#you have no idea how I needed it ;_; thank youuuu

[xo100]

Coming home - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: by anon; ‘y/n drunk in a club and calling lando to pick her up 🙈 him being patient and gentle 🫶🏼 thank you!!!’

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2214

୨ৎ

It had been a quiet evening for Lando Norris. The kind of evening he loved, where the house was filled with the gentle hum of the TV, and the warmth of home comforted him after a long day. He’d spent most of his time winding down, his thoughts often drifting to his girlfriend, who had texted him earlier in the day, saying she’d be out with friends tonight.

“You have fun,” he had told her with a smile before she left, his hands gently resting on her hips as he gave her a kiss goodbye.

She never went out too often—mostly a homebody unlike him—so he had encouraged her to enjoy herself, to have a night of fun and laughter, with drinks if she felt like it. He knew she didn’t really drink much, maybe a cocktail here or there, but nothing excessive. She had always been mindful, careful, but tonight seemed a little different.

-

It was around midnight when Lando's phone buzzed.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He figured it would be one of those casual updates, maybe a quick check-in to let him know she was alright. But when he glanced at the screen, the sight of her name at the top of the message thread made him pause, and the message itself made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I’msogldmkgoig,” the text read. He blinked, squinting at the screen.

Lando tilted his head, trying to decipher the meaning of the garbled message. Was she typing in some kind of code? Then it hit him—a small smile tugged at his lips. She was drunk. Really drunk.

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, he swiped open his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen.

“Hey, you okay? Need me to pick you up?”

It took a minute or two for a response to come in, and when it did, it was no clearer than the first.

“nnoOOO immmmperf!!! ssssgood igot this!!! 😊😊😊”

Lando laughed under his breath, a fond smile settling on his face. He could just imagine her sitting at a table with her friends, holding her phone up way too close to her face, squinting at the keyboard as she tried to string a sentence together. She always got flustered when her texts came out wrong, even more so when she had a bit too much to drink.

He tried calling her, but it rang for a moment before she declined it. Another message popped up.

“ssorryyyyy busyy having fun witt gurls!! 🎉🍹”

Lando raised an eyebrow. He knew her friends, and he had no doubt they were looking after her, but it was clear she was teetering on the edge of tipsy and downright hammered.

A part of him wanted to laugh at the situation, but the protective part of him nudged forward. He’d rather her be home and safe than out and struggling to figure out how to text properly.

After sending her another message asking if she needed help, he waited, watching the dots of her typing bubble appear and disappear before another string of incomprehensible words filled the chat.

Then, finally, she called him.

Her name flashed across the screen, and Lando answered quickly.

“Hiiiii,” she sang into the phone, her voice bright but undeniably slurred.

“Hey, love,” Lando said softly, leaning back on the couch, the smile in his voice impossible to miss. “You doing okay over there?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, a bit of shuffling and background noise as her friends laughed and chatted around her. “Mmmm, I think soooo,” she said, dragging out the words. “But Landoooo, guess what?”

“What?” Lando humored her, knowing she probably had no idea where this conversation was going.

“I miss youuuu,” she said with a giggle, her voice softening with an endearing whine. “Like, really, really miss you.”

Lando’s heart did a little flip, warmth spreading in his chest. “I miss you too,” he replied, his voice dropping into that gentle, affectionate tone he used whenever they were being sweet with each other. “How about I come pick you up, hmm? I think it’s time to get you home.”

There was another pause, and he could hear the muffled sound of her friends in the background again, likely checking in on her. Then she whispered into the phone, as if telling him the world’s biggest secret, “Okay… but don’t tell anyone… I’m a little drunk.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You don’t say.”

“But I’m not… that drunk,” she continued, her words tumbling over each other. “Just… a little.”

“Sure, babe,” Lando said playfully, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there in a bit, alright? Stay with your friends. I’m on my way.”

“‘Kayyy,” she sighed, clearly relieved. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best,” she whispered, her voice filled with a drunken sincerity that made Lando’s chest tighten in the best way.

He grinned, shaking his head again as he headed out the door. “You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

-

The drive to the bar wasn’t long. Lando had been there with her and her friends before, and he knew the route by heart. As he pulled up, his eyes immediately scanned the front of the building, and sure enough, he spotted her standing with a few of her friends near the curb, her posture relaxed but a little wobbly. She was laughing at something one of them had said, her phone clutched in one hand, her jacket loosely draped over her shoulders.

Lando parked and stepped out of the car, his eyes softening as they landed on her. She looked up and saw him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart skip. She immediately broke into a wide, tipsy grin, her eyes sparkling as she waved enthusiastically.

“Landooo!” she called, drawing out his name in that adorable, exaggerated way she always did when she was happy to see him.

He chuckled, making his way over to her, his hands slipping into his pockets as he approached. “Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing.

She stumbled slightly as she moved toward him, but he was quick to catch her, his hands gently wrapping around her waist to steady her. “Careful, love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Her arms looped around his neck as she looked up at him, her eyes a little glassy but full of affection. “You came,” she said, her voice softer now, as if the reality of him being there had just hit her.

“Of course I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here drunk and texting me gibberish all night.”

She giggled, her cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t texting gibberish!”

Lando raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone and holding up her messages for her to see. “You sure about that?”

She squinted at the screen, her face scrunching up in concentration before she groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Okay, maybe a little gibberish,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. “But I was having funnn,” she whined, though the smile tugging at her lips told him she was more than happy to go with him.

“I’m sure you were,” Lando said with a smirk. “But you’ll have more fun when you’re not regretting all those drinks tomorrow.”

She pouted up at him for a moment before her expression softened, her hand coming up to gently cup his cheek. “You’re so good to me,” she whispered, her voice carrying that drunken tenderness again.

Lando’s heart melted at her words, and he leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips brushing against hers with all the love and patience in the world. “Only because you’re worth it,” he murmured against her lips before pulling back slightly. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

-

The drive home was quiet, her head resting against the window as the streetlights flickered by. Every now and then, she’d glance over at him, her eyes soft and full of affection. He’d catch her staring and smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in soothing circles.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando laughed softly. “Am I?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned back into the seat. “Really, really cute.”

He shook his head, the fondness in his chest swelling as he stole a glance at her. “You’re something else.”

By the time they got home, she was half-asleep, her body heavy with the exhaustion that always seemed to follow a night of drinking. Lando parked the car and got out, walking over to her side and opening the door. She stirred slightly, her eyes blinking open as he reached out a hand to help her up.

“You okay to walk?” he asked gently.

She nodded, though her movements were slow and sleepy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her out of the car as she leaned into him for support. Her head rested against his shoulder, and a small, content sigh escaped her lips as they made their way toward the house.

Lando unlocked the door and led her inside, his grip gentle but firm. She stumbled a little on her way through the doorway, giggling at her own clumsiness.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor,” she slurred playfully, looking up at him with a soft smile as they stood in the entryway. “Except you drive a McLaren instead of a horse.”

Lando chuckled, rolling his eyes in amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She nodded, her head resting back on his shoulder as they made their way down the hallway to their bedroom. “It’s totally a compliment,” she mumbled, her voice getting quieter with each word. “You’re perfect.”

They reached the bed, and Lando helped her sit down, carefully slipping off her shoes. “Alright, love,” he said softly, “let's get you into something more comfortable.”

She whined in protest, her arms going limp as she dramatically fell back onto the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge. “But I’m already sooo comfy,” she groaned.

Lando smirked, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered affectionately as he knelt down to take her shoes off. Then he stood, heading to the closet to grab one of his oversized hoodies—one she always liked to wear—and brought it back to her.

With a bit of gentle coaxing, he helped her change out of her clothes, into the soft hoodie that smelled faintly of him. She sighed in contentment, snuggling into the fabric as soon as it was on.

“There you go,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. “All cozy.”

She smiled sleepily at him, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The words came out soft and vulnerable, almost like a confession. Even though she was drunk, there was a deep sincerity in her voice that made his heart ache in the best way. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers.

“I love you too” he murmured, his voice filled with all the affection he’d been holding onto since the moment she had called him. “So much.”

She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she mumbled, her words slurring together as sleep started to claim her.

Lando stayed there for a moment, just watching her, his heart swelling with warmth. He could see the way her breathing slowed, her body relaxing completely as she drifted off to sleep. Even in her drunken state, she was still the girl he adored—the one who made him laugh, who always knew how to make him smile, and who filled his life with more joy than he ever thought possible.

He stood up slowly, making sure she was tucked in before he changed into his own clothes for the night. Sliding into bed next to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She instinctively moved toward him, her body curling into his as she sighed in contentment.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

And as she slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile, his heart full. Because nights like this—where he could be there for her, take care of her, and remind her just how much he loved her—were the ones that made everything worth it.

She might have been a little too drunk tonight, but to Lando, she was perfect in every way. And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet comfort of their home, he knew he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; Hey anon! I hope you enjoyed it and that this was what you had in mind! If not let me know so I can change things! Enjoy it, love! I’m also currently working on part 3 of baking cookies, coming online soon!

[astraystayyh]

this is me reading btw if u wanted to know I LOVE UUUUUUUUUU I LOVE USER FELIXSBAKINGBUD I LOVE THEM 💓💘💗💘💗💘💗💘💗💗💘💗💘

Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess; i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter ii. to remember

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader.

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. allusion to mc having a bad family history with alcohol. suggestive in the end (allusion to sex but no smut). reader had she/her pronouns.

word count : 11k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me/already gone/enough.

chapter i. skz quotes series masterlist.

A.N: PT. 2 IS HERE!!!! i hope you'll enjoy this one, she's my baby and i put so much work and thought into her, so feedback is highly highly appreciated!!! thank you to my @forlix for being with me every step of this journey, i love u the most<33

Day 33. 

With a gentle, absentminded sweep, your fingers trace the delicate contours of your wrist, a faint dance with the pulse beneath your skin– the cocoon of the soul you’re gradually growing accustomed to. It is a trying task, you've found out, to no longer yearn to flee from your body, leaving the weight of your worries for your bones and flesh alone to bear. 

A subtle fragrance floats in the air surrounding you- the familiar gardenia and honey tones of your sweet perfume. It is a scent you reserve for special occasions, such as this one- your first date, in three months according to the world, in more than a year for your memory. 

You swiftly retrieve a mirror from your pouch, checking your appearance for the tenth time in mere minutes. Your nude lipstick is still, unsurprisingly, in place, and you smile reassuringly at your reflection. She smiles back, though sometimes you half-expect her not to. In defiance, perhaps, maybe even repulse. 

The melodious chime of the café's bell captures your attention, and the man you've been awaiting finally enters. He confidently strides in, clad in a blue polo and black slacks, an evident effort poured into his appearance. 

Standing before you, his warm, gleaming eyes meet yours, effortlessly melting your lingering worries. You smile at him, he beams at you. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” Changbin, your date, asks as he pulls the chair adjacent to you. 

“No, just in time.”

Two weeks ago. 

Day 17. 

“Use me. Use me to remember,” Minho whispers, the distance between your lips resembling the thin edge of a blade. 

You close your eyes, the world narrowing down to the sound of your heartbeat, a rhythmic drum drowning out any attempt at coherent thoughts. Kiss him, your heart chants, kiss him and all your memories will flood back. But what if they don't? What if the abyss persists before the brightest beam of light?

A tender kiss lands on your forehead, gently interrupting your tumultuous thoughts. Minho’s lips are as warm, as soft as you remember them. They're now imprinted into your skin, no longer a hazy memory beyond your reach.

His hands cradle your hair, smoothing it down, making the ringing in your ears soften. You surrender to his gentle embrace, to the soft tide of emotions rippling from him to you, pulling your wounded soul to safe shores. 

“You need to forgive yourself,” he whispers, his words echoing against your skin, lips still pressed to your forehead. A rush of warmth overwhelms you, all your senses coming to life, ringing the alarm- he sees you, he sees through you.

“None of this is your fault,” he assures, a sudden cooling balm against your scorching wounds. These are the words you've been aching to hear. You didn't know, but Minho did, reading between the lines of your quivering lips and your reluctance to look into his eyes. 

He knows you better than you know yourself. 

“Don’t blame yourself, please.”

“But all I do is hurt people,” you confess, tears streaming down your face like a relentless downpour, soaking Minho's hands. 

You expect punishment to strike you, bolting lighting aiming straight for your heart as you finally admit to your biggest sin- the shadow of sorrow that trails your every step. It is the way it has always been since you were a child. It is what you fled from. 

What you don't expect is for tenderness to cradle you instead— in Minho's warm hand as he gently guides you to his chest, your ear resting above his steady heartbeat. Its rhythmic cadence akin to a lullaby- you shouldn't apologize for existing, you hear it sing to you. 

“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. you’re forgiven, okay? I forgive you. Today and tomorrow. I'll forgive you until you'll forgive yourself.” 

“Okay,” you nod, muffled words against the fabric of his shirt.

“Now, will you please come back with me? The cats will miss you a lot if you don’t,” he suggests, pressing his cheek onto the crown of your head. 

“I don't want to leave them,” you reply in a small voice, dewdrops gathering in your eyes at the thought of running again. 

“You don’t have to. It’s your home too.”

“Okay,” you sigh in acceptance, relief, encircling his waist with your arms. He is all inviting, like an open book, and you're resting between his pages, scribbled with love confessions for you. 

The world stills, waves slowing their relentless crash against the shore, as you draw in a deep breath from the pits of your soul. You don't remember all you’ve once felt for Minho. But you know it must have been safe, like stumbling upon a haven and then learning it was specially carved for you. 

“I miss you, Minho.”

“I know, I miss you too.”

Day 19. 

“Minho, can you come to the kitchen please?” your voice reverberates through the house, weaving through the air and reaching the bedroom where Minho has been ensnared, his less-than-graceful complaints echoing loudly for the past hour. You had sealed him within without explanation, only making him promise not to leave the room until you told him to, much to his dismay, and deep down, amusement. 

He chuckles lowly to himself as he rises from the bed, before making his way to the kitchen. There, he finds you near the doorway, hands concealed behind your back, dusty flour adorning your cheek like an artist’s absentminded paint stroke.  

“So…,” you trail off and Minho smiles, crossing his arms before his chest.  

“So?”

“A situation may have happened.” 

“Which situation?” he inquires amusedly, attempting to peer past you into the kitchen. Your extended arms block his view.

“You know how I got a concussion from the car accident,” you ask. 

“I do.”

“I think it may have affected my cooking abilities.”

“But you didn't have any to begin with?” he muses, tilting his head to the side innocently. 

“Shut up,” you playfully admonish before clasping your hands in a silent plea. “Will you help me?” 

“Mm, what are you making?” he inquires, leaning against the doorway.

“Pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“For you.”

“Oh.” 

A blush creeps up Minho’s neck as he grapples to find a reply, his surprised gasp hanging into the air. You giggle faintly, entertained by his sudden speech impairment. 

In response, Minho takes a step forward, delicately brushing away the flour on your cheek, his thumb hovering near the corner of your mouth. “How did this get here?”

“Huh?” you sputter, pink splashing across your cheeks like spilled Rosé. 

Minho is testing your waters, dipping one toe in, hoping he’ll find your reassuring embrace lurking beneath the surface. Did you blush from the heat of the stove or his touch? Minho doesn’t know. Minho needs to find out. 

“And you also forgot this,” he lightly pouts, reaching over your head to the hanger behind you, caging you between his arms. 

He’s sacrificing his heart, placing it on the frontlines of hurt once again. Yet, when you look up at him, dewy eyes flickering to his lips, Minho feels a single match lighten up in his core, not enough to burn all his doubts. But enough to signal hope. 

Hope is a perilous possession, akin to cradling a fragile glass that threatens to shatter at the slightest tremor. Hope is the only thread Minho can now hang onto. 

“You forgot your apron,” he finally says, withdrawing two aprons from the hanger. He drapes one over your head before placing a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you around. He silently ties the strings into a ribbon, his fingers brushing against your spine. He can distinctly remember the feel of your bare skin beneath his fingertips, silky, smooth, intoxicating. 

“There, a pretty knot,” he whispers, not moving back an inch, waiting for you to swivel around. Yet, you remain silent, undoing your hair from its loose ponytail. Your hair cascades over your shoulders, resembling the unveiling of curtains, and Minho senses something unfurling in the depths of his stomach.

“Tie it for me?” you whisper, handing him the hair tie without looking back. Your fingertips brush against each other, and Minho inhales deeply.

“Sure,” he says, voice thick with emotion, he needs to drink water. He needs to drink you in. 

He gathers your hair strands in another low ponytail, trembling hands as they brush against the nape of your neck, akin to powerless leaves before the autumn breeze. He’s close, so close to you, so much his chest almost brushes against your back. 

As soon as he’s done, Minho swiftly steps back before doing something he’ll surely regret, like placing a tender kiss on your shoulder, or worse, confessing that he misses the simple act of brushing your hair at night. 

“So, pudding,” he clears his throat, rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. your eyes follow his movement, lingering on the veins protruding on his forearms. Minho feels a bit foolish for wanting to flex for you. 

“It’s really easy actually. bring me two eggs?” 

“Sure,” you grin, heading for the fridge as Minho retrieves sugar from the cupboard, throwing away the odd liquid mixture you managed to conjure. 

You stand beside Minho, eyebrows furrowed as he explains why the milk needs to be brought to a boil before adding the cornstarch, or how adding the vanilla at the very end will help preserve its flavor. You listen intently, nodding along, and the tension between you dispels, leaving place for something comforting, familiar– you’re erasing the remnants of his sobs, the sight of him crumbling over the green kitchen tiles. 

“Let's leave it to chill,” he finally says, closing the fridge’s door. 

“Okay,” you nod, packing away the butter. Minho leans against the countertop, an ember of curiosity ablaze at the tip of his tongue

“Why did you want to make pudding?” he asks and you freeze in place. 

“To see if I’m capable of not being a lost cause,” you respond playfully but the undertones of your voice indicate otherwise- laden, charged. One more match that you could light up? 

“Really?” he says softly, taking one step toward you. 

“No,” you giggle faintly and he nods, a gentle smile unfurling on his face, gradual as the eclipse of a moon.

“It was supposed to be your birthday gift. That's why I locked you in the room. I even bought little birthday hats for the cats, silly I know, and very late, but, turns out I’m a horrible-” 

“I wanna see the birthday hats,” he cuts you off.

“Really? They’re really ugly.” 

“It's my birthday gift, right?”

Five minutes later, you and Minho are seated on the floor, legs crisscrossed, three perplexed cats before you, and on their heads, obnoxiously neon green hats.

“They look so…” you tilt your head, assessing the view before you. 

“Stupid?” Minho suggests, eliciting a startled snort from you that swiftly transforms into an almost maniac cackle, which in turn, catches Minho off guard. He gazes at you bewilderedly before succumbing to a fit of giggles, which intensifies your laughter, as you punctuate his shoulder with light hits, tears streaming down your face in an attempt to regain composure.

One hundred matches light up in Minho’s heart at the sight, all at once.

“My God, they look so stupid, I’m so sorry,” you laugh harder, your body collapsing to the ground, hands tightly clutching your stomach. 

They can laugh again, the house sighs in relief, something other than sobs can still echo within my walls. 

Day 22. 

“I miss the sea,” you sigh softly, cradling a cup of chamomile tea between your hands. Minho, absorbed in his book, glances up to find a melancholic expression etched on your face—a poignant blend of sorrow and longing that he knows weighs heavy on your heart. 

“We saw it over at the bridge, no?” he ventures tentatively, setting the book aside on the living room table.

“Yes, but I miss the sand, and the waves lapping at my feet. I miss feeling the sea, not just seeing it.” 

“I’d take you, in a heartbeat,” he says assuredly, ready to bring you the moon if only you dare ask. “But it's far, and you can't get into a car.” 

