. You want it, bad, and now that you’ve been kissing him, you’re more willing to explain the rest of your dream to him.

“More,” you breathe out. “I needed your cock inside me.”

Quinn makes a noise of surprise, but the way he kisses you after you say that reveals his enthusiasm.

“And you were talking to me,” you reveal as Quinn starts to meet your rolling hips. “You were– you were teasing me for being so needy.”

“What was I saying?” Quinn’s hand twitches against your waist, pulling you closer. He licks into your mouth briefly, then pulls back. “What had you begging for me, sweetheart?”

“Making fun of me,” you exhale. “Saying– I couldn’t get enough of you. That I was greedy and that I couldn’t be satisfied with just warming you–”

“Warming me,” Quinn repeats quietly, interrupting you.

You talk over him. “So you had to fuck me, but you weren’t really fucking me– you were just, inside, barely moving and your thumb was on my clit.”

“As if I could hold myself back like that,” Quinn scoffs. You grab the sides of his shirt and tug petulantly, bringing him in for another kiss. You’re addicted. 

“Show me,” you invite. “Show me how you’d fuck me. Show me what you’d do differently. Please. You came all the way over here– I want to make it worth your time.”

Quinn groans into your mouth, bringing his hand from your waist to the tie of your robe. “Really?”

“Don’t make me ask again,” you say. “I was so close in my dream.”

Quinn reacts to that in the same way. “Fuck, let me get my fingers in you first–”

“No.”

“No?” Quinn repeats, pulling away from you. 

“Not no,” you correct, bringing your hands to his waistband and snapping the band impatiently. “Just– I want your cock. Just your cock. Please fuck me, Quinn.” You kiss him sweetly one more time. “Please?”

“Undress yourself,” Quinn says. “I want to see all of you.”

“You too,” you reply. “Take your clothes off.”

As you undress, untying the knot of your belt and tossing the robe to the floor of your bedroom, you talk. You take your big t-shirt off, asking, “Condom?”

Quinn digs into the pocket of his sweats, having shed his shirt. He pulls out a foil– just one, sadly– and tosses it to you. 

You catch it, tearing the edge of the packet and taking out the ring of plastic inside of it. You push your panties down with one hand, while Quinn loses his sweats. As soon as his cock is revealed to you, hard and pink at the tip, you jump into action. You’re rolling the condom on quickly, unable to help yourself from pumping his shaft a few times.

“Quit,” Quinn remarks, batting your hand away and laying back down. He’s on his side, pulling your thigh back over his hip and resuming the position from before. He puts his hand under your jaw, then guides his cock to your opening. He pushes in, rolling his hips until every single inch is sheathed inside of you. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”

“You’re big,” you reply, holding his shoulders and tilting your pelvis forward to encourage him to move. “Filling me so nice, Q.”

“Q,” Quinn echoes, his voice sounding a little strangled. “That’s– that’s nice.”

You wonder if he’s holding back. He always seems to when it comes to talking to you. After a while, maybe he’ll give you something more than his shy words and his hesitant admissions. He’s in your bed now, but he’s still holding back.

He starts to rut against you, finding a rhythm in which his cock slides in and out of your heat. The movement is smooth because you’re so wet from dreaming about him, then kissing him, and now having him inside. Even though there’s the barrier of protection between you, he’s warm and you can feel the way his skin stretches over his veins and his tip. That, combined with the scrape of his member against your fleshy walls, creates something so warm inside of you that you can’t help but ask for more.

Quinn gives you everything you ask for like he can’t imagine doing anything else. Soon enough, he’s holding himself up slightly by his elbow so he has some leverage to fuck into you harder and faster. 

You’re moaning, pulling him closer and threading your fingers through his hair. “Quinn,” you’re saying, repeating the word that inspired him to come over in the first place. 

He’s saying your name, too. He’s whispering it into your ear and into your mouth as he presses kisses wherever he can reach. He thrusts, he says your name, he kisses. He thrusts again, he says your name again, and he kisses you again. It’s an endless cycle, a perpetual loop. It’s soft and sweet, even though the way he’s fucking you is anything but. His thrusts are sharp and pointed, hitting the right spot inside of you as often as he can. 

The kiss to your neck is your undoing. He’s sucking a bit, biting down just barely, and his tongue works against your pulse point. It’s too much, too full of something deeper. You let go, making the noise he likes so much– the noise that he said was pretty, and he meant it, even as bashful as he looked when he said it. Your moan mixes with his name again.

Quinn spills into the condom shortly after, touching you reverently and letting his hips jerk and twitch through his release. 

You feel innately close to him, like you’re part of him. It’s bizarre how one hookup with your cute neighbor leaves you feeling satisfied and unsettled– ‘unsettled’ because, well, why would you feel so close to a man you’ve slept with once and only had a few genuine conversations with?

Quinn eases your thoughts by letting you know that he feels, at least, a little bit similar to you. 

“Can I take you to dinner?” He asks. “I’m busy most of the time, but I want to take you out. Let’s make time to have a real date.” Quinn pauses. “Unless you don’t want to– if you just want this, that’s okay. I just– I’d feel stupid if I didn’t ask.”

You touch his mouth, effectively silencing him, even though you hadn’t meant to. You just wanted to feel his lips move while he spoke. “I’ll go to dinner with you,” you agree. “If you sleep here tonight.”

Quinn smiles. “Done.”

[bokunoheros]

"katsuki...!"

CHARACTER: KATSUKI BAKUGOU GENRE: SMUT, angst if you squint TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (katsuki calls you princess once and it’s in mocking), swearing (obvi), hate/angry sex, reader and katsuki are childhood friends (to enemies) to fuck buddies, y’all’re in your 3rd yr of highschool, drool/spit, impact/quirk play, pussy spanking, mentions of blood,  WORD COUNT: 3.6k SUMMARY: you never seem to have a problem calling katsuki by his first name — except for in the bedroom, and he’s finally had enough of it. 🦊’s A/N: this is a repost bc i didn’t like the way this performed the first time // if you’ve read this before, no you havent

     one thing katsuki bakugou hated about you was the way you refused to call him by anything other than his first name—hell, you wouldn’t even call him kacchan, a name he had learned to barely tolerate without popping a blood vessel. 

     another thing he hated even more about you was the fact that whenever you two finally got over your horrid, god-awful sexual tension that the entire class was sick of, was the way you suddenly refused to call him katsuki. no, whenever he found himself fucking you in the dorms while everyone else is asleep, it was all you could do to whimper “bakugou—”, which pissed katsuki off to no end. the bedroom was the one place where you should be calling him by his first name and yet… you completely and utterly refused to do so! simply for the sole purpose of pissing him off and riling him up. 

     “ba–baku—ahh!” you cry as he shoves your face down into the mattress while giving your ass a hard smack. “christ!” you whine, voice muffled by the plush bedding. 

     “that’s not—m’fuckin’ name, and i think you know that, sweetheart.” his voice is overflowing with frustration and condescension as his hips smack against your ass repeatedly, heavy balls smacking against your throbbing clit.  

     “it— it’s lit–literally your name,” you correct him, arching your back deeper and wiggling your reddening rear. “fuck’s got you—ah!—all worked up, huh, bakugou?”

     he feels his eye twitch at your words, and he lets out a deep, frustrated growl before he’s smacking your ass again, this time with the addition of his quirk popping off once his large and very calloused hand came into contact with your bare, sweaty skin. 

     “fuck! goddammit!” you whine, hands desperately grabbing at his black sheets. “baku–gou!”

     “just—say my name fucking properly, dammit!” he demands, panting heavily as he continues to thrust his awfully girthy cock in and out of your snug little cunt. “you never seem to have a problem with it any other goddamn time!”

     “i— i dunno wh–what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” you quip back, turning your head to the side in attempt to look back at katsuki — he doesn’t let you, though, as he shoves your face further into the bed, squishing your cheeks in the process, and you try to fight back against his grasp, but he’s just simply too strong for you to stand any real chance. and that pissed you off like nothing else. 

     katsuki could act the way he did because he had the firepower and skills to actually back his words. this always resulted in him absolutely dominating you in the bedroom, naturally. sometimes, you were able to give him a run for his money, but ultimately, he beat you out everytime, sexually bullying you into submission — physical submission, at least. you always had something nasty to spit out at him, regardless of the position he had you in or how meanly he was fucking into you.

     “sure, bitch,” he pants out, landing another cruel quirk-based impact to the tender flesh of your ass, and it’s all you can do to bite the pillow to keep from crying out. 

     “f-fine then, kacchan,” you smirk to yourself, beyond pleased with your answer. “‘s that bet—aa-ow! fuck! ba–bakugou!” you sob as he brings his right hand down hard against your asscheek, his quirk literally popping off as his calloused palm makes contact with your sensitive skin before he stills himself inside of you entirely.

     “alright—you wanna act like a brat? i’ll treat you like one then,” he says, eerily calm all of sudden. that wasn't like him. not at all. 

     oh, you were in trouble for real this time.

     the realization is slow to dawn on you, but once it does, you find your body moving faster than your brain can process, trying to scramble away from your fuck buddy, just for you to freeze at the feeling of him jerking you back by you hair, pulling you onto your knees and your naked back against his equally bare chest. one strong hand snakes down to between your soaked inner thighs and presses the calloused pad of one finger directly against your achy clit as his dick twitches deep inside you.

     “ba–baku—”

     “nuh-uh, say it properly,” he hisses, suddenly bringing that same hand down against your poor cunt.

     “ah! fuck!!” you cry, thrashing in his grip, hands coming up behind you to tangle into his spikyass hair. “you cunt!” you spit at him, tugging harshly at his roots, hard enough to tilt his head back, and this is where katsuki really begins to lose whatever little patience he had left. snatching your slimmer wrists in one large and rough hand, he pins them behind your back before he goes to bite at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

     “i’m the cunt?” he actually laughs in your ear before bringing his free hand down hard against the mound of your pussy, and you whimper like a bitch, squirming desperately in his grasp. “no, i think you’ve got a couple things backwards, honey,” he chides, voice gruff as a shit-eating smirk spreads across his unfairly handsome face. 

     “fuck, i can’t stand you,” you whine out, still struggling against katsuki’s all-too-tight grip. “l-let go, fuckface!” 

     rather than dignifying you with a verbal answer, bakugou simply strikes his palm against your bare cunt again, thick, calloused fingertips landing onto your puffy clit, causing you to hiss and bite your lower lip harshly to keep from squealing the way you knew he wanted you to. 

     “oh, don’t be like that,” he grunts, licking a hot stripe up your neck before sucking and nipping harshly at the skin there, sloppily laving his tongue over a few particularly sensitive spots before biting down cruelly against them. 

     while katsuki was not a sloppy person by any degree, he was stupidly messy when it came to his behaviors in the bedroom — he didn’t care where his spit or drool got, or even yours for that matter, where he came on you, none of it really mattered so long as he washed his sheets prior to sleeping in them. one thing he couldn’t stand was sleeping in a mess the two of you had made….. which was odd, because that’s often what he found himself doing..! absolutely crashing after fucking you almost to the point of going non-verbal before subconsciously cuddling you closer, just for you to be gone in the morning, like you were never there to begin with. 

     truthfully, he would find his heart aching ever so slightly at your absence before he quickly swallowed down whatever feelings that may have tried to well up to the surface before telling himself to get his fuckin’ shit together and going about his day — usually being the first to wake, yes, even before iida, so he could wash his sheets in private without any nosey extras around to ask stupid questions.

     but back to the topic at hand, getting you to moan his goddamn name!!

     “baku–gou!” you whine, hips squirming as your cunt flutters around his thick cock. “jesus christ!” 

     “huh? somethin’ the matter, princess?” he asks in that ever aggressive tone as the hand that had just spanked your now throbbing cunt comes up to meanly pinch one of your stiffened nipples. 

     “fuck—you!” you spit out, arms straining in his heated grasp.

     “that’s—shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight—exactly what ‘m doin’ right now, and you’re still bitchin’!” he hisses, grip on your wrists tightening substantially — so much so, you were sure there would be bruises in the morning. simultaneously, the feleing of his pelvis smacking against your sore ass as he began to pick up the speed at which he was fucking you had you groaning in pleasure.

     “god–dammit! bakugou!” 

     katsuki could not, for the life of him, understand why it was that you absolutely refused to call him by his first name in bed but in every other aspect of your lives! ever since you two were children, you always called him by his first name — never bakugou, never kacchan, always katsuki, or maybe some other variation of his name like katsu or tsuki if you really wanted to mess with him — so when you two Finally hooked up for the first time at the beginning of your third year of highschool, he definitely noticed when you called him by his surname for the first time since???? he can ever fucking remember. 

     what katsuki didn’t know, however, was that it was just far too intimate for you to call him by his first name as he fucks into you like there’s no tomorrow — for you had maybe have had a small crush on him when you two were in elementary school still, and then you had a massive falling out in middle school due to his, erm, prideful, arrogant, stick-your-nose-up, i’m-so-much-better-than-you attitude and god awful anger issues. 

     and then, once your first year of highschool rolled around, you were horrified to discover that you two would be in the same class together. …if only you could have predicted developing another stupid crush on bakugou, you never would have gone to u.a. — you should have just gone to shiketsu like your gut originally told you to. 

     because now here you were, being absolutely fucking railed during your senior year of highschool by somebody you’ve known most your life who you currently found yourself obsessing over in the worst possible ways. you found that your mind was always wandering to him when it wasn’t preoccupied with something else, and even when it was, it still found someway to link it back to katsuki fucking bakugou! how terrible it is to be in a love-hate relationship with someone you wish could love you back—instead, you were sure katsuki held only hatred and anger towards you, the same way he did with izuku back in their first year and all of middle school. but, ….so much. has happened since then, so surely, maybe, he might feel something for you too? 

     he did, in fact, feel so, so much for you, that he physically could not bear the weight of his emotions—the only way he seemed able to relieve any of them was when he was drilling into you like he fucking hated your guts, and even then, they only intensified and chipped ever so slowly away at his hardened heart that was secretly tender on the very inside because of how you denied him any real intimacy.

     “just say my fucking name, goddammit,” he growls, pulling out of you entirely and releasing your arms for but a moment to flip you around and onto the mattress so that you were laying on your back before grabbing the backs of your knees and simply folding you in half as he looks down between your bodies, lining his thick, throbbing dick up with your drooling slit and bottoming out in one go.

     the sudden change in, well, everything, leaves you disoriented, and just as you go to whine and bitch yet again, katsuki impulsively cuts you off with a kiss, breaking the one rule that he had set up before this whole arrangement began!! 

     “mmmh!” you squeal as the tip of his cock hits your cervix, but your noises are muffled by the way katsuki kisses you — hungrily, like you were a meal he didn’t know he had been craving for years, and he was finally getting to have to it for the first time. 

     in truth…. this was actually bakugou’s first kiss — he could never have been bothered with dating or showing any sort of romantic interest in anyone when that would just get in the way of his goal to become the number one pro hero, and yet…. here he found himself, hopelessly in love with you when he wasn’t even consciously aware of it, kissing you with a startling amount of passion and tongue and teeth. not that he didn’t know how to kiss, per se, he had seen plenty of fuckass movies that featured kissing, and he has to be the best at everything, of course, so it didn’t take him very long to figure out what he was doing. 

     with your legs thrown over his shoulders and spread apart, he was almost laying on you as he fucked into you fluidly, hips snapping back and forth, and it isn’t long before you find your arms wrapping around his neck and reluctantly kissing him back. you had to admit, the feeling of his plump lips felt nice against yours, and you had dreamt about kissing him for so long..! 

     nipping at your lower lip, katsuki’s tongue darts out to lick its way past your slightly parted lips and into your mouth, licking around the insides of your cheeks and over the grooves of your teeth. it’s aggressive and rough and brimming over with passion — everything you had imagined your first kiss with him to be and more. 

     “mmh, katsuki,” you mindlessly hum against his lips, too caught up in the moment, in the feeling of katsuki fucking bakugou initiating a kiss with you!, to realize just how intimate your current predicament was.

     katsuki, however, pauses in all that he was doing as his eyes fly wide open. 

     “what the fuck did you just say?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically quiet, as if he were scared the scene he found himself in would shatter before his very eyes—as if he could break it all, somehow. he was awfully good at breaking things, after all.

     “huh?” you yourself weren’t even aware of what you had said until a few moments later when it actually dawns on you. “oh. my god,” is all you’re able to say as your mind quickly begins reeling with too many overlapping thoughts for any of them to be coherent. 

     without saying anything else, bakugou resumes the way in which he was thrusting into you, kissing you feverishly once more. had he known that a little kiss was all it took for you to call out his name while he fucks you into next tuesday was all it took, then he would’ve kissed you the moment you two began hooking up.

     “b–baku—gou! slow down!” your request is swallowed whole by katsuki’s hot mouth as his tongue slips back into yours, teasingly swirling around your own wet muscle before he begins to suck on it, making you whimper and whine at the combined feeling of his dick pounding into you and this… tongue torture! (it wasn’t, actually—it felt a little too good if you were being honest; so good you were struggling to think.)

     “god–dammit!” he hisses when you call him by his surname again. nipping at the tip of your tongue so hard you swear you can taste blood, he brings one hand down in between your legs to aggressively rub at your pulsing clit. why? why can’t you just say my fucking name! he thinks angrily as he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. 

     “mmh—aa–aah! mmfhgh—” it’s all you’re able to do to moan as your mind melts away while katsuki applies a little too much pressure to your poor little bundle of nerves. “shit–!” despite the firmness of the circles he was rubbing against the bud, it still felt so good—so good that your back arched deeply off his memory foam mattress and you were unable to contain the string of soft moans that left your throat at the sensation. 

     pulling away from the kiss, breathless and a little drooly, bakugou’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks harshly, causing your lips to part.

     “stick out your tongue,” he says gruffly, and for once, you actually listen to him, which comes off as a bit of shock to the man currently on top of you, but he easily plays it off, before taking aim and spitting in your fucking mouth — directly on your already slick muscle!

     “fuck—” he rasps out, watching your tongue retract back into your mouth as you wordlessly swallow his saliva while looking up at him with half-lidded, hazy eyes. as a result, he was physically unable to help the way his calloused fingers moved to pinch at your sensitive clit or the way his mouth quickly reattached to your neck to begin biting and sucking at the skin there all over again. 

