#licks-many-trees

[tuxxydo]

We don't have General Tso's chicken here but I did just eat mint ice cream and chase it with cold water and thought of you :)

OUGH and i know you felt that burst of freshness that comes with it, i hope you enjoyed it!

[lyonnerileyauthor]

fox demon who tricks you into following him out into the woods. the little creature vanishes behind a tree, only to emerge again as a beast. his ears are tall, flicking toward you with each of your breaths, his many tails lashing the air behind him. he has long fangs, which he licks as he approaches, the cock between his legs already warming for you.

you're frozen, too shocked to move as the fox demon licks the side of your face, tasting you. ah, yes, you're as delicious as he suspected; ripe for the taking.

he holds out one clawed paw to you, offering you everything should you come with him. back in his den, he feeds you exotic fruits, cakes of nuts and berries, though none of it fills your belly. he's a creature of magic, after all, here to be amused by you. his cock emerges from its furry sheath as he watches you eat, and slowly, he strokes it, from the wet tip to the knot at the base.

now it's time—courting is over. the fox demon pins you down in his nest, ready to breed you full of his kits. his cock is hungry, leaking, and he smears his seed all over you so that you'll smell like him.

he's not careful with you, as wild as he is, but you're so wet that it doesn't matter. his eyes roll back in his head as he sinks deep inside you, relishing the feel of you clenching oh so tight around him.

now it's time for you to take his knot, and as he nears his finish, he squeezes it through, yipping as he fucks you with it. and then, as you scream and moan his cursed name, it swells inside you, sticking there.

your fox demon's eyes are half-lidded as he comes down, his tails curling underneath you like a bed. he traps all his seed inside you until, at last, he slips free of your sweet body. he licks you up, already excited for all the little kits he's sown in your belly.

[simonbrain]

deer hybrid!reader who deliberately gets caught in hunter!simon's traps just so you can feel his big hands on you as he unties you for the nth time. hearing him grumble silly doe while he carries you to a safe spot in the grass has your little tail swishing excitedly, and when he hisses at you for nuzzling into his neck and licking at his skin, you only let out a soft bleat.

the bloodstained rifle that resides on his back does nothing to discourage you from getting into trouble. he's never aimed it in your direction, but you can't help but daydream about feeling the metal on your forehead when he huffs something along the lines of, "s'like you want me to kill ya."

it's really not your fault; he's just so big all over, so strong and capable. you can't help but imagine those hands on your body. you want him stroking your ears, your tail, you want his thick fingers slipping between your thighs... you've seen him in his element, and a sick little part of you wishes he were hunting you instead.

would he be gentle like he always is, or would he let his frustration take over and finally get back at you for being such a little tease? would he push you up against a tree and murmur sweet things in your ear? that voice always makes your skin tingle. no matter what you conjure up in your mind, you always find yourself down by the pond; you can only wash away the need that seems to permanently cling to you so many times. you really should stop getting yourself worked up like this.

it's when you actually fall victim to a trap one evening that he finally cracks. being held in his arms while he trudges through the woods down to his truck helps calm you a little bit, but the pain is unbearable. it doesn't help that he's scolding you again, muttering something about just taking you home with him and keeping you there so you're not causing any more trouble.

[cinnasite]

nerd gone viral ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

꩜ pairing: nerd!armin arlert x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 3.7k

꩜ synopsis: a harmless campus interview turns your best friend into an overnight internet sensation—and suddenly, every thirsty TikTok comment feels like it’s whispering your secret.

☆ art cred: @/juvianism on instagram :3

You nearly spill your coffee all over your Political Theory textbook when you unlock your phone. Another two hundred comments on that TikTok. You know you shouldn't check—you probably watched it about a million times yesterday alone—but your fingers move before your brain can scream at you to stop.

@/bookslvt01: ok but the way he talks about virginia woolf??? NEED HIM CARNALLY @/colossalthighs: i’d let him annotate my entire body fr @/arlertmeout: he looks like he apologises before choking you

You bite your lip, half-entertained and half-horrified, scrolling through the endless comments under what was supposed to be an innocent campus interview. The video has 2.3 million views now, completely insane for something filmed outside the modest main library—the same one you find yourself in at the moment—on a random Tuesday.

"Ugh, don’t tell me. You're watching it again, aren't you?"

Your head snaps up comically quick, caught red-handed, to find Sasha sliding into the seat across from you at your usual table, eyeing your phone screen with knowing amusement. 

"What? No."

"You are! You have that weird, glazed look in your eyes. The same one you get when Professor Ackerman extends the deadline for our research papers." Sasha unwraps what appears to be her third sandwich of the day. You don't mention how it’s only twelve in the afternoon. "You know you could just talk to him about it, right? He's literally one of your best friends."

"And say what exactly?" you finally close the godforsaken app, trying to ignore how your screen time report is definitely going to be embarrassing this week. "Hey Armin, I've watched your viral video more times than I can remember and I'm having very inappropriate thoughts about your tongue piercing that I absolutely shouldn't be having about my friend?"

Sasha snickers, a piece of lettuce tumbling to the table from her mouth. "Well, when you put it like that... actually, yes. One hundred percent that."

"Sasha, I can't just—" you frown in frustration, inhaling deeply. "It's complicated."

"How is it complicated? You've had a crush on him since freshman year."

"That was different. That was before we became friends. Before I knew him." You lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling as fond memories overwhelm you. "Back then he was just this cute, nerdy guy in my intro psych class who got excited about statistical analysis and always smelled like that vanilla body wash I love. I used to sit behind him just to watch him get all animated during discussions about cognitive behavioural theory, you know?"

Sasha merely rolls her eyes. "Jesus, and you call me demented. Well, what about now?"

"Now? Now, he's Armin. He's my friend who stays up until 3 A.M. to help me with my assignments, who brings me soup when I'm sick, who texts me the dumbest memes about historical figures," you slump forward, close to pouting. "He's the guy who spent six hours teaching me how to play that MMO he's obsessed with just because I mentioned being bored over winter break. He's..."

"He's the guy you're infatuated with," Sasha supplies helpfully.

"I'm not," you start to protest, then wisely opt to give up instead. "Okay, maybe. But that's exactly the problem. I can't risk blowing up our friendship just because some stupid interview made me realise I want to climb him like a tree."

"A tree with a tongue piercing," Sasha adds with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck’s sake, don't remind me," you let your head rest against the table. "Do you know how many times I've replayed that two-second clip where he licks his lips? It's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic, it's kind of sweet. There's a difference." Sasha takes another bite of her sandwich, her eyes evidently lighting up. "Besides, you don't know that he doesn't feel the same way. Have you seen how he looks at you during our study sessions? Boy's got it bad."

"He looks at me like a friend, Sasha. Because that's what we are."

"Believe me, friends don't look at friends the way he looked at you last Friday when you were explaining your thesis argument. I thought he was going to combust from sexual tension."

Before you can blatantly disagree, you hear an all too familiar voice behind you.

"Sexual tension about what now?"

Your stomach drops directly through the floor. You turn around carefully, and there he is—Armin Arlert, campus's newest digital sensation, standing there with that signature bemused expression he gets when he catches you and Sasha gossiping. His blonde hair is mussed like he's been running his hands through it, and he's wearing that adorable blue sweater that brings out his eyes deliciously.

"Oh, um..." You scramble for an explanation, panicking on the inside. "We were just talking about... about..."

"About how Professor Ackerman's lectures are basically academic foreplay," Sasha jumps in smoothly. "All that tension and buildup with no satisfying conclusion. I mean, hello?"

Armin laughs, the sound warm and comforting. "That's fascinatingly accurate, I’ll admit." He shifts his weight, and you only then notice he's carrying his laptop bag and what seems to be a bag of takeout. "Mind if I join you? I brought Thai food and figured you might be hungry since you've been here since—," he checks his phone, "—9 A.M., according to the text you sent complaining about how it’s criminal that the library opens so early on weekends."

Your heart does a little flip at his consideration. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." He slides into the chair next to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne—a rich blend of velvety caramel and toasted cinnamon that positively makes you want to lick him all over. 

Stop. None of that, you horny bastard.

"Besides, I figured you might want to hear about the latest developments in my accidental internet fame."

Sasha perks up at once. "Hell, yeah. Have you been recognised on campus yet?"

"Five times yesterday," Armin appears to lament, pulling containers out of the bag. "Including once in the bathroom, which was... awkward, to say the least." He hands you your usual order without asking what you want. "But the weirdest part is definitely the DMs."

"DMs?" you pipe up, failing to ignore how domestic this feels what with him knowing exactly what you like. Typical, precious Armin.

"You have no idea," he opens his laptop and turns it toward you two with a nervous twitch. "I've gotten marriage proposals, offers to 'show me a good time,' and at least a hundred messages asking about my tongue piercing specifically."

Your face burns as you push away the thought that you've been mentally composing similar messages. "That's... wow."

"The worst part is, most of them are asking if I'd be interested in demonstrating its uses." He fidgets with his glasses, coming across as embarrassed but also endearing. "I had no idea that thing would cause such a reaction."

"Well, it is pretty noticeable," Sasha remarks with a meaningful peek at you. "Very... attention-grabbing."

"I guess." Armin glances at you pointedly. "What do you think? You've seen the video, right?"

The question is innocent enough, but something in his tone makes you look at him more carefully. There's an out-of-the-ordinary implication that you can't quite put your finger on. "Uh... yeah, I've seen it," you manage to croak out. Terrific. Could you get any stiffer?

"And?"

"And what?"

"What did you think?"

You stare at him blankly, trying to figure out if this is a normal friend question or if you’re incorrectly perceiving the foreign edge of curiosity behind it. "I thought... I mean, your book recommendations were really good. Very passionate."

"Passionate," he repeats, the fleeting flash of understanding across his face confirming your earlier weariness. "That's interesting."

Sasha's phone cuts through the uneasiness with its incessant buzzing, and she scans it with obviously fake surprise. "Oh no, would you look at that. I have to go... meet... someone... about... a... very real thing... I have." She begins gathering her stuff with awfully suspicious speed. "You two have fun talking about books. And passion. And tongue piercings."

"Huh? Wait. Sasha—" you squeak out, but she's already dashing out of the private study room you had booked for the both of you until late afternoon (traitor). Which leaves you alone with Armin, who's scrutinising you with an expression you can't quite read.

"Alright," he speaks after a moment, closing his laptop and leaning back in his chair. "Want to tell me what you actually thought about the video?"

"I already told you."

"No, you gave me the safe answer." He tilts his head slightly, studying you with purpose. "Come on, we've been friends for two years. I know when you're holding back."

You hastily shove some noodles in your mouth, avoiding his gaze. "I'm not holding back."

"Really? Because Sasha seemed to think you had some important opinions about it."

You make a mental note to start drafting your plan for the girl’s well-deserved comeuppance. "Sasha talks too much."

"She does," Armin agrees. "But she's usually right about things. Especially when it comes to you."

The rarely there confidence in his tone makes you look up and, when you meet his gaze, the intensity catches you off guard. "What do you want me to say?"

"Did you know," he continues conversationally, "that TikTok shows you analytics about who's viewed your videos?"

Almost instantly, your heart stops. "What?"

"Mhm. Very detailed analytics. Including multiple views from the same account." His lips quirk up in a small smile. "Want to guess how many times your account shows up in my viewer list?"

You feel heat creeping up your neck. "I don't know what you're talking about." You briefly consider denying reality, blaming a technical issue, or claiming a glitch in the matrix—but none of it sticks.

"Seventy-seven times," he announces, the metaphorical checkmate hitting you straight in the chest. "As of this morning."

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. He knows. "I can explain—"

"Can you?" He angles himself forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Because I've been trying to figure out why my very good friend has watched a boring thirty-second video of me talking about books seventy-seven times."

You want to run away, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I... the algorithm is weird sometimes?"

Armin chuckles, low and warm, absent of any malice. "Try again."

"I was checking to see if the view count was going up?"

"Nope."

You're quiet for a long moment, trying to figure out how to get out of this without completely humiliating yourself. You don't suppose it's too late to jump out of a window? Ultimately, you sigh in defeat. "Okay, fine. Maybe I watched it a few times."

"A few?"

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms in defiance at the unsolicited endless interrogation. "More than a few."

"How many more?"

You want to strangle him, and not in the sexy way. "You’re being annoying."

"Come on." His voice has dropped slightly lower, and there's something almost akin to teasing in it. "I told you about the marriage proposals. Fair's fair."

You mutter a profanity under your breath, groaning. "Fine. I watched it a lot. Happy?"

"No. We’re getting there, though. Why?"

"Why what?"

Armin’s glee sharpens into something ravenous, a flicker of desperation lurking beneath his carefree demeanour—like he’s itching for you to say exactly what he needs. "Why did you watch it seventy-seven times?"

Your lungs feel too tight, too exposed. "Because..."

"Because?"

"Because you looked really good, okay?" The words come out in a rush. "Because watching you talk about literally anything is incredibly attractive, and because that frustrating part where your tongue piercing shows has been tormenting me ever since the video came out."

The silence that follows is eerily deafening. Armin simply stares at you, and you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Shit," you grumble, burying your face in your hands. "I'm sorry. That was completely out of line. I know we're friends and I shouldn't have—"

"Hey. Look at me."

The way he asks convinces you to peep through your fingers, reluctant but unable to look away. His expression is attentive and focused—definitely not one of disgust.

"You think I'm attractive?" he questions softly.

"I... yes?"

He blinks, his usual calm shattered by the raw vulnerability in your voice. His fingers tremble, revealing the fierce hope inside that there’s a potential chance that someone sees him as more than the sum of his quirks.  "Even though I'm just a loser who gets excited about obscure paranormal documentaries and spends too much time playing video games?"

"Especially because of that," you admit, having never been more sure of yourself.

His answering smile is slow and devastating. "Good to know."

"Good to know?"

He hums, reaching across the table, and gently pulls your hands away from your face. "I've been wondering if you'd ever see me as more than just your friend who helps you with your homework."

Your brain, without a doubt, malfunctions. "What?"

"Did you really think I started bringing you food and staying up late just because I'm a good friend?"