“I can try.” 

“You can?” he questions, hope budding in his eyes.

“I mean- I want to, it's just… I don't know,” you retract, nails drumming anxiously against your cup, gaze lost into the amber liquid.  

“Talk to me, yeah?” he smiles softly, draping a reassuring hand on your arm. His thumb swipes across the slate of your shoulder, and an impossible knot in your throat untangles. 

“The accident took a lot from me. My health, my memories, a year of moving forward.” You quiet down, eyes meeting his in a barely veiled vulnerability. Silence speaks of your hardest loss— him. 

“Can you help me get the sea back?”

Minho’s radiant smile is louder than any spoken agreement.

…

Thread by thread, drop by drop, your fears unravel as Minho lowers all the car windows’ before gently guiding you into the car seat, dispelling any prospect of feeling confined within the vehicle. 

He remembers everything, even the panic that gripped your being when you went into his enclosed car, nearly a month ago. 

“Can I blindfold you? It might help, so you wouldn't see the car lights since it’s night,” he suggests.

“Yeah, that'd be nice,” you agree, your hand lightly gripping the car seat.

“Hey, hey,” he calls out gently, “I'm here, okay? The second you feel overwhelmed I'm stopping this car.”

“Will you drive safely?” 

“Of course. I promise you.” 

Your nod is met with the softening of Minho's eyes, as he delicately tucks a strand of your hair behind the curve of your ear. 

“I'm proud of you,” he whispers, tone laden with so much tenderness, love, that your throat becomes a garden, vocal cords bound not by thorns but the delicate blossoming of flowers. 

With a gentle touch, Minho wraps a tie around your eyes, cocooning you in a tranquil darkness. His hand seeks yours instinctively, fingers intertwining with yours akin to the wind weaving through the strands of your hair.

In this moment, every fracture within you is delicately filled by Minho.

He starts driving, a soothing piano instrumental playing out of the car’s speakers- his hand still in yours. “Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a soothing path across your palm. 

“Follow my touch.” A gentle sweep to the right, an invitation to inhale slowly. “In,” his voice guides, and you draw in a deep breath.

Another caress to the left, a silent directive to release your confined breath. “Out,” he whispers, and you exhale, surrendering to the rhythm orchestrated by his thumb.

He raises the music’s volume, his touch becoming a maestro, speaking silently to you. You’re grateful for it, for the way in which he’s driving- avoiding curbs and speeding, safely, making the wheels float across the road. 

Your heart still constricts in your chest, anxiety squeezing your veins, bleeding them dry, but you focus on Minho’s thumb, you let it guide you, like a compass navigating the dark tunnels of your heart. 

“We're almost there,” he reassures as he stops by a red light. 

“I look silly, right?” you reply, giggling a bit. 

“What?” he asks, confused. 

“I can feel you looking,” you clarify. 

“How so?”

“My right cheek is tingling.” 

Minho snorts incredulously. “What does that even mean?”

“You have a piercing stare. You're like melting through my skin and vibrating my bones.”

“Idiot,” he chuckles. My my my idiot, Minho grieves to say once again. The human heart is peculiar, he learns day after day, mourning the loss of a myriad of minuscule things, even words. 

“And, you don't look silly,” he clears his throat minutes later, as he finally parks by the beach.  

“You look pretty,” he utters, unraveling your blindfold, and you blink, caught between the sudden light and the weight of his words. “You always do,” he concludes, a whispered confession that lingers like the afterglow of a sunset, painting your world in golden hues.

“Minho, I…” you trail off, eyes landing on the vast sea ahead, blending into the sky in an alluring shade of turquoise. “We're here!” you shout bewildered, a magnificent grin on your face. 

“We are,” Minho smiles, drinking in the delight in your expression. 

“Oh my god I missed the sea!” you giggle as you undo your seatbelt, quickly opening the car’s door and taking off running. 

Minho follows closely behind, captivated, as he watches you glide across the shore, the sand ricocheting off the soles of your shoes. You look like a fairy, bending the wind to your will, coaxing it into a choreography that mirrors the rhythm of your movements, your messy footprints marking your pathway to happiness once again. 

Upon the sand, you finally settle down, and Minho walks over, sitting beside you. Both of you quietly gaze ahead, entranced by the moon's silver glow caressing the water’s surface. Each shimmering wave resembles glistening diamonds, a celestial mirror reflecting the lights in the sky.

“Have I ever told you why I love the sea?” you speak after a while, tone softer, more content. 

“You did.” 

“Can I tell you again?” you say. Can I tell you what I still remember? He understands. 

“Of course.” 

"There was a beach near our home, back then," you reminisce, a nostalgic aura enveloping your words. “And whenever I felt lonely I used to go there and watch the waves, to calm me down. But, one time, I was really overwhelmed so I ended up crying. And then, coincidentally, it started raining too.” 

Your eyes widen slightly, a hint of amusement in your voice. “At that moment, I chuckled at the timing, how the sky was crying with me.”

“Ever since that day, I liked to believe that the sea is made up of the sky’s tears, the ones that fell in sync with those of humans, so it'd comfort us. And the tears grew from a pond to a river, to a vast ocean, as humans cried more and more. That's why sometimes the sea’s waters are gentle because those are tears of happiness falling somewhere. Sometimes they're stormy, since someone is crying out of anger. Sometimes they're melancholic, just relentlessly crashing against the shore, because someone is in pain. Like we are.”

A tranquil hush falls over the night as you quiet down, before turning around to meet Minho’s teary eyes, mirroring yours.

“And if the sea persists through tempests and tranquility, if it goes on despite the myriad of emotions it holds within, then so will we.”

Hope isn't fragile, as Minho once believed. Hope scrapes its bloody palms against the rough surface as it climbs defiantly to the pinnacle once again. Hope picks out rugged stones with weathered hands and builds a home out of them. Hope is strong, it clutches onto the thinnest threads so we’d endure and endure once more. As many times as we need to. 

“Well, the sky isn't crying right now,” Minho notes.

“I know,” you smile softly, “Because we're holding on to hope.” 

Day 26. 

Under the soft glow of the TV, Dori settles comfortably on your shoulders, nuzzling her tiny nose onto your face every now and then. Soonie and Doongie are a bit far away, playing with a piece of yarn, captivated by its vibrant red threads. 

It is an ordinary, comforting setting to watch a movie with Minho, on a Sunday night, a bowl of popcorn nestled on his lap while his cats lounge around. So familiar that the world around you blurs, like the vague brushes of an impressionist painting— a vivid déjà-vu sensation clinging to your body. You’ve lived this scene before. You want to live it again, now and in the future. More and more. 

However something is different— your skin tingles, a buzzing sensation that travels from thigh to knee to hand, as if your body knows that something’s amiss. Minho’s touch perhaps, his palm casually resting upon your skin. 

You don’t know where this urge is coming from— to lay your head on his shoulder, to have him run his fingers through your hair. Even more, to lose yourself in the nutmeg and peppermint notes of his cologne, to disintegrate your worries into his hold and rest. 

“Would you mind if some of my friends came over?” Minho speaks up suddenly, cutting off your trailing train of thought. 

“Hm?” you hum absentmindedly before clearing your throat. “I mean, no, I don't mind. Who are they?”

“Han and Chan. They’ve been asking about you for a while now.” 

“Sure, this is your home.”

“It is yours too,” he says, gaze locking onto yours. His eyes are like a dark tapestry woven with threads of stardust- you’d never tire of looking into them, into the universe they seem to cradle within. 

Do you know that there is a galaxy inside you? You almost slip out, words in an urgent race against your mind. You barely stop them at the tip of your tongue, before smiling and peeling your eyes away from his, painfully, like scratching a burn scab long before it heals. 

…

“They’re here,” Minho announces as someone knocks on the door. 

“Okay,” you smile, a tad nervous. You’re not even sure what for. 

“If they annoy you too much tell me, I’ll kick them out,” he reassures, raising his brows playfully at you. 

“That's mean,” you giggle, albeit soothed by his words.

“They already love you,” he grabs your wrist, his thumb gently swiping over your pulse. “No need to be worried.” 

He drops it, as though a countdown is ingrained into his brain— never to touch you for more than ten seconds. Wouldn't it be selfish, pathetic even, to ask him for more? 

As Minho heads to open the door, you linger in the living room, idly fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. It is a weird circumstance to greet strangers who know you— you may have brushed against their shoulders in an alley and not known who they were. 

Your thoughts dissolve as two men saunter into the living room, stopping in their tracks once their eyes land on you. They’re both beautiful– that is the first thing you note, closely followed by how relieved they seem to see you. Simultaneous soft sighs escape them, gentle smiles blooming across their faces. Tentatively, you return the gesture.                          

Minho takes the initiative to introduce them. “Yn. This is Chan,” he points to the man on the right, clad in black from head to toe, his smile grows wider, his eyes disappearing into moon crescents, two dimples peeking gleefully on his cheeks. 

“And Han,” the younger man, sporting a Supreme t-shirt despite the cold, beams at you, highlighting his round cheeks, and an adam-apple that weirdly resembles a heart. 

“I want to hug you but Minho put us on a strict no-touch notice because of your ribs,” Han speaks first, a small pout tugging at his lips as he glances at Minho, who simply rolls his eyes at his words. 

“You can never keep something for yourself,” Minho sighs, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. You stifle an amused giggle. 

“And she technically doesn’t remember us so it’d be weird for her to hug a stranger,” Chan notes, offering you an understanding smile. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean it in a creepy way! more of ‘Oh my god I’m so happy you’re alive, thank you for still being here, I was so worried about you’.”

“But were you worried?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Of course, I-”

“Then why weren’t you at my bedside?” you question, an eyebrow raised, and Minho chuckles at your words. 

“W-what?” Han asks, glancing worriedly at the two men by his side. 

“Why weren’t you there sobbing when I woke up? It doesn’t look like you were worried,” you muse, throwing a wink to Minho who walks over to you.

“Right, you should’ve sent her a pic of you crying,” Minho adds, as you drape a hand on his shoulder. 

“A picture for every day you didn’t come see me,” you say solemnly as Han’s face grows paler by the second. 

“I-I didn’t, I really was worried, I swear, I kept asking Minho every day about you and…” he trails off as giddy smiles break out on your face and Minho’s before you both burst out laughing. 

“You guys are evil,” Han laments, as Chan pats his back in faux sympathy, a string of giggles falling from his full lips. 

“I’m sorry. we made you dinner to make up for it,” you grin and Minho looks at you pointedly. 

“He made you dinner,” you correct with a huff, and Minho smiles, satisfied, raising his brows smugly at his two friends. 

“Let’s choose a movie then!” Han claps, turning to the TV as Minho sidles by his side.

“I’ll set up the table,” Chan announces.

“I’ll help you,” you offer, and he nods, clearly grateful for your assistance.

You’re taking out four plates from the cupboard, Chan effortlessly bringing out the glasses, clearly familiar with the nooks and crannies of your home, when he suddenly speaks.

“How are you, Yn?” 

“Do you want the truth?” you ask back, and he grins. “Always.”

“I’m okay. Right now. I don’t know if I’ll still be tomorrow, you know? It all fluctuates so much.” 

“Mm, I understand,” he says, and something about his tone indicates that he isn’t saying this just to comfort you. “And that’s okay too. What you went through wasn’t easy, but good times will come again. They always do, you know, just like the sun always comes back after the rain.”

“The sun,” you repeat, as you glance out at the living room, where Minho is laughing at something Han just said, his head tipped back, bunny teeth peeking out. 

Perhaps the sun rays were by your side all along. 

“Thank you, Chan,” you beam at him. “Truly, for being worried about me too.”

“It's nothing to thank us for. We care about you, even though you don’t remember us,” he pouts, a hand on his heart in mock offense. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I got amnesia!” you chuckle. 

"Excuses!" he drawls with a playful tone as he exits the kitchen, and you can't help but laugh quietly to yourself. You recognize what he's doing—making light of your accident to alleviate the weight on your heart.

The night blurs in your memory, but this time it is tinged with happiness and laughter. The three men recall fun stories of their time together, a seven-year bond rooted in love and care, albeit silently. You witnessed it in the details—Chan ensuring the food was on their plates first, Minho peeling shrimp for Han, the latter rubbing Chan’s arms when he complained of being cold.

Then you saw it directed towards you– how they put on the movie you wanted and watched in anticipation as you took the first bite of food, draped the fuzziest blanket around you, and rushed to your side simultaneously when you stumbled on your feet.

You were loved, although you didn’t know of it. The accident took away your memories but it didn’t plague theirs. 

“Thank you,” you beam at the two men as you walk them to the door. Opening your arms wide, you invite them in for a hug. Han embraces you first, a large smile on his face, and you gently beckon Chan in too. “Easy,” he whispers in Han's ears, careful not to put any pressure on your ribs. They both pat your back as you wrap an arm around their respective shoulders before leaning away.

“I’ll call you,” Minho bids them farewell, tipping his chin forward. They wave to him before finally leaving

You close the door, leaning against the auburn wood. Minho watches you, a soft smile playing on his face.

“Good?” he inquires, closing the distance between you.

“Mm, good,” you reply with a smile as he halts just an inch away. His intoxicating scent envelops you, permeating your bones and flowing through your veins like liquid warmth.

A torrent of memories floods your mind—images of you pressed against this same door. It is dark, a stark contrast from your first memory, a lone lunar beam of light slashing through the night. Minho’s hands grip your waist with a fevered urgency, while yours entwines around the nape of his neck, in passion, in hunger, almost as if you were deprived of him for so long.

You angle his mouth closer to yours, his lips pressing against your own repeatedly, a desperate attempt to brand the contours of his mouth into your soul. His hair, a cascade of midnight silk, tickles your fingers with an electric charge, like the crackling of the air before a storm. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, seeking entrance, one you willingly surrender, white flag easily thrown to the ground. With every kiss, your bodies meld together, so much so that you could merge into the door, disappearing into the shadows as one.

“What's wrong?” Minho breaks your trance and you snap out of your reverie, a bright flush adorning your cheeks. 

“N-nothing,” you stammer. 

“You’re all red, do you have a fever?” he asks, coming closer, his hand pressed to your forehead. His woody scent envelops you once again– everything about him is enticing— his cologne, his lips on you, his fingertips dragging underneath your shirt, his eyes piercing yours, undressing you before his hands ever could.

“Yn?” he questions and you grab his jaw, angling his face away from you. 

“Stay like this, don’t look at me for a moment.”

“What?”

“Just… please,” you say and he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, and yet he complies, his side profile now facing you.

How does he live with these memories each time he looks at you? 

You take in a deep breath, focusing on his silhouette. It might seem counterproductive to fixate on the same man consuming your thoughts, but how could you not when he was mere centimeters away, his eyes averted from yours?

You exhale softly as your gaze glides along the graceful curve of his neck, a solitary mole resting just beneath his sculpted jawline, leading the way to his plump lips, a cupid's bow delicately carved by the hands of the divine archer himself — crafted to be kissed, to be adored.

Your eyes trail up, tracing the high bridge of his nose, another mole perched at its pinnacle, sharp and smooth as if chiseled by a master sculptor, one who dedicated months to perfecting his artistry. His eyes are a mesmerizing brown, punctuated with long lashes that flutter like the delicate wings of an angel with each slow blink.

Minho sweeps aside strands of his hair, his fingertip delicately fluffing them upwards. It dawns on you, a sudden revelation of the necessity of art — to immortalize such beauty for generations to come.

You imagine admirers gazing upon Minho, sighing in sheer amazement, their hearts tightening with emotions that words struggle to encapsulate in the face of this epitome of beauty. Inside and out, you reflect, inside and out. 

“You told them not to drink around me, right?” you ask softly.

A blush grows from the base of Minho's neck to the tip of his ears, like roots expanding into the soil. He sighs before finally looking at you.

“I did. How’d you figure it out?” he wonders.

“I asked Han if he wanted a drink, but he refused so categorically that I assumed he didn't like alcohol. But most of his stories were of him drunk,” you chuckle quietly, and Minho shrugs sheepishly.

“We get loud when we drink. You don’t like that,” he says simply as if it’s a given, an absolute certainty that he’d do anything but make you uncomfortable.

He's beautiful, the light of his heart basking his face in a glow that even Michaelangelo's skillful hands wouldn’t be able to replicate.  

And he loves you. 

Till when? Your heart sounds out in alarm. Till when will he love you? What if the grains of sand slip away from the hourglass before you can reciprocate his love? Two stars colliding at disparate speeds, never converging into a singular entity, destined to erupt and scatter into cosmic dust.

How long do you have left? How many more days will he love you for? 

How many more days do you have to love him back? 

Day 30. 

Minho is sick. 

He tried his best to conceal it from you, as he came back from his dance studio, strands of his hair clinging to his forehead, a thin sheen of perspiration above his right eyebrow. Yet, his uncharacteristic silence betrayed him, as he quietly retreated into the shower, emerging with a solemn expression on his face. 

Seated on the bed, book long forgotten by your side, you bit your lip tentatively. “You're okay?” you inquired, perched on the edge, concern etched in your gaze.

“Mm, just tired,” Minho responded, his attempt at reassurance falling short as he laid down on the floor mattress. “Can you turn off the lights?” he softly requested. “Hurts my eyes.”

“Yeah, of course. Will you sleep now?”

“I think so.”

“Okay then. Good night, Minho,” you uttered gently, the veins in your heart tangled with worry. “Good night,” he whispered in return.

In the stillness of the night, you were roused by soft whimpers escaping Minho's lips. He writhed in apparent discomfort, his features contorted with an unseen anguish. His pupils moved furiously underneath the thin layer of his eyelids, betraying the tumultuous thoughts raging in his mind. 

You've never seen Minho so disrupted in his sleep, mouth slightly hung agape as if he struggled to breathe in the depths of his dreams. Your worry for him came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You lean over the bed, gently shaking his shoulders. “Minho, wake up.”

“No... no-no, don't-don't go,” he whispers, caught in the vines of a restless dream, seemingly wrapping around his mind, trapping him in. “Minho, come on wake up,” your pleas grow more insistent, but so do his. “Don't go, s-stay,” he implores, voice broken, prompting you to abandon your bed and join him on his mattress.

“Minho!” you call out, shaking him until his eyes finally flutter open. He gasps for air— as if inhaling his first breath on this earth, shooting upright, wide-eyed and disoriented. 

His gaze locks on yours and he instantly cradles your face in his sweaty hands, bringing you closer to him until your noses bump into one another. “You didn't go,” he whispers, and you shake your head. “I'm here.”

“Fuck,” he swears, releasing his hold on you and sinking back into the pillow. 

“Minho, what's wrong?” you ask softly, afraid you're treading on stormy waters.

“I… I don't know. I don't feel good,” He admits, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, as if the fabric morphed into a vise around his throat. A flush creeps up his neck, red dots splashing across his ivory skin. A droplet of sweat traces a slow path down his temple, as the white fabric clings uncomfortably to his warm skin.

“Do you have a fever?”you ask, placing your hand on his forehead, sensing an unusual heat radiating beneath your touch. “Minho, where is your thermometer?”

“Bedside drawer,” he breathes out.

Fetching the thermometer, you gently tug at his chin, opening his mouth to check his temperature. “Stay still”" you instruct, watching anxiously as the numbers climb steadily.

“40°C, fuck Minho, you have a really high fever,” you exclaim as he shuts his eyes, an unmistakable weariness claiming him, rendering him malleable, akin to the silk pillow he's resting on. 

“I feel dizzy,” he admits, burying his face into the covers. 

“You need to take a cold shower now,” you urge a sudden lump materializes in your throat at the sight of his suffering. 

“It's okay, I'll just sleep.”