     “ka–katsuki—!” you whine as he bites a little too hard, and suddenly you feel something warm sliding down the length of your neck. had he drawn blood? no… surely not…… 

     his hips react on their own at your pitiful cry of his name, and he groans against the column of your throat, teeth now poised over your jugular before he bites down again — much gentler in comparison this time, but still hard enough to elicit a squeal from you. 

     your hands fly up to grip at his hair, burying themselves in his roots and giving a firm tug.

     “say it again,” he growls, pulling off your bruised skin with a wet pop! so he could meet your lustful gaze. ….god, his eyes looked so vulnerable right now; so glassy, with burning red irises and a glassy reflection, you can’t help but comply with his demand. you had never seen him like this before, so raw, dripping with (sweat and) passion as he hovers over you, narrowed eyes boring into yours. 

     “ka–katsu–! –ki!” you cry out when he begins rubbing circles into your clit again after giving it another rough pinch. “fuck! katsuki!”

     “that’s right–!” he grunts out, hips snapping against your as his cock throbs inside you. he’s getting closer to an impending orgasm and he needs you to cum first — it just went with his personality of “having to be the best at everything.” so, by extension, this included sex and his partner’s pleasure. mostly because the first time you two fucked, you absolutely did not get off, which you made very apparent to katsuki, who took it Personally (especially since you had called him useless for not being able to make you cum), and made it his mission to give you at least two different orgasms the next time you slept together—something he was rather successful in.

     now, he had half a mind to fuck you until your creamy little pussy was raw and he couldn’t cum anymore, just so you wouldn’t have a chance of forgetting tonight—the first time you called him by his first name in bed (which would ultimately end up being a monumental stepping stone in your future relationship development).

     pulling him in for another kiss, you whine incessantly as you roll your hips up, cunt fluttering around him as an uncomfortable knot begins forming in your tummy, and you can’t help but squirm beneath him. 

     unfortunately for you and your diminishing bratty resolve, it wasn’t much longer before you were cumming with a cry of katsuki’s name, his first name, as your back arches, pressing your chest flush against his, as one large and calloused hands of his comes to press against the small of your back, holding you in place as you cream all around his achy cock, and before he knows it, he’s cumming too, just barely managing to pull out of you as hot, sticky cum lands on your lower stomach and you groan at the nasty feeling. 

     “jesus—i don’t understand why you can’t just wear a condom,” you complain, panting heavily, unwrapping your arms from around his neck.

     katsuki only rolls his eyes at your complaint before telling you “it’s because he doesn’t like the feeling” of it, when in reality, it was so he could be that much closer to you… whether he would even admit it to himself or not. 

     with a heavy sigh and tired legs, you get up and out of his bed and make your way to his bathroom to clean yourself up before picking your clothes off his dorm room floor and getting dressed and leaving without a word, only sparing katsuki a parting glance as he recollects himself on his bed. 

     he doesn’t understand why his heart feels so goddamn heavy as he watches you leave soundlessly, and it feels like it takes him a million and one years to fall asleep, because whenever he opens his eyes, it had gone from 2am to 5am, and he bitches out a groan before getting up to do his fucking laundry before anyone else decided to get up. as he does, though, he can’t help but think about you….. why? what was it about you that caught his attention? why couldn’t he just ignore these feelings? jesus fucking christ, he needs professional help. 

     and so, katsuki spends the time it takes to wash his sheets thinking of you, much to his chagrin, but… he just could not get you out of his mind, for better or for worse. fuck. maybe he would have to call off this whole ordeal. maybe that would fix him? ….fuck, his head hurts. stop thinking so much, idiot, it’s too early to get caught up in your feelings, he mentally berates himself, even though for him, it was always too early to get caught up in his feelings. whatever.

      after pulling his sheets from the dryer, he silently walks back to his room, passing yours in the process, where he stops and stares for a very brief moment, almost, almost contemplating knocking before he quickly carries on back to his dorm where he makes his bed in record time before going the fuck back to sleep. ….where he still thought about you. god save him.

K. BAKUGOU M.LIST

[pucksandpower]

Oscat

shifter!Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: when you see an adorable stray black cat hanging around your neighborhood, you can’t resist taking him in … but there’s just one problem, the cat’s not actually a cat

Oscar Piastri never thought his life would come to this — crouched under a battered kitchen chair in a cramped university flat, ears flattened against his skull, tail twitching nervously as he watches you fumble with a small red collar.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” you coo, your voice soft and coaxing. You wiggle your fingers, the sound of the collar's bell jingling faintly as you shake it. “I promise you’ll look so cute in this.”

Oscar can’t believe he’s let it get this far. One moment, he’s wandering the neighborhood as a cat, enjoying the freedom that comes with paws instead of feet, and the next — this. A crazy girl who somehow managed to corral him into her apartment and is now intent on … he doesn’t even know what. But he knows it’s not good. He considers bolting, but you’re blocking the only exit, and he isn’t sure he has it in him to leap past you without causing a scene.

“C’mon, I know you like the tuna,” you say, holding up a plate with some leftover fish you’d put out for him earlier. “Just let me get this on you, and I’ll give you more, okay?”

He narrows his eyes, inching back under the chair. This whole situation is ridiculous, and he’s thoroughly regretting his decision to stick around after the first time you fed him. But there was something about you that drew him in — a warmth, maybe, or just the sheer determination with which you tried to get him to trust you.

But now you’ve crossed a line.

You sigh, clearly frustrated, and sit back on your heels. “Why are you being so difficult?” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, you know? What if you get lost or hurt? You need a collar, at least …”

Oscar’s ears perk up at the concern in your voice, and he feels a pang of guilt. You don’t know what you’re doing — how could you? To you, he’s just a stray cat, not a twenty-three-year-old Formula 1 driver with a secret he can’t afford to let anyone find out. He’s supposed to be smart, calculated, always one step ahead. Not cowering under a chair because a university student wants to play house with him.

You huff and toss the collar onto the table with a clatter. “Fine,” you say, standing up and crossing your arms. “I’ll leave you alone for now, but you’re not getting any more tuna unless you let me put that on you.”

Oscar’s stomach growls, and he curses his weakness. The tuna had been good — too good, if he’s being honest. He watches as you turn away, heading into another room. This is his chance. He could make a break for it, slip out the door before you even realize what’s happening.

But he hesitates.

Why? He wonders, paws shifting restlessly. This isn’t like him. He should be gone by now, back to the comfort of his flat, where he can shift back and pretend this whole mess never happened. Yet something keeps him rooted in place.

Then, he hears you talking to someone on the phone.

“Yes, I found a stray,” you say, your voice echoing slightly through the walls. “He’s so cute, but I don’t know … do you think I should take him to the vet? Get him checked out?”

Oscar’s blood runs cold. This is bad. This is really bad. He needs to get out — now.

You continue, “I was thinking maybe I could get him neutered too, you know? So he doesn’t run off and get hurt or something … ”

He bolts from under the chair, skidding across the linoleum as he makes a beeline for the door. But before he can reach it, you step back into the room, phone pressed to your ear.

“Whoa, whoa!” You exclaim, dropping the phone onto the table as you rush to block his path. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Oscar tries to dart around you, but you’re quicker than he anticipated, and he’s forced to leap onto the counter instead. He glares at you from his new perch, fur bristling in warning.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, hands on your hips. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“Yeah, help me lose my manhood,” Oscar mutters under his breath, though it comes out as an indignant hiss.

You frown, clearly not understanding his displeasure. “You’re acting like I’m torturing you or something,” you say, reaching out cautiously. “Just let me put the collar on, okay? Then I’ll leave you alone.”

Oscar swats at your hand, his claws barely grazing your skin. He doesn’t want to hurt you — he just wants you to back off. This is getting too close for comfort.

You pull your hand back, eyes widening in surprise. “Okay, okay, no collar,” you say, trying to soothe him. “We’ll figure something else out.”

But Oscar’s had enough. He leaps from the counter to the windowsill, then down to the floor, and races towards the door again. This time, he manages to slip past you, his sleek black fur a blur as he darts through the narrow opening.

He hears you call after him, your voice tinged with worry, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. He sprints down the hallway, paws pounding against the carpeted floor, until he reaches the stairwell. He takes the steps two at a time, his heart racing as he finally bursts out into the cool evening air.

Freedom.

He doesn’t slow down until he’s a good block away from your building, his chest heaving as he ducks into the shadows of a nearby alley. He’s safe. For now.

But then he hears it — your voice, faint but unmistakable, carried on the breeze as you step out of your apartment, searching for him.

“Kitty?” You call, your voice trembling slightly. “Where did you go?”

Oscar slinks further into the shadows, his heart twisting with guilt. He didn’t mean to scare you, but he couldn’t let you take him to the vet. He couldn’t let you get too close. But now, as he listens to the sound of your footsteps growing fainter, he feels a pang of something he hasn’t felt in a long time — regret.

“Please come back,” you whisper, and he can hear the tears in your voice. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I just wanted to help …”

Oscar’s resolve weakens, his tail flicking nervously as he peeks around the corner. He can see you standing there, arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. You look so small, so vulnerable, and it tugs at something deep inside him.

He shouldn’t care. He’s not supposed to care. He’s always kept his distance, never letting anyone get too close, especially not like this. But here you are, and for reasons he can’t quite explain, he doesn’t want to see you cry.

He takes a tentative step forward, but then stops himself. What can he do? Walk back into your life, let you put that collar on him, and risk everything? Or turn away, leave you behind, and never look back?

You’re wiping at your eyes now, sniffling quietly. “I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself. “Why did I think I could just … ugh.”

Oscar’s ears droop. This is all wrong. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t feel this way. But the sight of you, standing there alone, makes him want to go back, to do something, anything, to make you smile again.

Before he can make a decision, you give up and turn back towards the building, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

Oscar watches you go, every instinct telling him to stay hidden, to let you go. But as you disappear through the door, he finds himself inching forward, until he’s standing just outside the entrance, ears perked up, listening for any sign of you.

Maybe, just maybe, he thinks, this isn’t over yet.

***

Oscar can’t help it. He tells himself he’s just checking in, that it’s only temporary. But day after day, he finds himself outside your building, watching, waiting, listening.

It starts with a cautious glance through the window, his keen eyes picking out your silhouette as you move about your flat. The blinds are often drawn, but he can still see enough. Enough to know that something’s changed.

You’re not yourself.

The first day after he ran away, he saw you sitting by the window, staring out into the distance, your face etched with worry. He tells himself it’s none of his business. That he’s done the right thing by leaving. But every time he turns to go, he finds his paws rooted to the spot, his gaze drawn back to you.

And then there’s the phone calls.

Oscar doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he can’t help it when your voice carries through the thin walls of the apartment building. One day, he’s curled up on the windowsill of the flat next door when he hears you talking on the phone again, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness.

“I just don’t understand,” you say, pacing back and forth. “He was here one minute and then gone the next. I’m so worried about him.”

Oscar’s ears perk up, guilt gnawing at him as he listens. You’re talking about him, of course. He knows that. And the fact that you’re still thinking about him, still concerned for his well-being, makes him feel like the world’s biggest jerk.

“He looked healthy,” you continue, your voice shaking slightly. “But what if something happened to him? What if he got hurt or … or worse?”

He winces at the pain in your voice. He didn’t want to scare you, didn’t want to make you worry. But what choice did he have? Letting you take him to the vet would have exposed him — both literally and figuratively. He couldn’t risk that.

“I read somewhere that stray cats have a lifespan of less than two years,” you say, your tone now laced with a mixture of fear and sadness. “I don’t want that to happen to him. I just … I just want him to be okay.”

Oscar closes his eyes, your words cutting deeper than any wound he’s ever felt. He doesn’t want to be the cause of your pain. But what can he do?

Then, he hears it — the soft, broken sound of you crying.

It’s like a punch to the gut. His ears flatten against his head, and he feels an overwhelming wave of guilt and shame. He doesn’t like seeing you like this. No, that’s not right — he hates it. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, yet here you are, crying because of him.

He tries to walk away, to tell himself that it’s for the best, that you’ll move on and forget about him eventually. But the sound of your sobs echoes in his ears, haunting him, and he knows he can’t just leave it like this.

Maybe going back for a few hours won’t hurt anyone, he rationalizes, pacing back and forth in the alley. He’ll show up, let you see he’s okay, and then leave before things get too complicated. Simple.

But as he sits there, tail flicking with nervous energy, he realizes it’s not that simple. Because the truth is, he doesn’t want to leave. Not really. There’s something about you that draws him in, something that makes him feel … safe.

Wanted.

Needed.

And so, with a heavy sigh, he makes his decision. He waits until the sun sets, the shadows growing long and the streets quiet. Then, he slips through the narrow gap in the window that you always leave open, landing softly on the worn carpet of your living room.

You don’t notice him at first. You’re sitting on the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, your phone discarded on the cushion next to you. You’re staring at the TV, but it’s clear you’re not really watching it. Your eyes are red, cheeks stained with tears, and Oscar’s heart clenches at the sight.

He takes a cautious step forward, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. He doesn’t want to startle you, doesn’t want to make things worse. But as he approaches, you suddenly turn your head, your eyes widening as they meet his.

“Kitty?” You breathe, sitting up straight. For a moment, you just stare at him, as if you can’t believe he’s real. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across your face, soft and relieved. “You came back.”

Oscar doesn’t move, watching you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction. When you don’t make any sudden movements, he takes another step closer, his ears twitching nervously.

You wipe at your eyes, trying to compose yourself. “I thought I’d lost you,” you say, your voice shaky but full of warmth. “Where did you go?”

He doesn’t answer, of course — he can’t. But he does allow himself to move closer, until he’s standing right in front of you, his nose just inches from your outstretched hand.

“Can I … ” you ask, your hand hovering in the air, waiting for his permission.

Oscar hesitates for just a moment before he nuzzles against your palm, his fur brushing against your skin. It feels … right, somehow. Comforting. He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as you gently stroke his head, your fingers trailing down his back in soothing motions.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, and Oscar can hear the relief in your voice. “I was so worried.”

Guilt twists in his chest again, but he pushes it aside. He’s here now, and that’s what matters. He’ll stay for a little while, just long enough to make sure you’re okay, too.

You sit back, still petting him, and Oscar takes the opportunity to hop up onto the couch beside you. He curls up next to you, resting his head on your leg, and for a moment, everything feels … normal. Peaceful, even.

“You must have been so scared,” you murmur, your voice soft as you continue to stroke his fur. “Running away like that … I don’t blame you, though. I must have freaked you out with all that vet talk.”

Oscar doesn’t react, but internally, he’s cursing himself. Of course you’re blaming yourself. Why wouldn’t you? You have no idea who — or what — he really is. To you, he’s just a scared little stray cat who panicked and bolted at the first sign of trouble.

“But I’m not going to push you anymore,” you say, as if reading his thoughts. “I just want you to be safe. That’s all.”

The sincerity in your voice hits Oscar like a ton of bricks. He knows he shouldn’t be here, knows he’s playing with fire by getting this close. But in this moment, he can’t bring himself to care. He’s missed this — missed you, even though he barely knows you.

You lean back against the couch, your hand still resting on his back, and Oscar feels a strange sense of contentment wash over him. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this way — since he’s allowed himself to feel this way. And as much as he knows he should leave, he can’t. Not yet.

He hears you yawn, the sound soft and tired, and he lifts his head to look up at you. You’re fighting to keep your eyes open, your movements slow and drowsy. It’s late, and he can see the exhaustion etched into your features.

“Guess we both had a long day,” you mumble, your hand coming to rest on the couch beside him as you settle back into the cushions. “I should probably get to bed.”

Oscar watches as you slowly push yourself up, stretching as you stand. He expects you to head to your bedroom, to leave him on the couch for the night. But instead, you glance down at him, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Wanna come with me?” You ask, your voice soft and inviting.

He knows it’s a bad idea. He knows he should stay right where he is, let you go to bed, and slip out the window before morning comes. But the thought of leaving you alone, of returning to the cold, empty streets outside, makes his chest tighten with a loneliness he hasn’t felt in years.

So, against his better judgment, he hops down from the couch and follows you down the short hallway to your bedroom.

You open the door, flicking on a small bedside lamp, and Oscar watches as you move around the room, pulling back the covers and fluffing up your pillows. He hesitates at the threshold, his instincts warring with the pull he feels toward you.

But then you turn to him, patting the space beside you on the bed, and he’s powerless to resist.

“C’mon, kitty,” you say, your voice warm and coaxing. “You can sleep here tonight.”

He pads over to the bed, jumping up onto the soft mattress. It’s warm, inviting, and before he knows it, he’s curled up next to you, your presence calming in a way he didn’t think possible.

You slip under the covers, lying on your side, and Oscar snuggles closer, his body pressed against yours. He can feel your steady breathing, hear the soft rustle of the sheets as you settle in, and it lulls him into a sense of safety he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, your voice already thick with sleep.

Oscar's eyes drift closed, his body warm and relaxed as he nestles against you. He knows he should be on high alert, ready to bolt at any moment, but for the first time in what feels like forever, he allows himself to let go. Just for tonight.

As you fall asleep beside him, your hand resting gently on his back, Oscar realizes he’s found something here — something he didn’t know he was missing. He can’t stay forever, but maybe, just maybe, he can stay a little longer.

Just for tonight.

***

Oscar wakes to the sound of a scream that nearly sends him bolting out of bed. His eyes fly open, his heart hammering in his chest, but the feeling that greets him isn’t the familiar warmth of fur or the safe confines of a small, curled-up position.

It’s a body — a human body.

His human body.

And beside him, you’re staring at him, your eyes wide with shock, your mouth open in mid-scream as you scramble to the edge of the bed, clutching the covers around you like a shield.

“What the — who the hell are you?” You shriek, your voice high-pitched and panicked.

Oscar’s brain stutters to catch up with what’s happening. He glances down at himself, realizing with a jolt that he’s completely naked. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This isn’t happening. How could he have been so careless? He’s been shifting for years, but never like this. Never in front of someone. Never in such a vulnerable position.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, his voice rough with sleep and panic. He grabs at the nearest pillow, pressing it to his lap in a desperate attempt to cover himself. “Just, um, don’t freak out. Please.”