The words disarm you. You’re trapped between incredulity and the dawning comprehension of what he might be suggesting. "I…"

"And did you think I learned how to play your favourite songs on guitar just because I had time to spare?"

"Y-you said you wanted to practice—"

"And I presume you thought I got this piercing because I was feeling rebellious?"

That stops you short, confusion apparent in the furrow of your brows. "You didn't?"

Armin's grin turns almost predatory. "I got it because I overheard you and Sasha talking about how cool you find them. This was back in October, after you'd been dating that guy with the lip ring."

You feel like a kettle left on the stove too long. "You... what?"

"You said, and I quote, 'There's something about tongue piercings that's beyond exciting.’ Something along the lines of how the person has to be bold enough to get it, but there's the simultaneous insinuation of what they can do with it."

"I’m going to kill myself," you gape at him in horror. "You heard all of that?"

"I was sitting right behind you in the campus coffee shop. You weren’t exactly shy about it." He shifts closer, and you can spot the hint of silver when he speaks, "I made an appointment that very afternoon."

"You got a tongue piercing because of something I said about another guy?"

"I got a tongue piercing because I wanted to be the guy you were talking about."

The confession hangs in the air between you, charged and electric. You stare at him, trying to process this complete change in everything you thought you knew about your friendship. 

"I've been trying to get your attention for months. I was starting to think I'd have to do something drastic."

In spite of being made to face terrifying revelation after revelation, you manage to stutter out a breathless laugh. "More drastic than getting a tongue piercing for me?" 

"I was considering learning to play your favourite video game."

You snort despite yourself. "You hate that game."

He shrugs casually, as if the lengths to which he would go for you knew no bounds. "I know. That's how desperate I was getting."

The atmosphere between you feels tense now, full of possibility and two years of unspoken tension. Armin traces your knuckles and the simple touch sends heat shooting up your arm.

"So," you say, trying to stay as composed as you possibly can. "What happens now?"

"Now," he starts, standing up, "you tell me what exactly you were thinking about during those seventy-seven views."

He's close enough that you have to tilt your head back to look at him, and the unwavering want in the blue of his eyes makes your breath catch. "I was thinking..." you trail off, feeling timid with his attention on you.

"You can do it. Use your words for me?" his voice has gotten rougher, huskier, and it sends delightful shivers down your spine.

"I was thinking about what it would feel like."

"What would feel like?"

"Your piercing. When you..." You gesture vaguely, cheeks burning. Armin's hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "When I what?"

"When you kiss me," you whisper.

"Just kissing?" The question is loaded with underlying intentions, and you shake your head slowly.

"Tell me what else you were thinking about."

"Armin..."

"Please." The plea is hushed but insistent. "I want to know what's been going through your head."

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry as you let go of the entirety of your self-restraint. "I was thinking about what it would feel like on my body. What it would feel like when you use your mouth on me."

His pupils immediately dilate at your words. "Fuck."

"Is that... is that okay?"

Instead of verbally affirming, he leans down and kisses you. It's gentle at first, tentative, but when you react by fisting your hands in his sweater and pulling him closer, he deepens it. The first brush of his tongue against yours has you gasping, and when you feel the metal of his piercing, it sends intoxicating pleasure shooting through you.

You break apart, breathing heavily, and Armin rests his forehead against yours.

"How was that?" he asks earnestly, voice raspy.

"Good," you breathe. "Really good."

His smile is full of care but there's primal desire behind it. "And the piercing?"

"Want more of it."

He brushes his thumb across your lip again. Truth be told, it’s plain torture. "You know, we're in public right now."

Every wall you built is crumbling under the weight of him, and all you can do is let it. "I know."

"Anyone could walk by and see us."

"I know."

"And you don't care?"

You drag your hand up his thigh, stopping just shy of where he clearly wants it, "Not even a little bit."

He kisses you again, harder this time, and you can't help the soft moan that escapes when his tongue meets yours in another dance of display. The sound seems to flip a switch in him, because his hands are tangling in your hair and he's pressing you back against your chair.

"God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmurs against your lips.

"Tell me ‘Min."

"Since freshman year. Since that first day in psych class when you argued with Professor Smith about the ethics of behavioural modification."

You draw away just barely, shaking under the intimacy of his declaration. "That long?"

"That long." He doesn’t think twice before trailing his teeth along your jaw, and when the metal of his piercing digs into your flushed skin, you whimper needily. 

"You were so assertive, so brilliant. I was completely and utterly gone."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you were dating that business major asshole, and then when you broke up, we became friends,” he hesitantly halts his ministrations to flutter his eyelashes at you, “I-I didn't want to ruin it." 

Good heavens, you didn’t stand a chance from the beginning.

"But then you kept looking at me like... like you wanted me too, and I started hoping..."

"I did want you. I do want you." The admission comes out whinier than intended, but you can’t bring yourself to be bothered at this point. "So much."

His hands tighten in your hair. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You’re unaware of how many minutes pass as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, and the way he tastes like mint and something uniquely him. You dig your nails lightly into his sides, claiming him in an act of fervent possession. His breaths mingle with yours and the world outside your tangled bodies fades until there’s nothing but lust burning between you. By the end of it, your chests rise and fall in tandem.

"We should probably get out of here," he mumbles, peeking around the library.

Craving Armin has left you dazed, vision glassy as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings. "Right. Um, your place or mine?"

He pecks your nose, full of affection, tenderly guiding you. "Mine. My roommate's gone for the weekend."

You start gathering your things with shaky hands, hyperaware of the way Armin is observing you. When you bend over to pick up your bag, you hear his sharp intake of breath.

"Something wrong?" you ask innocently.

"N-nothing," he mutters, skittishly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The walk to his dorm feels like it takes forever, full of stolen glances and the kind of anticipation that makes your skin feel too tight. When you reach his room, he fumbles with his keys for a moment—so fucking cute—before getting the door open.

You haven’t had a lot of time this semester to crash at his dorm—neat and organised, with anime posters on the walls and stacks of books and manga everywhere. But you barely have time to take it in before he's pressing you against the closed door, urgency lacing his actions.

This time, there's nothing apprehensive about it. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, squeezing your ass—and when you arch against him, he makes a low sound of approval.

"You taste so good," he shudders against you. "Everything I’ve imagined and so much more."

"You imagined this?"

"Every night for two years." His mouth moves to your neck, nibbling along your throat. "What you'd look like, what you'd sound like when I made you come."

The words send heat pooling low in your belly, prompting you to press your thighs together instinctively. "Fuck, don’t say shit like that.”

"Why not? I’ve been longing for you. All of you," he whispers, pulling back to look at you with dark, lidded eyes. "You’re not getting away until I’ve had my fill."

It would be an understatement to say that you hadn’t foreseen this when you woke up today. That you'd be spending hours with your legs over Armin's shoulders, forgetting your own name; the compassionate, stammering genius the internet drooled over. Too bad he’s not on the market. It would be a treat if his fans could see him like this—flushed and breathless, fingers gripping your hips like he’d die without you. Armin Arlert, golden boy of TikTok, practically begging to let him ruin you.

You grow dizzy at the promise in his voice. "Please."

He lets his hand trail lower, indecently tranquil, and just as you think he’ll do something reckless—he pauses, smirking wickedly.

"Want to find out what this piercing really feels like when I eat you out?"

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Wolf hybrid pack thought you were an innocent little bun, walking through town, bending over so they could catch a glimpse of your white panties, sometimes your skirt would even get caught on your fluffy bunny tail, letting them catch a whiff of your scent.

You always smelled so good, they couldn’t resist following after you.

They watched as you plump thighs squished together as you sat down at your favorite cafe, licking an ice cream cone and letting the white cream fall onto your cleavage.

And sometimes they’d be lucky enough for you to forget to wear panties, such a cute, forgetful little bun.

In reality, every little accident was a purposeful action meant to tease and coax the wolves to finally grab and mount your cute self.

Today you were feeling extra horny, your fingers just weren’t enough to satisfy you… so you let your juices run down your thighs, running back to the village without your panties.

It was bordering on mating season, and god you wanted to be fucked so badly! Wolf hybrids truly didn’t understand… they saw you as a fragile, innocent little thing when all you wanted was to feel all their knots fill you up with hot and sticky cum!

So you wander into town, smelling like a bitch in heat. You don’t bother with panties, only spritzing on some perfume.

Instantly you were being followed. You caught sight of a pair of wolf ears darting through the stalls, a wagging tail peaking out from behind a tree. The pack was on your tail.

You tried your best not to just bend over and wiggle your bottom right there. It was taking everything you had to ignore your instincts to mate and let yourself be mounted, especially with it being so close to mating season!

After you noticed quite a few wolf hybrids were after you, you settled onto a bench, keeping your chubby thighs open so the smell of your sipping wet pussy wafted through the air.

There were eyes on you from very angle, watching as you lifted your skirt. You put on a show, your soft nose twitching as your played with your fat pussy.

Some of them were getting braver, and the smell of wolf hybrid musk filled your nose. It got you off, seeing all those bobbing red cocks ready to fuck into your pretty little bunny cunt.

Before you knew it, you were being pinned down, your small holes stretched with a fat cock. It made you mewl, your fluffy cotton tail wagging furiously as another cock pressed against your soft lips.

After a while you lost count on how many cocks had entered your fat pussy, how many creampies that filled you up. All you could think about was how good it felt to be a completely helpless little bunny, trapped under yet another horny wolf that was ready to breed you~

It was bliss, being manhandled into another position, being completely stuffed and filled. You couldn’t be happier…

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

[musicallisto]

· · · · ♡ NO LOVE IN NEW YORK

… starring oscar piastri x f!reader ... 5.2k words ... in which your good samaritan tendencies, and some loser forgetting to show up on your first date, lead you to the most bizarre yet exhilarating nyc commute of your life. ... featuring fluff, humor, meet cute, some forced proximity. female reader (wears 'feminine' clothing). language, reader gets stood up on a date, suspension of disbelief for manhattan geography and the logistics of the mta (please forgive me new yorkers i went ten years ago). english is not my first language. ... author notes tadaaa oscar piastri debut who cheered!!!! not me because i'm scared to death of getting him wrong lowk. i was bemoaning the absence of oscar pictures at the f1 premiere and thought, "i know he just couldn't be bothered to go, but wouldn't it be funny if he'd just gotten lost?" and thats how this fic happened. ngl this is very much out of my comfort zone, i know oscar less than other drivers + much more romcom than i'm used to and idk how i feel about it so feedback would be VERY appreciated! very much open for a part 2 if you'd like that tho!!! enjoy ヘ(≧▽≦ヘ)♪ MASTERLIST / ASK BOX

There was no valid reason dating in New York City should have been this complicated.

Yet you prided yourself on being quite smart—smart enough to survive in the hostile urban jungle as a twenty-something on her own; definitely smarter than the national average judging by the (frankly depressing) headlines you heard pinging on your phone every morning. Outstanding high school GPA, reading comprehension way above your grade as a kid, and still no damn clue how to score a date in Manhattan.

Well, rather, how to score an agreeable date. Or perhaps just one that turned out to be real.

Monday morning had risen with a yawn from the sun, as though it were remembering only now that June was well underway but the streets remained chilly. Weak light shimmered over the fire escape when you’d drawn your curtains open. Ramen was sitting on the railing, licking his cream paw and staring at you with unimpressed nonchalance, and you’d grinned. Ramen—your downstairs neighbor’s cat, a sandy little imp whose real name you’d never found out but had baptized so after he’d stolen your instant dinner right off your kitchen counter—only showed up on mornings with importance. Like the day you’d aced Introduction to Statistics with nothing but two hours of sleep and five Monsters.

This was a good omen.

So yes, you were enthusiastic by the time you got home from class, scrambled together an omelet, and disemboweled your apartment looking for your favorite earrings. You were optimistic, and that sometimes sounded like the worst thing anyone could be in New York City.

But this first date promised to be nothing like the others, your inner voice hammered home as you tried to cram your feet into shoes half a size too small. He was cute, funny, not a fascist, he waited exactly the right amount of time in between replies—neither psychopathic nor disinterested—, and he’d told you to dress up because it was only fair that real-life art should match the paintings on the wall. After half a dozen insipid dinners at every other pizza place in Little Italy, and as many ghostings, a museum first date sounded more promising than you’d dared to hope.

Even though he dropped off the radar at ten p.m. the prior evening. Even though you shot him a bubbly, “you said 2:30pm right? can’t wait!” at eleven (the appointed time was but a scroll away, but you just needed to say something, diffuse the nerves somehow). Even though you double-texted him at two fifteen, “omw!”. 

But Ramen was there this morning, blinking his slow blinks at you. The date had to go well.

The sun was fully awake, undeniable, blazing above the trees and endless spires piercing the sky beyond Central Park, by the time you sat down on the steps in front of the museum. Alone.

It wasn’t until two fifty-seven that you accepted to face the glaring truth. 

First miss for Ramen.

You collected yourself in a clumsy torpor. Nothing to do with your heels, or the stupidly long dress you’d picked out and whose skirt you now had to lift with every step—this was the inescapable, crushing feeling of disappointment.

Of course New York City would punish the optimistic. The naïve. The superstitious, who put the outcome of their days into the hands of some feline apparition, scan the sky for four-leaf clover clouds. Served you right for still believing in things falling into place.

Your face burned from the sun and the humiliation, eyes prickling from unshed tears as you stuffed your phone into your purse. Pretended not to notice the group of tourists snapping shots of you, perhaps thinking you some roaming Millais muse. Disappeared into the shade of 103rd Street station, green gown flowing behind you like a pennon.

Every step down the long stairway stung more than the last, but you kept your gaze firmly to the ground, careful not to trip—and bury any ounce of dignity left in you for good. Blend in with the jaded city folk, you thought as you swiped your Metrocard; act as if you know exactly where you are going and go there with purpose, even if you could not be more stranded. Where to now? Back to your disordered, sweltering apartment, its haphazard pile of dishes in the sink and Ramen gauging you silently from the windowsill? Or to the campus library, trying to glean whatever productivity lies within heartbreak? And risk bumping into your friends, who’d teased you all day about the giddy bounce to your step, and having to explain you weren’t even worth showing up for?