“No, no, it's far from okay!” you almost exclaim, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as if you were peeling an onion—your own emotional layers unraveling, exposing the depth of your concern for Minho.

“Minho, please, you have a really high fever,” you plead, feeling an unexpected surge of panic at his unwillingness to cooperate.

“Yn… are you worried about me?”

“I am.”

“It feels nice. Please be worried about me more,” he mumbles, eyes still closed, eliciting an incredulous laugh from you. 

“You are so unbelievable, my god,” you pull him up and he doesn't resist, nearly stumbling on his feet.

“Okay?” you ask, running your hand through the nape of his neck.

“Mm,” he hums, burying his head in your shoulder. “Sleepy.”

“I know, you'll sleep after the shower,” you reassure softly, guiding him to the bathroom, his entire body weight leaning onto yours. There, you turn on the light, your right hand holding Minho's waist tightly as you lead him to settle atop the toilet.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Are you planning to undress me?” he smiles lazily, hooded eyes locked onto yours.

“No, I just-” you stammer, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Because I don't mind.”

“I can't believe you're flirting with me while you're sick.”

“I always am, I can't help it,” he says, raising his hands as a silent signal for you to remove his shirt.

“You're awfully candid tonight,” you observe, seizing the edges of his shirt and drawing it over his head. His tongue glides across his lips, his gaze drawing tantalizingly slow over your form, and you clench his shirt tighter in your hands. He's the one with the fever, yet it's you who feels ablaze, flames of longing licking at your every sense.

“Come here,” you beckon, the icy water now flowing as you turn the knob. He reaches his hand out to you, and you grasp it, guiding him under the frigid cascade, soaking you both.

“C-cold,” he stutters, and you nod, your breath escaping in short, visible puffs.

“I-I know, just a little longer,” you reassure.

2 a.m. is a peculiar time to shower, the water droplets echoing against the tiled floor is the only sound that can be heard. That, and your labored breaths in tandem with the chilly embrace of the water filling your bones. The quiet makes way for other unspoken sentiments to surge forth, electric and palpable, heightened by the way Minho gazes at you through the liquid curtain, his hands clinging tightly to your arms for stability.

Droplets of water weave seamlessly through his hair, and an unexpected pang of jealousy grips you— you envy the liberty of those water beads as they thread through his locks, tracing the contours of his broad shoulders, nestling in the enticing recesses of his collarbones, without fearing the consequences of such acts. You don't dare look further down, wary that the rivulets on his skin may lead to your own undoing. Instead, you close your eyes thanking the stars that you weren’t wearing a white shirt, which would have turned translucent by now. You don’t even want to contemplate the consequences of such a premise.

After a few minutes, you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and swiftly enveloping Minho in a towel.

“Go change, I have some spare clothes in here. Oh, and don't wear a top,” you instruct.

Minho chuckles quietly and you roll your eyes. “Shh. Make sure to dry your hair too.”

Taking your time in getting dressed, you peel off each wet layer, depositing them into the washing machine, before donning a spare pajama from a cabinet. You stroll to the kitchen to pour Minho a glass of water and retrieve medicine from the drawer, lingering at the counter long enough to ensure he'd be dressed by the time you return to the room.

You knock softly before opening the door, and the sight of Minho freezes you in your tracks. The room basks in warm, orange hues from the lamp's glow, playing upon Minho's skin and casting enticing shadows on the contours of his muscles—a masterpiece created by the skilled hands of light. His toned arms rest between his legs, back against the headboard, and an inexplicable urge to flee washes over you, your heart sinking to your knees in the face of his long-avoided vision of beauty.

You swallow the tumultuous thoughts raging within you before handing him his medicine, which he drinks diligently. Pressing your palm to his forehead, you're relieved to find a slight reduction in his temperature. “It will go down more once the medicine takes effect,” you assure.

“One of my students had a nasty cold. I think I got it from him,” he explains, and you nod, your hand lingering near his. Your fingers twitch as his pinky brushes against yours—akin to birds fluttering their wings in anticipation, awaiting, aching for a release from their cage, at last.

“I'm tired,” Minho sighs, closing his eyes. “Lay down,” you gently instruct, and he complies, resting his head on the pillow.

“It's cold,” he whines, swaying like a child throwing a bedtime tantrum. He's endearing, melting the frost that had gathered in your heart.

“You have a fever, silly,” you chuckle, pushing strands of his hair from his forehead, twirling them around. “Your hair's gotten longer,” you muse as you braid a tiny section of his bangs, only to undo it again.

“Can you play with my hair some more?” he requests softly.

“Of course,” you reply, threading your fingers through his locks, jet black as if all the stars in the sky collided, leaving behind nothing but a dark abyss.

“Please stay healthy, Min. Take care of yourself too.”

“But I like it more when you take care of me,” he pouts, before sighing shortly after. “I'll probably regret a lot of my words tomorrow, right?”

“Why is that?” 

“Because you don’t feel the same for me,” he confesses, leaving you silent, grappling with the echoes of his words. What do you feel for Minho?

The question jolts the breath from your windpipe violently, an unyielding force crashing against your lungs till the answer finds its footing on your tongue.

“Can I ask you something?” you finally speak, cringing at the sound of your voice disrupting the fragile quiet. 

“Anything.” 

“Where did your scar come from?” you inquire, gesturing towards the mark just below his belly button.

“I got surgery a long time ago. I’m kind of self-conscious about it,” he confesses, a bit shyly. 

“Really? But it’s beautiful, it looks like a strike of lightning,” you sincerely remark, coaxing a tender smile from Minho, unfolding like the gradual sunrises of autumn.

“This is exactly what you told me months ago.”

“Did I?”

“Mm, and then you traced it with your fingertips,” he grabs your hand, hovering it over his stomach. You can easily slip out of his grasp; you choose not to. 

“Like this?” you murmur, tracing his scar gently, fingertips grazing his skin like a lit fire, subtly enough not to scorch. His flesh tenses beneath your caress, muscles constricting as you navigate from right to left—a trajectory of dusty stars akin to the Milky Way, his skin soft to the touch, rippling beneath you with thinly veiled goosebumps.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his gaze wide, running furiously over your face. Yet, your attention lingers on his skin, shadows dancing across its surface, its honeyed hue a shade you wish to sear behind your eyelids. Your hands ascend and descend, mapping his body which blushes in response, as if his very being memorized your touch, imprinting your fingerprints onto its memory. You slide down his forearms, pausing over his fragile veins, seemingly offering you his life.

Silence envelops you, punctuated only by the weighty exhales escaping you both, for there are feelings that words cannot encapsulate, no matter how much human languages strive to, ultimately succumbing to the profundity of silence— the one language only souls comprehend.

Your hands ascend to his neck, thumb grazing the tender skin cradling his pulse. It resonates throughout your bones, echoing from his being to yours as if you’re harboring two lives within you.

“You… you could've kissed me over at the bridge,” you whisper, bringing to light the question that’s been lingering at the back of your mind. “Why didn't you?”

“I wanted you to kiss me because you wanted to. Not because you longed for our past or our future. I wanted you to want me in the present,” Minho explains, vulnerability seeping into his words, like honey melting into a warm cup of tea. 

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice a fragile murmur, even as your head leans forward, hair cascading around Minho’s face, enclosing him in an intimate curtain. Minho gently grabs your hand and cradles it against his cheek, pressing a tender kiss to the center of your palm. 

“Right now. Do you want me?” he asks simply, offering himself openly to you. 

Do you want him?

After a momentary pause, you tentatively lean in, planting a gentle kiss upon his forehead. A resonant exhale escapes him, as your lips trace a path along his cheeks, leaving behind a trail of tiny kisses. Moving to the tender skin beneath his eyes— as easily bruised as your emotions—you bestow soft pecks to it as if seeking forgiveness for every tear he shed in your name.

His eyes remained closed, his trust evident in the surrender of his being to you. The answer to your internal query is written all over his features— the hushed exhale escaping his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the tranquility nestled between his eyebrows. 

Yes. Yes, you do.

Your lips finally meet Minho’s in a delicate union, unmoving like rose petals folding onto one another. A surge of warmth emanates from the depths of your heart, coursing through your entire being like sunrays, submerging your soul in a tranquil white glow.

Leaning away ever so slightly, you press a tender kiss on his lower lip, enclosing it between your own. Your hand cradles his jaw, running gently through his damp strands. Your lips move against his slowly in a saccharine kiss, parting, only to meet again, in the same tenderness, perhaps a growing one as you become accustomed to the contours of his lips, to the languid moves of his mouth, following your rhythm. You were leading the dance, his lips mere puppets to your heart’s wishes. He didn't rush you, only allowed you to kiss him, whichever way you wanted. 

A pause, a moment suspended in time, your hands trembling as they rest upon his cheeks, his palm hovering above your own, offering a comforting press. The gesture reassures you in your curiosity that won’t be satiated, urging you to seal your lips on his with a tentative fervor. The world outside dissolves into a distant murmur, the seconds blending into a timeless run, you slamming the door before your worries protesting at the entrance of your mind. Tomorrow, you’ll find the answers. Tonight, you are kissing Minho.

As you press a final, lingering kiss to his velvety mouth, visions of you at peace flood your being. You see yourself sinking into the warm pool of your aunt’s country club, you see yourself walking on the beach with sand molding to the contours of your feet, you see yourself laying on the grass while observing sunrays weaving through the trees. And then, amidst your most serene memories, the act of pressing your lips to Minho stands out, the warmth of his mouth against yours eclipsing all other sensations.

Leaning away, you rest your forehead on his shoulder, and Minho's hands cradle your hair.

"Which lip balm do you use,” you giggle against his bare skin, relishing in the sweet taste of his lips.

“Yours.”

Day 31.

Minho’s nose is buried in the crook of your neck, his arm draped across the expanse of your stomach. He sinks further into you, binding himself to your body, anchoring his hold on your being. You are warm, your skin is soft to the touch and Minho doesn’t want to wake up from this tender dream, akin to plummeting into a sea of silky pillows, falling into a blanket of clouds. 

Except, he's awake, Minho realizes with a jolt. He blinks repeatedly, allowing the sunrays to stream to his eyes, his pupils dilating once they settle on you— so much their obsidian depths swallows the brown of his irises whole. You stir beneath his touch, making your cheek press upon the crown of his head. He's fully awake now, snatched from the velvet threads of his dreams made up of you, thrown into your arms once again after thirty-three days. 

A soft gasp escapes Minho’s lips, the air stolen from his lungs as if it was yours to claim. Echoes of the night replay in his mind— a fever, you tending him to me, a cold cascade of water, you tracing his scar, and then, the kiss.

You kissed him. A long shiver runs down his spine at the memory, a subtle twitch that stirs you from slumber once again. 

What does one kiss mean? The question dances wildly in Minho’s mind. More importantly, what do you want it to mean? 

Minho whines softly, closing his eyes for a few seconds, relishing in the fragrance of your hair, in the serenity that floods his being each time he’s around you. This was his most restful slumber in weeks, because you were near, his mind recognizing you, relaxing underneath your touch, drifting to a mindless sleep. 

Reluctantly, he untangles himself from you, a bittersweet departure from your arms. Work was calling his name. 

He prayed you’d call his too soon. 

….

You wake up to an empty bed, the only lingering trace of the night you spent being the tingling of your lips, as if aching to be kissed once again. You sigh, running a hand through your face. It was much easier to succumb to your heart’s wishes when it was late at night, when minho laid bare beneath your touch, so enticing in the gentlest of ways. When you were cradled by the moon’s soft glow, blanketed by the night’s cloak of darkness.

But it was light now, the sun was glaring as it streamed through the windows, exposing all the flawed ways of your mind.

What does one kiss mean? 

Nothing, if it wasn’t minho who you had kissed. If it wasn’t as tender as the meeting of your lips. 

The tomorrow you believed far quickly came, and you still beheld no answers. A few hours drifted by and you still knew nothing. What does this kiss mean? It's late afternoon and you’re strolling through the park nearby and you can't find an answer. The question rings in your mind as you sit by a bench, and you still don’t know.

“You seem preoccupied,” a voice quips up nearby and you startle. You hadn’t even noticed the man sitting by your side. His arms crossed before his chest, making impressive muscles constrict beneath the snug fabric of his black shirt, a cascade of fluffy black curls sat at the top of his head, a slight smirk etched on his lips.

“Pardon?”

“I said you seem preoccupied.”

“No i heard that,” you roll your eyes subtly, “do i know you?”

“No. You just look worried, that's all.”

“You really don’t know me?” you ask, a tad apprehensive, unsure if this was someone else your memory faulted you of. 

“No? Are you a celebrity of some sorts?” he inquires, tone much more cheerful, angling his body towards you.

“No, i’m not,” you giggle, before quieting down, an exhausted sigh escaping your body. “Is it that obvious then?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid so,” he pouts sympathetically, tone almost desolate and you huff, burying your face in your hands.

“Do you need help with something?” he offers after a while, his concern evident in the frown of his brows. You are comforted by the anonymity of talking to a stranger, you were but a blank canvas to him. You wouldn't see him again, anyways. 

“I feel lost. I can't seem to find the answers I'm looking for.”

“Maybe you’re just not asking the right questions.”

Oh. 

The guy claps his hands suddenly, long before you could dwell on his words and their implications

“I actually have a question for you!” 

“Ask away.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“No?” you chuckle, amusement dripping from your voice. “I don't know you?” 

“That's the point of a date.”

“Are you this bored?” you smile, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“I'm not bored. I just need to take my mind off things,” he shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. but you somehow see beyond it, right into the dull twinkle of his eyes. Maybe he also couldn’t find the answers he was looking for.

“So you're using me?” you fake outrage and he giggles, a high pitched sound that reverberates through the playground, making some kids nearby stare at you. You stifle a surprised laugh. 

“I'm not using you if I tell you upfront why I asked you out.”

“You are right, but i decline your kind offer,” you say solemnly and he nods, shaking his head in defeat.  

“Here is my card, in case you change your mind. Or need a little escape, call me,” he smiles, handing you a sleek black card before getting up and dusting his pants. “See you,” he says, as if he was sure you'd call him back. you stare in disbelief at his retreating figure, before glancing down at the card. 

Mr. Seo Changbin, you read, CEO of Gold’s Gym— the largest gym branch in the country.

Oh wow.

The amused smile lingers on your lips as you gaze ahead, lost in thought, contemplating the words spoken by Changbin. Maybe he was right; perhaps you are afraid of asking the right questions. Sucking in a deep breath, you decide to take the longer route home, eventually finding yourself outside your favorite bakery; the one you discovered on one of your many walks with Minho.

You go to open its door when an unexpected tingling at the back of your neck freezes you in your tracks. Your heart tightens in your chest as you turn around slowly, greeted by the sharp eyes of two familiar faces—Lia and Mari, your coworkers from before your accident. A tentative smile graces your lips, but the alarms of warning in your mind intensify. 

“Hey, yn!” 

“Hey, guys,” you greet back, taking a step backwards from them. 

“How have you been since… You know, your accident,” Lia pouts, but the question lacks sincerity, as if they were wearing masks before you, concealing their true intentions. You wonder which one they'll put on next.  

“Good, i’ve been good,” you force a smile, as their eyes move up and down your body, judgment dripping from their gaze.

“We wanted to come see you but we didn’t know if you were still at your listed address. Since your boyfriend lives there.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I still live there.”

“But didn’t you forget about him?” Lia feigns ignorance and you feel anxiety picking at your skin like relentless protruding needles. You want to run. 

“Lia that’s rude. I think he's her ex-boyfriend now," Mari chuckles, mockery palpable in her tone.

“Poor Minho, he must suffer a lot. Say hey to him from me,"Lia smiles, a chilling feline grin, her eyes narrowing down like a hawk peering at his prey. 

“I will.”

“We’ll see you at work. If you’re still able to keep up with the tasks,” they leave, ugly laughs echoing after them, and an urge to throw up overtakes you, the scent of pastries furthering your nausea. You hasten your steps toward your building.

You’re almost safe, almost, keys trembling in your hand as you struggle to enter your apartment, when the door adjacent to you opens. Your neighbors smile at you, although it is a gesture tinged with pity. You painfully smile back before slamming the door.

Yeart hammering in your chest, you press your back against the door, hand clawing at your throat. 

“Did you know she got into a car accident, and apparently she forgot her boyfriend?”

“Really? They were so cute though.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame.”

Their words suffocate you, stepping atop your lungs, syllables choking you from within. Is this what everything thought of you? Did they all pity you for the accident? For forgetting your lover? Did they see you as a burden, a parasite plaguing his life? Is this what Han and Chan saw when their eyes lingered on you? Is this what the librarian and florist whispered to each other each time you passed by? 

You didn’t know these people and yet they had their minds set on you, fixated storylines you couldn’t change, no matter how much you tried to rewrite them.

Your thoughts spiral like the unloosened screws of a ticking clock. Minho, the unanswered questions, the expectations of others—everything converges in the base of your mind, making your ears ring cacophonically within your skull.

You slide down the door, fingers trembling as you take out your phone then Changbin’s card from your pocket. You dial his number with haste. You needed a breather, to talk to someone who knew nothing of you, of who you were, of who you could be. 

“Hello?” his voice booms clearly through the phone.

“Changbin,” you breathe out. “Let's go on a date tomorrow.”

You were asleep when minho came back from work, your back turned towards him, soft exhales escaping your body. He didn't want to disturb you, so, he made sure to come earlier the next day, a strawberry and cream pastry in his hand that he knew you loved. Perhaps, you’d both talk about your kiss today, what it meant for you both. 

But, he doesn’t find you home. The only indication that you had just left was the lingering scent of your perfume, tickling his nose as if to mock him. Poor minho— the gardenia and honey tones spelled out in the air; the one fragrance you strictly reserve for dates. The one you used to put for him.

It looked like you found your answer after all. 

Day 33. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” 

“No, just in time,” you smile as Changbin pulls the chair in front of you, settling down with ease, a pang of confidence coloring his movements.

“How are you, today?” 

“Better, i think,” you falter under his scrutinizing gaze, your facade cracking. “I don't know, it’s all complicated,” you sigh and he nods, signaling for the waiter to take your drinks order. Chai latte for you, hot chocolate for him. 

“Spill, what’s preoccupying you?” he leans forward, arms crossed on the table. 

“You don’t even know my name,” you giggle, looking around at the warm interior. Cozy, faint music playing in the background, taupe chairs and amber tables, the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting through the air. Minho would like it here. 

“What's your name?”

“Yn.”

“Okay, Yn,” he emphasizes, a slight smirk on his face. “Spill.”

You shake your head as the waiter places down your drinks, wrapping your fingers around the heated cup, hoping the warmth would seep into your being through your palm lines. 

“Did you want to become a therapist by any chance?” you muse, arching an eyebrow at him.

“No, it’s just fixing others' problems helps me forget my own,” he winks and you snort at his honesty. it was admirable, how frank he was to a complete stranger. 

“Fine, it’s a long story, but basically…” you lick your lips, wondering what’s the best way to go on about this. “I got into a car accident and I lost my memory of the past year and so.”

Changbin winces at your words and you sigh. “Yeah. Except I was in a relationship before…”

“And you totally forgot about it?”

“I did. It hurt him a lot.” 

Changbin nods in understanding, taking a sip of his drink. He places his chin on his palm, carefully eyeing you. 

“But how does that make you feel?” 

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You're the one who lost your memories after all.” 

“I feel guilty for forgetting such a relationship.” 

“Why is that?”

“Because everyday i can see why I fell in love with him.”

“And you don't love him now?” 

“No,” you quickly say before pausing, shoulders dropping under the weight of your questioning. “I don't know. It's complicated.”

Changbin absentmindedly tugs at the charms of his bracelet, gaze flicking down to his wrist for a couple seconds, before locking on yours intently.  