“Explain?” You repeat, your voice trembling as you blink rapidly, as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. “What the hell are you doing in my bed? And why are you … why are you … naked?”

Oscar’s mind races, the words tangling together in his head. He’s supposed to be good under pressure — he’s faced down race cars at hundreds of kilometers per hour, for crying out loud. But right now, all he can think about is how utterly screwed he is.

“I-I’m not a creep, I swear,” he blurts out, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to — this isn’t what it looks like.”

Your eyes narrow, still full of fear and confusion, but also dawning recognition. You stare at him for a long moment, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Then, slowly, the pieces start to fall into place, and your expression shifts from terror to something else entirely.

“Wait a minute,” you say, squinting at him. “I know you. You’re … Oscar Piastri?”

He winces at the sound of his name. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find the words. “Oscar Piastri is in my bed. Naked. And I’m … wait, am I still dreaming? Did I fall asleep watching Formula 1 highlights again?”

“No, no, you’re not dreaming,” Oscar says quickly, shaking his head. “This is real. But I promise, I can explain. Just … can we, maybe, both take a breath for a second?”

You inhale sharply, clutching the covers tighter around yourself as you stare at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. “Okay,” you say, your voice shaky. “Breathing. Breathing is good. But you still owe me a pretty big explanation.”

Oscar nods, taking a deep breath himself to steady his racing thoughts. He’s never had to explain this to anyone before, and now that he’s actually faced with the situation, he realizes just how insane it’s going to sound.

“Okay, so, uh …” He rubs the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to start. “I know this is going to sound really weird, but … you remember the cat? The one you were worried about?”

Your brow furrows in confusion, and you nod slowly. “Yeah …”

“Well,” Oscar continues, his voice trailing off for a moment before he forces himself to say it. “That was me. I mean, I was the cat.”

You blink at him, clearly trying to process what he just said. “Wait. You’re saying … you’re the cat? Like, you were the cat?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, wincing at how ridiculous it sounds out loud. “I’m, um, I’m a shifter. I can turn into a black cat. And I was the cat that you, uh, accidentally … kidnapped.”

You stare at him, your mouth hanging open as you try to wrap your head around this. “So, you’re telling me that the cat I’ve been feeding, the cat that I tried to take to the vet, was actually you? The whole time?”

Oscar nods sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I was just … curious, I guess. But then things got a little out of hand.”

You sit back on the bed, your mind clearly spinning as you try to reconcile the image of the cute, harmless black cat with the sight of Oscar Piastri — fully human and fully naked — in your bed. “This is … this is insane,” you say, shaking your head. “I mean, I believe you, I guess. But it’s just … wow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Oscar says, offering a small, awkward smile. “It’s a lot to take in. And I’m really sorry for scaring you like that. I didn’t mean to shift back. It usually doesn’t happen unless I want it to, but I guess I must’ve just … relaxed too much.”

You laugh, a short, incredulous sound. “Relaxed? You were relaxed enough to just shift back into a human? Wow, I must be really good company.”

Oscar chuckles nervously. “You have no idea.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both try to process everything. Then, you look back at him, your expression softening slightly. “So, you’re really … a shifter? Like, that’s a real thing?”

Oscar nods. “Yeah. I’ve been able to do it since I was a kid. It’s not something I talk about, obviously. It’s kind of a secret.”

“A big secret,” you say, your eyes wide. “I mean, it’s not every day you find out an F1 driver can turn into a cat.”

Oscar blushes at that, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief that you’re taking this better than he expected. “Yeah, it’s not exactly something I advertise. And, uh, I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this between us.”

You nod quickly, your expression earnest. “Of course. I wouldn’t tell anyone. I mean, who would believe me, anyway?”

Oscar lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Thank you. Seriously. This whole thing … it’s complicated, and I don’t want to make things harder for myself or anyone else.”

You smile, a hint of playfulness returning to your eyes. “Well, I guess I’m the last person who’d have room to judge. I did kind of … try to get you neutered.”

Oscar laughs, the tension in the room easing slightly. “Yeah, that was … a close call.”

You shake your head, still looking slightly overwhelmed but more at ease now. “I’m sorry for that, by the way. I had no idea.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says, smiling. “I’m just glad I got out of there before it was too late.”

There’s another pause, the awkwardness slowly fading into something more comfortable. You glance over at the clock on your nightstand, and then back at him, your eyes narrowing slightly.

“So,” you say, a teasing edge in your voice. “What’s the plan now? Are you just going to stay here or …”

Oscar’s eyes widen as he remembers his current state of undress. “Oh, uh, right. I should probably … get dressed. Do you have, like, a blanket or something?”

You laugh, your initial shock giving way to amusement. “Yeah, hold on.” You reach over to the chair by the bed, grabbing the throw blanket draped over it and tossing it to him. “Here. Cover up before I have to start charging you for the show.”

Oscar catches the blanket, wrapping it around himself as best as he can. “Thanks. Sorry about that. Not exactly how I planned on spending my morning.”

You smile, still shaking your head in disbelief. “This is definitely the weirdest morning of my life.”

“Same here,” Oscar admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, uh, now that we’ve got that out of the way … do you maybe want to grab breakfast or something? With no canned tuna this time.”

You raise an eyebrow, the playful spark back in your eyes. “Breakfast? With a shifter who accidentally ended up naked in my bed? Sounds like the start of a weird romcom.”

Oscar grins, his nerves finally settling. “Yeah, maybe. But, I mean, the offer still stands. We could … talk more. Or not talk at all. Just … eat?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, I don’t know. I’ve always been more of a Ferrari girlie. But I guess I can make an exception this once.”

Oscar chuckles, his heart lightening at your teasing tone. “Well, I appreciate that. I’ll try not to hold it against you.”

You laugh, standing up and stretching, the tension finally draining from the room. “Okay, then. Breakfast it is. But you owe me a proper explanation over pancakes. I still have a lot of questions.”

“Deal,” Oscar says, standing as well, the blanket still wrapped around him. “And, uh, maybe I can borrow some clothes? Just until I get back to my place.”

You smirk, clearly amused by his predicament. “Sure. I think I have some sweatpants and a T-shirt that might fit you. They’re probably not papaya, though.”

Oscar laughs, feeling more at ease than he has in days. “That’s fine by me. I’m not picky.”

As you head off to find the clothes, Oscar takes a deep breath, letting the reality of the situation sink in. It’s definitely not how he expected this to go, but somehow, it feels right. Like maybe this bizarre turn of events was exactly what he needed.

And as he watches you rummage through your dresser, he can’t help but think that, for once, shifting back to his human form at the wrong time might have been the best mistake he’s ever made.

***

Oscar leaps onto the windowsill, his black fur sleek and gleaming in the afternoon light. He peers through the glass, watching you, seated at your desk, hunched over your textbooks. Your hair is pulled back, a pen held between your teeth as you jot down notes with a furrowed brow.

He feels a surge of affection watching you work so hard, but it’s mixed with a touch of mischief. He’s been patient all day, but now he’s had enough. It’s time for a study break, whether you want one or not.

With a graceful hop, he slips through the open window and lands silently on the floor. His tail flicks behind him as he pads softly toward you, his green eyes locked onto your focused expression. He almost feels guilty interrupting you — almost. But then again, it’s been hours since you last gave him any attention, and he’s starting to feel a bit neglected.

You don’t notice him at first, too engrossed in whatever academic puzzle you’re trying to solve. But Oscar is nothing if not persistent. He jumps onto your desk, landing squarely on your notebook, and lets out a soft, insistent meow.

Your head jerks up in surprise, your eyes widening as you take in the sight of him. “Oscar! You scared me!”

He purrs, rubbing his head against your arm, his way of saying, “Sorry, but you’ve been ignoring me.”

You sigh, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays your affection. “I’ve got a lot to do, you know. Finals are coming up.”

Oscar meows again, louder this time, before nudging your hand with his head. He can feel you wavering, your resolve crumbling as you reach out to scratch behind his ears. His purring deepens, vibrating through his small frame as he leans into your touch.

“You’re so spoiled,” you mutter, but there’s no real annoyance in your voice. “You know that, right?”

Oscar only purrs louder in response, nuzzling against your hand. He steps carefully onto your lap, circling once before settling down. You laugh softly, resigned, as you set your pen aside and lean back in your chair.

“Alright, alright. I guess I can take a break for a few minutes.”

He stretches out, making himself comfortable as you begin to pet him in earnest, your fingers trailing through his fur in long, slow strokes. It’s blissful, the way you touch him, the warmth of your hand against his back.

All thoughts of studying fade from your mind as you focus entirely on him, and Oscar relishes every second of it. This is what he’s wanted all day — to be close to you, to feel your affection without any distractions.

Minutes pass, and your strokes become slower, more languid. Oscar watches you through half-lidded eyes, sensing your fatigue. The stress of studying, of exams, is catching up with you, and he knows how much you’ve been pushing yourself lately. He nudges you with his head, encouraging you to relax even more, to let go of the tension that’s been building up.

You yawn, a deep, sleepy sound that makes him purr in satisfaction. “I think you’re a bad influence on me, Oscar,” you murmur, your voice drowsy. “I should be studying, but all I want to do is cuddle with you.”

Oscar’s purring doesn’t falter — if anything, it grows even more content. He watches as your eyelids grow heavier, your breathing slows, and your hand eventually stills against his fur. You’re falling asleep, lulled by the gentle rhythm of petting him and the comfort of his presence.

He stays perfectly still, letting you drift off completely. You deserve the rest, he thinks. You’ve been working so hard, and a little nap won’t hurt. Besides, he likes being the reason you’re able to relax like this, to forget about your worries for a while.

When he’s certain you’re fully asleep, Oscar carefully extracts himself from your lap, moving with the quiet grace of a cat. He pads over to the couch, glancing back to make sure you’re still sleeping soundly. Then, in one fluid motion, he shifts back into his human form.

Oscar sighs softly, standing by the couch for a moment as he stretches his arms over his head. It’s been a long day for him too — training, meetings, the usual demands of being a Formula 1 driver. But this is the part of his day he looks forward to the most: being with you, in this quiet, peaceful space that the two of you share.

He carefully lifts you from the chair, cradling you in his arms as he carries you to the couch. You stir slightly but don’t wake, your head resting against his chest as he settles you down on the cushions. Oscar smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face before he stretches out beside you, pulling you close.

He wraps an arm around you, your body fitting perfectly against his. There’s something indescribably comforting about holding you like this, feeling your warmth seep into him as you sleep. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, closing his eyes as he allows himself to relax fully for the first time all day.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you, entwined on the couch. Oscar can hear your steady breathing, feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest against his. It’s moments like this that make everything worth it — the races, the pressure, the endless travel. None of it compares to this simple, quiet happiness.

As he holds you, Oscar’s thoughts drift. He thinks about how much his life has changed since that day you found him in your bed, how unexpected it all was. He hadn’t planned on letting anyone in, on sharing his secret with someone else. But you … you’ve become so much more than he ever anticipated.

You’re his confidant, his partner, his best friend. And though he’s still getting used to the idea, you’re also the person he’s fallen in love with, slowly and completely. It’s a realization that both scares and excites him, because he’s never had something — or someone — this important before. Racing has always been his focus, but now, you’re a part of his life that he can’t imagine being without.

As you sleep in his arms, Oscar tightens his hold on you, a protective instinct kicking in. He’ll do anything to keep you safe, to make sure you’re happy. And if that means taking any opportunity to spend more time with you, to be there for you when you need him, then that’s what he’ll do.

You murmur something in your sleep, your body shifting slightly against his. Oscar’s heart swells with affection, and he kisses your forehead again, a silent promise that he’ll always be here for you.

Outside, the sun begins to set, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The world keeps turning, the demands of life waiting just outside the door. But for now, in this moment, there’s nothing else that matters. Just you, and him, and the quiet contentment of being together.

Oscar closes his eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over him. There will be time for everything else later. For now, he’s exactly where he wants to be.

[the-flaneur]

the worst attempt of nnn ever

pairing: f1 grid x gn!reader [headcanon]

ft. the whole 2024 grid

summary: technically everyone wins, aka who's most likely to fail nnn the quickest

warnings: shitpost/crack, very suggestive content and some 18+, MDNI, NSFW -> smut

[masterlist] [requests]

fail first

lewis

this man has zero discipline when it comes to you

absolute zero, zip, zilch, nada

normally he's on you 24/7

but when it comes to the end of the season and most things have been tied up and he dgaf, what better way to end each week than by fucking your brains out

aka 25/8 times a week

so when you attempt to propose to do nnn "for fun" on the 31st, he glares at you, calls you dumb before fucking you silly overnight (until the 1st) so that you never suggest it again that month/year

(he also bribes other drivers and wags to make sure that you are NOT included in their nnn plans)

zhou

shockingly in second place

but only cause he loves you too much, finds nnn a weird tradition (when you explained the basics) and just wants to snuggle with you and sweetcorn in bed

like why make yourself unconfortable and horny when he could just be happy and satisfied (and still horny) with you :D

lando

man is so fired up about the championship battle that he doesn't entertain the notion and just fucks you the minute november starts just to make sure you know not to fuck with him

he only manages to hang onto longer than lewis and zhou cause he was tired and forgot what time it was

carlos

had planned on competing with lando, since they had done it the year before, and the year before that (aka when they were teamates)

but when he found out from you (who found out from lando's partner) that they had already failed, he said to try for a few days

you said you didn't want to

"but it might be good for us" carlos had complained, saying something no one had ever said

and so you just like seduced him like five days later then BAM WHAM, he's back to blowing your back out

not that he needed that much encouragement

pierre

just wanted to fuck you in peace for halloween after you showed up in a very hot outfit

but then charles was like oohhhh we should try this

(f u charles)

but then almost cried in the shower when he realised he couldn't jerk off either

you heard him whimpering, laughed about it and then sucked him off

he tried to hide it, but charles found out anyways

max

is usually too busy to fuck you during race weekends so, he just failed when he like normally fucked you

cause he wanted to fuck you

cause yeah...

so....yeah...

oscar

likes to pretend he's disciplined and has lots of mental restraint

(he doesn't have restraint when it comes to you)

tried to keep some distance, aka by not arriving together at the paddock

but then failed after he saw you with franco, got jealous, said f this shit and then took you in his driver's room

checo

didn't give two flying fucks

only got interested cause evens was talking about it

but throws the challenge out the windoow the minute you insinuate that he seems "weak" about you

kmag

thinks its childish but still wanted to try it

got actually comfortable with it, until you made a sexy joke

hulk

lasts longer cause kmag found it childish

but still wanted to try it too after kmag told him about it

ocon

just wanted to beat gasly

lance

wanted to fuck you

so he complained to his father about the challenge and how you were going give him a reward at the end

so evil stepmum kdrama style, lawerence comes in and tries to give you envelopes of cash to get you to fuck stroll

you gleefully refuse

you manage to negotiate three ashton martins, a ferrari laferrari, and more, before still teasing him

to which he just gives up, and waits for you

george

for those actually dedicated to doing it, he set up the betting pool and "official" rules

(no charles...touching and edging yourself is not "illegal" but you're running the sPIrIt of the challenge)

but like lost out in the second week, when he saw you were having an amazing hair day

said ok i wanna pull on it *with grabby hands* and then gave up

(everyone mocked him relentlessly afterwards)

valterri

super chill about it

tried it only cause you wanted to try it for fun

actually found it hard to be away from you (only cause you love him so much too)

but you managed to reach the third week before simply saying

"that's enough"

franco

had never heard of it

but defs wanted to try after he learnt a about it

got really pissed off by the second week cause you were also teasing him sooooo much

but you kept refusing

basically had to beg his way into convincing you "near" it, and only seeing him get really pouty did you give in

yuki

swears and glares daggers at you the entire three weeks

but he's gotta prove that big things come in small packages

and actually makes it almost to week four before passing out from sheer horniness

fernando

actually lasts longer than most people thought he would

(liam spitefully calls out that he thought nando's blue balls would fall off)

is happy he is technically the best wdc at nnn (even moreso that lewis lost first)

makes it to like the last couple of days

you get bored and tired

so now fernando is bored and tired and just fucks you

alex

certified genz brainrotter

ofc know what it is, and is demandin to win it and prove he's at least NOT a lost in one area (his words not yours)

makes it to the last few days, before you trick into letting you give him a handjob

tries to argue technicalities with george

but by then nov its over and he just gives up

charles

used all his ferrari training in patience to last this long

wanted to tell you to kys when you suggested it

but eventually he got soooo into doing it, he was policing you

however he losses cause he was stupid

you're on his jet

he forgets time zones exist

thought he won

sent a gloating text message to the gc

and [redacted] beats him on the technicality

liam

this man is going all in no regrets, gambling style 😎

even if he didn't propose it, he's definetly the most eager to prove himself (especially to fernando and checo)

he's setting up strict rules to ensure that his dick does not get anywhere near you when sleeping, eating or breathing

(in the last few days he desperately asks you to sleep in the guest bedroom cause he's this close 🤏 to caving in)

however, he resists and gets bragging rights over everyone for the rest of the year.

fail last/succeed

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[pastryfication]

I love ur fics ❤️ can you do an Oscar x reader fic where she can’t find Oscar in the paddock and is panicking and goes to lando for help x

i'm here but i'm lost in crowd

pairing: oscar piastri x reader note: you guys seem to really love platonic lando lol so here's another one <3 also i’m sorry i somehow misread your request to reader getting lost and not losing oscar…

the united states grands prix were by far the most chaotic races of the season. normally, you didn’t prioritise them—the time-zones messed with your sleep schedule, the amount of spectators became overwhelming, and oscar had so many media duties that he barely had time for you, so why spend precious days off when you could use them on less crowded grands prix?—but you had time off either way, so on a 20 hour flight to the other side of the world you were.

you tried to stay close to kim as you arrived at the paddock. he was the person on oscar’s team who you knew and trusted the most, and he was more than happy to let you tag along to his duties, but eventually, he had to go to a meeting, and then you had to find somewhere else to go.

at first, you decided to stay in the hospitality area, too afraid of getting lost to wander about, but it quickly started to bore you. there were no familiar faces, and you grew tired of sitting alone in a corner.

walking outside the mclaren building, you were immediately met with the rush of people walking around you. the air was full of excitement and anticipation—the usual on a race weekend—and you couldn’t help but smile. this was why you wanted to come to as many races as possible; you absolutely loved the atmosphere.

smiling, you walked through the paddock, waving to fans when they noticed you, stopping briefly to say hi to engineers and other mclaren personnel as you passed them, and before you knew it, you found yourself in a completely unfamiliar place.

you looked around, realising just how disoriented you were. the hum of the paddock, which had initially filled you with excitement, now felt like an overwhelming blur. faces passed by too quickly to register, people walking around everywhere and your heart started to race as the nagging feeling grew—where were you?

the crowds seemed to move faster now, making you feel even more isolated. the rush of people, the sounds of chatter and excitement, the bright texas sun bearing down—it all added to the growing panic in your chest. you tried to retrace your steps in your mind, thinking back to how you'd ended up here, but the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like you’d wandered too far. you could feel your throat tightening as you scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces. why hadn’t you just stayed in the mclaren hospitality?

you reached for your phone, intending to send an SOS to someone from the team, but your pockets were empty. had you really been stupid enough to forget your phone?

as the realisation that you really were alone settled in your body, you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. you could do this. you’d been to enough races by now to find your way back, right?

but no matter how much you told yourself that, the panic only grew. what if you walked the wrong way and ended up even further from where you were supposed to be? what if you bumped into the wrong crowd and caused a scene? the paddock suddenly felt more intimidating than exciting, the noise drowning out your thoughts, leaving you frozen in place.

just as you felt yourself spiraling, a voice broke through the chaos.