“Excuse me?”

You looked up and met hazel. A mop of chestnut hair, that he had manifestly tried to arrange before giving up; discreet moles on an otherwise pale face, and brown eyes where danced flecks of gold and the most gripping kind of urgent resignation. The stranger was cute, and for some incomprehensible reason he matched you: he, too, was dressed to the nines like he’d run off from some wedding, and he also distinctly looked like he wished more than anything for the Earth to swallow him.

“Are you going to the F1 movie premiere?”

“What?”

“The, uh, the F1 movie red carpet thing? Are you going there right now?”

You were starting to worry your foreign-accent (British, or perhaps Australian?) comprehension skills had gotten alarmingly bad, or maybe the shrieking of MTA wagon brakes had finally rendered you deaf. 

“No, uh... I…” Oh, what the hell. Like there was any use lying to a beautiful stranger who seemed like he was somehow having a worse afternoon than yours. “I got stood up by my date. F1, you mean like Formula 1?”

What a formidable and ridiculous scene you two must’ve painted—two kids in formalwear, standing in the middle of a New York City subway platform, stuck amidst the pungent smell of piss and nonsensical conversation.

“I’m sorry about your date, they sound like a bit of a dropkick,” the stranger replied, and although you weren’t entirely sure what a dropkick was you were surprised to find him genuine. “But, uh… I think I’m lost, and I hoped you might help me, or else I’m gonna be the one doing the standing up. On about two thousand people.”

You had no time to furrow your brow, or chew on his words. Suddenly everything clicked with an audible bang, right in sync with the train doors closing to your left. The reason you’d felt so familiarly drawn to that cherub face, and why he had mentioned Formula 1… None of the downright lubricious Instagram edits your best friend had ever sent you featured him in a suit, but he was unmistakable.

“Oh my god, you’re Oscar Pia—”

“Please don’t tell all of Manhattan,” Piastri interrupted, grimacing as he glanced around the platform. You suffocated your voice, though found his dread of being heard a little pointless. Two people standing idly in black-tie garments as metros passed them by were eye-catching, for sure, but nowhere near NYC eye-catching standards. “It’s already pretty bad how late I am to my own premiere, I don’t want to have to take selfies in the subway.”

A million questions jostled about inside your head, but all you could do was stare at him, mouth agape in incomprehension. You didn’t keep up with Formula 1, hardly saw any point in cars going in circles, and perhaps a McLaren (was it McLaren or Mercedes?) superfan might have known better than you what the fuck Oscar Piastri was doing there. Not the film premiere gimmick, you were willing to believe that was the kind of fanfare F1 drivers spent their off-days doing—what the fuck he was doing alone at three in the afternoon, asking for your help in some acrid station on Lexington Avenue. 

“Couldn’t you just drive to the damn premiere?”

“Oh, right, so I should just steal a car off the street?” he deadpanned.

“No, I mean… don’t you have a chauffeur? An… an agent or something? A team? How do you even end up…” you trailed off, finding no words that wouldn’t bring you to astonished frustration. Instead, you opened your arms wide, encompassing all of New York’s rickety railways. “Here?”

Piastri parted his lips to retort with one of his impassive quips, but his whole face fractured then with tremendous vulnerability.

“I’ll tell you if you help me find my way. Please?”

He did not look like the type of man who’d ever begged anyone to do anything for him—you expected a high-adrenaline junkie like him to pray for neither forgiveness nor permission—and the contrast made you consider. That, and the sheer absurdity of the situation. And the fact the only other way you could see your afternoon ending was with an onslaught of messages from some guy assuring you life had gotten “sooo hectic” in the last ten to twelve hours.

Piastri was much cuter than him anyway.

“You know what, yeah, sure, what the hell,” you shrugged with a growing smile. “I’ll help you. I could use the good karma. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

This whole plan was utterly ridiculous, and you had no idea how you’d possibly explain that to your friends when they’d ask how your date had gone, but the way Piastri deflated with relief, like his whole body was exhaling, had you convinced you’d made the right call.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He said your name with the slightest of accents, and you caught yourself wishing he could say it again. “Maps said this was the shortest path to Times Square, but I think it’s a little confused—”

“Times Square? Oh, you’re not getting anywhere near that on the 6. We need to get to Central Park North. You coming?”

You tilted your head to the side, to the staircase drenched in hazy summer light, and Piastri seemed to be weighing the pros and cons for a split second—you couldn’t fault him, to be fair; you could’ve been a stalker, or a lunatic, or the lowest echelon to a weird MLM scheme. Still, he must’ve decided whatever you were recruiting him for was less dangerous than missing this premiere, because he took off after you.

When he billowed out of the station and back into the city, Piastri winced, and at first you assumed it due to the piercing sunlight reverberating on glassy panels, or the cacophony of horns and engines. However, you quickly noticed him glancing at the passersby with frantic interest… and looking puzzled at their utter disinterest in him.

“Relax, no one’s looking at us,” you reassured him, striding down the street on autopilot. He jogged two steps to catch up.

“You sure?”

“Certain. There’s so many people in New York City, and so many of those people do weird shit, that practically anyone can go unnoticed. I assure you that this,” you gestured down at your long dress, catching the light like rippling topazes, then at the silver cufflinks on his jacket, “does not even make the top 5 weirdest things any of these people have seen today.”

But the Australian looked unsure still, twisting his thin lips in a crooked zigzag, so you stopped in your tracks and hailed a young lady passing you by on the sidewalk, Airpods firmly bolted inside her ears.

“Excuse me, do you know who this guy is—”

She strode past you with the most furtive glance biologically possible and a mechanical Nothankyouhaveagoodday. You turned back to Piastri.

“See? No one cares.”

He chuckled, face breaking like dawn, and you chuckled too with no real reason. You weren’t too sure what was funny about typical New York callousness, but the way Piastri’s eyes crinkled, still somewhat strained from stress but illuminating all his features, made you all fuzzy inside. Up close and under sunlight, he looked even younger than you’d thought, no more than twenty-five, and the shadows on his face had lifted, rounding the angles and softening the corners. Like he’d been oil-painted on canvas, ochres and whites melting into each other at the edges.

“Okay, I guess you’re the local,” he conceded, and you resumed your brisk walk.

Maybe you really were at the museum, after all.

“So,” you spoke up after a bit. “I was promised a story.”

“Right,” he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, clearly regretting his bartering skills.

“How do you, Oscar Piastri, end up late to a movie premiere and alone in a subway station?” You stepped across a grate on the sidewalk, careful not to wedge your heel in the holes. “They just left you behind? Did you oversleep or what?”

No reply, but his dry laughter morphing into a cough was a flagrant enough response.

“Oh my God, Piastri,” you gasped merrily. “Did you seriously sleep through your movie premiere?”

“No! … It’s not over yet. I’m just late for the red carpet part. I can still make it to the screening.”

You stared, unconvinced, and he stared back, unconvincing. Biting the inside of his cheek, he watched your smile grow wider until he couldn’t take your teasing anymore. For heaven’s sake—you’d known him a grand total of five minutes and were already tormenting him!

“What?”

“How do they let you get away with this?”

“I was racing in Canada yesterday! God forbid a guy wants a nap,” he stressed the last as though it were some capital punishment and rolled his eyes.

Something in his demeanor was fabulously amusing. He was all relaxed tension, calculated coldness akin to what you’d expect from a person who’s constantly scrutinized; yet there was something more, a sort of agitation bubbling within, under the pores of his handsome face. Feeling so deeply and letting a stranger see so much was not in his nature, that much was clear. Every microexpression, in the lift of his brows, the curve of his lips, the arc of his eyes betrayed a kind of imbalance. He was losing his footing, like a glacier abraded from the top by the sun.

New York City had trained you for all sorts of people, including still waters like him. How to ripple their surface.

“Does this happen to you often?”

“No. Never.”

“Never missed a flight?”

“Just once. My mom woke me up screaming one hour before boarding the second ti—watch out.”

Swiftly, he grabbed your elbow and switched your spots on the sidewalk, pushing you closer to the wall. Before you could open your mouth to protest, the ground rattled from a firetruck barreling past you, ruffling Piastri’s hair and the lapels of his jacket.

“But I set three different alarms on my phone and I figured, Lando will probably break my door down if I sleep through them, so I’m safe,” he resumed, entirely unfazed. You looked up at him like he’d just performed actual magic. “But… apparently not. I woke up… twenty minutes ago?” That explained the slim, red pillow mark on his face you’d mistaken for a fading sunburn. “I wanted to call a taxi, but they’ve cut off traffic. It’s a big deal, you know? Brad Pitt’s gonna be there.”

The way he said Brad Pitt, with a tone so level it became thick with meaning and the littlest of jazz hands, made it abundantly clear there were few people on Earth Oscar Piastri would’ve been less excited about than Brad Pitt.

“Are you in it?”

“What?”

“The movie. Are you even in it?”

“Uh, my elbow is. Minute fifty-three.”

“Wow,” you giggled, arching your eyebrows in a playful wave. “So am I talking to Oscar Piastri the pro athlete, or Oscar Piastri the movie star?”

“Eh, just Oscar Piastri’s fine,” he shrugged, non-committal, though the glint of a smile now flickered uninterrupted on the corner of his lips, almost real enough to remark upon.

Your steps had carried you to the subway entrance north of Central Park already—too soon, far too soon, you thought with a faint ache in the chest. Piastri stirred in your body some kind of early-summer warmth, soft and shimmering like a drowsy morning. As soon as he would vanish to the far side of the platform, only the icy wind would remain, howling endlessly through the corridors…

Piastri, however, did not seem set on giving you up. At least judging by the tiny, tentative steps he took as he walked up to the turnstile, as though the machine could eat him the way it did cardboard tickets. You saw him take out a small, green-lettered card from his pocket… and stopped him.

“Wait, that’s not gonna work.”

“Huh?”

“Your ticket, it’s a single ride. You used that back there on Lexington, right?”

“Uh, I guess?”

“You don’t have a Metrocard?”

He turned to you, puzzled, and almost slammed into a hurried businessman in the process. Thankfully for Piastri, even assault was too inconsequential to reroute the average New Yorker, and the man just breezed past the turnstile and into the guts of the Earth with a nasty glare and a taunting beep!

“Why would I have a Metrocard, Y/N, I’m in this city about twelve hours a year.”

You glanced toward the entrance, where a faint trickle of light still seeped in. A flock of little old ladies, perhaps en route to a high-stakes bingo showdown, had laid siege to the terminals. Judging by their furrowed brows and squinting eyes, no one else in the station would be seeing so much as a hint of a ticket anytime soon.

Goodness gracious. Your helpfulness would be your undoing.

“How late are you to this thing?”

Piastri checked his watch. “Very.”

“And how much do you care about being late to this thing?”

“Normal dude Oscar Piastri? Not so much, to be honest. Formula 1 driver Oscar Piastri…”

“Say less.”

Veritable horror surfaced on Piastri’s face at your confident strides, as if he imagined you were about to vandalize your way through the gates.

“Come on! Hop over,” you signaled.

“Uh…”

“Or we could wait in line. Your call.” Like trying to get a puppy to jump through a hoop. What was he waiting for, a treat?

Or perhaps the patrol of inspectors coming down the hallway at the exact same second as Piastri gathered momentum and jumped the turnstile. That, too, seemed like a sensible thing to be on the lookout for.

The two men cried out right as his dress shoes hit the ground.

“Oh come on!” you whined. “They’re never here!”

“What do we do?!” he cried.

“What do you mean, what do we do? Just book it!”

You heard a cacophony of footsteps behind your back, promptly echoed by lighter sounds as Piastri ran down the corridor. Without a second glance, you pushed down on your hands, swung your legs forward, and… came to an abrupt halt mid-air. Looked down. Sage green fabric had wrapped around the metal blades of the turnstile, like snakes constricting their branches.

“Oscar!” you yelped.

If you’d had any doubt Oscar Piastri was the real racing deal until now, they were all silenced at once from the way he spun on his heels, ran back to you and, without a split second’s hesitation, not even the span of a breath, picked you up from your perch and took off. Instinctively your arms wrapped around the taut base of his neck as you felt his clammy hands slide down your back: the glossy fabric offered no grip to hold on to, yet his strong arms held you into place as tightly as they could. You gritted your teeth, prayed to God your heels would not fall off, and watched in stunned silence as Oscar raced down the stifling hallways.

It seemed like but an instant had passed when Oscar threw himself into the belly of the train, its imminent departure chime his very own chequered flag, and the old doors rattled shut behind you. For the first time, New Yorkers shot you strange looks. Finally you had crossed their threshold for urban bizarrerie.

And you were still in Oscar’s arms, flushed and panting even though he was the one who’d done all the running. And had barely broken a sweat.

You were about to clear your throat and kindly—begrudgingly, perhaps?—request he put you down… when the announcer’s perky voice began chirping out the next stops through the loudspeakers. You snapped your head at the line map above the doors. No matter what language she said it in, your next stop was always wrong.

“Oscar,” you murmured.

“Yeah?” he breathed out.

“We got on the wrong way.”

“There’s no oil in New York City.”

Oscar remained silent for a few seconds, as if in a trance. His jittery leg did not.

“What?” he mumbled when he broke out of his reverie.

You simply pointed at his knee, bouncing up and down since he’d sat.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to drill a hole in the ground with your shoe for. There’s no oil in New York City. If there was, Trump would’ve sucked it dry already.”

Oscar sighed, throwing his head back against the glass panel, but your heart swelled with satisfaction when you caught a glimpse of his smile.

Rippling anyone’s surface had seldom proven as easy as it was fun.

You leaned a little closer to him, and he closed his eyes with a faint grunt. His leg, however, was now still.

“Why are you so nervous about being late? You’re the main attraction, it’s not like they’re going to hold it against you.”

Hearing his reply proved difficult over the train’s thundering racket, glass windows and moist handles vibrating within their sockets like charged electrons. His eyes, mercifully still closed, allowed yours to linger on his mouth—to decipher each word as it formed, and to savor the quiet contemplation.

“Being fashionably late usually draws more attention than I like to get.”

“So why bother going? You don’t look like you enjoy being in the public eye that much anyway.”