“Describe him to me in one sentence.”

“You sound like my annoying French teacher,” you roll your eyes and he huffs, not offended in the least. “Look, I just want to know my competition.”

“Do you have a retort for everything?”

“What can I say? I'm witty and all that,” he shrugs confidently and you giggle before quieting down, muling over his question. “In a sentence…” you muse, fingers drumming along your cup. You don't even realize that a fond smile has unfolded on your lips, but Changbin does.

“He's the light rain that falls during spring, that makes the flower bloom and the smell of earth waft through the air. He brings things back to life, in a way.” 

Changbin smiles softly, tilting his head to the side. “Can you really not see it, or are you hiding the truth because you're scared?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Yn, he brought you back to life.” 

“I… no.” you pause, voice faltering. “Did he?” 

You see Minho pushing you on a wheelchair to your home. Minho protecting you from your mind. Minho washing your hair. Minho making you tea. Minho baring his soul to you. Minho helping you cook. Minho bringing the sea to you. Minho holding your hand. Minho comforting you before comforting himself. Minho forgiving you so you'd forgive yourself. Minho devastating himself so you'd piece your heart together. Minho, minho, minho.  

“Fuck, he did,” you whisper in realization, as a grand feeling swells in your heart suddenly, pushing your heart against the confines of your ribs. Flowers bloom into your entire body, petals melding into the coursing blood in your veins, butterflies fluttering their delicate wings across your chest, an effulgent light flooding in like the sun was spilled inside your very core. 

“Aren’t I so smart,” Changbin grins, satisfied at the awestruck expression on your face.

“What should I do?” you ask anxiously, gripping the edges of the table. 

“Go talk to him. Don't waste any more time.”

“You are right, oh my god,” you grab your purse, standing up abruptly. “I have to go, I…”

“It's okay, don't worry about me, I'm always the side chick,” he sighs in faux sadness and you giggle, swatting his shoulder. 

“Thank you so much. I'll repay you for this, I promise!” you start walking before stopping and turning around. 

“Oh and Changbin?”

“Yes?”

“You know what to do too. They made you that bracelet right? You haven't taken your eyes off of it.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, “those are my lines.”

“They are mine now too,” Laughter dances from your lips as you flee the café, taking off running to your home. It was near, merely a five-minute walk, nestled beside the playground where you encountered Changbin. Yet, urgency propels your steps, a fervent need to reach Minho swiftly. You had wasted thirty-three days, three million seconds that could’ve been spent with Minho. You don’t know how many more breaths the universe might extend, what if the stars tire of your reluctance and blow the winds of his love to another soul? You couldn’t stomach it. 

You climb up the stairs, chest heaving, breaths escaping your being in an erratic rhythm. you didn't even know what to say, your words remained unscripted, unsure of what confessions will spill forth when your eyes will meet Minho's. Yet, you're not worried. You know that whatever surfaces would be surging from your heart. 

What you don’t anticipate is for an uncharacteristic silence to find you at home, the scent of your perfume faintly wafting into the air. Minho sat in the living room, a bag by his side, his head downcast. The cats watching you from the corner of the room. 

A desert- dry sensation clings to your mouth, your tongue heavy as if crafted from lead. Your once vibrant excitement extinguishes, much like a match blown out, leaving only a lingering stench behind. 

“Minho?” 

“Yn,” he responds, eyes actively avoiding yours. “I was waiting for you. I... I'll be gone for a few days, a week at most.”

“What? Where to?”

“I already told my parents to come pick up the cats so you don't have to worry about feeding them. The fridge is stacked, so you-” his voice falters, “so don't worry about that either.”

“Minho... what-what are you saying?”

“I need time away, alone. I'm sorry, I tried, I tried so hard, Yn, but there is only so much I can take,” he whispers, and your heart shatters, tiny million pieces blown away by the wind.

“Minho, look at me,” you crouch before him, your hands resting on his knees. He still avoids your gaze.

“Minho, please,” you plead, and his eyes finally lock on yours. They glisten with tears, reflecting light akin to a celestial mirror.

“My heart hurts so much, but it's not your fault. Loving me once doesn't mean you'll love me again, and it's okay if you want to see other people. I just... I need to go somewhere, for a little. I need to make room for the pain because it's overwhelming me,” he confesses, his words eating at your insides. Was it too late? Have you lost him?

Minho gently takes away your hands before standing up. Fear overwhelms you as you watch his shoulders drop, his eyes glazing over the walls one last time. He will come back, but not here, not to you. He's bidding goodbye to the home and you because you killed his hope. He would leave everything behind but echoes of him that you'd be sentenced to hear alone, every day, every night.

“Minho,” you seize his wrist, “Minho, don't go.”

"Why?" he asks in the smallest voice you've heard from him. He's like a river cut off by a dam, yearning to run back home, to flow the way it used to, back to you. His heart rings loudly in his ears, pain overwhelming him, yet your touch calms him down. You are the knife and the medicine, the scorch and the cooling balm; you are everything at once.

“I'll make room in your heart, I'll take out all the bad weeds and start again. Just don't go.”

“What do you mean?” He's breathless, hope inflating in his heart, clouds parting to reveal the sun.

“I know things won't go back to the way they used to. I don't think I'll ever remember everything, but I want you to tell me,” there is a lump growing in your throat, but you push it away. Your voice breaks and cracks, yet you still speak. You need him to know.

“I want you to take me to all the places we've visited and then tell me how we fell in love in them. I want you to show me how I loved you,” your hand trails down his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, pulling him closer. “I want to learn you, what you like, what you hate, what makes you angry and what makes your heart flutter.”

“And I want to love you, not because you love me, but because my heart chose you," your hand travels up his arm, settling right down at his cheek. Your thumb swipes across his tender skin. “I choose you over and over again. It's you, Minho, it's always been you.”

“You want me again?” he says tentatively, eyes wide, pouring onto yours—your galaxy to love, to admire, to peer into for the rest of your life.

“I want you. Please don't go.”

“Swear it, please.”

Instead of ephemeral words, you softly press your lips to his, as you did last night. “I swear,” you whisper against his mouth. “I'm falling in love with you,” you peck his lips, hand snaking up against his neck, moving his mouth closer to yours. “Not falling,” you say, pressing your forehead to his, nuzzling his nose against your own. “I'm coming back. I'm coming home.”

“You came back to me,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

“I'll always do,” you promise, a grin overtaking your mouth. “Can you kiss me, Minho?”

Minho blinks in amazement, his eyes darting all over your face, each blink resembling the capture of an image. He's stitching this moment into his mind, the hue of your cheeks and the gleam in your eyes. He missed the way you're looking at him, the slight shiver running through you as he brushes his lips against your own, slowly savoring the feel of you so near. His hands find your jaw, cradling it softly, and then he kisses you, just like how he dreamed of doing for the past month.

The kiss is dizzying, far different from your previous one. You’re no longer grasping at elusive cigarette smoke, fleeting through the gaps between your fingers. You are no longer awaiting a beacon of remembrance to shine upon your mind. You have minho, and he's delicately nibbling your lower lip, eliciting a soft gasp from you. His tongue glides across the tingling expanse, soothing down the pang of hurt, asking you for more. You willingly give it to him in a fervent, whirlwind kiss, his hands finding solace in the curve of your waist, while yours become poets, weaving tales in his hair, tugging at his strands the way you've always yearned to. 

It is muscle memory, to press your body against his, to gasp into his mouth, to match the rhythm of his tongue, the way it circles tantalizingly around yours, the way you groan against his mouth, as he briefly parts from you, his giggle a sweet prelude to meeting your lips once again with increased fervor. His tongue weaves words against the roof of your mouth— I missed you, I want you, I love you.

Minho snakes his hand around your lower back, guiding you back until his legs find the couch. He eases you down, fingers hooked through the loop of your jeans. You kiss him again, a cadence as natural as breathing. Time unravels, rewinding to mend the fractures in his heart, erasing thirty-three days of heartbreak in mere seconds. You kiss him, again and again, thirty three days of longing exploding in your touch.  

“Are you crying?” you whisper against his lips, your thumbs delicately swiping across his damp cheeks. Unaware of his flowing tears, he closes his eyes, embarrassment coursing through him. “I'm here,” you reassure, peppering his face with kisses – from his ear to his nose, cheeks to the corner of his mouth. “I'm here, honey. I want you.”

“Only me?” he questions, tone fragile.

“Only you,” you kiss him again, tenderly, inhaling life through his lips. “Let me show you how much, hm?”

Your lips trace a path down his neck as you draw his shirt over his head. An ivory canvas, he is meant for you to mark, to touch however you desire. Your lips graze the scar on his stomach, kissing it in the way you've ached to do since two nights before.

You're sinking to your knees before him and yet you’re the one in control, rippling shivers all over his skin. He’s impatient, needing you close, so he quickly pulls you up, before hovering over you, his hands drawing everywhere, running wild across your body. He missed the plush feel of your skin, the contours of your body that he yearned to explore once again. He's a prisoner deprived of the light for so long, sinking into the sun once again. 

Minho's eyes never leave yours, as he touches you, moves in you in ways your soul seems to remember. He's gentle, removing strands of your hair out of your eyes, smoothing down the side of your head. All encompassing, drinking in your moans and groans, burning you up and soothing you all at once. “Good?” he asks, again and again, waiting to hear your affirmation before picking up speed again. Your answer is yes each time he asks, as he seals the void in you, the one he's been carefully stitching up for the past weeks. You store his glazed eyes and scrunched eyebrows in the gallery of your mind, you make room for new memories with Minho. 

You're overwhelming him, in the most beautiful ways, contradicting feelings coursing through him like a rain flood. He's aching yet relieved to have you beneath him, lost in waves of pleasure so he grabs your hand to anchor himself, entwining his fingers with yours, before bringing it to his mouth, placing a tender smile on your palm. You beam at him, trust reflecting in your eyes as you bare your being to him. It is a rare fortune to be chosen by you not once, but twice, he can't believe how lucky he is to have you as his guiding star.  

Your eyes never leave Minho’s, a shimmering pool mirroring your emotions. You see everything you feel in him—your better reflection. You had missed him, you were home now. “Miss you,” he whispers as he buries his face in your neck, seemingly hearing your thoughts. “Missed you so much,” he mumbles as your hands tangle in his hair, tears descending gently upon your cheeks, as they are on his. “Please don't leave me again.”

“I won't- I won't,” you promise, as light floods your vision, reaching the pinnacle of your pleasure. Colors burst before your eyes in a kaleidoscope, resembling shades of Minho— the warm brown of his eyes, the honeyed hue of his skin, the pink tint of his ears whenever he's embarrassed, the red of his lips, swollen as they kiss you. Tonight and tomorrow and every day after this one. 

Day 1.

In the hushed aftermath, your head rests upon Minho’s bare chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat, calming down as the seconds trickle by. His arm curls around your body protectively, keeping you from slipping off the couch. Your knuckles trail up and down his shoulders, soothing the places where you had scratched too hard. His hand seeks yours, delivering a kiss as tender as the silence enveloping you—quiet and secure. The forgotten past doesn't matter; you will rewrite your story once more.

“Do you think our designated stars are sad somewhere far away?”

“Why would they be?” 

“I don't know. Don't you think it's bittersweet how they missed out on so many days of loving one another?”

“I don't know, did they?” he muses, planting a tender kiss on your shoulder. “I think mine loved you all the same.” 

[beneathstarryskies]

Omg your requests are open 🙏

Could I please request some breeding kink headcanons for some of the RE men? Chris, Leon, Wesker, Ethan and Karl? That would be awesome! Thank youuuu

Warnings: breeding, pregnancy, female reader, obviously unprotected sex.

Chris Redfield

Chris didn’t even realize he had a breeding kink. He stays so busy and is often so far away, he doesn’t see himself as necessarily being ‘father material.’

However, one day, he goes with you to a family function. There, he gets the rare chance to see you interacting with your small nieces/nephews/cousins and he imagines you with your children. Would you be as patient and loving as you are with the small kids in your family? 

Chris knows this isn’t a decision to make lightly, but he also is a man who acts a lot on passion and instinct. 

When he gets you home that night, he can’t stop thinking about putting a baby in you. 

You can’t do anything for the next few days without Chris pawing at you, kissing you everywhere he can reach, begging to cum inside you every time he can. 

Are you bending over to do laundry? Oh, now you have his bulge pressed against your ass! Are you lying in bed reading? Guess who is slowly peeling your pants off and pressing kisses on your inner thighs! 

Finally, he lets it slip. He has you bent into a mating press while he’s pounding into your soaked cunt with reckless abandon. 

“Let me put a baby in you,” he growls against your ear. 

Leon S. Kennedy

Leon has been on his own for a long time. He loves the idea of having a little family of his own, and he doesn’t hide it at all. 

Every time he’s fucking you, he is going to cum inside of you whether you’re on birth control or not. He just can’t imagine not spilling his load inside of your waiting walls. 

Leon will slip up and call you ‘mommy’. He says it sort of as a joke the first time, but then the name just fits you so well. He can’t resist telling you how much he wants to make you a mommy. 

He always keeps his cock sheathed inside of you after you’ve both finished to keep his cum plugged inside your little hole. 

If he goes soft he’ll just use his fingers to push his cum back inside and keep it inside. 

For all of his big talk, if you do end up pregnant he will panic a little bit deep down. His work is dangerous and has earned a lot of enemies for him. It might take him a while to let the news set in. 

Once you are pregnant and Leon comes to terms with the reality of parenthood, he becomes so protective. You will never be out of his sight, even if it’s just him tracking your location or calling in a favor to have an agent look after you while he’s away. 

All in all, he’s very happy to have bred you. 

Albert Wesker

As an Umbrella operative/double agent, Wesker didn’t have a breeding kink. He was constantly plotting for his gain and looking out for his skin. Being a parent would only complicate matters further and give him yet another piece to move on the chessboard. 

However, when he realizes the true potential he holds within himself, to dominate the world and rule as a god, something snaps within him. 

The need to carry on his superior genes and establish a legacy grows strong. 

He can’t breed with just anyone, however. He goes to painstaking lengths to find someone who has genes compatible with his own. Oh, and once he finds you he wastes no time making his way into your life. 

You’re his precious little lover, and he goes to any lengths to make sure you’re as smitten by him as he is with you. 

He gets off to the idea of knocking you up every single time you’re intimate. Even if you’re just giving him a blow job, he will bust as soon as he imagines breeding you. 

Not to worry though, because Wesker has stamina for days. He’ll wear you out with his libido. All the while he’s growling and grunting in your ear, making sure to tell you how much he loves breeding your little cunt. 

If you beg for him to cum inside of you, good fucking luck. He will go absolutely feral. 

Ethan Winters

It’s no secret that Ethan loves being a dad more than anything. He has so much love to give, and he is naturally doting on those he loves. 

That being said, with everything he’s been through it will take him some time after your relationship begins to think about having a family with you. It will first cross his mind when someone mentions how good you are with Rose. 

The thought sticks with him for a while, and then it morphs into the idea of having another baby…

Soon, he’s picturing you swollen and round with his baby growing inside of you. He can practically hear how sweet you’d be explaining to Rose that she’s going to be a big sister. 

He’s trembling with excitement when he brings up the idea of having a baby to you. If you agree, he is going to be hard immediately. 

Ethan doesn’t do anything half-assed. The man becomes OBSESSED with breeding you. 

He’s tracking cycles, he’s pulling all the positions that are the most effective for conceiving, and most of all he is fucking you every single time he gets the chance. 

Karl Heisenberg

Karl gets the idea to breed you for entirely selfish reasons if we’re being honest. 

When Alcina is allowed to create three daughters, he grows a bit jealous of that. Why does she get a family? Why does Donna get her stupid little doll? And when he learns of the possibility of having a strong, powerful child…Oh boy. 

He won’t exactly tell you his intentions. He just starts pumping thick loads of cum into you every chance he gets. 

One night he’ll let it slip, “I’m gonna put a baby in you.” 

He doesn’t really care if you want a baby or not, the idea of it just motivates him beyond anything else. He becomes insatiable, especially during a full moon. He’ll have you bent over every surface or folded into a mating press all night long. 

The problem with Karl though is he doesn’t actually consider the reality of having a kid. When you start showing signs of pregnancy, he kind of starts to panic. He might push you away a little bit, not fully wanting to take responsibility even though he wanted it so badly at first. 

However, when certain people begin questioning how you became pregnant his protective instincts will flare up. Then, he’ll never let you leave his sights.

[harrysfolklore]

Can you write an imagine of Harry inspired by that clip of Taylor playing call it what you want on the guitar in miss americana where he’s recording you as you play him the song you wrote for him plsss 🙏🏼

golden hour - hs

A HARRY FIC OMG??? this is really short but i needed to write a harry fic to get the creative juices flowing so thank youuuu for this request, i hope you like this!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You sat cross-legged on the plush rug of your living room, your acoustic guitar resting comfortably on your lap. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. Harry was sprawled on the couch opposite you, looking cozy as ever in a green jumper and joggers.

"Are you ready?" you asked, glancing up at him with a mix of excitement and nerves.

"Absolutely, love," Harry smiled at you, "Why do you always get nervous when you're about to play a song for me. It's just me, love"

"Because," you began, running your fingers through the strings of your guitar, "It's a song I wrote about you, and It's really sappy."

"I love sappy," Harry's smile widened, a soft chuckle leaving his lips, "Especially when it's about us, or just you being a simp over me."

You rolled your eyes with affection, "I'm going to start singing before I completely regret it."

"Wait," Harry said before you could start, "Can I record you? It would be a cute memory."

"Of course you can, but don't leak it to TMZ," you joked and he grabbed his phone from the coffee table in front of him, opening his camera.

"I'll keep it just for us, promise." He adjusted himself on the couch, holding his phone up to get a clear view of you. "Alright, ready when you are, my love."

"Okay this is Golden Hour, take one from our living room," you said looking at the camera, "Let's go."

You took a deep breath and began strumming the opening chords of the song you had written your fingers danced across the strings with ease.

All that I know Is you caught me at the right time Keep me in your glow 'Cause I'm havin' such a good time with you

Baby, don't you know That you're my golden hour The color of my sky You set my world on fire And I know, I know everything's gonna be alright

You sang softly, watching as Harry's eyes beamed with happiness and amusement as he listened to the words pouring from your heart.

You kept on singing and playing your guitar, mouthing an "I love you" to Harry before reaching the final chorus, your smile as wide as his.

And when the song came to an end, you let the final chord hang in the air for a moment, and you looked up to see Harry, his expression one of pure adoration.

"That was... beautiful, love," Harry said and he stopped the recording and sat his phone down "You never cease to amaze me. I don't think I've ever felt this loved."

"Harry, stop," you set the guitar gently on the floor and covered your face, "You're going to make me cry."

Harry chuckled, moving from the couch to sit beside you on the rug.

"No need to hide, love. It's just me, remember?" he gently pulled your hands away from your face, holding them in his.

"I know, but still," you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Well, you should know that your song made me the happiest man alive," he said, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "You have no idea how much I love you."

"I might have an idea," you teased, pecking his lips quickly.

"Now, how about we make this a tradition? You play me a song every week. Deal?"

"Only if you promise to write a song for me too. It's only fair," you raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Oh, it's a deal, love. Just you wait. I'll write the sappiest song you've ever heard," he pecked your lips again, "Or what about the horniest song you've ever heard, huh? What do you prefer, sappy or horny?"

"Your horny songs are all about fruit anyway," you teased again, making him laugh, "I'm happy you liked the song, baby."

"I loved it," he said softly, pulling you into a warm embrace. "And I love you."