“hey!” a voice called out your name. “what are you doing out here alone?"

you spun around so fast that you nearly stumbled, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes landed on the familiar face of lando norris. relief flooded through you so intensely that for a second, you couldn’t even form words. lando was standing just a few feet away, his helmet under one arm, a slightly confused but amused look on his face. he took a step closer, raising an eyebrow as he glanced around.

“pretty far from mclaren territory, aren’t you?” he teased, though his tone was light, and there was a softness in his eyes when he looked back at you.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “i don’t even know how it happened. i was fine, just walking around, and then all of a sudden, nothing looked familiar anymore. and now i just—” you trailed off, feeling a little ridiculous for admitting how overwhelmed you were.

lando’s expression softened when he noticed the genuine worry in your eyes. “hey, it’s alright,” he said, his voice gentle now. “it happens to the best of us. this place can be a maze if you’re not paying attention. if i had a dollar for every time someone got lost in this paddock, i’d have… well, probably enough to buy a few extra helmets.” he smiled when you laughed at his words, glancing around, as if to get his bearings, before his eyes landed back on you. “come on, i’ll walk you back before oscar starts a search party.”

you let out a breath of relief, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little. “thanks, lando.”

“don’t mention it,” he replied with a wink. “besides, it’s not every day i get to play the hero.”

you rolled your eyes shaking your head slightly, and as you continued walking through the paddock, the surroundings began to look more familiar. with lando’s easy-going presence beside you, the fear that had gripped you earlier seemed almost ridiculous now.

“you know,” he said after a few moments of walking in companionable silence, “i think oscar might owe me for this one. saving his girlfriend from the wild paddock? that’s gotta be worth at least a couple free dinners, right?”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of it surprising even yourself. “i’ll make sure he knows just how heroic you’ve been today.”

lando smirked, glancing sideways at you. “good. i expect a full report.” there was a moment of silence before he continued. “honestly, though,” lando continued, glancing at you, “if you miss someone to hang out with, you should just stick with me more often. i’ll make sure you never get lost again.

“thank you, lan.” you smiled earnestly up at him.

as you neared the mclaren building, the bustling crowd became more familiar, and the sight of papaya clad engineers and personnel milling around instantly brought a sense of comfort. you exhaled, feeling the last remnants of anxiety melt away.

“here we are,” lando announced grandly, gesturing toward the motorhome. “safe and sound, thanks to your friendly neighborhood norris.”

you shook your head, a laugh escaping you. “i really appreciate it, lando. seriously.”

“anytime,” he replied, grinning widely. “i’ll always be happy to help.”

[the-prophesied-disco-gay]

Some things are not easy to say but it's important they are said. When this post says "fuck child abusers" it means me. That includes me. I spanked my kids when they were young. That's a real thing that I am guilty of and pretending otherwise might feel better for me but it doesn't help anyone.

I'm hoping that talking about it will.

I was raised in a very conservative household. My friends and partners have described my upbringing as "being raised in a non-religious cult." My Dine heritage was hidden from me. My Jewish heritage was hidden from me, and then later I was told we are "white Jews" (which is a perfectly acceptable thing to be! But I am...not..one). I was raised steeped in white supremacy and racism and homophobia (my dad referred to both Black people and LGB people as "those people" and expected it to be clear from context which he meant)(shockingly, there was virtually zero transphobia in my house growing up. The neighbor's eldest transitioned when I was a kid and my parents liked and respected her parents so they decided that must be alright. That tiny twist of fate saved me much).

Now I don't list off these things to excuse child abuse. I do so to show just how interconnected these things are. Conservative beliefs, whether they are religious or just social/cultural, are inherently violent. I was 18 when I had my first child, my spouse was 20. Both of us had been spanked growing up, and so had all our friends. At that point in our lives it was unthinkable that there was another proper way to raise children. All the examples we had been shown of children that lacked "discipline" were either living violent, out of control, addiction ridden lives (you are not immune to propaganda), or insufferable brats who called their parents by their first names ("There once was a boy named Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it").

Here's the thing tho. It didn't feel good.

Sure it did in all the ways that have perpetuated such actions for millenia. The chemical changes that happen in the brain, the feeling of regained control and reasserted authority, the relief that the world is right on it's axis and everything is back in its box. Corporal punishment doesn't teach a child anything useful or worthwhile, only fear and uncertainty and lack of trust. That's not truly why people do it. It provides a sense of relief for the adult. An outlet for the emotion they haven't learned to manage.

But it didn't make us feel like good parents. It didn't make us feel like we were doing right by our kids. And the more we moved in the world away from our own parents, the more we met and spoke with different kinds of people, the more we learned. The very first time I found a science article about the effects of spanking, I felt both relieved and vindicated. I showed it to my partner and we never spanked our kids again.

It wasn't difficult. We never wanted to be doing it in the first place. We had legitimately believed we would be failing our children if we chose otherwise. We were wrong.

Sometimes you're going to be wrong. On big things. On important things.

It is never too late. Once you know better, do better. It's not too late to stop. To apologize. To begin doing better. My children were still young when we learned better, and I am grateful for that. But even if your children are grown, it's not too late to apologize and admit you were wrong. You will be shocked what it can heal.

[delilahsturniolo]

timeless — m.s

in which . . . matt’s tattoos turn you on

contains. . . smut, fingering, oral, (fem!receiving) pet names, more. do not read if you aren’t comfortable.

written by . . . @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, re use, or steal my works. do not take inspiration without asking permission first. happy reading! :)

“xo tatted all over her body, yeah.”

“she just wanna roll and i don’t mind it, yeah.”

matt placed his hand on your cheek, traveling down your body. his hand stopped right before where you needed him most, causing you to whine.

matt smirked at his teasing and the way you squirmed desperately beneath him, longing to be touched.

“m…matt, please..” you whined, your breath hitching as one of his fingers dipped into your folds before popping back out.

“be patient, pretty. i’m gettin’ there..” matt whispered. he suddenly grabbed you, flipping you over on the bed from your back and onto your stomach.

his tattooed arm wrapped around your neck, sending waves of pleasure through you. you always found his tattoos attractive, there was no doubt about that.

matt placed his free hand on the small of your back, causing you to arch. matts arm tightened around your neck, not to hurt you though.

without any warning, matt slammed into you. a mix between a gasp and a moan left your mouth, the pleasure was overwhelming.

“oh—oh my gosh—“ you moaned, matt didn’t bother slowing his pace at all. the hand on your back came down to your ass, lightly spanking it.

“such a pretty slut f’me..” matt whispered into your ear from behind. all you could do was moan in response, you looked pathetic right now.

all of this came about just because matt was wearing a black vest that revealed his tattoos, matt knew how much you loved them. which was why he wore the shirt in the first place, to tease you.

and after all, you really couldn’t resist. he looked so fucking good.

so now, here he was. fulfilling your horny desires, that sparked because of his tattoos.

your first orgasm of the night crashed over you with one last thrust, and so did matt’s. matt pulled out and withdrew his tattoo filled arm from your neck.

you gasped in surprise as he flipped you over to lay on your back.

“oh, you think i’m done with you?” matt taunted, his face leaning into the crook of your neck, pressing a few kisses to the side of your neck.

“we’re just getting started sweetheart.” you could feel the vibrations of matt’s rough voice against your neck as he spoke.

your breath hitched as matt trailed kisses down your body, all the way down to your pussy. you let out a small gasp as he pressed a kiss to your folds unexpectedly, you arched against the feeling.

“baby, feels so good..” you moaned, feeling the vibrations of matt humming against your pussy, devouring every piece of it.

matt groaned, “yeah? feel good?” he taunted, lifting his head up from your thighs. you reached out, sliding your hand down his tatted arm.

“so beautiful..” matt cooed, moving his hand down to palm your pussy, dipping his thumb inside and rubbing your clit in circles.

“such a slut for my tattoos, hm?” matt asked you, even though he already knew the answer. you were a mess, your hair was all disheveled and mascara smudged your under eyes.

“i love your tattoos.” you replied back, matt took his fingers out of your pussy and placed his hand on the side of your neck. he leaned in, kissing you slowly. you accepted the kiss, moaning into his lips softly.

and it was all because of his tattoos.

© delilahsturniolo

join the taglist here! 🤍

[hannieehaee]

Thinking about doting woozi awakened something in me hnnng something about a tsundere man being soft is so fucking cute like you just KNOW he'd be so awkward abt it at first but as soon as he knows that you like it and even WANT IT from him he'd be the softest man on earth

content: bf!woozi, established relationship, pure fluff, woozi is starving for affection and doesnt know how to react to it!!

wc: 610

a/n: i know this wasnt a request but i had to turn it into a little drabble bc im so obsessed with him and wanna take care of him so badly i just need to manifest that need into writing</3

masterlist

the first time you took care of jihoon was subtle. it barely went noticed by him at first, but when he realized, he couldn't help but recoil to himself. it was odd, really, to have someone care for you in subtle ways. it wasn't expected.

in reality, it had been quite simple. walking into his home studio, he almost missed it due to his organizational habits, but upon closer inspection it was obvious. you had cleaned up.

not only had you done the usual superficial upkeep that he was accustomed to doing, but you'd dusted! you'd moved every figurine, every bit of equipment, every movable object, basically, and dusted it before placing it right back where it belonged. the air smelled clean too, courtesy of your good taste in cleaning products.

the cleanliness gave him a newfound energy, especially due to knowing it had been your act.

next time he saw you, he was a bit embarrassed to thank you, but still managed a hug and a suspicious 'love you' murmured against your lips without any further explanation.

~

cleaning his home studio became a more common occurrence after a while. jihoon had at some point formally expressed his gratitude for it, but also added the lack of need for it. he felt badly having you clean for him, so he shyly stumbled his way into telling you that it was okay! he wouldn't want you to tire yourself with such a task!

this was met with a squeeze at his hip and a giggle as you let him know that you didn't mind. he was rarely at home while you worked from home, so cleaning just became a natural part of your day.

he accepted this with warmth in his stomach. it was nice that it didn't feel like a responsibility to you. you just did it because you wanted to help him. he liked being helped.

this came along with various other acts of service you'd do without question. acts which continued to make jihoon's heart flurry with a mixture of gratitude and bashfulness.

the list was quite long, once he took a minute to really think about it.

you'd drop in with lunch for him and his bandmates every so often (which was quite a feat considering the number of friends he had), you'd brush his hair any time he let it grow a little more (claiming you just had that magic touch — which, granted, you did), suddenly he'd have socks on his feet when he woke up on a cold night, would find a brand newly knitted scarf on his way out the door in the morning, his kitchen would be stocked with his favorite coffee mix. there were too many tiny details to count.

jihoon always tried to return the favor, but would always feel like he lacked. no one in this world could compare to how doting you were, he'd decided.

worst of all was the viscerally embarrassing way in which he'd react at your acts of service.

he'd always known himself to be bad at receiving love, but he had thought that being with you would teach him a thing to do. the reality was, though, that the stuttering and the blush on his cheeks would just become a staple every time you so much as removed an eyelash from his cheek.

he sometimes wondered to himself, did you realize? how affection-starved he was? how much he truly appreciated your affections despite being the worst at verbalizing this gratefulness?

but the answer was found in the kiss pressed to his cheek any time he'd stutter his way through a 'thank you, i love you.'

[darkmatilda]

ׂ╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 1: first day of investigation

in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 4k

“And how's school?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“It could be worse,” said Jeremy after a moment, in an indifferent tone. You sighed, wondering if, as a teenager, you also answered everything, even more serious, open questions with vague remarks, driving the person asking how you were doing to frustration.

Answering that question, no, you didn’t do that. When you were a teenager, you didn’t have anyone who cared about you. Precisely for this reason that you practically tormented your brother with phone conversations, feeling immense guilt for leaving him with your parents. The same parents with whom you ultimately decided to cut off contact. You had never faced a more difficult decision — cutting them off or continuing a relationship that tragically affected your mental health? After each interaction with them, you felt weak, defenseless, insignificant, and above all, exhausted. It wasn’t even about your mother’s illness. They were just terrible people.

Your sixteen-year-old brother didn’t have that option. He had to deal with them until he turned eighteen and moved out. You regularly made sure he was okay. However, lately, you had the impression that his voice was becoming more and more devoid of emotion. Depressed. And you couldn’t do anything about it.

Prentiss appeared right in front of you. She noticed you were on the phone, so to avoid interrupting you, she tried to convey something silently. With her thumb, she pointed toward the main deck of the jet. From the movements of her lips, you were able to read, “Hotch is calling everyone.”

“Don’t think I’m going to let this topic go,” you said again to your brother. You could imagine him rolling his green eyes. “I have to get back to work; I’ll call as soon as I have time. Don’t get into trouble and take care. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You ended the call and noticed a smile on the brunette’s face. Together, you joined the rest of the team.

“I heard part of your conversation,” she confessed. “Don’t tell me you have a kid that you’re hiding from us?”

“Who’s hiding what from whom?” Morgan chimed in as he walked in, holding two huge cups of coffee. He handed one of them to Reid.

Prentiss nodded in your direction.

“Did you know that y/n has a kid?”

You nudged her.

“I don’t have any kids. I was just talking to my brother,” you explained briefly. You didn’t like discussing your family, even with friends. In fact, you were often accused of being too secretive.

“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” Reid added, frowning. 

He, along with the rest of them, looked at you with mild surprise. You muttered something under your breath, shrugging. You felt a bit embarrassed that your family was the center of the discussion. You were saved from the awkwardness by your own boss.

“Can we start?”

JJ handed out the case files. As soon as you opened yours, you were met with an exceptionally graphic scene.

“ The bodies were discovered by someone from the forestry service, but according to the local police, anyone could have found them. It wasn’t hidden very carefully, as if someone didn’t care about it being discovered. A man and a woman, both decapitated. Before you ask, the heads were found in the same place as the rest of the bodies. Except for that, no serious injuries, just a few minor bruises and scratches. As if they were trying to defend themselves while they still could. “

No one spoke; the only sound was the turning of pages as the whole team focused intently on analyzing the photos. Your brows lowered in concentration, your entire face tense. Maybe you looked at things like this every day, but that didn’t mean it had become pleasant or that it didn’t disgust you. Sitting across from you, Reid was the first to speak.

“What do we know about the victims?”

At that same moment, as JJ spoke up again, you flipped the page and were met with two photos that looked like they’d been pulled from a social media account. Both people were alive, happy. The man was crouching next to a young boy who seemed to be pulling away, unwilling to be in the picture with his father. In the background, there was a garden, a tall white fence typical of American suburbs, and a slide. You barely stopped yourself from glancing at Hotch — he had a son around the same age, and this case might hit him particularly hard. The woman in the photo wore square glasses, with a cheerful, friendly gaze peeking out from beneath them. Round cheeks, a wide smile.

"Andrew Ward, 37 years old. He was one of the city councilors. He had a wife and one son, and he’d lived in this town his entire life. Then there's Jessica Larsen, the deputy mayor—she and her husband were both heavily involved in public life."

“A city councilor and the deputy mayor?” Prentiss repeated, thoughtfully resting her elbow on the arm of her seat. “Does anyone else feel like this could be some kind of score-settling? Revenge? Maybe from someone who was wronged by the city council over… I don’t know…”

"Higher bills," you said absentmindedly, blurting out the first thought that came to mind, immediately wincing at your own foolishness. You were still distracted by the conversation with Jeremy. You pinched your arm, trying to force yourself to focus on the case.

"Raising bills doesn’t typically drive people to murder," Reid corrected, pausing to glance at the files again. You never felt embarrassed when he pointed out your mistakes—he had a way of doing it so skillfully and politely. "Prentiss is on the right track; it could be revenge. Our UNSUB might hate authority due to some personal experience, maybe sees themselves as an anarchist, though it's hard to lean in that direction with so little information. Garcia, have you checked if the victims were connected in any way?"

The blonde woman on the laptop screen nodded.

"I’ve checked everything I could find about them, but unfortunately, I couldn’t uncover a single connection that might move the case forward."

Hotch raised a hand, stopping you from further speculation.

"That’s not all," he began, looking at each of you in turn. "Right after those two bodies were found, three more were discovered."

Morgan raised his eyebrows high.

"Five bodies? No wonder they called us in."

"And here’s where our biggest problem arises," your boss continued “Look at the photos. These three bodies were also decapitated but except for that, treated in a completely different way”

You turned the page again, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Other victims were killed with much more brutality, all covers in cuts and bruises. It was even hard to define their gender, but when you looked at the description you knew that this time, they were all women."Were two different people responsible for this?" Prentiss asked.

“Two murders cutting their victims' heads in such a small city?” spoke up Rossi, skeptically. 