Only one eye opened, tentatively so, and met your small, expectant smile, chin resting on your fist and your crossed legs imperceptibly brushing his. Any story he could’ve told you right then would’ve been riveting, it seemed, and for the first time in weeks Oscar found that for you, he did not mind sharing one.

“I told Lando I’d go. We collided yesterday on track and they thought it would maybe look bad if one of us showed up and not the other. Like we’re avoiding each other or something. I don’t know, PR stuff. But I promised Lando, so.” He pursed his lips then, and blew air through his nose, holding back a giggle. “Also, I don’t know, I felt like I had to go. I had a… a premonition.”

“A premonition?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, some kind of hunch. In my cereal.”

You stared at him long, assessing him and the likelihood of a lie, but he was a master of the unreadable smile, the one that could mean anything from I’m one look away from bursting into laughter to I have never dissociated more than I am currently, and even, perhaps, I wish this train ride with you would never end.

“In your cereal?”

“This morning, at the breakfast buffet, I had cereal and there was this kinda cornflake clump that looked like a clapperboard. You know,” he mimed it with his hands and the click of the tongue to match. “So I thought that was some… sign? The universe was telling me to go to this premiere, or something.” His neck tensed abruptly as he suddenly remembered himself. Who he was, and what he believed in. “But uh, that’s a little stupid. Forget it.”

The subway doors opened and closed, chimes rang and accordion tunes from the platforms faded in and out of the background chatter. You had close to lost count of how many stops were left until Times Square. The incessant ballet of New York’s illustrious unknowns would still play out, with or without your attention.

When Oscar looked down at you, almost entirely hunched over his lap and taking him in like he was an August rainshower, he found you beaming.

“No, I totally get you. This date I was supposed to go on before I ran into you… I went because Ramen showed up, even though there were so many red flags that I could’ve seen coming.”

“Who?”

“Ramen.”

“Who’s Ramen?”

“The neighbor’s cat. That’s not his real name, just what I call him.”

Oscar stared at you, expression frozen in one of delightful incomprehension, the one you get when you are not entirely sure a miracle is destined for you just yet. And you stared back, awaiting his next words for as long as it’d take them to come.

“So you went on a date because a cat told you to?”

“He didn’t tell me anything, silly, he’s a cat,” you retorted like it was the most obvious thing in the universe, to which Oscar rolled his eyes and muttered Of course. “He just stared, and every time he does it, I know I’m gonna get lucky that day. He’s never failed me before. Well, until today.”

A beat passed, during which you refused to elaborate further out of fear you’d betray the words lingering at the front of your mouth. Maybe this hadn’t been a miss for Ramen, after all. Maybe his magic had worked in unexpected ways. Oscar, on the other hand, just basked in the whole of you, and his lips slightly parted without a sound, as though they didn’t quite know where to begin.

“What?”

“It’s just… My job, this whole universe I live in, there’s no room for good luck charms or silly little superstitions. They’re just… distractions. All the answers are in the data. Our only faith is in the numbers.” And you sensed him about to say something else, something he had to wring out of the very cloth of his ribcage, but suddenly the deep wells in his pupils were sealed off with his favorite lid of deadpan humor. “Well, except the Italians. But they suck, so I wouldn’t take them as an example.”

“Oh my God, Oscar,” you gasped, “you can’t say that, do you know how many Italians there are in New Y—”

A sudden jolt shook the entire train, knocking the carriage back onto its breathless tracks; the momentum sent a teenage girl flying into a tall gym guy, who in turn crashed into you—your hands were too slow to catch you, not lighting-fast and gloved in greatness—you fell on top of Oscar, your nose buried against the open buttons of his shirt.

You were upright in less than a second, locked in a litany of Oh my God sorry’s to which Oscar replied his own recitation of No worries it’s not your fault’s. The train resumed its journey through the depths of Manhattan as if nothing had happened, and truthfully nothing had—except you were now a little closer to each other than you’d been before, and you hoped with all your might that he wouldn’t notice the way your eyelids fluttered, or how your fingertips had started burning up, or how the air was now thicker, or maybe you hoped he did, so you wouldn’t have to speak it aloud—nothing had happened, and truthfully everything had.

“Why did you think I was going to the F1 premiere back there?” you asked softly, not sure why that was the question you’d elected to go with now.

Oscar’s face was impassible—he’d found his calm, collected control back. But he didn’t know, or didn’t care to know, that you could hear his heartbeat louder than the railroad racket below.

“You looked funny.”

“Okay, you’re literally wearing a bowtie, and it’s crooked, by the way.”

“No, I mean, you looked pretty.” The faintest flick of his tongue showed above his bottom lip, undoubtedly accidental. “You looked really pretty, so I assumed you were a guest or something.”

Maybe what you’d heard and thought was his heart pulsating in sync with the wobbly tracks had not been his, but yours. Somewhere indistinct, the lady’s mechanical voice crackled something about Times Square. 

“Thank you,” you smiled, with no mischief attached, this time.

“I’m… pretty glad that your date didn’t show up in the end, huh,” he laughed half-heartedly.

“Oscar, Times Square,” you sprung to your feet, nearly twisting your ankle. “That’s you!”

The doors almost chewed down on the hem of Oscar’s pants when he jumped out of the train. Without so much as a glance back or a single word of forgiveness, all the carriages vanished into heavy shadows, and the world was back to normal again.

Or almost. If there was anything even remotely normal about Times Square.

Every single light blinded you—no matter how many times you came you could never wrap your head around how the place managed to dazzle you even in broad daylight—as you both exited the metro station. Summer lay heavily on the commotion of cars, police whistles, loud music, and… screaming bloody murder?

“Ah, I think that’s my cue.”

Oscar held his hand over his eyes as he took in the scene, and only then did you notice the race cars parked in the middle of the street, some fifty meters ahead. It was probably a fair assumption, then, that the thousands of people massed near the makeshift stage, underneath gigantic screens, were all waiting for him. A fair assumption, and an incredibly odd one; to think you had spent such a mundane moment with the man they would soon shout themselves hoarse for!

“Yeah, good luck with that, I’m not going any nearer,” you forced between clenched teeth. “I hope you don’t get into too much trouble.”

When you spun on your heel, you found Oscar extending his hand out for you to shake, squinting his eyes against the sun. Or maybe it was an excuse not to have to look you in the eye more than absolutely necessary. In the same way you couldn’t tell whether your hand was slightly clammy from the heat or the nerves.

“Thanks for saving the day. Or at least mine,” he said, a little too solemn, a little too final. Like this was a farewell rather than an acknowledgment.

“Thanks for saving mine,” you replied, hoping the little smile you forced on your lips looked appropriately warm, and not inexplicably aching. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

To anyone else Oscar would’ve replied the truth—Probably not—but that was not what his bowl of cereal would have wanted of him, so he said:

“Maybe.”

He gave you a wink half a second too long, and immediately looked horrified at what he’d done, which made you double over in a flurry of giggles. When you opened your eyes, he was a few steps ahead, waving you goodbye, and you returned the salute. You watched him jog the distance to the first cameras until he was but one more black and white dot in a sea of elegant millionaires, your throat hollow save for a funny kind of longing.

Then you walked back the way you came, carrying the end of your skirt down the stairs of the metro station.

Thirty minutes later, as you rummaged through your purse for your keys in front of your apartment complex, you noticed your phone lighting up. Usually, when you went on a date, you’d put it on Do not disturb so as to not be tempted—basic education, you reckoned, and something not many dates of yours had had the courtesy of reciprocating—, but you always sent your best friend your location beforehand and allowed her and only her to go through. She knew better than to text you unless it was life or death.

Clearly, this was of the utmost importance, and the fact there were only three messages instead of the fifty-seven you were expecting did not reassure you one bit.

“bitch” “who tf is that with oscar” “and why tf is it you??????”

A link to a TikTok came up mere seconds later.

The sage green gown was unmistakable. Anything else could’ve been explained otherwise, maybe blamed on some uncanny resemblance, a fortuitous angle—it looked like the video had been shot from very far away, and the protagonists not at all aware of the recording; but you would’ve recognized that lilypad-bright dress anywhere. Just like you knew that the blurry mass of pixels near the man’s face was a pathetic excuse for a wink, and the woman doubling over for no reason was actually laughing. That she’d watched him disappear into the crowd, immobile and longing, to commit to memory the very way his bones moved when he walked.

“Oscar Piastri’s Mystery Date Gets Cold Feet Right Before Red Carpet Debut?? 👀”

You stared at your phone even as it kept going off, its vibrations tickling your palm. A series of interrogation marks, each its individual message, popped up one after the other on your notification bar, and all you could do was clutch the screen as though you could shatter it with your bare hands.

This meant nothing, you calmed yourself down. This would blow over soon, you swore. As soon as they realized Oscar Piastri would never be seen again with this mysterious woman, and that it was never anything serious. Anything at all, even. That the New Yorker in apple green was just a mirage on his path, pertaining only to him and for a split instant.

And even if things didn’t smooth over… you had a feeling Oscar’s team would have no problem tracking you down.

©musicallisto, 2025

⤷ liked this fic? then you might enjoy... endless giggles (ln4)!

[tired-biscuit]

I licked it so it’s mine

pairing: stepbrother!yuuji/fem!reader

premise: After a long day of work, you decide to make use of the empty house by having some drinks and a movie night with your older stepbrother. Eventually, one drink turns into two, two become three, and so on. As the buzz of the alcohol progressively fills you with more and more courage, interesting things commence.

cw: 18+ MDNI. stepcest, ‘in the flurry of the moment’ setting, no curses AU, characters are in their 20s, intoxication, dubcon, implied corruption, coersion and pressuring from reader, descriptions of size difference, manhandling and roughness — poor yuuji gets a little too into it in the end.

wc: 6.7k

divider credit: @/adornedwithlight

———

Your big stepbrother Yuuji is likeable. He always has been.

To be fair, what is there not to like? When it comes to his looks, Yuuji is tall, handsome, a proud owner of a pair of pretty honey-coloured eyes that make him resemble a puppy, and an even prettier smile. Every summer, his skin gets this wonderful, almost golden tan that makes him outright glow from within, and his face gets sun-kissed, causing his already rosy cheeks to get dotted with tiny, barely visible freckles that gather under his eyes and only enhance his cuteness.

However, after living with him for so long, you’ve since learned that he rarely actually pays attention to his appearance, much less dresses to impress.

After all, Yuuji is a simple man. He does not care about clothes besides the level of comfort they provide, and yet he still somehow manages to achieve victory. Catching girls checking him out when he’s in nothing but his trusty pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt is a common occurrence. Even listening to flustered whispers and giggles has turned into a regular thing at this point.

On top of all that, he’s also nice. Kind and open and warm – you could use so many more positive words to describe your stepbrother’s wonderful personality, but you’re pretty sure that they’d never do it justice. Perhaps the only bad thing you could say about him is that he’s too nice. Too helpful and giving.

Especially towards the people who don’t deserve it.

And as you watch him from the corner of your eye now, hanging out at the park and licking the ice cream that he’d treated you to as a reward for beating him in his favourite video game, you try to consider yourself as one of the people who do deserve his everlasting kindness. Who do deserve to be treated nicely by him, and to hear the laughter in his voice, and to accept his almost naive generosity.

It’s a nice day out today. The wooden park bench that you’re sitting on currently is warm from the setting sun that still filters through the leaves above your heads. Small, moving patches of light and shadow linger everywhere, causing you to stare, almost mesmerized, as some of them lazily continue to dance across your big brother’s face.

Yuuji’s arms are splayed wide open and draped on either side of the worn backrest that you’re both leaning against. He’s finished his ice cream ages ago, so now he’s got his legs outstretched and his head angled up towards the sky, enjoying the peaceful tranquility that this year’s summer brings. 

There are quite a few people out and about in the park during this time of day – most of them joggers and dog walkers that are using the slightly cooler temperatures to their benefit – but if you listen closely, you can make out distant shouting and laughter coming from a group of children who are occupying the playground that’s on the other side of the trees.

The sound makes you feel kind of old, so you zero in on your sandals to keep yourself busy.

“Remember when you used to scream like that?”

“What?” 

When you turn your head to the side again, Yuuji’s gaze looks expectant.

“Back when we were kids,” he explains, jerking his chin towards the direction of the playground. “You got all shrieky and high-pitched whenever it was my turn to chase you, remember? Made you sound like a deflating balloon just by running in your direction.”

“Oh!” You take another lick of your ice cream, fully flattening the scoop before sinking your teeth into the edge of the cone. The scent of strawberries fills your nose in an instant. “In my defense, that probably happened because I didn’t like playing tag with you all that much.” 

He quirks an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “How so?”

“Well, for starters, your legs were longer than mine, which made you catch up so fast that it wasn’t fun for me anymore. Aaand your hands were also always sticky for some reason,” you reply, still chewing on the wafer. “It was gross.”

“Wow, okay.” He rolls his eyes but it immediately gets followed by a brief chuckle that escapes his lips. “Excuse me for trying to be a little bit sentimental with my clean freak of a baby sister.”

“I’m normal… You’re just nasty,” you fire back, smiling when he goes to playfully shove you.

His hand is warm when it lands on your shoulder; so warm, in fact, that you can feel the rise in temperature even through the sleeve of the thin, cropped T-shirt that you’ve put on this morning. 

It doesn’t take you by surprise. For as long as you’ve known him, Yuuji has been one to have blood as hot as molten lava running through his veins. You’re unsure how he survives it whenever the weather is scorching hot, like today for example – August has always proved to be a bitch whenever it comes to heat – but so far he seems to be doing just fine.

And while it may be weird to some, him being hot-blooded is the reason why you sometimes like to drag him into your bed during the winter months, when it’s cold and you come back home from work feeling like your toes have turned half-frozen in your shoes. Besides being provided with good company, he’s also like your own personal heater.

And that’s it. There’s nothing else to it; how could it be when he’s your stepbrother, for crying out loud! You grew up together and have lived under the same roof for years. He’s walked into your room just to leave the lights on and the door open so many times. You’ve endured his godawful Fortnite phase and have seen him be at his worst just as he did with you. The only feelings that you harbour for him are strictly platonic. 