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being Their Younger Sibling And Part Of The Boys

Requested: Hi! Cliche preference I am sorry, but how would each of The Boys act if R their younger sibling who helps out with the boys is like this really sweet and genuinely nice person to all? Would they be protective, or annoyed, just an idea! Love your work! - anon

A/N: Not cliche at all my love! I absolutely adore this idea! I will 10000% be writing more about being Homelanders sibling!! Thank youuuu I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher wants nothing to do with you. When you're old enough, years after Lenny's death, you escape home and track down Billy. You had nothing. Billy took you in under the guise that it would be temporary and it wouldn't meddle with his work. Bit by bit you learned from M.M. and Frenchie about Becca and Ryan and Vought. You make it known you want to help. Billy forbids you and threatens The Boys: if they even so much as look at you, he'll kill them. Stubbornness runs in the family, though. You worm your way in whether he likes it or not. It's not that didn't miss you or think about you, he just can't bear the thought of you getting hurt. Or killed. Especially at the hands of Vought. It's become a habit for everyone to call him Butcher and you Little Butcher so as not to get confused. Now that there's two of you to keep track of, everyone's a little more annoyed and a lot less forgiving for poor behavior.

Hughie worries about you so much. This life has taken everything from him, he can't imagine why you'd want to join. Still, he knows he can't stop you. You were always coming to his defense as kids, sticking up for him against bullies. You were his backbone for a lot of your childhood. When you want something you go for it. He can't help but lecture you, even over the smallest stuff. After your father passes and your mother finds her way into your lives, he's extra protective. Especially after Tek Knights party, he doesn't let you out of his sight. He's not glad it happened, but he sure is grateful it was him and not you. You've been stabbed and hurt and nearly killed. He jokes that it's taken years off hid life, but there's some truth to it. You're all he's got. He can't lose you. He can't let this life kill you.

Annie stopped talking to your mother a long time ago, but she never stopped calling you. Like your sister, you got a dose of V and trained hard, wanting to be the first pair of siblings in The Seven. After Annie publicly leaves and turns her back on them, you're not sure what to think. Tired of her avoiding the questions, you confront her. You track her down and barge into where The Boys are. You guys get into a pretty serious fight, one everyone can hear through the thin walls. Annie abandoned you. She left Vought and became this fantastical symbol. She had a life and you weren't a part of it. You wanted her to stop lying and avoiding you and tell you exactly what was going on. It takes most of the night, but she tells you everything. In the end, she wants to send you back home with your mother, but you refuse. The Boys need every advantage they can get, that includes you and your abilities. She's not thrilled, but she understands you're an adult, she can't stop you.

M.M. forbids you. Janine is getting into trouble and he's having panic attacks and he just can't have you trying this now. He can't babysit you on top of everything else. You remind him you're an adult, that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. He can yell and scream all he wants, you both know you're not going to stop wanting this. It was your grandfather and father too who were killed by Supes and the stress. You didn't walk away from that unscathed. You had a right to be upset and a right to want to stop Vought. You kept your distance, but Marvin was blowing you off any chance he could get. You got his address from Monique and made a surprise appearance. Butcher tells you everything. You're furious your brother didn't tell you sooner. You could have been a part of this from the beginning. Butcher reminds you it's never too late, but Marvin tells you to go home and leave it to the professionals. You don't. You can't. This is too important. He doesn't like it, but he can't stop you. He never could.

Frenchie couldn't have been happier to have you in his life. Your upbringing was harsh, your father a monster. When he left for New York, he had to make a choice: leave you behind or take you along with him. In the end, he left you behind. The guilt killed him, but you never blamed him. Not then, not now. You learned a lot from him, you're as equally as skilled. As soon as he becomes a part of The Boys, he asks Mallory to look for you. You vanished though. He'd assumed your father had killed you. It isn't until years later that you reappear looking for him, for Serge. You might not have an entire team of powers and knowledge, buy you're smart and skilled and you track him down. He doesn't recognize you at first. You're so much more grown up. But he knows your voice. You're the only one who calls him Serge and most of your conversations are entirely in French. Neither of you are particularly proud of your pasts, choosing instead to live in the moment. When you ask if you can join him he's over the moon. His baby, his best friend, reunited again.

Kimiko can't believe it's you. Like your sister, you and Kenji were captured by the SLLA. Then you and Kimiko were later taken and given Compound V. After that you two were split up. She never thought you made it. It's years later that you escape, killing everyone in your path. Police plaster your face all over the News where Kimiko recognizes you immediately. You're older of course, but you'd always be her baby. She can't let it happen all over again like how it went with Kenji, she can't lose you. Kimiko hunts you down, alongside The Boys, who are wary of you. She assured them you couldn't hurt a fly. The carnage you leave in your wake tells a different story. When you do reconnect, she makes sure they don't draw any of their weapons. You two sign for what feels like forever before she takes you back to The Boys hideout. It hurts her, but she wants to know what happened in all the years between. You and your sister are unstoppable. Literally. You were never meant to have normal lives. This was how it was supposed to be. Trying to be normal just got you hurt.

Bonus! Homelander absolutely fucking hates you. You were created long after him, but you had the same upbringing, the same childhood. The only anomaly was that you turned out far more humane. Because of this, Vought needed extra time to break you in. You never did, though. Not as severely as your brother. Vought was going to turn your debut into this grand political scheme, a massive fuck you to anyone who thought they could stop them, but before they could, you broke out of the labs. Eventually you found your way to The Boys. You and Homelander have identical abilities, though you're not layering through people's skulls or letting entire planes worth of people die. None of them believed you at first, but after you told them about your upbringing and your powers, they had no choice but to believe you. You were exactly what they needed. You and your brother were equals. John wanted you dead just like he wanted the rest of The Boys dead. Keeping you alive was necessary for now. So, he let you live.

[rispwr]

can we have a drabble or oneshot where the oc says 'i can't pay for anything* this time' or offers to split the budget 50/50 and jungkook literally😒😤😡🤬 gets mad like I'm your man I'm responsible for you etc🤭hehehhe make me a delululu, I don't have work tomorrow♥️😂

number one girl - drabble - read here for full fic

complete fluff, not proofread

sypnosis : you prank your bf telling him to split the bill

wc : 1,5k

note : so kinda missed this couple so wanted to write a drabble. thank you for the requests!! will be taking more requests from now onn!!

if you've been tagged in this fic im sorry omg. idk how to put the character's socmed without it taggig sum1 else.

3 years later -

It's been 3 years and college life is exhausting. Between classes, endless assignments, and my political science presentation looming over my head, I barely had time to breathe. Today was no different. I was in class, scribbling notes while trying to keep up with the lecture, when my phone began vibrating incessantly in my bag.

I ignored it at first, assuming it was just another group chat blowing up, but the vibrations didn’t stop. They kept coming, one after another, until I was sure the entire class could hear the faint buzz.

At this point, my phone might as well have been a vibrator.

Finally, I gave in, pulling my phone out discreetly under the desk. The notifications flooding my screen were all from one person.

From Messages:

loml 💕: babyy loml 💕: babyyyy loml 💕: boyfriend being ignored.

To Email: From: To: y/n@gmail.com Subject: boyfriend being ignored

To Instagram: @jakayyy tagged you in a story: "boyfriend being ignored 😔💔"

To Twitter: @j.k tweeted: boyfriend being ignored....

And then LinkedIn: @jeonjungkook updated his status: boyfriend being ignored... i miss you.

I stifled a laugh, covering my mouth with my hand as I scrolled through the barrage of notifications. Jungkook was relentless, and honestly, it was impressive how far he’d go to get my attention.

I quickly opened my messages to reply.

Me: omygod kook, I was in class 😭 loml 💕: idc I miss youuuu Me: me or Sam and Rachael? loml 💕: both...? Me: I’m in class rn. Don’t you have class too?? loml 💕: I don’t... Me: did you skip??? loml 💕: gee no loml 💕: my classes aren’t until later loml 💕: wanna have dinner with me later? Me: I have a presentation to make.... loml 💕: baby... loml 💕: as much as I love you as my nerd, you NEED a break loml 💕: pleaseee pleaseee Me: fine. Me: I’ll make time. loml 💕: see you later pretty 😉

I sighed, slipping my phone back into my bag. It was impossible to stay annoyed at him for long. Jungkook had a way of breaking through the stress and pulling me back to reality—whether it was through relentless notifications or his absurd LinkedIn updates.

As I tried to refocus on class, my seatmate, Anna, leaned over with her phone.

"Girl, have you seen this?" she whispered, showing me a TikTok video of a girl pranking her boyfriend by telling him they’d split the bill 50/50 at dinner.

I smirked, glancing at the screen. "Yeah, I’ve seen it. What’d your boyfriend say?"

Anna sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "I tried it yesterday. This man pushed the bill to me and didn’t even reach for his wallet. I ended up paying for the whole meal."

"Damn," I chuckled, shaking my head. "You should find a new one."

She groaned, slumping in her seat. "Tell me about it."

As the lecture continued, the thought lingered in my mind. I didn’t like asking people for things, especially money, but the idea of pulling the prank on Jungkook intrigued me.

What would he do?

Jungkook wasn’t like Anna’s boyfriend. For the past two years, he’d gone above and beyond to prove himself to me whether it was getting straight A’s, joining every project he could find, or taking me on dates he planned down to the smallest detail. 

-----

I was finishing the last touches of my makeup when I heard a knock at the door.

"Babyyyy!! Boyfriend at your service!" Jungkook’s voice rang out through my ring doorbell, his playful tone making me chuckle.

I opened the door, only to be met with his signature wide grin and a tight hug that nearly lifted me off my feet. His arms wrapped securely around me as he buried his face into my neck.

"Hmmm, I missed you so much," he murmured against my skin, his words accompanied by soft, feather-light kisses trailing from my neck to my lips.

I couldn’t help but melt into him, returning his embrace before he pulled back slightly to look at me. His eyes scanned me slowly from head to toe, and I felt a blush creep up my neck.

"Why are you staring?" I asked shyly, trying to hide my flustered expression.

"Why?" he repeated, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. "Can’t a man look at the most gorgeous woman in his life?"

I rolled my eyes, lightly hitting his arm as he laughed.

"Gosh, let me just wear my heels, and we’ll be good to go,"

We arrived at the diner a little while later, and I was immediately taken aback. The place was fancy too fancy. The kind of fancy that makes you wonder why you didn’t eat at home before coming.

As we walked in, Jungkook kept his hand lightly on the small of my back, guiding me to our table like a gentleman. The menu was placed in front of us, and when I opened it, my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

"Goddamn," I whispered under my breath, scanning the exorbitant prices.

Jungkook, however, seemed completely unfazed. He looked at me with that easy, confident smile. "Go ahead, baby. Order whatever you want."

His words were casual, but the sincerity in his tone made my heart flutter.

Once we finished ordering, the dinner passed like it always did with Jungkook filled with laughter, shared stories, and moments where he’d reach across the table to hold my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"So," he started, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at me. "What’s my nerd been up to today?"

"Same as always," I said, shrugging. "Class, notes, presentation prep..."

He groaned dramatically. "You’re gonna burn yourself out. I told you, you need to relax sometimes."

"I’m here, aren’t I?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

"True," he said with a grin. "I’ll take what I can get."

Finally, the bill arrived, and I couldn’t help but glance at it from the corner of my eye.

It was time.

"So," I said, feigning nonchalance as I folded my napkin. "What if we split the bill tonight?"

Jungkook paused mid-reach for the check, his eyes snapping to mine.

"What?" he said, his voice calm but laced with confusion.

"You know," I said with a small shrug, "50/50. Equal partnership, right?"

For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"Is this a test?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"What? No," I lied, trying to keep a straight face.

 Jungkook slid his card to the waiter with a firm gesture, cutting me off entirely.

"I’m your man, you’re my woman," he began, his tone steady but laced with conviction. "I am responsible for you and our finances. You’re my future wife, the number one woman in my life, and the mother of my future children. How could I even think of making you pay?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. "But—"

"No buts," he interrupted.

Then, as if on cue, his gaze shifted toward my phone. His expression softened, his brows raising slightly as realization dawned.

"Babyyy..." he whined, his voice taking on a playful edge as he looked at me with mock betrayal. "You’re filming me, aren’t you?"

I couldn’t hold back a giggle, my shoulders shaking as I tried to keep the phone steady. "Kook..." I whispered, almost apologetically, though the blush on my face deepened from the vulnerability of his earlier confession.

He sighed, shaking his head but chuckling as he paid for the meal. Once the waiter returned with the receipt, he stood and helped me up like the gentleman he always was.

----

Before he could start the car, I reached out and rested my head on his shoulder.

"You passed the experiment," I muttered softly, the words muffled against his jacket.

He let out a laugh, the deep sound reverberating in his chest. He turned slightly to look at me, his eyes warm as they met mine.

"You’re unbelievable," he said, his voice filled with affection.

We stayed like that for a moment, the silence between us comfortable and familiar. Then, without warning, he leaned in, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly grew deeper.

His hand cupped the side of my face, tilting my head slightly as he deepened the kiss, pulling me closer.

My heart raced as I kissed him back, my hand curling around the fabric of his jacket. But just as the moment began to intensify, I pulled back slightly, my forehead resting against his.

"Let’s go home first... please?" I whispered, my voice barely audible as I smiled at him.

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek before he leaned back in his seat, his eyes still fixed on me.

"Anything you want, baby," he murmured, his voice full of promise as he started the car and drove us home.

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

hi! i wanted to start this off by saying i love your writing, it's so wonderful!!! could i request the RE men on how they'd act on their wedding/eloping day w fem!reader please? fluff & nsfw are more than welcome :) thank you!!!

୨୧ Note: thank you so much anon for the kind words 🥺 and of course you can request that! You can request anything! This idea is very beautiful and thank you for it. I had a fun time writing it, and I hope you will have a fun time reading it as well 💖

୨୧ Warning: this post contains nsfw scenes.

Also, my commissions are open, so if you are interested visit my ko-fi page. Thank youuuu 🥰

He wants to keep things intimate. While the idea of a big, extravagant wedding appeals to him, he values the thought of spending this special day just with you, where he can truly be himself. In private, he can express his love and admiration without holding back, showing you his soft and gentle side, away from the prying eyes of others.

This means he’ll make your elopement day unforgettable. He'll hire a priest to officiate your union, will book the most luxurious hotel, and he'll also prepare the itinerary for your honeymoon. He wants to spend an entire month with you, where you will be travelling, experiencing new things, and deepening your bond.

He'd spend weeks working on his vows. Don't get me wrong, he makes sure you know how much he loves you. Every day, even if it's a gesture or a small action, by the time you go to sleep, you need to know that you are being worshipped and loved.

His heart will fill with joy, and his eyes will sparkle with pride as he sees you in that white dress. All he can think of is how lovely and elegant you look, and also how beautiful it will look on the floor when you get to your room.

He'd start off slowly, gentle, wanting to take his time with you. He will place kisses all over your body, starting with your lips and neck, going all the way down between your legs. His tongue will move relentlessly over and around your clit, his fingers curling and twisting inside you, pulling out some delicious moans out of you—those kinds that make his shaft twitch.

He will press his body over yours, looking for closure, as he pushes his cock inside of you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, keeping him tight in your embrace. As he keeps stretching you, he kisses your neck and whispers praises in your ear about how well you take him and how good your pussy feels.

He cums inside you multiple times that night, filling you up to the brim. He yearns that one day he can see your belly full with his kids. He doesn't care about the gender; all he wants are a lot of healthy little ones. You can imagine the excitement when you showed him the positive pregnancy test.

He wants an elopement day because he never knows when he'll have to hop on his next mission. So, after you said "yes," he bought two plane tickets to a country with the fastest departure date available.

Before leaving, he helped you out with the list of things that needed to be done, and luckily everything went incredibly smoothly, as if this holy union was meant to happen.

Even if the ceremony was quicker than expected, you managed to feel the magic of the moment, the suspense and emotions after saying "I do," the overwhelming joy while reciting and hearing each other's vows, and the tingling and burning love of the kiss that bound your souls. Even if his life is full of uncertainties, he is happy to know that you are one constant in his life.

After that, you spent the whole day walking around the city. An elderly couple saw your formal attire, and they were so confused after they heard you just got married, but they were so adorable in their uncertainty. "Why do you mean you got married? Just like that? Where are the guests? Where did you hold the ceremony?" They were very open-minded about it, and they began sharing their wedding day.

After that, you ate at a local restaurant. Again, nothing fancy, something you both liked that had a good view and good food.

The hotel was nice too, but none of you got a chance to admire it as you were too drunk and too over each other. Until you reach your room, both of you engaged in a hot make-out session.

Leon undresses you quickly. The cold air didn't have a chance to tickle your hot skin as Leon was fast to roll over you. Skin pressed on skin tightly, he kept whispering a lot of sweet praises that just trickled over your fevered heart, as they felt so much more intense than would normally say them. His lips felt like feathers on your skin, and they couldn't stop as your melodic moans kept fuelling the burning desire he had for you.

He helped you position yourself on top of him and gasped for air as your warm cunt began to engulf his cock. The warm walls kept contracting around him as you went up and down, and your hips didn't take a single break from moving as Leon felt so good inside of you. His curved shaft kept rubbing that spot inside you, and desperate moans kept escaping your mouth as you felt your orgasm coming, each more melodic and louder than the other. You rested your hand on his chest as your legs became tired, but Leon's powerful grip on your hips helped you keep the pace.

Your legs began shaking, and you collapsed on top of him, feeling that pressure fading from your belly. Your pussy contracted around him, beginning to milk him as soon as he came. You could hear his sobs, his sweet and pathetic ones, as he released a couple of hot, thick spurts inside you.

He kept watching his wife with an adoring gaze for the rest of the night and only fell asleep when the first rays of the sun pierced the sky.

He wants an elopement day with a few guests and a small reception. Even if the idea of a secret wedding day pierced his mind, he decided that it's best to spend this important day with those who are closest to you.

Luis often compliments you, his lips being nothing more than a music stave on which words flow, creating an anthem dedicated to your beauty. He is the type of man to cherish everything about you.

He chose a cabin in the woods because he wanted to give you the fairytale wedding you dreamt of. It's very intimate and very secluded from the outside world. The whole evening felt like you were in a bubble stuck in time. Neither of you felt how the time passed; you were too preoccupied to consume and cherish this special moment. His eyes followed you all day, admiration and desire growing with each passing minute.

Since he was very eager to be alone with you, he carried you with a smirk to your room.

"God, I wanted you all night," he'd whisper in a sweet tone as he'd lay you on the bed. "The way this dress fit on your body…" His hands did most of the talking for him, as they moved so gently yet firmly to take off your dress. He took his time with you, wanting to savour every inch of your body. When he pushed the dress past your boobs, he couldn't resist and stopped to give them some attention. Those beautiful hard nipples were just so beautiful that he had to suck them for a brief moment. You began to moan instantly as you felt his skilled tongue going in circles around the sensitive buds, and you grabbed his hair in a firm grip just how he liked it.

"I can't have enough of you…" he said between moans.

"Me neither…undress me, please." You sobbed as you pushed his head down, urging him to continue. Your mouth watered at the simple thought of his cock going inside you. You wanted him so, so bad that it hurt. You could see his chest rising and falling, showing how heavily he was breathing. He was burning up with desire and passion.

He slid the dress across your body with one smooth move and tossed it on the floor. After that, he quickly got rid of his own clothes, and when you noticed his swollen, red cock, your whole body shivered.

He quickly jumped on top of you, and soon he pushed the first inches in your pussy, stretching you nice and easy given how wet you were.

"It's like you were made for me…." he whined, his mind being clouded by euphoria.

Luis kept increasing his pace, being driven by his own arousal and by your delightful moans. Your cunt was so intoxicating for him, as it clouded his judgement, removing every ounce of self-control and making him act on pure instinct, and his instinct at that time was to bury himself inside you over and over and over until he had consumed everything, and then start again.