"I don’t think it’s two different killers," you said hesitated, unable to look away from the photos. As you studied them, you absorbed every detail, trying to imagine the murderer inflicting these injuries. If anyone could have peered into your mind at that moment, they might have gotten serious PTSD. “Just…take a look at the wounds. There’s much more on these women and are visibly more brutal. But they look like they were inflicted by the same hand, the same person. The placement is often consistent," you noted. "How much time passed between the murders?"

“We haven’t gotten this information yet" said Hotch. "But based on my experience, I can say we’re looking at a matter of weeks."

You noticed that Reid was watching you closely. It seemed he was doing it unconsciously. When you sent him a questioning glance, he slightly blushed and immediately cleared his throat.

“I’m curious about what y/n said,” he admitted. It was clear to see the many calculations and analyses happening in his mind. This was evident in the increasing pace of his speech. “It really does look like the same person, but in different circumstances, perhaps influenced by different emotions. Maybe even with different motives. I realize the possibility of that is close to zero, but what if we’re dealing with a murderer with multiple personality disorder?”

A silence fell as everyone contemplated Reid's words. You made eye contact with him again — your tracks of thought began to overlap, your conclusions intertwining. Looking at his face, you felt, in a way, smarter and understood; it became easier to connect the fragments of ideas that had surfaced in your mind.

You shook your head.

 "No... I'm not sure. I understand what you're saying, but it seems to me that this isn't entirely true in our case. Your theory would suggest that two different personalities of our UNSUB committed these crimes, but in such cases, the crimes usually contrast more with each other. It's much harder to connect them, and here... I immediately noticed that this was the work of the same person."

Reid leaned in with interest over the table. Everyone seemed to look at you encouragingly, waiting for you to continue your theory. Yet you only took on a resigned, apologetic posture — nothing else came to mind. Any potential ideas felt too chaotic; some instincts accompanied you, but it was nothing you wanted to share out loud. You felt that they wouldn't help at all.

"We'll definitely know more after seeing the crime scene," Hotch stated, closing his files. With that, he ended the official discussion, giving you time to review the photos alone and think everything over one more time.

That’s exactly what you focused on for the rest of the meeting. You sat with one leg crossed over the other, a closed folder resting on your lap. You didn’t need to look at the photos anymore; you just needed to close your eyes and listen to your intuition. It definitely had something to say about this case. You just weren’t sure what…

Just before arriving at the scene, Hotch asked to speak with you privately. You couldn't hide it; you felt a bit anxious.

Maybe it was about your recent distraction. Of course, it was about your worry for your brother, but that shouldn’t have been an excuse; nothing should be distracting you. Or maybe he wanted to discuss something completely different, and you had just imagined this whole scenario in your mind. Knowing you and your tendency to overthink, both options seemed equally likely.

 "As I mentioned, y/n, I need to talk to you about something. It’s regarding your accommodation."

First, you breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t anything more serious. Then, your eyebrows raised in surprise. Accommodation?

"There have been some issues with the hotel we’re planning to stay at," Hotch continued. "We couldn’t secure separate rooms for each of you. You’ve been assigned to share a room with Reid. If that’s a problem for you, we can always look for another place, but that would mean you'd be away from the rest of the team..."

“No, it’s not a problem,” you assured him, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You were relieved that the conversation didn’t involve any serious issues, just a trivial problem with the room. Besides, why would it bother you to share a room with Spencer? It was only for a few nights. "I was afraid you wanted to talk to me about something else," you blurted out.

“About what?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, nothing,” you replied quickly and somewhat squeakily.

Hotch smiled slightly at your reaction, but his gaze seemed to analyze you closely.

 Oh you idiot, why couldn’t you just shut up? you thought to yourself as you walked away.

*

The weather decided to play a trick on you.

 As you were driving to the crime scene, the waterfall was sliding down the windshield, almost making it impossible to see anything. In any case, there wasn't much to look at. After passing the main part of the town, you were surrounded only by forest — trees shimmering in shades of orange.

The view didn’t impress you much. You definitely preferred warm, sunny weather and lounging in the sun, rather than freezing every day after stepping outside and dealing with frizzy hair from the humidity. You liked the town better. It felt small and cozy, as if it were taken straight out of Gilmore Girls.

Prentiss was behind the wheel, and you were sitting next to her in the passenger seat, while JJ was your navigator. The boys took a different car.

“So,” Emily began, turning left at the intersection with her eyes fixed on the road. “You care a lot about your brother, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, sinking deeper into your seat. Why did she have to bring this up again? It wasn't that you didn't trust them; you just didn’t like talking about your family. It wasn't even about being ashamed — why dwell on unpleasant topics? Besides, as was well known, you were private. You had to be incredibly close to someone to open up, and even then, you didn’t lay all your cards on the table.

Together with JJ, they looked at you kindly and encouragingly. You acted like you were fascinated by what was behind the glass. Soon, you arrived at the crime scene. 

That means, before you reached your destination, you had to walk quite a distance into the forest. Since it was late October, the days had grown particularly short, and you could already see the first streaks of darkness between the enormous trees that seemed to watch you with their ancient gaze.

If you hadn't had the girls with you, you would have felt a thrill on your spine. 

The location where the bodies were found had been secured very thoroughly. Local police cars gathered there, and soon the rest of your team arrived. You glanced at your muddy shoes and made a mental note to start dressing more appropriately for the weather from tomorrow on.

The rain intensified. Emily pulled her hood tighter around her head. 

“Working in these conditions...'"

Her sentence was interrupted by the appearance of an incredibly tall man, somewhat resembling a bear. Long hair protruded from under his sheriff's hat, and he seemed to be about the same age as Hotch, with whom he immediately shook hands. 

“Agent Hotchner, we're from the FBI.'"

"Sheriff Russell” he introduced himself, pressing his hand to his forehead with concern. 'I've never seen anything like this, and I've seen a lot. I can't believe anyone from this town could do something like this; I know these people and...'"

“Can we see the bodies?" you asked. It was getting dark, and you wanted to get as good a look as possible. There was something intriguing about this case that had unsettled you since the moment you first opened the file.

Without waiting for an answer, you and Emily moved toward the secured area. Despite the circumstances, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"God, I hate this chatter," she sighed in annoyance. "I know these people; they’d never do something like this," she mimicked the sheriff’s deep voice. "Neighbors of serial killers always say that. Someone can be polite in conversation and keep five bodies in their basement — it’s not mutually exclusive."

You stifled a laugh. 

"Don’t forget the how could he have done it? He always said good morning in the hallway!"

“Or about kids. Sure, he was killing small animals since he was four and had a knife collection, but deep down, he was polite! I can't believe he shot up half the school…”

Hotch appeared right next to you, so you cut her off with a firm elbow jab. You accidentally hit her in the ribs, causing her to let out a groan. This only intensified your incredibly inappropriate amusement. Your boss was standing so close, so you covered your mouth under the guise of a cough. 

In the next thirty minutes, the laughter faded away.

You began by examining the bodies of the first victims, in chronological order. These were the three brutally murdered women. The whole scene seemed to be waiting for your arrival. Not a single detail had been altered, making it easier for you to connect emotionally with the situation. Most of the profilers you knew were meticulous about keeping their feelings detached from their work. It was the only way to endure this job for more than a year without committing suicide. You applied that strategy yourself, but not entirely.

When investigating a case, you tried to imagine yourself in both the shoes of the perpetrator and the victims. Often, you would close your eyes, attempting to visualize and feel it all in vivid detail. To step away from pure theory and let intuition take over.

It was likely the reason that, for the past year since you started this work, you hadn’t imagined a day without at least one tranquilizer and a sleeping pill.

After thoroughly examining the first crime scene, you drove to inspect the next one. This time, the victims were two people connected to the city council. The previous victims had been a teacher, a former resident of the orphanage, and a social worker. When you learned this, a heavy feeling settled at the back of your mind. You were certain there was a connection between these victims.

"Let’s consider what drives the unsub to remove the victim’s head" Rossi suggested.

Before you could even define the meaning of the question, Reid rushed to answer.

"Decapitation is one of the most symbolic acts of violence. The head represents thought, intellect, and control. By removing it, the killer may be expressing a need to destroy those aspects. It could also be a form of humiliation, a metaphorical stripping of their power and authority," he explained in a slightly robotic tone, as if reciting from a Wikipedia entry.

You smiled subtly at the thought. He noticed and gave you a questioning look, which you chose to ignore.

“That would fit for the two later victims," Morgan said, resting his hands thoughtfully on his hips. "They were on the city council — the unsub might have felt he was stripping them of authority and power. But how does that apply to the others? A social worker, a teacher, and an orphanage employee?"

You fixed your gaze on your dirty shoes, Derek’s question echoing in your mind.

 What was it all about?

*

You’d forgotten your sleeping pills.

Once more, you searched your toiletries bag, where you usually kept them. Not a trace.

You pressed your lips tightly together, angry with yourself. Your sleep problems weren’t that serious — were caused mainly by overthinking and constant worry. You didn’t have the motivation to take care of yourself in that regard. It was much easier to rely on the medication, and as long as it worked. Sometimes you forgot that you were even struggling with it at all.

“Is something wrong?” Reid asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Following Hotch’s words, you were sharing a room with him. “You seem upset.”

You shook your head dismissively.

“I just forgot something.”

Only then did you look at him. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. You realized it was the first time you’d seen him in such casual, everyday clothing. He usually wore shirts, blazers, and vests — somewhat grandpa-like, but you thought it suited him well.

You realized you had been staring at each other in silence for quite some time. To break the awkwardness, you cleared your throat and decided to return to one of the exhausting topics.

“There’s something strange about this case. You know, I’ve thought a lot about your theory regarding personality disorder, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Aside from the fact that it’s very, very rare, it’s just… my intuition doesn’t agree with it. I hope I don’t sound like a shaman. 

Spencer bursted out and sat on the edge of his bed. In your room, only the standing lamp illuminated the space, casting a dim orange light around. Despite that, you could see the thoughtful expression on his face.

“We once dealt with a case where the unsub was struggling with that very disorder. He was abused as a child and developed a separate personality, Amanda, who harmed men similar to his abuser,” he shared in a quiet, less confident tone than the one he used on the jet. He must have been tired after a long day at work, and like you, frustrated that you hadn’t found anything.

Above all, the circumstances were different. Your conversation had shifted to a more personal level, concerning two friends rather than coworkers. 

“Do you see any similarities between these two cases?” you asked, intrigued since you had never dealt with a similar case yourself.

“Not exactly,” he shook his head. “At one time, I read a lot about that disorder. There was another instance where we had an unsub who…” he trailed off, a visibly tense expression crossing his face.

“It’s okay,” you quickly reassured him. You didn’t know what was bothering him, but it was clear he regretted bringing it up at all. You had never been one to push for more; you often felt uncomfortable with certain topics, and you were incredibly grateful when someone recognized your withdrawal and changed the subject. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks” he whispered. But I think there’s something to your intuition. This whole case is exceptionally peculiar.”

““Well, you can call me a shaman now. By the way, are you planning to go to bed already?”

“And you?” he replied with a question of his own. “Actually, I’d prefer to read for a while, but I don’t want to disturb your sleep…”

Your broad smile clearly surprised him.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to spend some time with a book too”

In fact, it didn’t stem from your desires at all. You loved reading, but your brain was usually too tired for it in the evenings. However, you were aware that falling asleep would take you an unusually long time, and you preferred to make use of that time rather than stare at the ceiling.

You pulled out the only novel you had brought, Kafka on the Shore. You were about halfway through. Then you remembered you had meant to call your brother, but when you glanced at the clock, you realized that due to the time zone difference, it was already late at night for him. You sighed with a pang of guilt. You promised yourself you would do it tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said when you both agreed it was finally time to go to sleep.

“Goodnight, shaman” he responded. 

You smiled in your pillow. 

part 2?

[burrowkit]

I'm feeling a tad bored, so I'm going to apply this to 4 characters from the Blood of Eden series by Julie Kagawa.

1- What does your character do when they think no one’s looking Allie: Reading a book Zeke: Reading The Bible/sleeping Jackal: I would like to think he secretly reads books when no one is watching. Conducts science experiments. Kanin: Looking for a cure to the virus he accidentally released

2- What’s the one thing your character would save in a fire (beyond the necessities)? Allie: Zeke Zeke: Allie Jackal: Himself Kanin: Everything

3- Who’s on speed dial? Allie: Zeke, Jackal Zeke: Allie Jackal: Azura, secretly Allie Kanin: No one

4- Your character gets turned down for their dream job. What’s their second choice? N/A

5- What would they tell their ten-year-old self? Allie: You will get through this. Just keep going, you can do it. Zeke: Eden exists. And, you'll fall in love with a vampire. Jackal: You're going to become a monster and love it. Kanin: I cannot remember being 10.

6- Where would they want to go on a first date? Allie: A library/bookstore (abandoned, as they all are in their universe) Zeke: Some adorable boat ride with a picnic. Maybe to find a new place. Would end up saving humans before the date is over, forgetting that it's supposed to be a date. Jackal: Nah. Maybe some blood sport event or killing rabids. Kanin: N/A

7- What’s the best advice they’ve ever received? Allie: Something something you aren't facing your grief and just burying it. You will kill people, you just need to figure out a way to live with it. Zeke: You're a monster. Decide what kind of monster you want to be, but just make a decision. Jackal: (in the books that we know of) You do know your raiders are just going to back stab you, right? Kanin: I guess in book, Allie's pep talk in the sewers

8- What’s the worst advice they’ve ever received? Allie: You're a monster, you just need to accept that. Zeke: All vampires are evil, soulless creatures that don't care about humans Jackal: To leave the group Kanin: To trust Jackal's words and intentions

9- What’s one physical detail they’d change about themselves? N/A, I'm not answering this one

10- When was the last time they were held? By who? Allie: Well, Sarren tried to kill me. So did my brother. Oh, you mean like hugged? Cuddled? Zeke. Zeke: Allie <3 Jackal: You don't want to know. Kanin: It's been awhile, Allison. Do not linger in the past.

11- What’s their favorite thing about their favorite season? N/A, I'm pretty sure Zeke would like summer/fall for the food on trees. I don't think Allie really cares much, other than not freezing (which she can't anymore). And Jackal seems too disconnected to really care. Okay, adding Kanin to this, I don't think he really cares.

12- Their wallet gets stolen. What do they do? Allie, Jackal: Kill the person who stole their wallet/stuff Zeke: Offers the thief food, water, medicine. Kanin: Takes his wallet back, probably finds a way to make the human have a better life

13- Prioritize: Love, money, power, knowledge? Allie: Life. Knowledge. Love. Zeke: The human race being okay. Love. Jackal: Power. (Familial) love. Already seems to possess a lot of knowledge to become powerful. Kanin: Knowledge of how to undo. Has power. Tossed love out the window. Money doesn't really apply in this world

14- What’s something nobody knows about them? Allie: Is allowing herself to forget about being human Zeke: Maybe how jealous he was of Jackal until he found out Allie and Jackal were siblings? Jackal: Has a heart Kanin: He cares about all his children. All of them

15- What’s in their fridge? Blood.

16- What (creature, object, substance) are they most disgusted by? Allie: Rabids, vampires (especially ones torturing humans/being cruel to humans) Zeke: Evil vampires, Sarren, himself Jackal: Bleeding heart vampires, sewage Kanin: Vampires viewing humans as nothing but food (even though he does the same).

17- What’s their second worst habit? Second worst? Alright... Allie: Worst is trying to save everyone. So I guess forgetting the world for Zeke? Or opposite. Worst habit is forgetting the world for Zeke, and second worst is trying to save everyone at the cost of her own life. Zeke: Worst is probably his self hatred / hatred of vampires. Second worst is his desire to stay attached to specific humans / revenge without knowing Jackal's side Jackal: His worst habit is probably his love of killing those that are important to others. So his second worst is probably killing randomly/being so detached. Kanin: His worst is probably putting human kind above his family. His second worst is probably thinking he knows everything.

18- What are the victory conditions for their life? Yeah, maybe best if I skip this one

19- In the end, your character fails to save the day. Assuming they survive, what do they do? Allie: Fall apart, go for revenge, pull herself together, save the day Zeke: N/A. Probably is kidnapped by the villain. Jackal: Pretends to betray everyone just to betray the betrayal and save everyone. Kanin: Picks himself up, tries again.

20- Your character is charged with a crime they didn’t commit. What do they do? Allie: Accept it. Pretend to leave. Protect the humans. Zeke: Allie argues his innocence. He just hangs his head and accepts that he's probably the villain they think of him. Jackal: "Lol, I'm a monster, so?", proceeds to kill anyone in his way Kanin: Accept it. He feels like he deserves it.

21- Your character is charged with a crime they did commit. What was the crime? Murder.

22-25- How would you describe your character’s life in one sentence?What important statistic would they want displayed above them?What’s the first thing they would buy if they won the lottery? What profession do they most respect? N/A

26- What childhood injustice did they never get over? Allie: Being left to starve. Her mother's death. Zeke: Not able to face a hoard of rabids and save everyone. Jackal: Not so much childhood, but almost being killed by his vampiric father Kanin: N/A

27-35- How would they handle having a panic attack? Your character is burdened with an inconvenient superpower. What is it? If they died and could come back as any person, animal, or object, what would they be? What’s the best meal they’ve ever had? Where would they stand at a dinner party? Who would they invite to the dinner party?What makes a perfect day for your character? If given the opportunity, would they want to know how and when they died?What’s the one thing they’ve always wanted to do? Why haven’t they done it yet? Mostly N/A, or already covered in the book

36- What do they tend to joke about? Allie: Being a monster. Not being a monster. Zeke: Not much Jackal: Killing others. Betraying others. Being a cruel monster. Kanin: Not much. He left his sense of humour behind centuries ago.

37- What’s off limits? Allie: Someone dying Zeke: Harming humans Jackal: Being predictable Kanin: His past.

38- Whose wedding would they cross the world to attend? Whose funeral? Allie: Wedding- Jackal's if he decided to get married. Maybe Azura. Caleb and Beth's. Funeral- Caleb. Beth. Jackal. Zeke: Wedding- none. Funeral- Jackal, but he'd be the one killing Jackal so... awkward funeral. Jackal: "My sister" Kanin: N/A. Probably Sarren's funeral. Maybe Allie-x-Zeke's wedding. Allie, Jackal and Zeke's funerals. Possibly Jackal, but he'd ensure no one knew he was there.