You’re both pretty set on that.

���I should take that ice cream from ya as a form of punishment for being so mean to me,” said stepbrother teases now, pulling you back from your thoughts. When you look up at him, he’s grinning like a little boy. From ear to ear and in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Cute.

“Nu-uh,” you respond, allowing the evidently distrustful tone to lace your voice. “I licked it so it’s mine.”

“Tsch.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Like that’s ever been an issue before. C’mon, give.” 

“It is for me because unlike you, I’m not- Hey!” Before you can finish your sentence, he swipes the ice cream from your hand, successfully stealing it right in front of your nose.

You glare at him now, brow slightly furrowed in annoyance, as Yuuji proceeds to lick the melting sweet with exaggerated delight. Since whatever was left of the scoop sank deeper into the cone, you realize that you’re unexpectedly intrigued by the fact that he needs to push his tongue out a little more to get to it. 

And he does; of course he does. He twirls it across the flat, creamy surface, and it’s not long before the inside of his mouth is coated in milky pink and there’s a hum of overly satisfied approval sounding from the back of his throat.

You’re unsure how to feel about the entire thing, but you definitely don’t dwell on it.

“Mmm,” he purrs, squeezing his eyes shut. He even makes sure to go as far as to smack his lips. “Mmm-mmm-mm! So good.”

For whatever reason, you feel your stomach do a weird spin as you listen to the sounds he’s making now. It’s like there’s an instant flash of heat searing through your body, similar to the pesky one that you get in the middle of the night when you’re hormonal and on your period, but before you can even properly acknowledge it, it’s gone as fast as it came.

“Again: you’re so gross,” you manage to say with a huff that’s supposed to be disapproving but doesn’t sound like that at all. The shake of your head that you add to the jab also feels somewhat unnatural. Every one of your mannerisms does, actually.

Yuuji, seemingly blissfully ignorant of your inner turmoil, laughs before he takes a giant bite out of the side of the cone and finally hands it back to you.

“Hey, at least my hands ain’t sticky this time.”

———

The house is empty when you come back home that evening.

This too is not much of a surprise, really. Your parents have been gone for the last couple of days, enjoying their yearly vacation to the seaside that neither you nor Yuuji could attend this time because of your work schedules. 

So while your mom and his dad are basking in the sun and drinking sugary cocktails, you’re waking up at six in the morning every day to make it to your dull desk job in time, and he’s stuck flipping burgers at McDonalds and honing his social skills in the drive-through booth for eight hours every day.

Poor, poor you.

“Did you see the drinks they’re having over there? Gosh,” Yuuji grumbles on this exact topic as he throws himself onto the couch and flicks the TV on. His expression looks mildly conflicted at the list of movies he’s being offered by the streaming service you’re both leeching off of, but it eases back into neutral as soon as he rests his feet atop the coffee table and crosses his ankles. “They even had those fancy umbrellas on the top and everythin’.”

“There, there,” you say, quickly patting his knee before sitting down beside him. You’re not sure why, but you pay extra attention to the small sliver of distance that you keep between his leg and your own now. The feeling from earlier didn’t fully go away yet, so touching him or him touching you still feels kind of odd.

Meanwhile, Yuuji doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all, because now he’s resting his head against your shoulder, invading your personal space whilst he pouts.

The action is nothing unusual for him – it’s normal, he does it all the time – and yet you still swallow thickly, trying to ignore the sudden hyper awareness. 

“What is it now, you big baby?” you manage to muster out, taking the remote from him.

“Eh… It’s nothing,” he says.

“Aha,” you say.

“Well… It’s just that I want nachos and cocktails with fancy umbrellas, too!” he bristles at your prodding, pressing the side of his face even further into your shoulder. His hair tickles your cheek because of it.

“We have nachos at home,” you utter, trying to avoid the ticklish sensation.

“Yeah. Shitty tortilla chips that come in a bag, with a side of tasteless dip from the fridge,” he quips. “Yum.”

You stifle your laughter. He’s making such a big deal out of a silly thing like nachos. “I’m pretty sure they all come in a bag, Yuu… Come to think of it, theirs are probably stored in one of those big, wholesale bags that most food places get.”

“Well, I want the wholesale ones, then.”

“You’re pretty set on this, huh?”

He just gives you a look.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you ramble, pulling back just enough to make him lift his head and look at you properly. “How about… we try to make semi-decent nachos and cocktails with what we have, and have ourselves a little movie night since we’re both off work tomorrow and we definitely deserve it after all the pain and suffering we’re going through?”

Yuuji muses. “All you do at your job is sit behind a desk all day.”

You feel your eyes narrow. “So?”

“So,” he says, sounding smug. “I’d hardly call that pain and suffering.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you chide. “I wasn’t aware that your job also consisted of crawling underneath barbed wire and coming face to face with excruciating death between all those burgers you flip.”

He pokes you in the side for the insult. After jumping a little bit at the ticklish sensation, you make sure to immediately return the favour.

“Do you want those cocktails or not, Ronald McDonald?”

Yuuji stretches his arms above his head and yawns before he gets ready to stand up. “Yeah, yeah… Let’s make ‘em fancy.”

He follows you into the kitchen then, where you both work to recreate the vacation food and drinks to the best of your – and your pantry’s – capabilities. 

The nachos end up being surprisingly decent after you sprinkle some shredded cheese on top and give them a spin in the microwave. The cocktails, on the other hand, are a mixture of cheap wine from the corner store and coke, adorned with pieces of sliced pineapple at the top because you sadly ran out of cute paper umbrellas, much to Yuuji’s disappointment.

Though in the end, everything works out just fine.

You have yourselves a nice, perhaps you could even call it relaxing kind of evening. You change into your comfortable pyjama shorts and tank top, he gets rid of his T-shirt because he prefers being shirtless during the summer, and you play a couple rounds of his favourite game again; all of which you lose because Yuuji decides that he isn’t holding back this time. Afterwards, you watch a movie that isn’t all that good necessarily, but isn’t half bad either, and take rather hefty sips of your makeshift cocktails.

By the time the credits start to roll, you’re both feeling a little buzzed and warm in the face. Neither of you feels like calling it a night just yet, though – being off work the next day at the same time happens so rarely, after all – so you decide on watching something equally as uneventful and drinking some more.

So that is how both yourself and Yuuji end up drinking more than you’d initially planned. The alcohol becomes easier to swallow down when you’ve already numbed out your taste buds and have adapted them to the cheap, shitty wine flavour. It even makes the pineapple slices look cool.

And now you’re both drunk. Not shitfaced, per se, but definitely more than tipsy. Enough that it’s making your vision a little bit blurry around the edges, your limbs soft and pliant, and your mind fuzzy. Enough that it’s making you feel like you could do just about anything you’d set your mind to.

You’re both giggling like morons as you sit cross-legged and face each other on the couch. He’s desperately trying to tell you a story about one of his co-workers, who, according to him, is supposed to be very weird, but he keeps on slurring his words and keeps on losing track so often that it’s making the entire thing outright incomprehensive.

“Dude-” Your voice falters as yet another set of giggles pushes its way out. Goddamn alcohol. “You have got to stop laughing and tell me whatever it is you want to tell me about this weirdo, because if you don’t, I swear to god that I’m going to fucking lose my shit.”

“Listen… Jus’ listen-” 

“I am listening, you dumbass!” you interrupt, reaching over to flick his forehead. He flinches at the action.

“No, but like,” he mumbles now, rubbing the aching spot. “I want to tell you, but at the same time… I kind of don’t.”

This instantly succeeds in sparking your interest. There’s something he’s unsure about telling you? How curious; you tell each other everything!

You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on your knees. “How so?”

Yuuji’s eyes flicker towards the television for a quick second. The movie is still playing – it bathes half of his face with light and the other half in shadows. 

Much to your bafflement, he sheepishly bites his lip before he says, “‘Cause it’s a secret.”

“A secret? Really?” You groan as you grab the small decorative pillow just so that you can throw it his way. Despite his intoxicated state, he’s still rather quick to deflect it. It lands on the ground soundlessly.

“What was that for?” he asks now, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, I dunno,” you say, bristling. “Did it maybe ever cross your mind that telling me that is only gonna make me want to hear it more?”

“I mean,” he says, scratching the back of his head and shrugging. “I guess…?”

You give him a pointed glare. “You know how much I love secrets, Yuu!”

“I know.”

“Then tell me!”

“No.”

You pout in answer, clearly unsatisfied.

Yuuji looks at you, his expression slipping into something that’s a bit more sincere and apologetic. He watches as you continue to avoid eye contact and push out your bottom lip, clearly trying to appear upset as much as you possibly can in order to get him to change his mind.

Sooner or later, it ends up working.

A person like him is so giving… Who is he to ever tell you no?

“Oh, fine,” he says, sighing with defeat. “Just pinky promise that you won’t tell anyone, okay?”

Your grin is pleasantly lazy because of the alcohol that’s still coursing your veins as you chirp, “Of course.”

He hooks your pinkies together and shakes them from side to side lightly as if it’ll help solidify the promise better.

“So, what’s the secret?” you ask when you pull your hand back and use it to support your cheek.

After a short moment of silence, he finally forces himself to blurt out, “My co-worker, he, uh… He thinks you’re hot.”

You stare at him, arching one eyebrow. “Wait, that’s it?”

Yuuji can feel his entire face tingling with heat now. The blush that steadily continues to bloom makes his skin slightly itchy, but he refrains from scratching it. “Yeah, that’s it.”

You watch him closely. 

“What?” he inquires, not liking the fact that you aren’t saying anything. The flush of red has crept down to his neck now.

“You’re lying,” you reply at long last, expression blank.

He sputters when he inhales a sharp breath, ready to defend himself. “Am not!”

You throw another pillow at him. He avoids this one, too. “Are too!”

“Stop throwing stuff at me!”

“I will, if you tell me the secret!”

“I already did!”

“The actual secret, dumbass!”

“Fine… Fine! Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He also said that, umm…”

You enthusiastically gesture at him to continue when his voice fades into nothing again. Curiosity is threatening to eat you alive at this point. “Yes? He said what?”

“He said-” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. “He basically told me that if you were his stepsister, that he would’ve been all over you ages ago. Or whatever.”

You stare at him once more. He stares right back.

“What?” he asks again, this time slightly more nervous. His pupils are huge and the blush is starting to make him sweat. “What is it?”

After a moment that seems like forever, you repeat, “...That’s it?”

Yuuji feels like his heart has dropped to his ass. “What d’you mean that’s it?!”

“Exactly what I said,” you say, shrugging. “Your co-worker has a ‘Oh no, stepbro, I’m stuck’ fantasy. So what?”

“I-” Yuuji’s eyebrows draw so tightly together until there’s a small v etched between them. He pauses for a long time before he says, “Don’t you think that’s weird, though?”

“Not really.” You take another small sip from your glass and place it back onto the coffee table. “I mean, have you never noticed how popular it is in porn? Lots of people are into that kind of stuff.”

“N-no…” He stutters, somehow succeeding in turning even redder in the face. “I don’t-”

“Watch porn?” you offer quickly, already rolling your eyes.

“Not porn like that,” he quips, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically snippy. 

You chuckle at the tone he uses, attempting to tame the upward curl of your lips. Things are getting interesting and dirty – something you don’t get to encounter a lot whenever it comes to golden boy over here. “Well, what kind of porn do you watch, then?”

Oh, that is very bold. If it weren’t for the liquid courage, you doubt you’d dare ask the question. But it’s out in the open now.

Hanging in the tense air that’s between you two. Waiting. Preying.

“Not the stepsister kind,” he says in a low mutter, surprising you that he even chose to answer. “I’m not into that.”

You can’t help but let the smile show now. “How can you know if you’ve never seen it?”

Yuuji gawks before letting out a nervous laugh. “...What?”

“I said,” you repeat, leaning ever so slightly closer. Enough to make him feel on edge, but not enough to scare him away. “How can you know that you’re not into it-” There’s another pause, another closing of distance. His freckles are visible now. “If you’ve never seen it? Hmm?”

“I just-” He tenses up when your knee bumps into his. The short moment of contact is electrifying for some reason; it jumpstarts his heart into a far quicker rhythm. “I just, uh, do.”

You look him directly in his sweet honey eyes. “Yeah?”

And he immediately rushes to break eye contact. “Yeah.”

“You know,” you trail off innocently, patting his knee this time instead of ‘accidentally’ bumping it. Unlike before, though, your hand remains on his leg. “For someone who swears up and down to not be into it… You really don’t sound so sure about it to me.”

“Well, I am,” he protests in a heartbeat, however the bite that’s supposed to be in the statement isn’t quite there. 

The reason behind it might be because he’s quite tipsy and can’t bring himself to be firm with you. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s staring at his lap when he says it; right at the spot where you’re still touching him.

Your hand feels so warm as it sits on his thigh. And pleasant. 

He doesn’t exactly… want it to go away.

You watch as he huffs in defeat and shakes his head with evident frustration the thought must have evoked. It causes a giggle to bubble up your throat from how entertained you are. You don’t even try to stop it this time.

He could tell you off, call you names, push you away, whatever… But he doesn’t. 

No, he’s just too good of a big brother.

So you allow the flat of your palms to rest on both of his knees now. Still careful, though not nearly as much as before. Meanwhile, your own knees dig into the softness of the couch as you readjust your weight forward so that you can lift yourself just enough to be eye level with him.

Guilty anticipation pools inside his gut and turns him frazzled when you use the momentum to invade his personal space even further. All of a sudden, you find yourself nose to nose with your cutesy stepbrother. Chest to chest. So close that he can feel the heat of your breath on his lips and smell the fading scent of your perfume mixing with thin layers of sweat and sunscreen. 

“Prove it, then,” you say. Your voice could barely be considered above a whisper but the silence that follows after it is so loud.

Yuuji gulps from how unnerving this entire situation has become. Gulps. “Prove… Prove what?”

“Prove that you’re not into it.”

Thump, thump, thump! His heart is going wild. “How?”

“Watch it with me.” You move your hands upwards ever so slightly as you speak the words, but it’s not long before you’re sliding them all the way up to his thighs. 