He kept rubbing that spot inside of you, increasing the pressure in your abdomen until you felt like bursting. Eventually, the orgasm hit you hard, and it hit him too. He filled you up to the brim, hot, thick spurts of his cum flowing inside you.

He watched you the whole night, not wanting to close his eyes because he wanted to remember your beautiful, sleeping face. Eventually, the fatigue was stronger, and he fell asleep, dreaming of your future.

Surprisingly, he wants a wedding day. After everything he'd been through, he wants something beautiful, something bright, something to remind him that this world is worth living in. Besides, he knew how much you wanted a big wedding, so he wants to comply and satisfy every wish that you have.

Krauser also has a bit of an ego that needs to be satisfied, and this wedding is perfect for that. Every detail will stand out, from the reception to your dress. He was fully involved in planning everything, completely committed to you every step of the way.

Everything was well organised and planned by the second, just as he likes. His heart was filled with joy and pride when heads turned to admire you as you walked down the aisle. He was very handsome too, but you took the spotlight, and he couldn't be more happy. Holding your hands, looking into your eyes, and saying "I do," these moments will be imprinted in his brain, and this feeling will live in his heart until the day he will die.

Having arrived in the room, his hands immediately glued themselves to your body. He barely contained himself all night. Slight touches here and there, under the table, on the dance floor, a small make-out session in the wardrobe—he was boiling up with desire and need.

"You are gorgeous, so, so gorgeous," he said amidst the kiss. A lot of tension was between you that needed to be released.

Krauser managed to take off your pompous dress in a skilled way, leaving you bare. Once he saw your naked body, his mind was clouded at once with an urging need to fuck you senseless, so he picked you up and threw you on the soft mattress.

He was insatiable. His tongue kept drawing circles around your swollen clit over and over, and his fingers would fuck you relentlessly until his whole hand was soaked. His cock was throbbing in his pants more frequently as your moans increased in volume.

"You taste delicious, honey," he said between his own moans.

"I know…now can you please fuck me?" You sobbed, being more and more desperate for his cock, and it's normal considering how much he teased you in the evening.

"How can I say no to you, my love?" he said as he stood up, one hand on your face and the other working to remove his pants. "God, you are so beautiful." His big thumb was running over your cheek; his gaze was full of admiration.

He gave you what you wanted, and he made sure that you'd cry out his name on each and every thrust. His cock massaged that spot inside you so well that it made you curl your toes immediately. You hugged him tight because your emotions were all over the place.

Eventually, your orgasm hit you hard, causing your body to tremble a bit. Krauser made sure to empty his load inside you, and that was so easy considering how your wear cunt kept milking him.

After that, he took care of you. He helped you get ready for bed; he ordered some food and put on a good movie. Of course that you went a couple more rounds after and eventually fell asleep exhausted.

[dayslynthesix]

bad idea, right? | max verstappen x female!oc [part 1]

the one when max verstappen got back to his ex girlfriend

an: i swear part 2 is funnier please don't give up part 2

amayamedina

liked by itsmegigi, thstsanneg_, beabee, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and others

amayamedina i wish i was still blond to be on my merliah summers era. see you next year, spain, i had a lovely time here 🩷🇪🇸

itsmegigi the only certain i have in my life is that we're gonna be together next summer

amayamedina obviously girl, its us to the end of the world duuuhhh

thstsanneg_ i love you and i will definitely miss you during the year 😭😭

amayamedina stoppp you'll have to came to see mee 😭😭

beabee i think this was the best summer we ever had

amayamedina i know right?? this one felt more special

maxverstappen1 ⛱️🧡 liked by amayamedina

charles_leclerc it was lovely to meet you and the gang

amayamedina it was super nice to mee you, my mom will love to hear i watch the race from ferrari garage, shes a big fan

user1 so this is the girl we saw with max during the barcelona gp?

user2 idk maybe? she looks pretty

user3 she's a beach volleyball player i think

user6 how did you already found out her social media??

user1 she's a beach volleyball player (was, idk) and she's also a sports influencer

may 13th, 2019

amayamedina

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, itsmegigi, maxverstappen1, thstsanneg_ and others

amayamedina interlagos was alway my favorite track 🇧🇷

maxverstappen1 your my favorite ❤️

amayamedina i love youuuu

thstsanneg_ i still cant believe you're dating a playboy who's job is literally racing in circles

amayamedina i know right??

user83 i hate the way they talk about max career like it's nothing

user92 girl it's not that deep they're joking

itsmegigi you're kinda cute

maxverstappen1 are you considering redbull as your next team?

itsmegigi im with ferrari until the day i die

beabee mom and dad 🥰

amayamedina no

charles_leclerc gross

amayamedina no one invited you here and if i recall you and max are not on speaking terms so plese fix that!

charles_leclerc no

user1 SO SHE IS THE GIRL

user93 she was pretty much at every gp and was seen with him at least four times guys, it's obvious

user1 we're happy they announced, that's all

user33 she's so gorgeous

user83 i meet them last night and she was very polite AND she was the one who took the photo i have with max

november 19th, 2019

amayamedina

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, charlottesiine, itsmegigi, thstsanneg_ and others

amayamedina me and my girls (and the boys), italy trip you'll aways be famous! 🇮🇹

maxverstappen1 🧡🧡🧡

charles_leclerc the trip is always famous untill someone end up in the hospital with a food poisoning

amayamedina i told you to take it easy with the shrimp...

beabee ok that was amazing!! can't wait for next years

amayamedina we'l be here!

itsmegigi all the pottery it was me! i need people to know that ams and bea are shitty at it

amayamedina anne helped... a little

charles_leclerc no she didn't, she was BUSY TRYING TO GUIDE THE BOAT SINCE MAX AND AMAYA KEPT ARGUING!! comment have been deleted

charles_leclerc no she didn't 🤪

thstsanneg_ i love you guys

redbullracing take care of max, he's our precious driver and we need him!

amayamedinaif he was here i would! comment have been deleted

amayamedina sure adm! 😌

may 28th, 2021

amayamedina and maxverstappen1

liked by itsmegigi, georgerussell63. charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and others

amayamedina after two and a half years together with max, we decided to go separate paths, i will be forever grateful for the time we spent together 🩷

maxverstappen1 thank you for allowing me to be your partner, i will hold those memories close to my heart. wish you all the best 🧡

comments on this post have been restricted

june 10th, 2021

amayamedina

liked by itsmegigi, charles_leclerc, thstsanneg_, beabee and others

amayamedina birthday me with the people i love the most in the place im the happiest, thank you so much for being here with me and to celebrate my life with me, i will hold those memories close to my heart ❤️‍🩹 happy cancer season everyone ♋️🦀 | 📍 positano, italy

itsmegigi i love you and i love to spend your day with you, you're my best friend in the world and your happiness means a lot to me 💛

amayamedina you mean a lot to me! 💛

thstsanneg_ happy happy happy birthday my friend, you're the best, you deserve your friends with you today

amayamedina don't make me cry again 😭 i love you and im super grateful to have you in my life

beabee im crying again, i love you! it you and me (and gi, and annie) that's my whole world until the end

amayamedina my world is only whole when im with you, annie and gigi, i love you ❤️

charles_leclerc happy birthday, ames, you deserve all the best

amayamedina thank you charlie, thank you for being here 💖

charlottesiine it was amazing to celebrate with you, i hope you have a great year!

amayamedina it was amazing c! thank you for coming 💖

user13 don't you guys think that's strange that amaya and max broke up like 10 days ago and charles is celebrating her birthday with her?

user83 not at all, they seemed very friendly with each other and charlotte and her became very close

user89 people can't have friends anymore

madalenamedina_ happy birthday my beautiful girl, i still remember the day i found out that i was going to be a mom and the day i listened to your heart for the first time, i love you dearly and immeasurably ❤️❤️❤️

amayamedina thank you mom, i love you! you're the best mom i could have asked for and i want to be your daughter in every life after this one

user82 HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMAYA!!!

lewishamilton happy birthday, amaya! wishing yoi all the best 🙏🏻

amayamedina thank you, lewis! 💖

june 30th, 2021

maxverstappen1

liked by redbullracing, f1, pierregasly and others

maxverstappen1 🏆😄

redbullracing our world champ!

kellypiquet ❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo congrats mate

landonorris 💥💥

user92 goat

user193 i mean congrats i guess

user82 the fia is now giving world championships like it's candy lol

user95 it was supposed to be amaya with him 😭😭

user33 move on they broke up hes happy with kelly

december 16th, 2021

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, f1, redbullracing and others

maxverstappen1 after 2 years together, kelly and i decided to go different ways, i ask you, please, for privacy during this moment and respect to her and her personal life.

november 17th, 2023

comments on this post have been restricted

amayamedina just added a story

november 23rd, 2023

maxverstappen1 has answered this story

maxverstappen1 can we talk? it's been a while

amayamedina i don't know if i still had anything to talk to you

maxverstappen1 kelly and i we broke up

amayamedina im sorry

maxverstappen1 no you're not haha

amayamedina yeah im not lol but i guess a talk won't do harm so sure

maxverstappen1 can i pick you up?

amayamedina sure, give me 10min

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW GLAD I AM THAT YOUR WRITE FOR SPTO THANK YOUUUU

UGH okay, my craziness aside; could you try “I think I’m in love with you” with Matthew Patel? It doesn’t matter who says it, I jsut think it’d be adorable (I adore that funky theatre punk so so much <3)

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night!!

"Do it!"

"Come on, Lord Matthew!"

"We're getting impatient.."

"Maybe we'll go in and tell them ourselves-"

"Ladies, that's enough! I will tell them myself...i-in a minute. First, I need to rehearse what I'm going to say..I can't mess this up."

The demon hipster chicks could only stare at their master with blank expressions, knowing damn well that he was stalling the inevitable:

That being his confession to you.

You two go back as far as middle school, with you being the first friend he ever made who didn't mind his weirdness or mystical powers. Plus, you shared his admiration for the theater and dramatics when he started obsessing over those, becoming his number one supporter.

Until now, Matthew never thought he'd fall for you like he did Ramona. But he feared rejection, ridicule, or worse--the relationship being extremely short-lived and him never getting to experience a "true love's kiss".

Once was painful enough.

He couldn't go through that again.

Of course, his demon hipster chicks knew all about this and the months he's spent pining after you. As much as they didn't like you "stealing" away his attention...they realized you made their master genuinely happy.

And above everything else, they wanted him to be happy.

So they were thrilled when he summoned them, seeing that they were at the doorstep to your apartment and squealing upon noticing the giftbox he had for you.

Finally, he seemed ready to move on from Ramona.

Yet....he had spent ten solid minutes pacing along the floor and trying to hype himself up, his confidence totally shot, before he eventually stopped in front of your door again.

"Okay, I got it! Erm..."Roses are red, violets are--" no, that's stupid. It's too cliche! Everybody uses that!" Shaking his head, he tried to think of something else. ""Hey, would you like to be the Romeo to my Juliet--" ohh, what am I saying?! That's not romantic!! That would mean our relationship could end in tragedy...UGH!!"

"Don't overthink it, my lord." One of the demons whispered to him. "Just tell them how you feel."

"....it can't be that simple, can it?"

"....."

"..alright. I'll take your advice. I'm going for it." With a nervous swallow, he bowed his head and raised a hand to knock at the door-

Only for it to swing open, causing him to freeze in-place and look up to see you on the other side. He quickly hid both hands behind his back, hoping you didn't see the gift. "H-Hi.."

"Oh hey, Matty. Hey, girls." You smiled, looking past him and waving to the demons. But as your gaze shifted back to his, you wondered why he seemed extremely nervous. "Are you feeling okay?"

"..yeah. Just..wanted to see how you were doing." Pink was starting to dust his cheeks. "Did you uh...know I was going to come visit?"

"Um...yeah? You texted me earlier."

"......"

"And I saw you outside my window and figured you forgot the spare key."

"Shit..did I?" Matthew checked his coat pockets, feeling more embarrassed to know he forgot such a simple thing. All because he couldn't stop thinking about you. "I guess I did forget.......how about I go get it?"

You blinked in confusion. "Huh? But you're-"

"I'll be back, I swear-?!!"

The second he tried to run away, two of the demons grabbed a hold of his arms, dragging him into your apartment, while the other two guarded the door it in case he attempted another escape. He yelled in outrage, putting up a bit of struggle before they let go.

At this point, he was seething red, prepared to yell at them for their betrayal and the humiliation it brought upon him...

But they just winked and disappeared, the last one wishing him luck.

Of course.

"I can't believe it! The nerve of those-"

"What was that all about? You're acting kinda..odd, Matthew." Raising an eyebrow, you sat down on your sofa, having no clue why the man in front of you looked so flustered.

"I....have something I need to say." He decided to sit beside you, sighing heavily. "[Y/n], I think....I..I..."

"Yes?"

"...I-I think I'm in love with you!" Finally blurting it out, he closed his eyes and handed you the box, too afraid to see your expression. "I know it's sudden but..you've always been there for me. Ever since I found my passion for theater. Ever since Ramona dumped me...you were by my side. A-And I feel like I took that for granted. I thought I only wanted revenge against those who wronged me....but no. I want something better. I want love...and I want to be yours. So please...let me prove that I can be a good boyfriend and not evil!"

Part of him wanted to curl up and die as he continued babbling on and on about his feelings, thinking about the hundreds of other ways he could have done this.

He could flawlessly play the role of a love interest in a musical or play and move the audience to tears so effortlessly. But off-stage, he felt like a bumbling lovesick idiot who isn't making any sense to his crush..

There's no way you could love him back.

Not after seeing him like this.

Yet after feeling the box being removed from his hands, Matthew bravely opened his eyes, watching as you took out the black and red roses he put inside it. The thorns have been clipped off, allowing you to twirl the stems in your fingers for a moment or two.

Then you looked at him with the brightest of smiles, laughing softly. "Of course you'd give me roses, you dork. That's so....you." You set them aside before moving closer, taking his hands into yours. "I'm trusting you to uphold that promise."

His heart was soaring.

He must definitely be dreaming right now.

"S-So...it's a yes?"

You chuckled, nodding. "Yes. And...I promise to be with you for longer than a week."

That got him choked up. He couldn't say anything else in that moment, as his only response was pulling you into a tight hug and hiding his face in your neck.

Thank god he didn't ruin this.

You just smiled and held him close, relieved that he finally decided to try loving again. When he calmed down enough to look back up into your eyes, that's when you both decided to go for the kiss--just in case he had any more doubts in his mind.

And there were sparks galore.

[ssprayberrythings]

my best friend | OP81

oscar piastri x ginger!female reader / smau fic

warnings: none except if you get triggered by best friends to lovers than look out..

this is just a self indulgent fic seeing as i am a ginger and i just wanted to live in my delulu for a minute. thats all. thanks 👉👈

-

yourusername posted on instagram

oscarpiastri, landonorris, danielricciardo, lilymhe & others liked 

oscars getting better at the picture taking thing 🙆‍♀️ 

📸: oscarpiastri 

view all comments 

fan1: y/n back at the slaying 

fan22: go oscar !! 

fan15: im new; who is she ?? 

╰ fan1: she’s a friend of oscar’s. there’s been some rumours they might be dating but neither have confirmed nor denied. she goes to some races and has become friends with some of the other drivers and some of the WAG’s so we just accept her as an honorary wag regardless if they’re actually dating. she’s also known for interacting with fans !! 

╰ liked by yourusername 

╰ fan15: ooooh thanks!! 

oscarpiastri: i told you, you just had to give me some time to learn the angles and lighting 😎

╰ yourusername: yeah, yeah, i know 

landonorris: but is he a better photographer than i am? ;) 

╰ yourusername: you already know the answer to that ;) 

╰ fan12: i love y/n and lando’s friendship 

-

oscarpiastri posted on their story  

caption: she insisted on making goodbye cupcakes @yourusername 

╰ yourusername: they turned out pretty good i’d say 

╰ landonorris: bring me some !!! 

more replies…

╰ fan17: she’s the cutest 

╰ fan22: y’all have to be dating 

╰ fan6: i want a cupcake made by y/n 

yourusername posted on their story  

caption: bye bye oscar pastry. have fun driving fast cars 🫡 @oscarpiastri

╰ oscarpiastri: really? of all photos? AND OSCAR PASTRY? 😑

╰ yourusername: yk you low-key love it 

╰ oscarpiastri: im uninviting you from my races 

╰ yourusername: do it. i’ll just get lando to invite me 😎

more replies…

╰ fan3: goals, i think? 

╰ fan28: hes so cute 

╰ mclaren: 🧡 

-

yourusername posted on instagram  

landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend, mclaren & others liked 

what’s a soft launch? 

view all comments 

fan11: BESTIE THIS IS ONE 

fan23: so is she soft launching oscar or….

landonorris: 😏

╰ fan2: LANDO WHAT DO YOU KNOW 

oscarpiastri: don’t ask me, i’m not on social media enough to know 

╰ yourusername: thats such a lie. you’re always on your phone 🤨

╰ fan15: if they are dating, i love their bickering and if they’re just friends, i love this dynamic 

yourbestfriend: i wonder who gave you the caption idea 🤔

╰ yourusername: i love youuuuuuu

-

yourusername posted on their story  

caption: early flights 😴 

╰ oscarpiastri: see you soon. safe travels:) 

more replies…

╰ fan1: yes she’s on her way to her first race of the season 

╰ fan5: cant wait to see her and oscar !!! *hopefully* 

yourusername posted on instagram  

oscarpiastri, landonorris, fan22, yourbestfriend, fan12 & others liked 

i miss you and our kitchen shenanigans 

view all comments 

fan24: okay but does she miss oscar even if she is travelling to see him? or does she miss her boyfriend who she just left? i need answers 

fan22: that has to be oscar, c’mon…

oscarpiastri: its giving clingy

╰ yourusername: shut up 

lilymhe: goals ‼️

╰ yourusername: girl stop, you and alex give me life 

╰ lilymhe: nope, thats all you and your man 

╰ yourusername: i love you 

╰ lilymhe: love youuuu 

-

lilymhe posted on their story  

caption: missed my favourite ginger 👩🏻‍🦰 @yourusername 

╰ yourusername: missed you more 😘

more replies…

╰ fan81: your friendship >>>

╰ fan4: lily & y/n i love you 

yourusername posted on their story  

caption: reunited with the besties 🧡 @landonorris @oscarpiastri

╰ landonorris: happy you’re here:) now oscar can shut up about how much he misses you

╰ yourusername: ah and he calls me clingy 🙄

╰ oscarpiastri: ❤️

more replies…

╰ fan1: “besties” sure y/n 

╰ fan24: they look so precious 

╰ fan7: just post a relationship post pleaseeeee

-

oscarpiastri posted on instagram  

yourusername, landonorris, mclaren & others liked 

Great first race back! Cant wait to see how the rest of the season goes..🧡 #PapayaNation

tagged: mclaren 

view all comments 

f1: 👏

mclaren: You did great Oscar! 

f1fan: that was such a great race to start the season!!!

fan23: the best part was that y/n was there cheering him on 

yourusername: i’ll admit i’m pretty proud. good job oscar pastry 😏

╰ oscarpiastri: wow youre being nice..kind of 

╰ yourusername: dont get used to it

╰ fan26: y/n’s love language is bullying you cant convince me otherwise 

╰ liked by yourusername 

fan13: this is definitely mclarens year, i can tell !! 

landonorris: good job out there mate! 

╰ liked by oscarpiastri 

-

yourusername posted on instagram  

oscarpiastri, lilymhe, landonorris, fan22, fan1 & others liked 

emptying out my camera roll 🧚🏻‍♀️

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri

view all comments 

fan12: THE FOURTH PIC

fan2: Y/N THIS SOFT LAUNCH IS AN EXTRA LEVEL OF SOFT 

╰ liked by yourusername

landonorris: of all moments to post…why that one 

╰ yourusername: cuz its funny 😆

oscarpiastri: i had no idea you even took that photo..