39-43- What impossible choice did they make that turned out to be the right one? The wrong one? Your character has someone to hype them up. What would they say to get everyone excited about your character? What recurring dream does your character have? What is the meaning of life to your character? What book does your character pretend to have read? Skipping

44- Someone takes undeserved credit for your character’s work. What do they do? I don't think they really care too much. Jackal might try to kill whoever stole the credit, or remind them of the shared credit (to his sister). Kanin would probably not care too much.

45- What controversial belief or view does your character hold? Why? Do they hide it? Allie: Humans do matter. Doesn't hide it. Zeke: His love for a vampire at the beginning. His love of blood at the end. Jackal/Kanin: I'm not sure.

46- Your character is at a theme park. Where do they go first? N/A

47- What’s your character’s favorite name? Discussed in the books

48-50- What’s the biggest compliment they’d give themselves? How does your character feel about bugs? If your character could hit a reset button on their life, would they? N/A

Character Development: 50 Questions

What does your character do when they think no one’s looking?

What’s the one thing your character would save in a fire (beyond the necessities)?

Who’s on speed dial?

Your character gets turned down for their dream job. What’s their second choice?

What would they tell their ten-year-old self?

Where would they want to go on a first date?

What’s the best advice they’ve ever received?

What’s the worst advice they’ve ever received?

What’s one physical detail they’d change about themselves?

When was the last time they were held? By who?

What’s their favorite thing about their favorite season?

Their wallet gets stolen. What do they do?

Prioritize: Love, money, power, knowledge?

What’s something nobody knows about them?

What’s in their fridge?

What (creature, object, substance) are they most disgusted by?

What’s their second worst habit?

What are the victory conditions for their life?

In the end, your character fails to save the day. Assuming they survive, what do they do?

Your character is charged with a crime they didn’t commit. What do they do?

Your character is charged with a crime they did commit. What was the crime?

How would you describe your character’s life in one sentence?

What important statistic would they want displayed above them?

What’s the first thing they would buy if they won the lottery?

What profession do they most respect?

What childhood injustice did they never get over?

How would they handle having a panic attack?

Your character is burdened with an inconvenient superpower. What is it?

If they died and could come back as any person, animal, or object, what would they be?

What’s the best meal they’ve ever had?

Where would they stand at a dinner party?

Who would they invite to the dinner party?

What makes a perfect day for your character?

If given the opportunity, would they want to know how and when they died?

What’s the one thing they’ve always wanted to do? Why haven’t they done it yet?

What do they tend to joke about?

What’s off limits?

Whose wedding would they cross the world to attend? Whose funeral?

What impossible choice did they make that turned out to be the right one? The wrong one?

Your character has someone to hype them up. What would they say to get everyone excited about your character?

What recurring dream does your character have?

What is the meaning of life to your character?

What book does your character pretend to have read?

Someone takes undeserved credit for your character’s work. What do they do?

What controversial belief or view does your character hold? Why? Do they hide it?

Your character is at a theme park. Where do they go first?

What’s your character’s favorite name?

What’s the biggest compliment they’d give themselves?

How does your character feel about bugs?

If your character could hit a reset button on their life, would they?

Source

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate: Chapter 16

Warnings: trauma related, abuse, bondage, reader has flashbacks, stockholm syndrome, assumed sexual assault but uncertainty if true, uncomfortable scenes

The first few days were hard for Y/N. She felt lonely and craved physical affection. Jisung was still not back and she was worried Chan and Hyunjin were torturing him. Some of the wolves spoke to her, like Seungmin and Chan who made sure to check in on her but she still felt isolated. Not as isolated as her dream. Even Felix and Minho completely refused to make any verbal contact with her. Y/N wanted to beg Chan to make it stop so she could apologise to the wolves and make the bond better.  She even made a list in her bedroom on how she could fix it. Her biggest priority was Felix, her ray of sunshine was now an icy wolf. Y/N wanted to apologise to him, even if he didn't want to hear it, it would be enough. The next grumpy wolf on her list was Hyunjin. She wanted to understand him and learn how to please her alpha but she found him difficult to be near sometimes. For the simple reason that she never actually saw him that often. Then there was Minho, he was another one she did not understand but she still wanted to check in on him. Jeongin was another alpha who she desperately wanted to get to know him but knew he was still learning and was at his vital stage of growing and gaining power. Y/N had no intention of disrupting his journey, she only wished to get to know him than mere passings. Y/N wanted to ask Chan when he came back if they could spend time together if he was ready, but Y/N was patient. Seungmin and Changbin were comfortable and happy with her. Both made efforts to talk to her despite the circumstances. Y/N sighed as she looked at her list. The only way she could bond with them was by using words as actions were prohibited. In all honesty, her ass had turned black and was rather sore, which she did not appreciate. She had never seen it so black, ever. Focus Y/N. Focus. Y/N placed her hand on her head tapping it in frustration. She was an omega for goodness sake and she couldn't even please her pack. She got it right the first time so why did she get it wrong the second time? Y/N shook her head and forced herself to find Felix.

Felix was sat downstairs in the living room watching one of his programmes with Seungmin. He seemed to be in a better mood but not his usual self and Y/N hoped she could reconcile with him.

"Felix-ssi?" Y/N called out as she plopped down in front of his feet, leaning her head against the sofa, making sure she didn't touch him. Felix didn't respond to her and carried on watching his programme so Y/N tried again.

"Felix-ssi. I am sorry for getting you into trouble. I am really sorry if I caused you more pain. I only want to fix it." Y/N pleaded but was met with silence.

"Felix. Y/N-ssi is speaking to you." Seungmin spoke as he turned off the TV.

"I heard her. I have nothing to say to her." Felix answered.

"Don't you think that's unfair? Y/N has been through enough as it is. She didn't ask for this-"

"Neither did we Seungmin. Neither did we. We didn't ask to be given a broken omega. We didn't ask for all this trouble, but everything seems to follow her." Felix shouted, causing the female wolf to drop her head in shame. Y/N accepted Felix's outburst, his feelings were valid but she didn't know what else to do.

"Felix, stop!" Seungmin shouted as he threw down the remote. He was sick of all the arguments.

"Felix has a point, Seungmin. It's not even been two months yet and almost all of us have been punished by Hyunjin. She doesn't even know how to be an omega!" Minho shouted, his words burning deep into her body.  She doesn't even know how to be an omega. He has a point. His words were true. Everything she thought she did know was gone. Two months I've been here and I've caused a pack to divide because of me. Jisung is downstairs because of me. Felix killed San because of me. San died because of me. It's all my fault. Y/N stood up, ignoring the shouting matches around her as she made a decision. An irrational decision? Maybe, but Y/N needed to put things right.

"I'm going to put it right," Y/N spoke up but they ignored her, only scoffing at her words. "I'll go to Hongjoong."

Y/N ran out of the house and phased into her wolf form without a second thought heading straight into the woods. Her heart burned with determination as she broke through the clearing. She was close to the border of Wraithwood. She could smell its dark essence. Y/N sped up, ready to bolt towards the clearing when something tackled her with a snarl.

"You will not go." The brown wolf growled, almost challenging her. He was an alpha, but she did not recognise him. Y/N challenged the alpha with a growl ready to pounce when the alpha ordered her to sit down.

"Jeongin?" Y/N called out as the werewolf paced, ready to block her moves.

"Yes. I didn't mean to frighten you, but what you are doing is wrong. You cannot go back to them. We are your mates." Jeongin stressed, his dark brown eyes looking deep into hers.

"No. I'm not leaving. I wanted to put it right and talk to Hongjoong. I don't want a war." Jeongin huffed at her words and trotted over to her, nuzzling his head into her neck as he tried to calm her.

"You're so brave but it would not work. Trust me it would not. Hongjoong would never let you come back." Jeongin explained as his snout nuzzled against hers.

"I want to put it right." Y/N pleaded with the young alpha.

"You put it right by staying with us. Do not let Felix and Minho hyungs anger cloud your judgement. Hyunjin ssi tells me you're smarter than Hongjoong himself so why have you forgotten all your wisdom? Why have you forgotten who you are." Jeongin asked.

"I'm scared of Jeongin. I'm scared of being treated badly all over again. I'm scared of people having high expectations. I'm scared of being actually loved." Y/N admitted.

"No one has expectations of your omega." A black wolf called out. "No one has treated you badly, you're imagining it. Almost craving it. You see the good in Hongjoong that is not even there, Y/N. He brainwashed you and all your views you ever had. That's why it hurts so bad to see San killed. It felt like you had killed him."

"I feel like I'm missing the whole plot here," Jeongin explained as he looked between her and Hyunjin's wolf.

"She misses Hongjoong. She loves him. Y/N believes that everything Hongjoong did was in her best interest. Every time he punished her she would do her best to please. Her existence only existed if he was there. She could only breathe if he was there and the only way she could survive was by pretending that it was all because he loved her. Yet, that pretend feeling accidentally moulded itself into reality. She accidentally rewired her own brain to survive which lead to Seonghwa being allowed to punish her more. Locking her in a dark room as he taunted her, slowly dragging her until she went mad. But still she somehow managed to fight her way out and now her brain is still trying to justify his actions, because she's afraid of the reality. She's afraid to recognise that she was going to be used in a ritual so her brain tells her we're the enemy."

"How do you know that," Y/N whispered, slowly backing away. He can't know that.

"I can know that Y/N. Which is why I'm telling you to accept that your feelings were real but you need to let them go. It's time to come to terms with that and I'll help you, just like you helped me." Hyunjin whispered while Jeongin nuzzled himself into the omega, trying to piece together what the older alpha was explaining.

"He's right omega. We can help you get past this. We will listen to whatever story." Jeongin promised as he felt the wolf whine out in pain. Images of her struggles flashed through the male's mind.

Jeongin shuddered as he saw her reliving her darkest moments. He saw Hongjoong's menacing eyes burning deep into hers. He saw the way Hoongjoong's fingers gently touched her body, caring tentatively to her before they shifted into bloodied hands that grasped her throat as he whispered cruel things to her. The way he changed from a proud alpha to a disappointed one. He saw the way Seonghwa babied her as he carried her around, spoiling her, only for him to edge her closer and closer to their goals. He saw the way the wolves pleasured her as a group, driving her to every brink of madness and he couldn't tell if she wanted to or wanted to. Jeongin wanted to be sick as her images flashed through him. He tried to be strong like Hyunjin who allowed her to break in confidence. He wanted to be a strong alpha for her. He wanted to protect himself from all the horrors of the world. He wanted to show her how much better the world is but he wasn't strong enough, not yet, but he will be.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd @pixie0627 @wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @liv1sworld

[joeburrowshaircurl]

A Lovely Night Part 2

summary: You've become friends with Joe over the past few months. Training camp is right around the corner, Joe wants to take things to the next level.

pairing: Joe Burrow x shy anxious reader

warnings: fluff

words: 1,125

a/n: here's part 2! Sorry it took so long, life has been busy. Happy reading!

You sighed with exhaustion as you set the last of the groceries on the counter in the kitchen. Apartment living had its perks, especially since it was the first place you ever had by yourself. But sometimes you wished you had someone to help with carrying the groceries so it took fewer trips. But there was no time to rest, Joe would be coming over for dinner and a movie so it was time to start prepping and cooking.

Movie night had become a thing between the two of you. Sometimes Ja'Marr and Tee would tag along with Joe but most of the time it was only Joe. Sometimes you'd watch a movie at home or if something came out at the theatre, you'd go there.

Joe had revealed his job to you and the fame that came with it and at first, it had surprised you. The way he had arrived to movies during or after the previews made sense, he hadn't wanted to be recognized. You'd never been around anyone famous until Joe, but to you he wasn't famous, he was just a regular guy who also enjoyed to watch movies.

After you put away your groceries for the next few weeks, you put some music on your bluetooth speaker and got busy making dinner from scratch which would be spaghetti and meatballs with salad. The sauce would take the longest to cook due to needing it to simmer so you started on that first. You had no Italian blood in you but you found joy in cooking and baking for others. But it was also a fear of yours that no one would like what you made, so you rarely did it. You were going out on a limb to show Joe another side of yourself, and as worried as you were, you wanted everything to be perfect.

You hadn't realized how much time had past as the sauce was simmering on the stove, the meatballs were done and cooking in the oven, and you were in the middle of kneading the pasta dough when the buzzer went off for your apartment. Knowing it was Joe, you quickly went over to the door to hit the button "Come on up." You unlocked the door for him and cracked it open, some remnants of dough and flour ending up on the inside handle, but you'd clean it off later. Your priority right now was to finish shaping the dough.

"Hey." Joe greeted as he shut the door behind him and took his shoes off. "I got you some canned mocktails to try since I know you don't drink alcohol. I'm going to try some too."

You smiled and looked over at him before you started rolling the dough out to fold and slice. "That's sweet of you, thank you." No one done that before, you were touched.

"What are we watching tonight?" Joe asked as he put the drinks in the fridge and examined the pot on the stove. "And what are you making? I'm intrigued."

"Ummm well I'm making spaghetti, meatballs and salad. The spaghetti and meatballs are from scratch. I wanted to make garlic bread from scratch too but that was going to take too much time. Oh and the sauce on the stove is from scratch too." You explained as you finished kneading and folding the dough to start shape it into spaghetti.

"And we are watching The Godfather, I know its a long movie but we don't have to watch it all tonight." You glanced over at Joe as he took it upon himself to help you by putting together the salad. It could make or break the friendship for you if he didn't like the movie.

"Sounds good to me." Joe replied as he chopped up some vegetables.

"Yeah?" You smiled as you moved to the stove to put the pasta into the pot of water that was now boiling. "Good, because I kind of centered the dinner around the movie. And thank you for making the salad, I appreciate it."

Your anxious thoughts seemed to disappear around Joe, but you still had them depending on the situation and if it was a bad day. But all in all, he had become your rock since moving to Cincinnati. You had only known each other a few months but you felt like you had known him your whole life.

"Its no problem." Joe smiled as he finished combining everything for the salad into one bowl.

"Everything's just about done, go set up the movie and i'll get everything ready." You turned the music of on the bluetooth speaker as Joe moved to the living room to set everything up. The one bedroom apartment in downtown Cincinnati had been much more affordable than your apartment back home in Boston. You even had a view of Paycor stadium, which you hadn't planned but it amused you.

You decided at the last second to combine the sauce with the pasta adn put the meatballs in their own separate bowl instead of putting everything on each of your plates incase Joe wanted seconds. Having everything on the living room table would save from having either of you from having to pause the movie.

"Alright! I hope you like it!" You smiled as you set everything onto the table and grabbed a little bit of everything before you got comfortable on the couch as the movie started.

"This is delicious, thank you for cooking." Joe said before he took another bite.

"You're welcome." You smiled, your cheeks flushing a little.

"If you were my girlfriend, I'd have a hard time staying on track during the season."

Joe had said it so simply, it had made your eyes go wide.

"I-I'd like to think I'd make foods to help you stay on track during the season." You said after your brain was able to think again.

"I'm serious. I want you to be my girlfriend. I know we haven't known each other long but it feels right. I know we will be able to get through training camp, I'll help you adjust."

First and foremost you were friends first, and you loved that. Over the past few months, feelings had grown that you had tried to ignore and kept secret. You couldn't imagine someone wanting to be with you, it had never worked out that way. But you didn't want to openly say it and ruin the moment.

"I-I agree with you." You said softly before you looked over at him and smiled, your cheeks felt like they were on fire. "So its official then."

"Its official." He put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close against him. "My girl." Your heart was hammering. Surely you had to be dreaming.

[deadhands69]

Nice Shirt (Todobaku x Reader)

MDNI

Shouto Todoroki x Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Content/Warnings/Etc: the start of todobaku x reader poly relationship, gn/afab reader, lots of making out, threesome, sex from behind, blowjob, unprotected sex, swearing.

Mina’s Place: Present

Tonight’s the night. Every hero in your friends’ agency is now ranked top 20 so they’re throwing a party which turned into an unofficial “ten year reunion.” Miraculously, everyone in your class will be in the same place tonight for the first time in years. It’ll be great to see them, especially a few you don't have a chance to talk to as often.

The building is beautiful. Even the elevator you just entered is absolutely glistening. The apartments are massive too - specifically, each of your friends who went in on starting the agency (basically a third of your class) each got their own floor to live on. This party happens to be on Mina’s floor since she's the best at hosting. 

“Hi, welcome in!” a very ecstatic Mina rushes to you, wrapping you in a pink hug. “I'm so glad you made it!”

“Thank you so much for the invitation, your place is beautiful!” you say gesturing at her bubblegum decor in every pattern imaginable. 

“Thanks, feel free to look around! I have to refill the punch, but let's catch up in a bit!” she exclaims before running off towards the kitchen. 

It really is great seeing your classmates. You notice everyone clustered into their usual groups. Kaminari and Jiro listen intently while Tsuyu recounts her latest mission. Koda is talking to Mina’s pomeranian, much to the amusement of Hagakure and Ochoco. Everyone's here! 

You'd really like to talk to Todoroki or Bakugo, admittedly you had huge crushes on both of them but haven't talked to either in ages. When you first walked in, you saw Shouto walking towards the hallway in an All Might shirt. Unexpected fashion choice for him, but nice shirt you think. 

Shouto’s House: Last Sunday 

Katsuki began to stir, careful not to wake the muscular body by his side. The sunlight had just begun peeking through the blinds of Shouto’s bedroom. 

How did they get here? Sure, it would be easy for them to both blame the bottomless champagne at the Hero Gala the night before, but it's a flimsy excuse since neither of them drink. No, they were drunk on nostalgia alone. 

Throughout high school, their relationship was - tumultuous. With a rocky start they had a lot to overcome. Even so, things weren't exactly easy. Competing over everything. Arguing about stupid things that don't matter (well, mostly Katsuki while Shouto infuriated him by being indifferent.) They even had the same crush, y/n, making them feel like they had to one up each other even more. But under it all, there was something else. Some unspoken tension lingering alongside every action. Shouto noticed this feeling whenever Katsuki would tackle him while they sparred, but wrote it off as nerves since he doesn't engage in close combat often. Bakugo, on the other hand, felt it more when they were both bathing. It confused him and in turn, just made him want to tease Todoroki even more to hide it. 