They’re strong, his legs, and the muscles in them flex and harden underneath your touch, making the lines of his gorgeous, so profoundly male-like physique all the more defined. The hairs there are lighter in colour and they’re silky smooth. They tickle the tips of your fingers when you finally let them settle at the very edge of his gym shorts. 

Digging your nails into his skin just enough to make him jump a little, you add, “Please?”

God, you’re so drunk and… something else. Your pupils are huge; so big that Yuuji swears he can see himself in them, and the laugh you let out a moment later is girlish and kind of breathless. 

And he, well, he just looks so goddamn confused in response to it. Like a little puppy that’s been caught doing something naughty and bad. Big, round eyes, twitchy upper lip and everything.

“I, umm… I dunno,” he chokes out finally. He feels like coughing so that he can clear his throat, but he somehow manages to stifle the annoying sensation. “I just… I’m not so sure about that-”

“Pleeease, Yuuji,” you repeat, pushing, pushing, pushing. You even start pouting right at him as a means to get him to budge. “I wanna!”

Fuck.

The whine that’s appeared in your voice now makes his cock involuntarily twitch. What the actual fuck, his dick is responding to you – his baby sister. Little by little, blood is rushing south; right below his waistline until he can feel warmth slowly taking over every inch of his lower half. He tries to make it stop, to put an end to it, to slow it down at the very least, but his efforts prove to be completely useless.

His throat feels scratchy and dry now from not allowing himself to cough, and his skin feels too tight on his face. It makes him rasp as he says, “You, uh, you wanna?”

“Mhmm,” you purr in a mere instant, squeezing his thighs again just the tiniest bit. Goddammit, since when did those parts start feeling so fucking sensitive? “Wanna… wanna see you start sweating a little when you realize that your dick is getting hard over dirty shit like stepcest, you know? Wanna prove you wrong.”

A second twitch, a second rush of blood. Yuuji’s stomach spins and tightens with anxiety. His nerves go haywire. With each passing second, he can feel his cock getting heavier in his shorts. Can feel pre-cum turning the front of his underwear more and more sticky. Can feel his mind going dizzy with quick-paced lust.

You’re just so goddamn close. Staring right at him, with your tits almost on full display in that tiny thing you call a shirt, and with that infuriating, shit-eating smirk plastered on your lips. Kneeling right between his legs, talking about stepbrothers fucking stepsisters, allowing your breaths to intermingle as if it’s no big deal.

But that’s not all. Besides being too close for comfort, he’s also pretty sure that you’re quietly hinting at the possibility of something happening tonight, like letting him stuff your pussy with his cock. Hell, forget stuffing – even just seeing it would be nice. 

Not that he’s ever thought about laying eyes on his sister’s cunt, much less filling it, but now that this entire thing is unfolding in real time, before his very eyes, and he swears that he can feel the tips of your fingers subtly brushing against the ridge of his hard-on over his clothes… He doesn’t feel like refusing the idea necessarily, if it were to actually happen.

Fuuuck!

“It-it won’t,” Yuuji stammers in one last attempt at keeping his sense of morality, however all he does is end up fumbling over his own damn self like some pathetic loser. He’s so red in the face, it’s obvious now. “I, ah, I already told you-”

His sentence gets interrupted by a sudden kiss that you press right onto his still half-open mouth. 

You don’t know what exactly it is that compels you to do it, but here you are. Kissing your big brother. Latching yourself to him. Offering him things you shouldn’t.

Oh, here you are, all right.

The kiss itself is clumsy, rash, idiotic. Your teeth clash as you hurry forward to wrap your arms around his neck, and there’s a small, muffled noise – that terribly sounds like a squeal of excitement – escaping your lips when his big hands find your waist and he yanks you forward until you’re fully seated on his lap.

One second ago you were merely looking at each other, tip-toeing the line but never quite overstepping it, and now you’re grinding against one another like animals in heat, tangling tongues and tasting each other’s spit. Everything happens so fast and it’s all based on pure instinct and executed with zero thinking, because if it happened any other way, you’d surely regret it.

He tastes like pineapple and the lousy chewing gum that he bought back at the corner store earlier in the afternoon but spat out pretty soon after. You shouldn’t find the odd combination of flavours that good, you know this, but right now the inside of his mouth tastes like sweet, sweet heaven.

And possible release.

“Fuck, Yuu,” you pant between messy kisses, running your fingers along his undercut. “You’re so hard, look… Proves me right, mm?”

Yuuji wants to tell you to shut up, to stop saying things like that, to stop making him feel both so guilty and turned on at the same time because it’s complicated and he doesn’t fucking know what to make of it.

But all he ends up saying instead is, “Yeah...”

Because, as always, he’s simply too good of a big brother. Too good to tell you no.

Especially when you’re right.

And even if your big brother’s cock is hiding underneath several layers of clothing, you can still feel it pressing firmly between your legs now. Thick and heavy and in urgent need of some tender affection; a little sisterly love, if you will. It’s making you grow more and more expectant of what’s to come. There’s no space for shame left.

His size seems promising – at least judging by the feel of it. Each time you push your weight against him, circling your hips a little, he responds by pushing you down even further with the help of his hands on your hips; spreading your folds slightly apart and allowing the seam of your shorts to dig straight into your clit.

Your breathing grows laboured because of it. Slowly but surely, you’re becoming a hot mess of mm’s and ahh’s. And Yuuji, poor, sweet Yuuji, is nowhere near to being any better after he’s forced to hear all of it.

He’s sweating like crazy. Is throbbing between his legs. Is trying to tame his pulse but it just keeps on hammering and ringing inside his ears. The blush is making his entire face itch all over again and his clothes feel too tight on his body. What else is there?

Oh, even his heart feels like it’s jammed itself inside his throat when he pulls back just enough to break the string of saliva that’s bridging the narrow space between your mouths and asks, “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Just fuck me already, god,” you hiss in response. You’re so sexually frustrated that it’s making you pissy.

Neither of you has planned this nor expected this to happen, but you’ve both been feeling lonely, terribly single; are yearning to be touched. It’s been a while for the two of you, shit happens and people get too busy to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life, and you both consider the other to be attractive, so… why not?

Why not? Maybe because this entire thing could, quite possibly, be a disaster in the making.

Still, it doesn’t feel like a disaster when Yuuji’s hands wrap around your sides and slam you down on the couch. Doesn’t feel like a bad thing when he blindly hooks his fingers to the waistband of your shorts and you bring your legs closer to your chest and lift your hips a little so that he can tug them off easier.

Either he’s too impatient to wait or he did it by complete accident, but he manages to pull down your panties right along with your shorts. They’re both left dangling from your left ankle now, hanging uselessly and completely forgotten because he’s too busy trying to push himself inside you.

His back is hunched and his rosy lips are parted as he sucks in and exhales sharp breaths above you. They fan your forehead, cooling the sweat that’s gathered there, only causing you to shiver. 

You press your foreheads together when you lift yourself slightly with the help of your elbows so that you can reach between you, tug his waistband low just enough to expose him and guide him inside you. He grits his teeth, baring them like a threatened animal as soon as your fingers curl around the base of his cock, mindlessly stroking the impressive length, spreading the pre-cum that’s gathered at the tip without any sense of patience.

Neither of you looks into each other’s eyes; all of your attention is aimed at the spot where you almost connect. After all, his fat cockhead is bumping against your sticky pussy now, inconsistently gliding up and down and smearing arousal. Every time he teases your entrance, your breath hitches in the back of your throat and you cling onto him a little harder.

“Yuujiii,” you whine, teeth sinking into your bottom lip so harshly that you fear you might have drawn blood. He almost doesn’t recognize the sound of your voice. “What’re you waiting for?! Put it iiin!”

“Yeah… Y-yeah, okay,” he bites out, trying to stop the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek. His arms feel like giving in but the muscles in his biceps still flex and shudder with anxiety and anticipation when he finally presses in.

His cockhead pushes past the initial ring of muscle pretty effortlessly from how wet you’ve gotten from mere kissing and a little bit of grinding. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that’s making you so pliant and eager, but it’s easy to open your legs wider so that you can let in even more of him.

Yuuji feels dizzy; like the entire world is spinning. You’re underneath him, panting so loudly and you’re so warm inside, so accepting, so wet. Your pussy hugs him just right, walls squeezing around his girth, sucking him in further. The sensation makes him drop his entire weight right on top of your writhing body the second he allows himself to slowly rock into you and sink balls deep.

He hides his face into the crook of your neck as he begins to lazily thrust inside you, doing whatever feels best because he can’t possibly bring himself to form thoughts right now. In and out, the strokes are long, slow and deep. So deep, in fact, that they make you wince each time he hits the sweet spot that’s hiding inside.

You’ve ended up so close yet again; with your limbs intertwined and your bodies pressed tightly together that your shirt is crinkling between you. It rides up with the movement of his hips slamming against your own, exposing your stomach, making you stick to each other from how sweaty you’ve gotten.

“Nngh… You feel… s’good,” he grits out, quiet moaning already lacing his voice. His breathing has gotten so heavy that it’s creating moisture on the small patch of skin on your neck that he’s got his mouth pressed against. “Won’t last long… Ca-ah… Can’t.”

He sounds so fucking drunk as he continues to say pure nonsense into the side of your throat and keeps on pressing you into the softness of the couch. Not only on alcohol, but also on your pussy it seems. 

It makes him practically start pounding into you now. Abusing your tight little hole. He slips one arm underneath you and pulls you even closer so that he can steady himself a little bit, and wetness squelches between you as a result. Skin slaps against skin, breaths intermingle. His fingers tangle into your hair crudely – it hurts when he tugs at the roots even if you’re well aware that he doesn’t mean to.

He’s so big above you. So strong. So stupidly male. And he’s also gotten lost in the moment. For a second it makes you scared of him a little bit even if he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, a real proper marshmallow. And it doesn’t help that his cock is as big as the rest of him is; stretching you so deliciously, splitting you wide open, causing tears to prickle at the corners of your eyes even if the booze that’s coursing your veins is supposed to numb you out to a size like that.

“Yuuji, wa- fuck, wait…!” You cross your ankles at his waist in an attempt to slow him down, heels panically digging into his back dimples and toes curling. 

“N-no, I can’t, please… Don’t make me wait, please, please, please, c’mon,” he babbles, still not slowing down, not stopping. His eyes are half-closed and they show concern, but they’re also dark and foggy when he lifts his head just enough to look at you. “Just a lil’ more, yeah…? Yeah? Just a lil’... Ugh, keep still just a bit longer- I’m almost there. So… mmh… close.”

You try to fight against him, tugging on his hair and sinking your nails into his back, but all he does is endure it, not really caring much about your thrashing and turning. He’s got you caged underneath him, crying out his name, clawing raw red lines into his broad back. It’s all drunken breeding instinct and no brain as he uses your body like a toy, and the realization that you can do nothing but take it is terrifying as much as it is thrilling.

His pounding has turned borderline ruthless by now and in his urgency to cum, he’s pushed himself so deep inside you that you’re pretty sure he’s fucked his way straight into your goddamn womb. In his weak attempt to make you last until the end, he’s even started to messily rub irregular circles into your clit.

It makes a thin line of drool dribble down the corner of your mouth from how fucked out you’ve become in a mere fifteen minutes. The overstimulation is probably completely accidental, but it achieves the same result just the same. He outright forces the climax out of your body, and the second he feels you squeeze around him, abused pussy trying to milk him dry, he’s giving in, not resisting anymore, shooting his load inside you in an instant.

The groan he lets out is almost like a growl. He arches his back again, balls tightening, grip almost turning iron-like. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it fills you in steady waves of pleasure. 

You both stay still for a long while after that, trying to gather your senses, attempting to calm down your trembling. His cum is warm and sticky; tacky between your thighs. It starts to drip out of your hole by the time his cock softens enough to create more space. 

There’s just so much of it. A fuckload.

And he’s still breathing so hard. You both are.

“I’m so sorry… Fuck, I-” he rasps out. His mouth is so dry that he feels like he could chug an entire jug of water, but he pushes that need away for now in order to get a good look at you instead. “I just- I-”

Yuuji stops mid-sentence when he sees you push two of your fingers between your legs before bringing them up in front of your face again. He watches, eyelids heavy, as you spread them then, toying with the glimmery, cloudy white substance that’s gathered there until you gently push them inside your mouth, licking his release right off of your fingertips.

His jaw almost hits the floor. He’s so baffled by what he’s just seen that he barely registers the fact that his cock is trying to get hard again, throbbing against his thigh.

“What?” is all you say in response to the incredulous look that sits on his face now. Your voice is muffled from the way you keep your mouth stuffed full.

“I licked it so it’s mine.”

[lovelybucky1]

Little Red

warnings: dubcon, fem!reader, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, age gap, breeding, 18+ minors dni // divider by @strangergraphics

You know it isn’t safe to walk alone in the forest. The trees are dense, the paths are windy, and dangerous animals lurk in the underbrush, stalking their prey. You convince yourself that you’ll be fine; you’re only taking a short walk to your grandmother’s house with a basket of treats. Technically you’ve never made the trek by yourself before, but it can’t be that hard, can it?

You were overly confident when you walked into the woods, but you were quickly humbled when you got turned around. You came to an intersection of paths and you couldn’t remember which to take, so you took your best guess. Unfortunately, you chose the wrong one. As luck would have it, it started to rain during your walk, leaving your cloak, dress, and shoes soaked. You’re cold, uncomfortable, and lost.

After a mile or so more of walking in your wet socks, you stumble across a house. It isn’t your grandmother’s cottage with the lush garden in the front, but a log cabin with an overgrown lawn. You figure that someone inside must be able to give you directions, so you walk up to the door and knock.

At first, there’s no answer, so you try again. You can hear some shuffling from inside and you nervously squeeze some water out of your cloak as you wait for the person to greet you. When the door opens, a large man appears, blocking your view inside the house.

“What do you want?” the man asks with a gruff, slightly irritated voice.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I got lost on the way to my grandmother’s house. Could you point me in the right direction?” you ask. You feel intimidated by the man’s intense eyes, but you hope your nerves don’t come across in your voice.