╰ yourusername: im like the paps 📸

fan15: y/n truly is the cutest thats all i have to say

╰ fan1: agreed !! 

-

oscarpiastri posted on their story  

caption: a ginger found a ginger 🐱 @yourusername 

╰ yourusername: the loml 🥹

╰ oscarpiastri: who?? 

╰ yourusername: the cat obviously..who else

╰ oscarpiastri: uhmmmm..🤨

more replies…

╰ fan12: i want to hug her 

╰ fan44: are y’all dating..we need to know 

╰ fan21: dating: yes or no? 

╰ fan16: ignore this if youre dating…

Oscar looked through some of his responses of his recent story 

“I think we should tell them” he said looking at you putting his phone away. You were sitting down, wearing one of his jumpers and some sweats

“Are you sure?” you asked giving him your full attention 

“Yeah, they already suspect it and plus our anniversary is coming up its a perfect time to do it” he suggested walking over to where you sat on the couch, plopping down next to you. 

He put his head on your shoulder as you moved slightly to make room for him “That would be cute. I have so many pictures I want to post of you” you told him liking his idea 

“We could also post on our stories and not give any context before actually posting” you thought out loud

“Im fine with that” he agreed, lifting his head off your shoulder and turning to fully face you 

“I love you” he told you leaning in to be met with a kiss, you giggled quickly giving him the kiss he wanted “I love you, even if you do drive me crazy” you whispered 

“Hey! I do not” he pulled away pouting “You do” you chuckled “But I love you for it” you finished.

He couldn’t fight you on that so instead he repositioned himself and curled up to you, you smiled and started brushing your fingers through his hair. Eventually you both fell asleep like that, enjoying the closeness and warmth you offered to each other. 

-

yourusername posted on their story  

caption: my second home 🧡

*replies disabled* 

oscarpiastri posted on their story  

caption: never letting you go 🫂

*replies disabled* 

yourusername posted on their story  

caption: hints of you are everywhere ☺️

*replies disabled*

oscarpiastri posted on their story  

caption: 😘

*replies disabled* 

-

yourusername posted on instagram   

oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbestfriend, mclaren, lilymhe & others liked

no surprise here but happy anniversary bub🧡 thanks for being my partner in crime and giving the best hugs..i love you oscar pastry !

tagged: oscarpiastri 

view all comments 

landonorris: ABOUT TIME 

oscarpiastri: i love you long time.❤️

╰ liked by yourusername

fan12: we kneW IT 

fan23: OH MY FINALLY 

lilymhe: lets go on double dates now !! ☺️ 

╰ yourusername: sounds good to me 

fan2: “giving the best hugs” I KNEW OSCAR GAVE GOOD HUGS 

fan7: SOMEONE HELP, IM NOT DOING WELL 

╰ fan26: SAME 

╰ fan11: same same 

╰ mclaren: us too 

-

oscarpiastri posted on instagram   

yourusername, landonorris, mclaren, f1 and others liked 

Cant imagine my life without you. Here's to more years to come 🧡

tagged: yourusername 

view all comments 

yourusername: I LOVE LOVE YOU 😘

╰ oscarpiastri: DIDDO😘

╰ yourusername: 🤨

fan13: THIER BICKERING AND BULLYING EACH OTHER JUST GOT BETTER KNOWING THEYRE ACTUALLY DATING 

fan4: MY HEART IS BURSTING 

mclaren: our favourite papaya couple 🧡

╰ liked by oscarpiastri & yourusername 

fan25: the mclaren admin being y/noscar’s biggest fan is my roman empire 

╰ fan22: girl same 

landonorris: yeah yeah we get it your happy and in love..🙄

╰ yourusername: we’ll be your wing man and woman so you don’t have to third wheel all the time 

╰ landonorris: no thank you. 

╰ oscarpiastri: too bad, she’s already going through her friends that are single that she thinks would be your type 

╰ liked by yourusername

-

i hope you enjoyed this! as i said it was just a self indulgent fic that i wrote for myself but maybe it'll bring you the same joy reading it as it brought me writing it 🧡

my next fic is a danny one that im excited about so look out for that!

[melodic-haze]

Hellooo!!

I wanted to ask if you make content about Furina (I love your writing and Furina, so seeing that combined would be the BEST 😻) and if you do, could you write to needy!sub!Furina that after going through all that suffering for 500 years, she just want her girlfriend to take care of her and love her like she always needed?

Thank you!! :33

(and sorry for the bad English 😭)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Furina x dom!fem!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: None

☆ — NOTES: FIRSTLY THANK YOUUUU I'M FLATTERED YOU LOVE MY WRITING OMG???? And yes, I do make Furina content I love my silly thespian lesbian girlfailure :3 DON'T APOLOGISE DAWG your English isn't bad!!

I'd like you all to know I converted a Furina hater first of all with my extensive knowledge of ouji lolita clothing. But that's not what you wanted to see here

Being Furina's lover would be. Very much in need of constant attention, you right!!! Wish I could generalise it all but this is ME that's making this and ME making this means I have to actually Put My Mind into this 😭😭😭. Being in a relationship with her is NOT for the detached and the unavailable bc of just how needy she is

She's very! Attached to you! I think eventually she does learn to latch off and act independently without fear of losing the ones she loves (read: you), but it'd take a WHILE before she's at fully at peace with herself.......but rn she NEEDS to catch up on YEARS of intimacy

That DOES translate beyond a simple want for companionship however 😄

You wake up in the middle of the night to soft sounds from your beloved, whose back is turned towards you.

"'Rina..?" Your hands reached towards her in an attempt to let her know of your presence, "Babe, what's wrong?"

You see her shoulders still at your touch, her blanketed figure highlighted by the stream of moonlight escaping from the small gap between the curtains. You took it as a sign that perhaps touching her right now was a bad idea, so you draw your hand back.. but her hand darts to hold yours, squeezing desperately as she turns to look at you.

And oh, you could feel your heart shatter at the sight—tears streaming down her face, eyes glassy and a horrified expression that swiftly twists into relief at the sight of you.

What she says after breaks your heart even further as her voice cracks and loses its usual bravado, eyes meeting you and searching for something—reassurance, perhaps—in your moonlit gaze, "I'm not... This isn't a dream, right? You're-- you're here, I'm here, this is.. this is real. Please tell me this is real."

A former archon, no matter the authenticity, is pleading to you as if you were the god. Praying for some form of reassurance that she wasn't going to wake up cold and alone, doomed to be on the outside looking in as she performed and performed and performed for more times than she could ever possibly count.

"Yes. Yes, of--" You swallowed your initial response (saying that 'of course it's real' would do her no good), "I'm real. This is all real. And I am not going to let you go until you believe it yourself."

"I need-- I need to feel you, to know you're not just saying what I want to hear," her free hand frantically went underneath your shirt, grasping onto your waist as she ducked her head and mumbled into your collar. You could feel fresh tears dampen your skin.

"..Are you sure?"

"Mhm."

"No, no, come on." You gently combed through your hair with her fingers, "Look at me."

No answer.

"Furina. Please."

..It takes a little bit, but she does end up following through.

"Are you completely sure? I don't want to do anything if--"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"..Okay." You moved above her, placing your knee in between her thighs, "But if you need me to stop or you want a break, do not keep quiet."

"Thank you."

NeedneedneedNEEEEED to take care of babyyyy :(((

She's veryyyyy needy PLEASE take care of her. NO rough sex this time, I need her to be treated juuuust like the girlprince that she is :((((( which means giving her so much love to the point where she CANNOT handle it❗️❗️ Poor girl doesn't know what to do when she's been basically in isolation for so long, only to now have someone so undeniably special to her REASSURING her that she's not going to be alone. If that meant overwhelming her and winding her up in the best possible way, well. Who's complaining, really 🤷‍♀️

Shower her in kisses, worship her body. She might be ticklish at first (which is good bc it distracts her :3), but then you get to more sensitive spots on her body and it has her bucking up into you, even tearing up at just how utterly devoted you're being to her

HOLD HER HANDS. OHMYGOD. Keep her laying down as you finger her, let her watch your desire for her translate to reality, let yourself feel just how close she wants you as she tugs you even closer while begging for more. Whatever baby wants, baby gets 😊😊😊😊😊

"Good girl.. good girl, there you go, just... Mmm, keep sucking me like that-- fuck you're so tight, you needed this, didn't you?"

You ask, and yet you expected no answer from her. Why would you, when you had stuffed her mouth with one of your tits, offered it for her to do whatever she wished as your fingers prodded and explored the insides of her wet cunt?

By god, she was trying her best make the most of what she was given, interchanging between her tongue swirling around your nipple and her lips suckling as if she were starved.

And perhaps she was, with the way she had grasped onto you so tightly as you brought her to the peak over and over again in an effort to show just how much you treasure her just for who she is.

Along with the fact that she was here in the present, sharing this moment with you.

You see her eyes go glassy again (it was hard to count just how many times it's happened throughout the night, not like you cared to), and you press a tender kiss on the crown of her head—a stark contrast from your hand's harsh motions, "Let it all out, baby... Let me hear you."

Her mouth lets go of your nipple as she let out a cross between a sob and a dumbed-out whine, her hand moving as a stand-in to squeeze your chest. "Ffffaster, pleeease-- yesyesyesthank you--"

"You're still so polite, you lovely little thing!" You curled your fingers up, in the same direction at which her hips rose up to, "I'll show you just how much I appreciate all of you."

By daybreak, you know your loving partner, however insecure she is now due to the lasting damage done to her after hundreds of years of doing nothing but perform to a grand audience with a role that is much too big and lonely for herself, would be more than assured that she is now accompanied by the present—she is accompanied by you and those who she deems special.

After all, if you were nothing but a dream, then however could she truly feel the raw sensation of every overstimulated nerve in her body?

If this were a dream, then however could she truly feel, for that matter?

Gotta GOGOGO until she's way too exhausted to go on. Furina is built for extensive dramatics, which means that she's going to have stamina, but she wasn't built to FOCUS on stamina, so at some point she Does pass out. Doesn't help that she's so unbelievably touch starved to the point where a LOT of her body's Extremely sensitive to intimate touches soooooo 🥰🥰🥰

And by the end of it? I pray to fucking GOD you both cuddle. She will forever be little spoon so hold her, have your legs all tangled together and make sure she can feel your warmth and the way your chest expands whenever you breathe :3c if this is a dream, then may it be a long-lasting one for the both of you🫶

[pumpkinbxtch]

hello baby!!! congrats and im so proud of ya, u deserve all of it fr fr 🤍🤍🤍

i wanted to request SOME OF DAYDREAMING for your event, about percy and obviously, daughter of hera reader. love love love you! do your magic sweetie 😚🫶🏻

hiiii, omg. thank youuuu! 🥹 and yeeeeah. so here we goooooo

✧⁠*⁠。SOME OF DAYDREAMING w' percy jackson and daughter of hera reader

Percy never knew he could find that kind of glorious and definitely heavenly love. He never knew it until he met you and nobody could take him away from you. Not even Hera, your mother. He didn't care much, to tell the truth.

For Percy you were his only church, the sacred place where he placed his faith and loyalty; the same that you lovingly guarded and faithfully respected. Both were perfect and just what Hera never found in Zeus: a loving and reciprocated relationship. You were crazy about each other that probably could dying in peace looking into each other's eyes.

The kind of love that usually takes most of your life to find. That luck had been given to you and Percy thought that he couldn't wait any longer to turning it into something serious.

When you finished dinner at the restaurant, he was amazed by the beauty of your simple person and you smiled with reddened cheeks. He intertwined your hand with his and huffed dramatically, making the hair that fell across his forehead flutter.

“please be mine” he dreamily begged and you raised your eyebrow clearly confused.

"but I'm yours, percy" you said and he kissed your hand with fervor. not needing anything else to take the little box out of his pocket and opening it before your eyes. You knew exactly what it was and you knew very well how he had come up with the idea of ​​giving you a promise ring.

"My mother," you said, shaking your head in amusement as he slid the ring onto your finger.

"Well, Lady Hera may have had the best idea in her eons of life. And one we can finally agree on."

“Pers…” He denied and interrupted you as politely as he could.

"Please" His eyes spoke for themselves and you laughed.

"I'm not saying no. I'm saying that rings I think we've been wearing for quite some time." He didn't seem surprised, in fact he acted as if you had only confirmed his thoughts.

He leaned over the table and with a charming smile reminded you for the thousandth time why you would never let him go.

"Oh, honey. I know. I just like the things that shine on you."

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hiiii! Can i request? I'm not sure if this was a good idea but I'm hoping maybe you could make an angst to fluff? Gojo x reader please. Where gojo thinks y/n is a burden but regretted it. Thank youuuu 🥺🙏

I've got you babe. It's not that heavy regarding hurt, I still hope you enjoy though (if you look for heavy heavy hurt, just look through my masterlist lol) Let me know what you think <3

Gojo calling (y/n) a burden to keep her safe

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Word Count: 2,8k

Synopsis: Despite the fact that Satoru Gojo was the one who lifted you up and gave you the confidence to go on your very first solo-mission, it was also him who shattered your confidence in order to keep you safe.

Warnings: language, (y/n) being self-unconscious, hurt but comfort (not that heavy hurt though)

To say you are excited is an understatement. Heart almost pounding out of your chest, whole face light up in nothing but motivation. Yes, this will be your day.

This is the day you’ve been waiting for, the moment you’ve trained so hard for all those months. You, on the side on none other than Satoru Gojo. The gifted boy who has it all, the boy with the six eyes, the boy you secretly have a crush on since joining Jujutsu High. You hate to admit it, especially towards your best friend Utahime. But god, something about him just makes your knees go weak.

“I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m not a huge fan of you being here, (y/n).”

Not because he thinks you aren’t skilled enough. Despite being in your first year, your fighting technique is remarkable, never skipping a single training session, always motivated. But the thought of exposing you to that cruel world outside jujutsu high, having to leave you alone on the battlefield…

Satoru just can’t. Fuck that everyone congratulates you on your first mission, fuck the way your eyes sparkle in excitement. Your beautiful doe eyes, your gorgeous innocent eyes…

He can’t let them hurt a single hair on your precious body.

“How’s that? You said yourself that I made a lot of progress”, you reply with an ever so slight pout.

Why would he say something like that? Even though you’re still in his first year and Satoru keeps himself busy with missions that require a special grade sorcerer, he always finds time to train with you. Even if it’s only for 5 minutes before leaving, even if it means standing in the rain with you for hours. He’s always there, always by your side. And now…now it is a bad thing that you accompany him? What about all those times he told you you are good enough when it was you who doubted herself.

Satoru clenches his jaw, eyes darting away from the stinging presence of your gaze. What is he supposed to say now? That he fucking loves you and hates the thought that you might get hurt? That this mission means you’ll be gone from time to time now and he’ll miss having you around all the time?

No way in hell.

“Just don’t get hurt, okay?”

The stone-cold tone in his usually so melodic voice makes your heart ache. Did you do something wrong? Was it something you’ve said?

You don’t have time to think about it any further. In fact, you get thrown into the air within the split of a second.

Your eyes widen in horror, all air escapes from lungs in an instant. That thing…that is definitely a curse. And what a strong one.

With a fast slash of your sword you free yourself just in time before getting smacked against a nearby building, landing on the ground so effortlessly elegant that Satoru can’t help but stare. You make it look so easy. And yet…

“I will have to leave now, (y/n). Call me when you need help. And remember what we trained for and the movement I’ve showed you yesterday. Keep in mind that you need to swing your leg-“

“Satoru.”

Gently, you place your hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got this, okay? Go and free those jujutsu sorcerers. We’ll meet again when I exorcised that thing and you return with everyone safe and sound.”

Your breath-taking smile makes it hard for him to stay focused, to remind himself of the fact that your life is in serious danger. Even though that curse definitely isn’t that powerful, you still have to be careful. And Satoru won’t be here to protect you for a while.

“Get going, Satoru.”

One last glance. One last touch of his hand and you’re gone in the wind, swinging your body into the hot summer air. He shakes himself out of his trance, eyes focusing on the tall building ahead of him.

He has a job to do. The faster he is, the sooner he can fight by your side.

“Please keep your eyes open”, he mutters more to himself than towards you.

Then you’re alone. Eye to eye with the quite small curse who doesn’t even tries to fight against you anymore. Did it give up? Is it already this drained? You didn’t even fight for 5 minutes by now. It doesn’t matter though. This is your first ever solo-mission, the first time you were truly able to show your abilities. Well, it’s not your fault the curse appears to be weaker than expected, right?

With a swift motion you slice through it, expecting to turn into smoke like you’re used to. You blink a few times, sword digging into the ground.

But it doesn’t.

Is it a misunderstanding, maybe? Could it be possible that only the strong curses disappear when getting exorcised? Until today, you were only able to watch from afar how Suguru and Satoru did it. Maybe you missed something, maybe it is in fact-

All colour drains from yourself in an instant, soul leaving your body along with warm liquid running down your stomach.

Something hit you.

Something definitely pierced right through you.

Your trembling fingers push the emergency button on your phone just in time before you are threatened to get attacked again. It takes all your strength to outstand that thing. But no, it’s not the quite small curse from before. That standing right in front of you is a decent-sized monster.

“How?” you breathe out.

Fuck, every single breath sends wave of agony through your veins, blood soaking through your uniform with ease. Suddenly you begin to tremble regardless of the fact that the sun is scorching hot, sweaty hand holding onto the handle of your sword for dear life. You need to hold on, at least a few minutes, at least until Satoru returns to your side.

Satoru.

“Who the hell is this”, he mumbles, taking out his phone while busting through a wall.

It’s you.

No. His heart skips a beat. This is your distress signal. This means that you’re…

His eyes widen in pure horror, all the nasty things he imagined earlier becoming reality. Please, let this be a mistake, let this be a bad joke. But he knows you aren’t joking, that you wouldn’t push that button out of nowhere. It means your life is in danger – in serious danger if your suborn self decided on calling him.

Satoru doesn’t have to think twice. These jujutsu sorcerers will have to wait.

“You need to come here. Right now”, he barks into the speaker.

“Huh, what’s up your ass today? What is even going-“

“I don’t know, but (y/n) pressed the button. Just come here and bring Suguru with you.”

He hangs up on Shoko without waiting for her reply. Instead, he storms back the way that he came, greeted by nothing but chaos. Fuck, this looks bad. Very very bad, to be exact. Did all of this happen within maybe 15 minutes? But the curse wasn’t that strong when he left, you were able to land hits so easily.

“(y/n)?” he screams on top of his lungs.

“I’ve got this, Satoru”, you blurt out.

There you stand, completely soaked in your own blood, your uniform torn. He can’t catch his breath, hands trembling just by looking at you.

“You’ve got nothing, (y/n). Get out the way and let me handle this on my own”, he instructs you with a seriousness in his voice you’ve never heard before.

Maybe it was a mistake calling him, maybe you would have been able to defeat this thing alone. After all, Shoko will stitch you up when you return to Jujutsu High, right? This is your first solo-mission, you need to try harder, you need to at least try, show Satoru what you’ve learned.

Without hesitation you storm forward, sword slashing through the air. But just when your blade is about to hit that frightful creature, Satoru pushes you out of the way.

Just to get hit full force by that monster and crashing into a nearby building.

“Satoru!” you cry out.

“Leave. Right. Now.”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“(y/n), you need to get going, come on!” a familiar female voice shouts over the noise.

Shoko. Is that Shoko? You squint your hurting eyes, looking into distance. She’s here along with Suguru. Your heart sinks, eyes filling with tears. But this…this should have been your first solo-mission, your very first success.