All until the hero gala. 

That night, the decade-long dick measuring contest came to a close with them realizing maybe they just wanted to touch dicks instead. 

Somehow, the two found themselves seated next to each other without dates. Why not catch up a bit? In recounting old stories, that familiar tension came back in full force. All it took was one accidental hand brush while they both reached for their water glasses to bring it all out in the open. 

The spark was immediate. Both staring at each other, making heavy eye contact, daring the other to break it. 

But no one did. 

They ended up back at Shouto’s place (it was closer), passionately making out through the night. 

Katsuki isn't really sure how to handle this. Having difficult conversations was never his strong point, especially with someone who has historically been hard for him to talk to. Well, maybe he just discovered part of the reason for that. 

Before sticking around for too long, he quietly gets out of bed to retrieve his clothes. Picking up the pieces here and there, tiny scorch marks on half of them. What an intense night. 

He considers his options. Should he leave a note or just quietly slip out? Some form of communication might be good, they'll have to see each other again at events and he doesn't want it to be weird. 

He feels a rush at the thought of seeing Shouto again. Getting to spend time with him. Fuck, even getting to be in the same room. Wait. Does he…like him? Sure feels like it. And logically, he could do a lot worse than the kid who was always his competition. At least he's competent. This is all so new though, it would be a lot to process. 

On top of that, he was having a mild identity crisis. Katsuki never considered himself to be attracted to men, not that he had any issues with being bi, he'd just never thought about it in relation to himself. The night before was amazing. It's not worth overthinking, he decides. If being with Shouto makes him happy, maybe he should chase that feeling and see where it goes. Everyone’s gay for someone, right?

Besides, it's time to move on in life. The two of them had discussed their crushes on you the prior night and realized they hadn't talked to you in years. It just never went anywhere.

Shouto sits up in bed, rubbing the red and white hair from his face. 

“Running off?” he asks, slightly teasingly. 

“I-” Katsuki bites his tongue. “Uh, have to get going. Late to work and stuff.”

“You should borrow some of my clothes,” he mumbles, laying back down, “that way you don't have to walk into your agency like that.”

Bakugo nods. 

“And let me know if you want to grab food sometime soon, I'd like to take you out.”

His blonde head nods again, his face flushing an even darker shade of red. 

Shouto has known he's pansexual since the day he realized he's attracted to people at all. Human interaction has always been confusing and overwhelming for him, he's used to it. He had no need to process this any more than usual. The situation was understandable. Deep down, he probably knew he had a crush on Katsuki for a while. His explosive friend is objectively hot, smart, and after growing up with Endeavor, he found him to be much easier to interact with than people typically do. Admittedly, being on the receiving end of the angry number two hero’s affection did a lot to quell his daddy issues but he chooses to ignore that and let his therapist figure that one out later.

Watching Bakugo go into the world in his clothes made Shouto feel warm inside. Hopeful it’s not a one time occurrence, he fought the urge to text him that day - not wanting to seem desperate. He'd give Katsuki exactly three days from when he left that morning before reaching out if he doesn't hear from him. It was a rule Momo set for him when he asked her for dating advice years ago and he's kept it ever since. He made a mental note to text her about this when he wakes up again. 

Pro-hero Dynamite made it through work the next few days but couldn't stop thinking about him. Shouto’s voice. His eyes. His hair. His hands. Wrapped around his - 

Fuck. 

On the evening of the second night, he went home and called him. 

The following morning, they met up at a teahouse and talked for hours. The conversation flowing easily into the afternoon. By the end of the date, they decided to keep hanging out and see where things go (that day, things went immediately back to Katsuki’s apartment.)

Mina’s Place: Present

After talking to Shinsou and Tokoyami for a while about a show you're both binging, you excuse yourself to run to the restroom. It wasn't urgent by any means but you figured it might take a while to find it with how many doors you saw in the hallway. 

It shouldn't come as a surprise with the amount of work they put into this celebration that the door is labeled. “bathrom” reads a ripped piece of paper in Kaminari’s handwriting with a chunk of what you recognize as Sero’s tape holding it up. 

The door is slightly ajar so you enter, finding - 

Holy fuck. 

The two hottest guys you’ve ever seen in your life are making out against the sink. Bakugo has a fist-full of the All Might shirt Todoroki is wearing as he presses him into the mirror feverishly. They jump away from each other at the interruption. Both of their jaws drop. Shouto’s eyes widen and he stares at you, frozen and unsure what to do. Katsuki on the other hand, is looking at anything but you. In their now separated stances, you notice he’s wearing an Endeavor shirt with “sucks” written under the name in permanent marker. It all clicks, this is definitely not the first time this has happened.

“Oh, fuck,” you mumble, wanting to look away but they’re too fucking hot. “I uhm, the door was cracked. Sorry.” 

Bakugo shoots a glare at Todoroki at this information before barking, “well don’t just fucking stand there, get in before someone walks by and more people see.” 

Without thinking, you do as you’re told. 

“How long has this been going on?” you ask, pointing between their shirts. 

“Not long,” Todoroki answers nonchalantly, sliding off the counter to face you.

“It’s…new,” adds Bakugo, “so don’t go telling everyone.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry,” you try to sound as reassuring as possible. 

Well, you did find the two people you wanted to see. Some part of you thinks you should feel disappointed, they’re both taken. Somehow, those feelings never come. And after seeing that? You’ll happily spend the rest of your life unable to unsee the two of them pulling at each other’s clothes. Sadly, the show’s over for you. They probably want their space now. 

“Uhm, I really am sorry for walking in. I should go,” you mutter.

As you turn to leave, a hand grabs your arm. “Or you could stay,” Shouto’s mismatched eyes stare into yours. You glance at the man next to him, whose face is tentatively awaiting your reaction. 

Is this really happening? You would have been happy to have a chance with either of them, but both? It’s like a dream come true. Little do you know, they'd also been waiting for this for a long time. 

Reaching outside, you yank the makeshift bathroom sign from the door before clicking it closed loudly. Both of their eyes light up. This time, you make sure it’s locked. 

“Cool,” Katsuki says as casually as he can muster, “you're in middle then.”

Holy shit fuck this is actually happening. 

Heart pounding, you step towards the two men. Stopping in front of them as you're not sure who to face and don't want to come off as rude when they've been so polite to allow you to join them. One hand on each of their arms, you're surprised at how different they feel. 

Katsuki’s skin is dewy with sweat in a way that allows your fingers to glide smoothly over the surface. Bicep tensing under your touch but a small smile breaks on his rosy face letting you know it's okay. 

Shouto feels much cooler (but it may just be the side you reached for.) His long slender muscles flex as he reaches the arm to you, pulling you in for a heavy kiss. His wet lips pressing hard into yours, parting them for your tongues to meet. You fall into it quickly, having dreamed of this for years. Before you know it, you’re spun around and he’s pushing you face first into Bakugo’s neck. 

With his explosive personality, you’d never considered Katsuki ‘cautious’ but with the subtle way he kisses you, he’s close to it. His hands gently moving over your neck, lightly dancing over the space under your jaw as he slowly brushes his lips over yours. One of Shouto’s hands reaches around you, roughly gripping his hair. The kiss deepens in response as your mouth muffles his gasps. You feel Todoroki’s other hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you back into him while he kisses the back of your neck. Your hands join Shouto’s in Katsuki’s hair. Everything feels perfect.

Eventually, most of your clothes found their way onto the bathroom floor leaving the three of you nearly naked. Bakugo pulls your legs around his hips, grinding you into him as he hardens in his underwear. Shouto feels the same against you, his hands gripping his boyfriend’s back rubbing himself hard into your ass while pulling you both closer. Dropping your head onto Bakugo’s shoulder, your lips latch onto the thin skin near his neck. Over your shoulder, the two of them resume making out - you notice Katsuki is a lot rougher with Shouto than he is with you but the passion is the same. Out of the corner of your eye, his teeth connect hard with his boyfriend’s lips. Shouto’s moans fill your ears as he suddenly juts harder into you - the sudden friction making you bite Katsuki’s neck as you try to hold it together. The three of you are left gasping while you try in vain to quiet each other. 

Shouto is the first to pull away, removing his own underwear before starting on yours. 

“This okay?” he looks between the two of you. Both of you nodding in response. 

“Yeah,” you smile before giving him a quick kiss. 

Admittedly, none of you have ever done anything quite like this so you aren’t really sure where to start. Shouto takes the lead this time, following what feels right. 

He sits on the counter, moving you to face him. Kissing you deeply, as his hands grip your hair. Katsuki stands to the side of you, his hands running over your body before settling between your legs.

“Awwe, they’re already wet for us,” he massages your clit with one finger before sliding another into you, “so fucking wet.”

 When your wimpers become too much to keep up with the kiss, Shouto moves your head to his chest. Holding you close with one hand while stroking himself with the other. 

“You look so pretty like that,” he croons down at you.

An additional finger stretches you further. You feel yourself clenching around Bakugo’s hand while gripping Todoroki’s back. Shaking, your knees give out from under you. Shouto doesn’t mind you lying on him at all as he continues whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ear while you cum around his boyfriend’s fingers. Any attempts at being quiet, momentarily forgotten.

“Good job, I think they’re ready for you,” he smiles over your shoulder.

“Think so,” you hear the amusement in Katsuki’s voice. One of his hands bracing your hip while he uses the other to line himself up. 

“Look at me,” Shouto’s fingers tip your face up towards his. Still feeling fucked out and breathing hard, you work to keep your eyes focused on his while Katsuki’s dick stretches you open. Your breath catches in your throat and your grip on the man under you tightens.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs down at you, “you’re taking him so well.” 

You gasp as Bakugo begins moving behind you, slowly pulling back before snapping his hips into you. For a moment, it’s surreal - you never could have imagined you’d end up here.

“You like that, huh? You like his beautiful dick in you?”

“Mmmhmmn,” you manage to push back far enough to kiss your way down his torso. Making your way to where his hand is squeezing over himself.

It’s beautiful. They both are, you think, taking Shouto’s word for it. Still keeping eye contact, you replace his hands with yours - moving your mouth over him while Katsuki fucks harder into you.

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” you hear from behind you, Bakugo slamming his hips into your ass to make your head bob further down Shouto’s length. With them on each side of you, you know you won’t last long. 

The sensations are overwhelming. The rough feeling of slamming in the back of your throat and on your cervix juxtaposed with the softness of hands in your hair and running along your back. You feel their hands meet in the middle, clasping each other while they both pound into you.

It’s becoming harder to concentrate as the throbbing between your legs makes its way through your entire body. That’s okay though, they’re both so close too.

Shouto’s hand grips harder on your scalp, his hips jut forward subconsciously as he explodes into the back of your throat. Katsuki follows, bottoming out while twitching inside you. You feel both of your fluids mixing together, dripping down the inside of your legs. With all of this, you find yourself crumbling between them again.

After a minute of stillness, they help you to your feet. Bakugo wets some towels to wash up while Todoroki helps you sort through the clothes on the floor. Once you’re all sufficiently clean and dressed, the three of you pause to take in the moment. Each of you feeling like the luckiest person in the room. 

“Hey,” Shouto exchanges a knowing glance with Katsuki who nods before they both turn to you, “would you like to get breakfast with us tomorrow?”

sorry for the overuse of names - i get so lost reading fics that are like ‘the taller one’, ‘ the light haired one,’ etc so i wasn’t sure how else to write this and make it clear!

[dekariosclan]

First of all, thanks for your sweet, informative and entertaining thoughts on Gale you keep sharing with us! I love reading them!

Sooooo... how do you think Gale would handle jealousy between spouse-Tav and Tara? After all, not every Tav felt instant love for Tara and vice versa, as can be seen at the Epilogue Party (which I found hilarious personally!)

Thank you!! I’m delighted to get to answer an ask about Taaaaarraaaaaaa! 🥹

I’m assuming everyone is aware of what happens during the rooftop meeting if Tav rudely decides to take the missing letters from Tara without asking?

I’m mentioning this not to throw any shade on Tara (I’m on her side—you want to act rude and steal from Tara?! Get burnt) but because Gale’s response is, I think, a perfect summary of how he would respond to any jealousy between the two:

(side note—as a cat owner myself, I can also confirm this is 1000% the most cat tressym owner thing to say, ever 😂)

I think that Gale, upon seeing a hint of jealousy from either one, would be desperate to not take sides and would try his utmost to cheerfully smooth out any tension between them. After all, he cherishes these two! His best friend since he was a child, and the love of his life. Surely he can help them see eye-to-eye?!

There might be more than one discussion over dinner, in which Gale mentions how “Tav was admiring your wings yesterday, Tara,” or “Tara was saying you did an excellent job organizing some of my rather scattered potion bottles, Tav.” Of course all of these discussions, productive or not, will end with: “And for the last time, Tara, no, I will not be shaving this beard, no it’s not because Tav likes it, its because I myself like it—”

But I also think any Tav that truly deserves to be with Gale would be decent and good-hearted enough that they wouldn’t be jealous of Tara—or at least, not for very long. Because it takes very little for Tara to be accepting of Tav! At the epilogue party, if Tav invites Tara for some tea and reassures her that she will still get to be in Gale’s life, Tara warms up immediately. Gale is her “little love,” after all. How could any Tav that loves Gale deny him that? 💜

It’s actually my personal HC that Tav and Tara are not only not jealous of each other, but actually become fast friends and bond over something that I think Gale would be somewhat chagrined about: their shared dislike of Mystra.

Imagine the commentary. The sly digs against the Goddess anytime she’s mentioned in conversation. Tara flatly stating she finds Mystra’s style ‘gaudy’. The snickering. The way that the small Mystra statue in Gale’s study mysteriously ends up broken on the floor. Gale suspiciously asking “What are you two whispering about?” and being assured it’s nothing, merely discussing the weather!

…Gale’s earring then somehow disappearing from his nightstand—where he’d placed it for just an instant!—and ending up in Tara’s litterbox.

“Oh dear, Mister Dekarios!” The delight obvious in Tara’s voice. “However did that happen? Well, we’ll simply have to get you a new one, dear.”

“Yes indeed!” Tav nodding vigorously. Smiling widely. “Clearly this was an accident, of course, so you can’t be mad at Tara, Gale. Shall we go shopping for one now?”

And Gale, his gaze bouncing suspiciously between the two of them, both looking absolutely delighted with each other, thinking that perhaps it would have been better if they’d remained enemies.

[fleurmiu]

𝖡𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖻𝗌𝖿 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺

୨୧ 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 . . . .

엔하이펜 ot7 / f : r , , w.c : 758 | skinship , kissing , est.relationship

💌 this is my first fic,im so excitedd eek >< , hope u enjoy , feedback is much apperciated 🤍 , will make a maknae line version if this does well <3 ( 𝖼𝗅𝑖𝖼𝗄 ♥︎ )

𝐿𝐸𝐸 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝑆𝐸𝑈𝑁𝐺

You walked over into the living room , hoping not to bring any attention to yourself , but Heeseung's eyes instantly found you. He shot you a quick kiss through the air before covering it up , glancing down at his phone once your brother , Jake , looked over at his direction.

Later you found him in the kitchen , clearly pretending to try to look for some type of snack inside the counter , “You know you don't have to hide just to talk to me , right?” , you mummbled , crossing you arms. He lowered his voice , leaning in to say, “If i didn't , then who would come looking for me , hm?”. Your heart skipped a beat when his finger brushed against yours when he was closing the counter. “Just....don't let your brother catch us..” He murmured,his eyes shooting a quick glance to the doorway. “That would be...interesting to say the least,but i don't care how complicated it gets,i still love you..”

𝑃𝐴𝑅𝐾 𝐽𝑂𝑁𝐺𝑆𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐺

“Jay, can you help Y/N with setting the chairs?”, your brother Jungwon said, barley looking back at you and Jay's direction.

Jay waited until jungwon left the room, hearing closely to the door clicking shut. After the door closed, he looked at you with those dark brown eyes, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Looks like im on call, ” he murmures, striding over to you, taking your hand in his. “But don't you think i need a little something for all the work i've done..?”

You shoot him a look, clearing your throat you say, Oh really, don't you mean we?, you're not the only one who set up those chairs you know, ”

“Absolutley, i mean, i'm clearly the one one who's done the most work here...” He leaned in, his voice dropping a bit lower, and his lips closer to yours which made your heart race. “But your brother doesn't need to know about this, does he?”

𝑆𝐼𝑀 𝐽𝐴𝐸𝑌𝑈𝑁

Jake was over at your house to help your brother, sunghoon, study for an exam, but you somehow managed to meet eachother in the living room while sunghoon was gonna grab a snack from the kitchen.

“So i heard you're good with physics...” you teased, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

Jake smiled sheepishly, heat creeping up to his cheeks, he mummbled, “I didn't expect you would want my help out of all people, babe.”

“Well you're not too bad at it, are you?, i could use some tutoring you know?” you nudge him slightly before he takes his hand in yours, but lets go shortly after, just incase your brother shows up.

“Maybe...” he murmures, placing a quick peck on your lips. “But, don't tell your brother i'm offering private lessons.”

𝑃𝐴𝑅𝐾 𝑆𝑈𝑁𝐺𝐻𝑂𝑂𝑁

Sunghoon was always over at your house, it's to hang out with your brother ofcourse, but it was too see you too—even if it was a quick glance. Today, he came to your room to “drop something off”, but it was a sad excuse just to see you. After you opened the bedroom door, Sunghoon met you with his beaming grin, “Nice to see you here, i barley see you downstairs, you know?”

You gazed back at the hallway to make sure your brother was nowhere around. “You shouldn't be here, what if jake catches us?”

He gave you a shrug, “C'mon Y/N, it's just a delivery, right?”. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms, you mumble, “yeah sure, 'delivery', right?”

Sunghoon gave you a chuckle, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed you the bag. “It's going to be good, if your brother doesn't catch us, atleast...”

[wooahaeproductions]

Forging the Threads of Time

Professor/Greek God Hephaestus Wonwoo x Reincarnated Female Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, reincarnation au, fantasy au

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: mentions of Greek myths, mentions of death and sickness, kissing, smut (grinding, unprotected sex, sort of sub!Wonwoo, classroom sex, penetrative sex)

Rating: 18+

Summary: Wonwoo never expected to meet the mortal love of his life ever again and you never thought you’d feel so drawn to your welding professor.