The man opens the door wider and steps out, allowing you a better look at him. He is in a flannel shirt and jeans, and his face is scruffy like he hasn’t shaved in a week. His hair is a little wild, along with the look in his eyes. He’s undeniably handsome, in a rugged, lumberjack kind of way. You can tell even from under his shirt that he has muscles, and you have to stop your mind from picturing them.

The man raises a thick eyebrow at you as he takes in your appearance. You’re too distracted to notice the way he licks his lips.

“A little girl like you shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he says.

“I know, sir, but I thought I knew where I was going,” you say, feeling embarrassed to explain your lack of direction to a stranger.

He sighs through his nose and opens the door wide enough for you to squeeze past. “Get out of the rain ‘fore you catch a cold.”

Accepting the kind invite, you walk inside the cabin. It’s cozy inside, with not much more than a bed in the corner, a wood stove, and a dining table. Books, candles, and bottles were strewn around, making the place look well-lived.

The man pulls out a chair at the table for you and you sit down. Wordlessly, he pulls your cloak over your head and drapes it near the woodstove to dry. The cabin is thankfully warm, and your frozen hands start to thaw. You quietly thank him, then introduce yourself. In return, he tells you his name is Logan, but he doesn’t offer any more information than that.

“You want some tea to warm you up?” he asks, and that rough voice is music to your ears.

“That would be great.”

He pours you a cup of hot tea from the kettle on the woodstove and you accept it gratefully. The tea is a bit too hot and burns your tongue, but the warmth inside your belly is still welcome. He watches you intently as you drink it, but you pretend you don’t notice.

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.” He doesn’t smile, but he gives you a soft kind of look. “It’s nice in here,” you say, looking around at the cabin’s interior.

“Don’t get many visitors,” he says.

“I doubt you get lost girls on your doorstep very often,” you joke.

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” he says, finally cracking a smile. “Been a long time since I’ve had something as sweet as you.”

The comment strikes you as odd, but before you can think too much about it, he sits down next to you. You get a closer look at his scruffy facial hair, his slightly wild eyes, and his teeth. When he opens his mouth to place his cigar inside, you catch a glimpse of his sharp canine teeth. They’re a lot sharper than your own, sharper than any you’ve ever seen on a person before. They intrigue you, and you want to get a closer look but your view is blocked by the end of his cigar being put into his mouth.

He must catch you staring at his mouth, because he gives you a small smirk around the cigar as he lights it.

“I really should get going,” you say, putting your empty mug down on the table.

“You only just got here,” he says. He places his hand on your wrist, gently pinning it to the table. “You’re still cold.”

You shiver at the feeling of his large, warm hand on your still-clammy skin but you try to brush it off. “My grandmother’s expecting me. I don’t want her to think anything bad happened to me.”

Through a puff of smoke, Logan says, “but something bad did happen to you.” You furrow your brows in confusion. “You got lost in the woods and wandered into a stranger’s house for safety.”

His grip on your wrist tightens and fear starts to build in your stomach. He grins at you, but it’s not a kind look. It’s sharp and predatory, like he’s about to eat you whole.

“Please let go,” you whisper.

“You’re mine now, dollface. I’m not lettin’ you get away.” You try to tug your arm back, but he’s too strong. “Even if you did run, you don’t know where you’re going. There’s monsters a lot worse than me out there, y’know.”

You chew on your bottom lip as your mind races to figure out how to get out of this situation. You’re in the middle of nowhere, well and truly lost, and the only person around is the man currently bruising your arm.

“Monsters that would rip a pretty thing like you to pieces. Not me, though. I know how to appreciate a delicate little flower.”

Logan stands up and tugs you to your feet. He moves his hands to your waist and holds you in front of him. You don’t bother trying to move because you know your efforts will be futile and likely will anger him. He looks down at you hungrily, and this time, you can’t help the words that come out of your mouth.

“Your teeth are so sharp,” you whisper.

Logan grins. “You like ‘em, sweetheart?” As afraid as you are, you do like them. “You wanna feel ‘em?”

Hesitantly and with a trembling hand, you reach up and touch the point of his tooth with the pad of your finger. The tooth is blunt enough not to pierce your skin, but you’re certain that if he bit down, he’d have no trouble drawing blood.

“You’re shaking,” he points out, as if you weren’t well aware of that fact.

Logan grasps your wrist and brings your hand back down to your side, pinning it there. He holds eye contact with you for a moment before leaning in close to you. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck and you can feel his hot breath on your skin.

His lips touch before his teeth, but the feeling is unmistakable. It’s a hot, painful pinch but he’s obviously restraining himself because you don’t feel a trickle of blood running down your neck.

You gasp and try to move away from him, but his hold on you is too strong. He chuckles against your skin and you can feel the smile on his lips.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs.

Logan’s hands wander from your waist to underneath your skirt. He pushes it up around your middle and he leans back so he can catch a glimpse of your panties. He growls low in his throat when he sees the scrap of pink cotton between your thighs.

He’s not even holding you anymore, but you’re frozen in place. You know you should be afraid. You are afraid of the man who's been threatening to eat you, but your body doesn’t seem to be on the same page as your mind. Fear and a strange sense of arousal mix in your stomach, and the feeling is only strengthened by the hungry look in Logan’s eyes. He sniffs the air, and a smirk forms on his lips.

His fingers toy at the elastic band of your panties before they slip beneath them. Your pussy is traitorously wet and Logan is delighted to learn this.

“You got a needy cunt, huh, doll?” he asks. You shake your head, but there’s really no use denying it. “Seems to me like you do.”

He pushes the fabric of your panties entirely to the side, exposing you to the air. He strokes over your lips with his fingers, and he slowly pushes his middle finger in. You take a shaky inhale at the feeling, and you pray your knees don’t give out.

“She takes me so easy. This isn’t why you came here, is it? Put on this whole act just to get this pussy played with?”

“No!” you whine. “My grandmother really is waiting for me.”

“Forget about her. Just you ‘nd me now.”

He pulls his finger out of you and wipes your wetness on the side of your thigh. He then bends down to lift you off the ground. He’s so strong and you’re powerless to do anything to stop him from carrying you over to the mattress in the corner of the cabin.

He lays you down and covers your body with his own before you can attempt to crawl away. He grabs your ankles and bends your legs so your pussy is presented to him. His finger returns inside of you, thrusting and stroking your inner walls.

You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your moans, not wanting him to hear how much you’re enjoying this. You don’t want to be enjoying this, but he knows all the right places to touch you.

He works a second, then third finger inside you. Your arousal makes the slide easy, but this is the widest you’ve ever been stretched before. If he thinks you need three of his thick fingers to be open enough for his cock, you’re nervous for what’s to come.

“This ain’t your first time, is it, kid?” he asks fondly as he brushes his thumb on your clit, just enough to tease.

You’re afraid to answer his question. If you lie and say it isn’t, then he might go rougher on you. If you tell him you’re a virgin, however, it might awaken a different kind of beast.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, bet no one’s been in here before. That right, baby? You can tell me.”. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, your belly burning with shame and desperation. “Fuck,” he growls. “‘Course you fuckin’ are.”

He removes his fingers from your cunt and works open his fly, not caring that your wetness is getting on the denim of his jeans. He pushes them down far enough to free his cock from his boxers. Your fears have come true, and he is fucking huge.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow,” he says as he grasps his dick and strokes it. “You’ve been so good for me.”

He positions himself at your entrance and hits his cock on your clit a few times. You jolt at the contact, but the stretch of it inside of you is more shocking. Luckily, he stops once the tip of it is inside, allowing you to prepare yourself for the rest of the length.

“How’s it feel, dollface?” he asks.

“Good,” you squeak out. It does feel good, but it’s not enough. You’ve felt empty since he pulled his fingers out of you and you need to be full again.

“Can you take the rest or do I need to fuck you like this?” he says, pulling the tip out just to push it back in. You let out an involuntary moan which encourages him to do it again. He gives you shallow little thrusts which don’t do much for him, but have you whining pathetically. “All this just for the tip? The whole thing’s gonna blow your fuckin’ mind.”

“Please give it to me,” you say hurriedly, before the humiliation can catch up with you.

“Yeah?” he asks, cocky. “You were so scared before, but now you’re beggin’ for it?”

He slowly pushes in further, feeding your hungry pussy the rest of his cock. His tip hits your cervix before he bottoms out, and you whimper at the contact.

“Little puss can’t take all of me. Fuckin’ adorable,” he says as if he’s talking to himself.

He begins to fuck you, making sure not to go too deep and hurt you. If your mind wasn’t so clouded with pleasure, you’d find it odd that this monster is making an effort to be careful with you. You expect him to push in without any prep or worry for your comfort.

“Squeezin’ the fucking life outta me,” he growls. His hands grip your hips possessively and he uses them to control his thrusts. “Virgin cunt’s always been my favorite.”

You wonder how many times he’s done this; taken a lost girl’s virginity just because she wandered up to his door. You wonder what kind of state he’s going to leave you in, if you’ll be able to walk away or if you’ll have to stay in his bed while you recover.

“Fuck,” you curse, accidentally letting it slip when he bumps you cervix.

“That’s a dirty word, sweetheart. Am I making you feel that good?”

He’s making your fucking head spin, that’s how good he is. You don’t have more than your fingers to compare him to, but having someone else bully their way into you is so much better than your own fingers that can’t reach deep enough.

“Yes, fuck, Logan.”

“Keep fuckin’ begging for me, angel. I’ll give it to you good.”

He moves his hand onto the mattress next to your head and he braces himself on it. The new position gives him leverage to fuck into you, rutting quick and hard. The slap of skin against skin sounds like thunder in your head, and the flash of his white teeth is the lightning.

His cock is reshaping your pussy, making room for him to sit comfortably inside of you. He is claiming you in every sense of the word, and you’re happy to surrender yourself to him as long as he keeps making you feel this way.

“You were fucking made for me. My little girl, feelin’ so fucking good around me,” he mutters.

Logan’s pace gets progressively quicker and rougher, and he’s getting more animalistic. He’s growling and panting above you, and that wild look in his eyes is back. Like this, he looks exactly like the monsters from the stories you were told as a kid. Feral, aggressive, preying on innocent girls, taking virgins from their families. You’re not scared anymore, though. You’re being throughly fucked by the big bad wolf, and you’re feeling the best you’ve ever felt in your life.

Logan moves so his elbows are bracketing your head and his chest is flush against yours. He fucks you hard and fast, chasing his orgasm. You manage to slip your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, and it only takes a few touches to have you cumming around him. Your pussy clenches down on his cock and he curses under his breath at the feeling.

“Good girl, keep cumming for me,” he praises. “Knew you were gonna be the perfect mate.”

His words don’t register in your hazy mind until it’s too late. He’s grunting, growling out your name as he shoots his seed as deep inside of you as it’ll go. Your over-sensitive, aching pussy twitches at the feeling of his hot cum inside of you.

He rides out the waves of pleasure, but he doesn’t pull out of you even when he’s finished. He’s still on top of you, pinning you down but having enough mind not to crush you under his weight. His cum is plugged inside you, prevented from spilling out.

For the first time since arriving at the cabin, there is silence. The rain outside has stopped, and the only sound from inside is the mix of your breathing, both quickened from exertion.

You’re not sure how long it is until Logan sits up and pulls out of you, but it feels like ages. You’re boneless and tired, having had every bit of energy and pleasure drained from your body.

“You did so good for me, doll,” he smiles down at you. He moves to lay next to you on the bed, turning your body so he can slot himself behind you. He pulls you flush to his chest and you allow yourself to relax in his arms.

“So good,” you attempt to say, but it comes out a slurred mess.

He chuckles softly at that. “Get some sleep. You’re gonna need your energy.”

You don’t know what he means by that, but you decide you don’t care right now. You fall asleep listening to the loud, steady beat of his heart.

And what a stupid little lamb you are, turning your back on the wolf who’s wanted to eat you since he first laid eyes on you.

[darkbluekies]

Small Otto drabbles: Watch duty, "Otto, protect" & Hide and Seek

Warnings: yandere mafia man, darling trying to escape and being captured

Watch duty:

Silas watches how you pull out your towel on the grass, eyes narrowed with lust and darker than normal.

"I don't know how I feel about you being out here alone", he mutters. "Especially in practically nothing."

"I haven't felt the sun in months", you pout.

"That's a lie, but fine, I'll buy it, if it makes you feel better."

He turns and whistles at Otto to come over. He does. Silas eyes flicker between you and the Doberman.

"Otto, watch", he orders, nodding at you. "Make sure no filthy creeps come close. The house is full of them, so be on guard."

Otto barks.

"Good boy."

"Who?" you ask. "You or him?"

Silas chckles and shakes his head as he walks over to you, bending down to give you one last kiss before he leaves. You lay down, facing upwards. Otto stands alert by your head, body turned towards the house. You hold out a hand and gently pat him on the back.

"Quite evil of him to make you work in this heat", you mumble and stand to go get him some water.

Otto growls as one of Silas men comes over. You hush and pet his head, whispering how it's fine. The man returns with a bottle of water. It hasn't been opened. You're not allowed to take anything else, in risk of someone poisoning you. You cup your hand and pour water into it, letting him lick from your hand.

"That's a good boy."

"Otto, protect"

You're walking hand in hand toward the dog playground. You can see SIC a mile away, shirtless and with a dog toy in his hands.

"Let's see how focused he can be while we're there", Silas says.

"Who?" you ask. "SIC or Otto?"

Silas scoffs out a laugh. They walk closer to the dog park and Otto notices the two of you.

"Nuh uh, keep your eyes on me", SIC smirks, waving the chew toy. "Don't get distracted."

Sweat runs down his chest. Silas nudges you, eyes dark.

"Where are your eyes wandering, little thing?" he asks, voice tight. "Maybe you should stay focused before I decide to beat my best friend to a bloody pulp."

Suddenly, Otto stops. His ears perk, head turn. Silas and SIC follow.

"What?" you ask.

"Be quiet, darling, Otto's noticed something", Silas whispers.

SIC looks at him. Silas lets go of your hand and signals for Otto to move closer.

"I want you to stay here with Otto", he tells you. "We'll go see what's going on. Otto, protect."