“Hey, can you hear me? Move your ass away from here, he’s got it”, Shoko reassures you, now by your side through the help of Suguru’s controlled curse.

“I’ve got this! It’s my first mission, I’m still able to fight, I’m still strong enough-“

“You’re nothing but a burden, (y/n)! You’re doing nothing but standing in my way!” Satoru suddenly screams so harshly into your face that you flinch back.

“Come on, no need to shout like that…”, Shoko interrupts.

“Don’t you get that you aren’t strong enough, that you aren’t as good as you think? Do me a favour and get out of the fucking way, (y/n). I don’t wanna see your face anymore.”

“B-but you were the one who told me-“

“I lied”, he interrupts you immediately.

“I didn’t wanna hurt your feelings. Look what you’ve did today. You aren’t even able to defeat a grade 2 curse.”

His words hit you with full force, pull the ground underneath your feet. And just like that he’s gone, catapulting himself onto the curse in front of you that is about to destroy the whole city. All you can do is stare at him through glossy eyes, silent tears running down your face. You don’t even protest anymore when Suguru and Shoko grab your shoulder and transport you away. Away from this mess.

Away from Satoru’s cruel words.

“You’re nothing but a burden.”

Nothing but a burden. Is this really how he feels about you? All those encouraging words, all the precious moments you were so certain that he looked at you with a spark of affection in his eyes.

But oh, that spark definitely died today. Nothing but thick rage radiated from his bright blue orbs, staring down at you in disgust.

“Hey, don’t cry. He’s not worth your tears”, Shoko tries to cheer you up while working wonders on your drained body.

“I thought…he saw more in me”, you hush.

“Men are stupid and useless. You did very well for your first mission alone, (y/n). And that curse definitely wasn’t a grade 2 like that idiot said. Not all of us get power stuck in their ass from birth, y’know”, she mumbles, casually lighting a cigarette.

Meanwhile Satoru’s heavy footsteps echo through the hallway of the hospital wing, his mind racing. Fuck, his heart doesn’t stop bleeding from the venomous words he shot at you earlier.

“I know why you did it. Maybe she’ll understand somehow”, Suguru tries to reassure him.

He knows it too. Satoru know you well enough to be aware of the stinging fact that you’re suborn. Too suborn to miss a single training session, too suborn to give up when he already beat you multiple times. And too suborn to run away from a fight when you’re already on the brink of death. If Shoko wasted another minute, if he would have been by your side just a few moments later…

You could be gone. You would have been killed in front of his very own eyes because of a curse than transformed itself into a special grade with every hit you landed on it, you would have been killed by a curse that would have ended the lives of every other jujutsu sorcerer apart from the three special grades.

And that’s because he had no choice but break your heart. Even though it tore him into pieces, even though he’ll never forget the way your numb eyes stared at him while Suguru and Shoko carried you away from the battlefield. Hurting your feelings seemed to be the only option he had to get rid of you.

“I feel so shitty, man. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that she’s a burden, she was always so self-unconscious about herself…”

Suguru pats the shoulder of his best friend gently, coming to a stand in front of the door that leads to you.

“Then it’s your job to make her feel better now, right?”

One last look at Suguru’s encouraging smile. His hand rests against the doorknob, taking a deep breath in before opening it.

“Oh, there he is, the devil himself”, Shoko comments dryly.

Satoru sends a death glare her way, shaking his head over the fact that she’s smoking while you lay right next to her.

“Hey, how you’re feeling?”, he asks towards you gently.

You blink away the film of tears that starts to form on your eyes all over again, avoiding his gaze at any costs. Not now, not when you’re already feeling down. Satoru Gojo definitely is the last person you want to see.

“Like a burden”, you mutter.

His heart stings in an instant.

“I never meant what I’ve said, (y/n). It’s just…I wanted to save you.”

“Save me by tearing me down?”, you question.

Fuck, he feels so dumb, standing next to your bed like an idiot while you stare at the ceiling, not even daring to look his way. He knows he deserves every bit of your rejection, that his words earlier that day must have been more than hurtful. But please…just talk to him, just glimpse at him one time.

“I told you over and over how strong you are, that you are ready for a solo-mission. But that today…That wasn’t a grade 2 anymore, (y/n). I know it was a special grade. No one except Suguru and I would be able to defeat something like this. But you were so dedicated, you were already on your way to storm into your certain death and I just couldn’t let that happen…I know how badly you wanted this to work out, but this wasn’t the right time. And you weren’t able to see that.”

Gently, he cups your hand with his. Your mind screams at you to pull away, to jump up and run away from him. But why…why are tears starting to pool your eyes, running down your bruised cheeks like waterfalls? Why is all you want to feel right now Satoru’s hand against yours? Why does it have to feel so calming?

And why do his words have to make sense?

“You said I’m a burden…”

“You are everything to me, (y/n)”, he suddenly blurts out.

“And the thought of hurting your feelings for a moment sounded better than you getting killed in that useless battle.”

You look up at him, the boy you learned to love so long ago, the boy who actually made you believe in yourself and your abilities. Is it really this easy to simply believe him, to forget about the stinging fact that he called you useless one way or another?

“But maybe you were right. The only thing I did was making things worse. It took me 3 kills to realize that he multiplies with every hit…”, you mutter defeated.

“Don’t you dare to believe a single word of that. I thought be talked this over”, Satoru insists, cupping your face gently.

“I know I am a jerk and believe me, I hated myself for the things I threw at you. But the truth is…You mean so much to me, the thought of losing you forever hurts way more than that you might hate me in some kind of way. But please, don’t ever talk yourself down. You are wonderful, you are outstanding smart, you are so skilled that it scares me. You are in your first year and still you managed to keep up with that thing for so long. You are strong, (y/n). Don’t let an idiot like me make you believe that you are a burden when you are in fact the greatest treasure on earth.”

You rest your tearing eyes for a moment, allow yourself to snuggle against the palm of his hand. It feels so good, like balm for your soul. Before knowing Satoru Gojo, you were nothing but an insecure little girl who was sure nothing great will ever come from her.

It was him who made you believe in yourself. It was him who showed you what you are capable to do. It was him who showed you how to love yourself. It was Satoru Gojo all along. And one glimpse into his sincere ocean blue eyes is enough to know that he still feels this way.

“I love you”, you whisper into the thick silence of the room.

“I love you too, (y/n). And you’ll be never be a burden to me, always remember that.”

Tags:

 @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

[fictoculus]

Dunno if you've done this before, but characters with tall reader!

This is mostly me being sick and having OC obsession brain rot, but the majority of my OCs are 5'9–6'0+ for reference by what I mean for "tall".

Love your writing, by the way! Keep yourself safe and make sure to treat yourself for all the joy you bring your viewers with your writing<3. Also, this is my first request:D

(Thinking about characters like: Venti, Diluc, Zhongli, Traveller, and whoever else you want to write/if you don't write for some of these characters, that's fine!)

౨ৎ them w a tall partner...

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

FEAT... aether, venti, itto, alhaitham, diluc

A/N... hiiii anon tysm for the request!! i loveee this idea it's so cute so i'm more than happy to write it ^^ unfortunatelyyy i wasn't able to write anything for zhongli as i js couldn't think of anything, i hope that's ok!!! also thank youuuu! i'm so glad you like my stuff, nd please make sure you take care of yourself too!! hope to see you again soon, enjoy ♡ alsooo i tried out some new colouring!! i hope you guys like ittt i think it's prettyy :3 oh and disclaimer these heights may not be accurate!!! i got them from this website but it seems pretty reliable to meee

✧ aether. - 5'4"

the traveller, the honorary knight, the swordfish II captain, the first sage of buer: just a few of the multitude of titles aether has earned from the many battles he's fought for teyvat. he's always fighting for people, protecting people, blindly jumping head-first into danger; he needs someone to protect him for a change, and that someone is you.

he always feels safe with you, and the way you stand behind him when he's chatting with friends or purchasing items from vendors makes him feel untouchable; evident by the way he practically melts under your touch.

one of the first things people tend to notice about you is your height, and although it doesn't really bother you, aether thinks it's ignorant and unfair. don't get him wrong, he loves your height, but there's so much more to you than that. he wishes people would notice your style, or your personality, maybe even your smile, anything. as long as nobody tries to steal you from him, he doesn't mind.

he'll often find himself being the little spoon while cuddling, and honestly, it's the thing he most looks forward to after a long day of completing commissions and collecting resources.

he loves how tall you are, how gentle you are, how loving you are; he loves all of you, and he hopes you love all of him too...

✧ venti. - 5'5"

venti loves the way you tower over him, and finds your subsequent protectiveness rather endearing.

your height sometimes intimidates people, and discourages them from wanting to strike up conversation with you. venti, however, was never bothered by it, and had no problem shamelessly flirting with you the very second you entered angel's share that fateful day.

the bard struggles to understand how people could possibly be afraid of you. of course, he knows how strong you are, and is aware of the lengths you'd go to in order to protect him, but nothing about your personality was something to be scared of.

the more he got to know you, the quicker he came to the realisation that you're really just a big softie - a gentle giant, if you will.

your impressive stature also means that you can carry him around. venti loves nothing more than being in your arms, face nuzzled into your chest as you take him to bed after a long day, or resting his head on your shoulder and forcing you to lift him up when he 'falls asleep''.

all in all, your boyfriend views your height is anything but negative. he loves you the way you are, and, as cliché as it sounds, wouldn't change anything about you for the world...

✧ itto. - 6'1"

no matter how tall you are, itto will give you piggyback rides. and you will enjoy them. to put it quite frankly, you don't have a choice.

even though you're taller than him, he still loves to have you in his arms, whether that means cuddling, carrying you around, or simply just hugging you from behind. something about having you in his hold makes him feel stronger and more confident than he ever has before.

the members of the arataki gang were shocked when they first met you, genta mistaking you for itto when he caught sight of your silhouette. nonetheless, they have all grown to be quite fond of you, and often leave small gifts on your doorstep which never fail to bring a smile to your face.

your height was something you sometimes felt ashamed of, however, itto always makes sure you feel happy within yourself, and will do everything in his power to wash the insecurities away; showering you in kisses and telling you just how perfect you are...

✧ alhaitham. - 5'10"

at first, alhaitham was slightly embarrassed that you were taller than him, not because of your appearance, but because of how he'd been relentlessly teasing his roommate for his height while having a partner who stands at an impressive 6'5"...

nevertheless, the scribe truly admires everything about you, and will often just stare. even though he wants nothing more than to have you in his arms, he's more than happy to admire you from afar, to watch you go about your day or make idle chit-chat with the local vendors so that he can just take you in; "archons, they're beautiful".

even though he stands shorter than you, he is extremely protective over you; intertwining his fingers with yours whenever he has the chance, and staring down anyone who 'looks at you wrong'. you often tease him for this, poking fun at his pout before kissing it away with a smile, only for it to return as you pinch his rosy cheeks.

the love alhaitham has for you is immeasurable, and the (not so) little things like your height only make him fall harder for you. his heart skips a beat when he feels your arms snake around his waist from behind, being pulled into your chest as you rest your head on his shoulder. yes, you could still do this even if you were shorter, but for him, nothing compares to being able to sink into you; he rather enjoys feeling smaller when he's with you...

✧ diluc. - 6'1"

you and your husband, diluc, stand at a similar height, him just slightly taller than you at 6'1". people often stare when you walk into a room hand-in-hand, but the darknight hero couldn't be more proud.

he never misses the chance to show you off, introducing you to everyone he knows while making sure to subtly flash the wedding ring he oh so gently slides onto your finger every morning. however, as soon as someone dares to make a rude remark about you, your husband has no problem stepping in front of you and handling the situation himself. yes, you're capable of looking out for yourself, but the redhead always feels the need to protect the ones he loves most.

the two of you are a package deal, and are rarely seen apart from each other unless absolutely necessary. diluc can't stand being away from you, and often finds his mind flooded with thoughts of you when he should be focused on the financial papers spread out on the desk before him.

being the taller ragnvindr, diluc often takes it upon himself to hand you items from higher up shelves, knowing full well you can reach them just fine by yourself. "given my stature, wouldn't it be rude not to hand my partner the things they couldn't possibly reach?", he always asks, pressing a loving kiss on your forehead and handing you whatever you were reaching for. such a tease...

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you’d like me to write next!

TAGLIST... @maopll . @nyxmainex apply here

© FICTOCULUS 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

[sandwhitches]

uhh hiiiiii idk if this is how to do a request, but can I ask for chocolate ice cream about sugawara and reader going on a first date? Like how did they meet each other, who asked who out, and/or what they did for their first date? Thank youuuu!!!

a/n: hehe love me some suga!!! finally filling the requests form my event i am so glad this semester is almost over sorry for the wait if u requested erghghgg

✧.*𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒 | 𝐤. 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐚

genre: fluff!

cw: none!

this is a request my summer writing event!! requests are currently closed for this event :)

➼ i have a feeling you and sugawara most likely know each other from school!!! he’s definitely the type to opt for befriending his crush before doing anything that could remotely be deemed as flirting or romantic.

➼ he TOTALLY has had a crush on you since your first year, which is when he started talking to you and being friendly, but it doesn’t take long for him to realize that this is a lot different than any of the other crushes he’s had on someone before. the idea of confessing is much more daunting, which is why for his own sake, he’s just going to continue being a good friend to you and hope that one day you might consider him romantically (he’s delusional but in a cute way)

➼ in your second year, he’d almost gotten over his fear and planned to give you a valentine, but the moment he saw your face he panicked and crumpled it up in his pocket. sugawara gave you a guilty smile when you eyed him suspiciously, asking what he needed to talk about, which according to him was “nothing! it turned out to be nothing, after all!”

➼ kicks himself for the rest of the year for that (and so do his friends, they’ve all taken notice of those lingering puppy dog eyes and are beginning to get sick of it)

➼ flash forward towards the end of your third year when he FINALLY musters up enough courage to ask you out

➼ suga’s the type to just say what he means once he’s ready, which is why he doesn’t skimp on his wording, he makes sure you know he’s asking you out on a date on not to just hang out

➼ however, his delivery could use a little bit of work, definitely just comes up to you during a break in the school day and the first thing that comes out of his mouth is: “do you wanna go out with me? like…on a date?” (what happened to hi, how are you?!?)

➼ he’s thanking his lucky stars that, although you’re a bit stunned his suggestion is, you agree!!!

➼ cannot sleep that night or the nights leading up to the date, he’s just too excited (seriously, it’s taken him almost three years to gain enough courage to do this and it’s finally happening, it’s a bit surreal to him)

➼ you best believe this man is at your doorstep with flowers in his hand five minutes early, ready to take you out ahhhhh

➼ sugawara’s keen on doing cliche first date things with you: getting something to eat, takes you to an arcade (and lets you win all the 2-player games), buys you an ice cream cone, you know the deal

➼ a bit nervous to do anything super romantic like holding hands (GASP) or having any physical contact with you whatsoever, he just doesn’t wanna scare you off. much to his relief, you’re the one who interlaced your fingers with his first as the two of you walk beside each other

➼ keeps on telling you how good he thinks you look today eeeeeee

➼ suga’s such a sweetheart!!!! 10/10 manners!!! opens doors for you & pulls out your seat for you too (😍)

➼ when he drops you back off at home, you nearly make his heart stop when you get up on your tip toes and kiss his cheek goodbye for the night

➼ waits until you’re inside your house before leaving (😍😍😍)

➼ AAAAAAHHH SUGA MY LOVE

[sluttysturn]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖠 𝖥𝖫𝖨𝖱𝖳˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

pairing: bsf/dealer!chris x bsf/buyer!reader

in which chris is your best friend and dealer, but he has a crush on you and isn’t afraid to show it.

TW: smoking, kissing, swearing, idk what else

requested?: yes! by @sturniolotrophywife (it won’t let me tag you but if you see this, here ya go!)

notes: (color of who’s speaking: chris | y/n)

a/n: i rly rly liked this idea!! i hope you guys did too!! if you do like this be sure to follow/ reblog and leave requests!! love youuuu!

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

i was currently sitting in bed bored as hell. i wouldn’t mind being high right now. actually i really wanna be.

so much is going on and i wanna get my mind off of everything.

i hit up my dealer, which is also my best friend, chris. sometimes, he wants to be a dick and tell me no and that he doesn’t want me doing it. but i know he just wants what’s best for me.

i texted him anyways, hoping he’d say yes, and maybe even smoke with me.

thank god.

i waited for about 20 minutes when i heard a knock at my door.

finally.

i headed down stairs and opened the door to see chris standing on the other side.

the way his hair fell perfectly against his forehead, the way his hoodie fit perfectly around his body, the way his eyes sparkled while looking into mine.

no stop he’s my best friend.

“hi pretty girl” chris said winking at my with a goofy smile.

i rolled my eyes and laughed lightly, “you know you have a key right?”

“i left it home since you insisted i get here fast”

he rolled his eyes and he handed me the blunt.

“thanks. how much do you need?”

“don’t worry about it.”

“no chris. how much?”

“i’m not taking your money y/n.”

“whatever- come smoke with me?” i paused, “unless you gotta go to other people.”

“they can wait. sure.”

“ok cmon.”

i grabbed his hand and took him upstairs. i was happy he wanted to smoke with me. i loved hanging out with him.

i open my bedroom window and we crawled out and onto the roof.

my house had a roof connected to my window, so it was an easy spot to smoke so my room didn’t reek of weed.

we sat down next to each other.

“y/n, you know i hate when you smoke right?”

“yeah but why?”

“because i actually care about you and i don’t want you to end up like me.”

“i’m fine chris. i just need a break from life, you know?”

he put his arm around my shoulder and rested his head on top of mine.

“yeah i get that.. im sorry you feel that way,” he paused, “but you know you can always talk to me, right?”

“you know i don’t like talking about my problems, but, i know.”

i unwrapped the blunt and took it out. i pulled out my lighter and rolled my thumb against the metal thingy (i don’t know what it’s called).

i grazed the bottom of the blunt with the fire and took a drag of it.

i inhaled the smoke, and exhaled passing it to chris.

we talked and smoke for around 30 minutes before the blunt was gone.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

“fuck, i needed this” i said with droopy, red eyes.

i looked over at chris, he was so pretty. being high always made him look even more attractive.

chris looked back over at me. little did i know he was thinking the same thing. he smile at me and grabbed my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine.

“y/n can i tell you something?”

“go for it.”

he took a deep breath before speaking again.

“i love you. like really fucking love you. i know its kinda crazy b’cause we’ve been best friends for so long, but im truly in love with you. that’s why i don’t like when you smoke. i don’t want you to be a crack head, like me.”

i was speechless. my best friend of almost 18 years was in love with me?

that handsome man. in love with someone like me?

“chris your not a crack head. you still care about people and you don’t make being high your entire personality. and, i love you too. i really fucking love you too.”

i looked into his beautiful blue eyes and smiled.

he smile back and leaned his face close to mine, but stopped before his lips connected with mine.

“can i kiss you?”

(CONSENTT IS KEYY)

“please”

he finally connect his lips with mine.

our lips were moving in a rhythm and harmony. he was such a good kisser. holy shit.

being high really increased the way i felt like i was sinking into him. it felt as if our body were actually morphing into one.

he pulled away soon after and began to speak.

“y/n y/l/n, will you please give me the honor of being your boyfriend.”

“yes chris.”

he pecked my lips once more.

“also i will be asking you again when we’re sober, so it’ll be more real, you know?”

“thank you, i love you chris.”

“i love you y/n.”

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

a/n: I KINDA LOVE DEALER!CHRIS. BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS, AND IF YOU DID PLEASE FOLLOW/ REBLOG AND REQUESTTTT!! LOVE YOUUUU!!