Taglist: @black-swan-blog27 @fullmindlady @bbybnnuy

A/N: Well, this certainly was a labor of love and I really wish I'd had the time to expand on this world further but I really hope you enjoy reading this. I was honored to be a co-host of The 13 Gods of Olympus collab with Aeris @beomcoups and write this piece for it.

A big thank you to my beta readers for making sense of this: Jupiter @cheolism, Tara @diamonddaze01, and Haneul @chanranghaeys 💕

Lastly, thank you Sevn @aaagustd for the most beautiful banner. ~Maren

Wonwoo hadn’t been banished to earth for long, a bitter taste left in his mouth after what his mother and supposed wife had done to him. He had taken to frequenting speakeasies, some fancy, some considered a bit dodgy. That didn’t matter when all he was seeking was alcohol to ease the injustice he felt. And that’s when he met you, a bartender at one of the fancier places he had gone to. The first time he sat at your bar, you took one look at him and said, “You look like you could use a strong drink,” and proceeded to pour him a whisky.  He couldn’t explain it, but he felt drawn to you, and when you looked at him, he could tell you felt it too.

From then on, he only frequented your speakeasy. Then he got the courage to ask you on a date. He began to court you. Frequent dates turned into a committed relationship, which turned into the two of you living together, and eventually marrying each other. That day of your marriage was the happiest out of all his lives. He didn’t know how, but being with you healed wounds that Aphrodite, his first wife in Olympus, had left him with. 

For the first and only time, Wonwoo had fallen in love with a mortal. 

And then, you became ill and his new world collapsed.

In the present, Wonwoo tossed and turned under the covers as images playing in his head invaded his sleep, images of you. Images of the first time he met you at the speakeasy, of him seeing you walking down the aisle when you got married, and unfortunately of your last moments in the hospital when your mortality proved itself to be all too real.

He awoke with a start, feeling unsettled. He hadn’t dreamt of you in decades, or at least it felt like decades. He couldn’t be sure since time passed differently for him. You had been mortal but Wonwoo was not. He was immortal; a god. The god Hephaestus to be exact, but he hadn’t gone by that name since the moment his mother banished him.

Wonwoo sighed, flinging an arm over to cover his eyes for a few seconds. He waited in early morning silence before turning over to see the time on his bedside clock. He groaned, realizing it was twenty minutes before his alarm for work sounded. There was no way he was going back to sleep at this point. Pushing the dreams to the back of his mind, he flipped off the covers and begrudgingly rolled out of bed. 

Wonwoo taught welding and metalworking at the local art college, and today was the beginning of the new semester. He had planned to be there early to make sure everything in his classroom was in order, but now he was kind of regretting that decision thanks to his disrupted sleep. 

He got dressed in a nice button-up and some slacks he had set out the night before. If he was a teacher for a more fancy subject like literature or history, he might have worn a suit. That didn’t fit his personality though. Before his banishment, working with metal and fire had been his whole life; it was part of his identity and something he found he didn’t want to change.

He paused in his bathroom long enough to brush his teeth and glance at his reflection in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t too messy before going down the hall to the living room. He grabbed his briefcase of class materials that were left on his desk when he finished planning the semester out last week and grabbed his phone from the charger that was there as well.

Finally, he made his way to the entry of his apartment and grabbed his welding helmet, gloves, and heavy-duty apron from the console table along with his keys before heading out the door. He took a quick glance at the time on his phone before pocketing it. He had plenty of time to grab coffee at the little shop near campus. 

Wonwoo had never been a breakfast person, so it was always a cup of coffee, usually an Americano in the morning. The only exception was the very rare occasion when his friend Mingyu, who happened to be the god Hestia and the owner of a nightclub on Earth, would make him breakfast.

Reaching his truck in the parking lot, Wonwoo unlocked the doors and put all his teaching items in the passenger seat. He then got in the driver’s seat and when he put the key in the ignition, he was met with the classical music he had on when he was last in the car, specifically Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”. He wasn’t much of a music person because it changed so much; He’d rather listen to things that hadn’t changed in the hundreds of years he had been earthbound. 

He pulled out of his parking spot and started to drive toward the coffee shop. Autumn was beginning to edge out the summer, the leaves on trees and bushes near the sidewalks were slowly turning orange and red.  Wonwoo had noticed there was a slight chill in the air that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago. 

It was also Fall when he met you for the first time. Another thing that he chose to try to ignore and force to the depths of his brain, but a clenching in his heart and the feeling of helplessness happened anyway. He continued to stifle it down as he drove.

A quick few minutes later, he was pulling into a parking spot at the cafe. It was a little busier than usual, most likely due to it being the start of the new semester and more students were stopping by to get their caffeinated pick-me-ups. He got out of his truck and walked inside the shop, the door making a ringing sound to indicate a person had come in. 

Wonwoo was very much a regular at the shop and before he could even think about getting in line, one of the baristas held up a to-go cup to indicate his drink was ready for him and set it by the register for when he got to the front of the line. They were moving quickly and it didn’t take long for him to get there. 

“Good Morning, Wonwoo. Here is your Americano,” the girl at the register said as she handed him the drink and punched the correct codes into the register. 

He stuffed a hand in his pocket, producing a five-dollar bill, and handed it to her. He still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of using a plastic card to pay for things. She handed him back his change, which was only a few cents, and he immediately stuck it in the tip jar in front. Despite always using cash, he didn’t like his pockets to jingle. He gave a small wave of thanks and then left the cafe. 

He got back into his truck, setting his coffee down in the cup holder. He glanced at the truck’s console, checking the clock for a third time. By now, it was 7:30 AM and class started in an hour. He had plenty of time to get ready for class. He pulled out of the cafe’s parking lot and drove only a few streets over to where the college campus was located. The welding department was toward the back of campus and had its own little lot for parking with only a short walk to all the classrooms.

Getting out of the car, Wonwoo grabbed his coffee from the cup holder and set it on the roof of his truck. He reached back through the car, putting all the things he sat in the passenger seat earlier this morning in his arms before shutting the car door with his hip and grabbing his coffee cup once more. 

Wonwoo walked to his classroom door and realized he didn’t have enough hands to pull the door key out of his pocket. He gave an exasperated sigh, setting the coffee cup on the ground just enough out of the way of the door so that he could get the keys out to unlock it. He unlocked the door and flung it open, his leg keeping it open long enough for him to slip the keys back into his pocket and get his abandoned coffee before it slammed shut behind him.

It was dark, the only light coming from the two windows in the front. Since he had no available hands to turn on the light switch, Wonwoo slowly made his way to his desk in the half-light and unloaded everything he had in his arms. He walked back over near the door and flipped the lights on, making himself squint slightly from the sudden light. Back at his desk, he finished off what was left of his coffee and went to work getting his classroom ready for the students who would arrive shortly. 

Eventually, all the student desks had been set up with the supplies the school provided for each student, although today was mostly going to just be for talking about the class expectations. Wonwoo had planned to give them a small demonstration of what they would end up learning and had his own welding desk set up with a few metal sheets that he would weld together. They would use that process to make whatever project they picked out to make during the semester.

Wonwoo stood up from his desk and students started to trickle in, a stack of paper syllabi in his hands. He was old school in that way and he had printed them the night before and put them in his briefcase. As each student sat down, he set a syllabus on the desk in front of them. He had developed a bit of rhythm, that is until he saw you walk in the classroom and he came to a dead stop. There was no doubt in his mind who you were, you even looked identical despite wearing modern clothing. First, the dreams from this morning and now this. What sort of sick plan did fate have?

You walked into the welding classroom, your first class of the day. You weren’t even sure why you signed up for the class but it was a good elective to take, and maybe it might even turn out to be a fun one. As you made your way to a desk, you felt as if there were eyes on you. It didn’t feel uncomfortable though, like when you could tell a man was ogling you. You sat down at a desk and looked up to the front, finding who you assumed to be the teacher, frozen with papers in his hands and staring. His were the eyes that were staring at you, almost like they were trying to burn a hole through your body. Your eyes eventually met with his and unexpectedly, you couldn’t look away either. What was this sudden warm and magnetic feeling?  

Finally, he looked away and it felt like someone had snapped a chord. It felt like you had been in a trance of sorts, and you hoped only a few minutes had passed. You put your school bag and materials for the class on the floor next to you and turned your focus on the syllabus that had been sitting on your desk while the rest of the students filled the classroom. Once the teacher, Mr. Jeon or Wonwoo, as he introduced himself as later, felt everyone had shown up for class, he started explaining the syllabus and demonstrating some of the things you would learn with him that semester including stick welding, which was the main type you’d be using for the project listed in the syllabus. 

You kept stealing glances at the man, noticing how handsome he was. He was built, not in a bodybuilder way, but in a way you could tell had honed over time due to his metal working. Yet at the same time, he gave off a bookish aura when he occasionally slipped the pair of glasses he had sitting at his desk on. All the while you could not shake the feeling that he was familiar to you, that he was someone to you. You weren’t sure what it was, but you didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing.

You left the class an hour later, still feeling bewildered. For the rest of the day, your thoughts were filled with him and who he could be. Did you know him as a child? Was this a deja vu situation? Or was this even deeper, like knowing him from a past life or something like that? You didn’t like this not knowing, so you decided there was really only one way to figure out what this was. You needed to get to know him. More precisely, you needed to ask him on a date. Sure, he was a teacher and that was generally taboo territory even if you were both adults but you needed to know what this feeling was, who he was.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo was apprehensive and questioned lots of things after class had ended. Was it actually you? It certainly felt like you. Just like the dream he had early that morning, he found himself wary of the timing. Why was the universe putting you here and now after all that time? Wonwoo knew what happened before. He didn’t think he could take it if he lost you the same way again. He nearly lost himself before and he couldn’t even fathom what it would be like if the same thing were to happen for a second time. So just like that, Wonwoo made up his mind. No matter how strong the connection felt between you two, he was determined to keep you at arm’s length.

A week or so had passed and to Wonwoo’s annoyance, the feeling had not gone away at all. In fact, he felt it was stronger. The more he tried to resist your stares and signs of flirting, the stronger the pull felt. He felt surges of electricity when your hands brushed against each other when he gave you handouts. He knew you purposely would ask for help when you were practicing welding techniques, just so that the two of you could have the slightest contact even though he knew darn well you didn’t need help at all. Wonwoo hated it. He wanted you so bad but at the same time, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

You didn’t understand. 

You were pulling all the subtle advances you could think of without blatant flirting and your teacher would not budge. You could tell he felt the same things you did, the same charge when you touched. There was a familiar warmth and comfort when you felt his arms against your back while helping you weld, something that felt like love but there was no way you could feel that way this soon, right?  

You had already decided to ask him out eventually, but you were hoping you could get him to warm up to you first so that it would be simple for him to say “yes” or perhaps even to ask you out instead. It seemed he wasn’t going to make it easy on you, hesitating for whatever reason unknown to you. You made the official decision, you would ask him out. Today.

You purposely waited until all the other students had left the classroom, putting your materials away slowly at your desk and in your book bag. Wonwoo had returned to sit at his desk, also cleaning up materials from today’s class. Once all the others were gone, you made your way to the front and stood in front of his desk. He didn’t look up for what felt like ten minutes but it was probably only a few. He was ignoring you, whether it was on purpose or not you didn’t know. 

When Wonwoo finally did look up he asked, “Is there something else I can help you with Y/N?”

“Yeah, you can help me by going on a date with me,” you said boldly and matter-of-factly. 

Wonwoo let out an audible sigh and rubbed at his face in unease. “Y/N, I’m your teacher,” he responded, using a more valid reason to refuse you instead of just his feelings. 

“I know. It’s frowned upon, sure, but it’s not against the rules. I’ve never been one to shy away from taking risks. So let’s go on a date,” you persuaded. 

“No.” Wonwoo definitely was not going to make this simple. 

You scoffed. “Fine, but I’ll just ask you again until you agree to it.” Then you walked out of the classroom, leaving Wonwoo with a slight scowl on his face. There was no way you were going to give up that quickly. You needed to know what this was.

Over the next three days, you asked him out after class again and again, his answer always being a firm “no”. Wonwoo was determined not to let heartbreak and the complete destruction of his supposedly safer world happen again, even if that meant a mild version of it now from rejecting you so many times. To him, that would be a gentle pain compared to being together and losing you for a second time. And that was much more acceptable in his eyes.

On day four, Wonwoo was prepared with his repeated answer. Except you had a different question this time.

“Can I just ask why?” you asked, standing up at your desk before leaving class. “We both know the fact that you are my teacher isn’t the real reason.” You sounded a bit exasperated now, you had never been rejected this many times.

Wonwoo contemplated, coming to stand closer to you, almost nose to nose before he said, ”I’m not sure you would believe my real reason.”

“Try me,” you challenged, the now normal charge pulsing between you two.

Wonwoo gave you a hard stare. Maybe if he did tell you, you’d think he was insane and you would finally give up. “I’m not human,” he said simply.

You squinted at him. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“I’m not a human. I’m a God. They called me Hephaestus,” Wonwoo said, wincing a bit as he spoke his previous name. To his surprise, you didn’t call him crazy. He watched as the wheels in your mind turned.

You didn’t know if you believed him, but you didn’t exactly think he was lying either. You gave a small laugh thinking of how ironic it was for him to be a welding teacher. 

“See. You think I’m nuts,” he said, misunderstanding your giggle.

“No, no, actually I’m pretty sure I believe you. But you being a god doesn’t deter me. In fact, it makes me more interested. There’s no way you just being a god or whatever is what is making me feel like I belong with you, like I need to be with you,” you clarified.

Wonwoo’s eyes widened a bit. He knew what he felt with you and he knew it was possible that you had too, but maybe not the magnitude of it. “You’re her reincarnation. She’s you. You’re her,” he said, softly. A note of sadness seeped through his words now. 

“Who?” you asked, needing to know more. 

“The only true love I ever had. After I was kicked out of Olympus and sent to Earth by my mother.” 

Now you thought you got it. The reason you had all these unexplainable feelings, why you felt like you knew Wonwoo already, why you felt so connected to him. It was because you did know him, albeit in a different lifetime. You had been with him, you had loved him and he had definitely loved you. But there was still something you didn’t get. Why wouldn’t he want to be with you again then?

“There’s still something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?” you questioned.

Wonwoo looked down at his feet and you barely made out the words that he responded with. “You were sick. You died.” 

Your heart dropped and you felt a piece was broken, for him and for your previous self. But you were a new person now, it might not end that way with you. Next thing you knew, you were closing the space between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. He backed up, trying not to give in to you but all that resulted in was you pinning him against the classroom wall. 

At first, he just stood there, frozen. However, he could no longer deny his body’s chemistry with yours and in a split second decided he no longer wanted to fight it. He kissed you back and somehow the entire universe felt like it had been righted after so long. Suddenly, he didn’t care that his heart could break again and never be repaired. Kissing you, touching you made it feel like that could never happen to him again.

Since he seemed to reciprocate your advances now, you moved your arms from caging him against the wall and instead ran your fingertips underneath his shirt, just at the edge of his slacks. Even touching his skin felt right and familiar to you. There really was this unparalleled feeling that was felt with nobody else but him. Despite being annoyed with him previously, you felt his devotion to the you from before and wanted to take your time with him.

You slowly pulled his shirt over his head, taking it off and revealing the abs you knew were under it. You knew they were there, yet you still gasped at how lovely they looked. Wonwoo reached forward and pulled your shirt off as well, leaving you in your bra. Soon both of your pants and undergarments had been taken off, the two of you completely exposed in the classroom. 

Wonwoo ran his hands along various parts of your skin, igniting that ever-present electricity. He pushed you against the edge of his desk as his exposed length rubbed against you, making you wetter by the second. 

You took back control, pulling his arm to make him sit in the chair behind the desk. He looked up at you, his face full of adoration as you moved to straddle him. You started slowly, gradually grinding against him, wanting to show him a more gentle side. 

“Fuck.” He let out the word in a deep breath as you continued to grind your slit against him. The word seared straight to your core and you needed him in you now. 

“Wonwoo, I need to ride you,” you whined, calling him by his first name. He nodded and let you gradually sink onto him, taking your hips into his warm, large hands once you bottomed out. A moment later, you had adjusted to his size and you began moving your hips which elicited a hiss from Wonwoo. 

You glanced at him, making sure this was okay. “It’s okay, it feels really good,” He confirmed, encouraging you to keep moving. 

You picked up the rhythm, creating a steady pace as you rode him in the chair. Both of your voices echoed in the classroom, moans confirming your pleasure and you were so glad he didn’t have any classes after yours.

Wonwoo’s hips began to stutter and the moans he was letting out before were turning into whimpers. You were sure he was getting close to a release. Then you shifted in his lap just slightly so that he was hitting that particular spot within you. “Y/N, I’m gonna…” He whispered.

“Me too,” you responded. As soon as you spoke those words, his hips stilled and ropes of his cum painted your insides. He leaned forward to kiss you while his length continued to jerk. The force of his orgasm led you to your own, one so intense it left you weak in the knees and lightheaded. You ended up slightly limp in his lap, resting your head on his broad shoulder. 

You didn’t remember him pulling out or moving you to sit in his lap like a little kid. A minute or two later, the post-orgasm haze had worn off and you felt like you needed to say something. “I know we are connected and I kind of pushed you into kissing me first. I know I’m supposed to be a reincarnation of your true love but I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you said, rambling in a little embarrassment and a small bit of guilt for pulling Wonwoo further into this whole thing. 

“So you regret it?” Wonwoo asked, a strange deadpan tone to his voice and he moved his hands that were just cradling the small of your back. He just made the choice to move ahead with you and now you were already regretting it?

“No, No. I didn’t mean that. I regret nothing. Do you?” You asked with a raised eyebrow at his reaction. It sounded like he was finally letting himself be free from what was holding him back from you. You didn’t mean for it to sound like you didn’t want everything you just did.

Eventually, he answered. “No, I don’t,” he said with a bit of a chuckle and kissed you on the forehead before you got up from his lap. 

You smiled at him cheekily then. “Good.”

What’s the worst that could happen? Well, Wonwoo already knew the worst thing that could but maybe, just maybe fate wouldn’t be cruel and this time might end differently. He decided he would take that chance with you.

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