He barks once, as if to show he understands. Silas and SIC walks away, leaving him in work mode.

"You're scaring me, Otto", you mumble. "If you got both Silas's and SIC's attention like that ..."

Otto changed position, standing between your legs, as if daring someone to come close. Only a fool would come up to you now.

Hide and seek:

He only looks away for a second and you are gone, disappearing between the trees. Silas groans loudly and marches back to the car.

"What?" one of his men asks. "What's wrong, boss?"

"I didn't know I married a fucking marathon runner", Silas mutters and opens the trunk where Otto is deliberately chewing on a bone. "Out, boy."

Otto obeys, jumping out on the ground, waiting for instructions.

"Find Y/N."

Otto is off, shooting away like a bullet. Silas walks calmly behind him. It doesn't take many minutes until he's circled around you like a shephard's dog.

"Traitor", you hiss at him. "You're supposed to me on my side!"

"Your side?" Silas scoffs and walks over, grabbing your hand tightly. "He's my dog. Listens to me. He might like you, but in the end, he always returns to me, where his rightous place is. Sounds familiar?"

"You're so annoying, let my hand go."

"Not a chance."

"It's not fair!"

"You figured that out just now?" He gives Otto a nod. "Good boy. Always going to return my naive spouse to me, aren't you? Even when they don't know what's best for themselves."

You glare at Otto, but he just wags his tail and sticks out his tongue, panting, happier than ever to see his favorite humans in front of him. He doesn't know, bless him. You sigh.

[loserboysandlithium]

Sexual Healing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Reader faking an orgasm with Eddie because she’s too in her head and her anxiety is through the roof. Eddie notices and helps ground her in a very unique way.

18+ minors dni, explicit sexual content, mentions of anxiety and using the five senses to ground yourself

****

“Did you just... did you just fake it?” Eddie’s eyes go wide as you toss your head back into the pillow with a groan.

“Did it not feel good? Was I doing something wrong?” Eddie asks, his fingers trailing up and down your arm lightly.

“It’s not you, baby.” you sigh, peeking at him through your lashes. “I’m just in my head. Too many thoughts.. I don’t know. I’m sorry baby.” you whisper, embarrassment creeping up quickly.

“You don’t need to be sorry, sweetheart. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” he presses gently.

“Just too much.” you reply, shutting your eyes once again. You hated when your brain got like this. So many thoughts. So many emotions. Just so fucking much. You just wanted to turn them all off.

You suddenly feel Eddie’s body weight on top of you. An instant calm rushing over you. Not fully quieting the thoughts, but pushing them further away. You open your eyes to see his deep brown ones looking at you carefully.

“Stay right here. Don’t move!” he grins before jumping off of you. Your body feels empty again, the bad thoughts clawing their way back in immediately. You just want to scream at them to shut up. You can feel the bubbles in your chest building and building like a soda bottle that’s been shaken up, just waiting to explode.

You hear something in the distance. You know it’s Eddie’s record player but it sounds so far away, your thoughts louder than anything else in this moment.

The lights shut off, only the flicker of a candle illuminating the room. And then you feel him again. His soft skin on yours. The beautiful feeling of his body pressing you into the mattress.

He leans down, his soft lips barely brushing yours before moving to your cheek. Soft kisses until his lips meet your ear. “Close your eyes, sweet girl.” he breathes, his voice soothing and warm.

You allow your eyes to fall shut once again, listening to Eddie’s instructions. “What do you feel baby?” he mumbles into your neck as he continues planting wet kisses up and down.

“Y-your lips.”

“And how does it feel?”

“Feels so good, Eddie.” you breathe, doing your best to focus on the feeling of his lips sucking your soft skin.

“Mmm, and what do you hear?”

“Music… Marvin Gaye. You hate Marvin Gaye, baby.”

“Mhmm, but you don’t.” he chuckles against your lips before kissing you once again.

His kiss is harder this time, his tongue slipping into your mouth, urgent but also very delicate. You focus on his kiss. Feeling his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth, whimpering as he pulls away.

“What do you taste?”

“Weed. Camel blues and… jolly ranchers?” you giggle as he sticks his tongue out, a light blue from the candy coating the entire thing.

“Blue raspberry.” he smiles before he starts to move lower. His lips travel across your breasts, small kisses before his lips wrap around your nipple, gently sucking. You let out a soft moan as you reach out, running your fingers through his curls.

“What do you smell, baby?” he continues his efforts to bring you back to the present moment.

“Pine trees. The candle I bought you for your birthday.” you answer as his lips work even lower.

“Good girl.” Eddie winks up at you, making your stomach flip.

You feel his large hands on the inside of your thighs, pushing your legs apart, pressing a kiss to the top of your pussy. You let out a soft moan in response. You realize you can hear the music now, louder than before. Actually hearing the words.

Oh I can tell you, darling, that it's sexual healing.

“And what do you see, sweetheart?” Eddie soothes, dipping his tongue inside, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit and back again.

“You baby, only you.” you whimper. Eddie’s plan to ground you had worked perfectly. The only thing on your mind was him. The pleasure you were receiving below.

His lips wrap around your clit, tugging the sensitive bud into his mouth over and over making your moans grow louder.

You grip his curls, shoving his face deeper into your cunt making him moan into you. You can feel how wet you are, all of your worries floating away with every flick of his tongue.

He switches his tempo, taking his time, his tongue seeming to reach every part of you as he laps at your soaked pussy. Long strokes up and down before he’s shoving it as deep as possible making your back arch.

“Yes, baby. Fuck yes.” you encourage him to fuck you with his tongue. His nose brushes against your clit perfectly as he darts his tongue in and out of you. You can feel it twisting and swirling around, being coated with your slick as he watches your pretty face.

You begin bucking your hips, grinding your pussy on his face. His thick fingers dig into your skin as he allows you to use him for your pleasure. “Don’t stop until you cum, baby. Ride my fucking face.” he groans before he’s back between your thighs.

You don’t even know what part of him is inside you at this point, what’s rubbing against your clit so deliciously. His nose, his chin, his tongue. It didn’t matter, it all felt so good.

Your eyes are shut tight as both hands cling to his hair, your hips rutting up against him desperately. Filthy moans and cries pour from your lips as you cover Eddie with your wet pussy.

“Gonna cum.. Eddie I’m gonna cum.” you cry out, feeling his hands on your ass, helping you as you practically hump is face. Eddie’s moans are audible even with his mouth working hard to bring you to your peak.

Your voice cracks, a strangled moan forcing its way from your throat as you feel your body let go. All the built up tension breaking free, leaving your body in a way you didn’t expect.

You hips jolt against Eddie’s face a few more times as he does his best to lap up your cum. You can feel it running down your ass, a sticky sweet mess.

Your back falls back to the bed, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to catch your breath. You feel Eddie’s tongue cleaning up your mess, his lips kissing the insides of your thighs before pressing one last kiss to your swollen clit.

“Holy shit.” you giggle as he comes back up to meet your eyes.

“Feel better?” he grins, his face glistening from his job well done.

“So much better.” you breathe, pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself all over his tongue. “And thank you, baby.”

“For what?” Eddie murmurs as he buries his face in your neck.

“For always grounding me.”

“I love you, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you so much, Eds.” you smile up at him. “By the way, I’m telling all your friends you fucked me to Marvin Gaye.”

“You wouldn’t.” Eddie gasps dramatically, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Oh but I would.”

[specshroom]

So I read that lemurs scoop their competitor's sperm out of females with their tongues. I don't actually know if that's true but...

JUST IMAGINE.

You're found by a troop of these half lemur half human creatures in the forest. Basically a human but with lemur traits, striped tails, huge eyes, furry ears, little snouts and long prehensile tongues, the whole shabang.

It's not long before one or two of them are rubbing up on you, rubbing their scent glands on you which, unbeknownst to you, works as a pretty strong aphrodisiac to humans.

They struggle your back pack and clothes off, leaving you just as naked as they are. You might have been more concerned about that if it wasn't for one of them shoving his strange tongue down your throat and rubbing the scent glands on his wrists all over your naked skin. The pheromones have made you putty in their hands. Two kneel on the ground in front of you and lick up your thighs, feverishly sniffing and lapping at your wet pussy.

After a bit of a skirmish one of them finally mounts and fucks you, much to the others displeasure. It's fast and needy, his arms holding you around the waist to hit those good spots inside you. As you look up at the trees you notice there are many more in this troop than you realised, watching you from the high branches.

The one fucking you finally cums deep inside you. He licks and nibbles at your tits until another one gets impatient and pushes him off starting a fight between them. The sneaky third one takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue into your pussy and scoop out the first's cum, repeatedly dragging his rough tongue along your walls. When he feels he's dragged out enough cum he quickly thrusts himself inside you and fucks you at an alarming pace. Biting your shoulder and neck with his small but sharp teeth. His balls slap against your ass as his load replaces the first one's.

Imagine this process just repeating over and over again, they almost make a game of it. One cums inside and another scoops it out again and again. You can do little but lay there and moan on the forest floor, absolutely cock drunk, just being filled and emptied and filled and emptied.

You become the troops new play thing or maybe you'll join the troop if one of their many loads takes.

[ellwynda]

demons fall for an innocent farm girl .ᐟ

You didn’t mean to charm a demon. Let alone a pack of them.

You were just a farm girl. Wake with the dawn, fetch the eggs, feed the goats, sweat in the field ‘til your hands were raw. You weren’t a mage. Weren’t cursed. You’d never stepped foot in a temple or pissed on some ancient ruin. You just smiled too much. You laughed at things that shouldn’t be funny. You had hay in your hair and freckles on your cheeks and the softness of someone who didn’t know better than to look a devil in the eyes and giggle.

They’d started showing up at night.

At first, you thought it was shadows. A cold wind. A feeling under your skin that made you tug the blankets tighter. Then it was whispers—deep and velvet-thick, crawling through the cracks of your dreams.

“Sweet thing…” “Soft little body, all alone…” “We’ll take such good care of you…”

You’d wake wet. Ache in your belly. Clutching your pillow, thighs sticky with the kind of dream you were too embarrassed to even think about once the sun rose.

The worst part? You thought it was just you.

Too many nights alone. Not enough good men in town. Your imagination running wild. You’d laugh it off in the morning, red in the face, hauling water from the well like it hadn’t felt real—like you hadn’t heard teeth at your throat and claws on your hips and voices growling your name in unison.

Then you started seeing them.

Always on the edge of the woods. Always when you were alone. Not full form—just flashes. Long horns. Smoke-thick eyes. Black claws curling around tree bark. And the heat.

Gods, the heat.

You’d feel it first. Out of nowhere. Mid-chore, bent over the trough, skirt damp with well water, and suddenly your skin would flush hot and tight, like something had licked up the back of your thighs.

Then you'd turn—and nothing. Just trees. Just wind.

One time, you laughed aloud. “Y’all’re just makin’ fun of me,” you said to the shadows, cheeks red as apples. “Silly little dreams, that’s all.”

You didn’t see the way the trees twitched. How the air thickened. How claws curled deeper into the dirt in restraint.

But you heard the laugh.

Low. Deep. Shuddering. Right behind your ear.

That night, they didn’t let you sleep.

You laid in bed, eyes fluttering shut—and fell. Not into dreams, but into a place beneath them.

A world thick with smoke and velvet. A bed not yours—massive, draped in dark silk, soaked with warmth. And they were there.

All of them.

Three at least. Maybe more. Hard to count with their hands everywhere.

One kissed your neck, tongue dragging slowly up to your jaw as another knelt between your thighs, spreading them with claws so sharp they tore your nightgown like paper. The third one stroked your cheek with fingers that felt too hot for flesh.

They didn’t ask.

They didn’t need to.

Your dream-body was already writhing, already soaked, gasping into the dark as one thick cock pressed against your cunt, hot and leaking, while another brushed your lips, wetting them before sliding in slow.

They took turns.

Fucking you deep, slow, wet—growling praise into your ear, clawing at your hips, choking you just enough to make you moan louder.

“You don’t even know, do you?” one murmured, balls slapping wetly against your ass. “You’re ours. You always were.” “You’ll see. We’ll drag you under. Make you a queen. Breed you full ‘til you’re heavy with demonspawn and smiling.”

And god, it felt so good.

Too good.

You came over and over, body lifted and tossed like a toy between them. One knotted you—deep, pulsing, locked so tight your stomach swelled from the heat of his cum. Another came on your belly, licking it off with a pointed tongue. Another filled your throat ‘til your eyes rolled back.

When you woke?

Sunlight. Birds.

You were in your bed. Your nightgown—torn. Thighs sore. Pussy leaking. You sat up, dazed and aching, blinking at the dust in the air.

“…That was some dream,” you mumbled, face hot.

You didn’t see the claw mark burned into the wood above your headboard.

You didn’t hear the whisper that slipped beneath your door, soft as breath:

“Soon, sweet thing. We’re coming back.”

[matcha-flavored-cake]

SAVANACLAW'S HOUSEWARDEN HAS A BREEDING KINK

. . . 💬 when leona finally got some time to spend with his little herbivore, he couldn't miss the opportunity to pounce.

— pairing: leona kingscholar x you

— warnings: breeding king, reader has a pussy, dirty talk, beastman cock, sex, exhibitionism, mentions of pregnancy (nothing major), leona being a meanie, dumbification? kinda, overstim, denied orgasm

A/N: wrote that one with my pussy ngl

For someone so lazy, Leona got quite the energy when it comes to you.

“Fuck” he hushed on your ear. Hips moving and cock drilling your cunt as you pathetically blabbered, pleading to whoever pitiful deity the sevens knows for what. It never ceased to amuse him how much you got lost when he hammered inside of you. ”Fucking missed that greedy cunt” Leona whispers while he bottomed out, draggin his cock agonizingly slow all the way inside you, caressing a handfull of your butt, a small gesture of tenderness while his barbs scratched your gummy walls. All the stress after so many Magical Shift practices now buried deep in his mind while he pounded on you. Leona let a low grunt when felt how good and snuggly fit he was inside of you, looking at your precious juices that coated that all over his tan skin, girthy cock streching your poor cunt wide.

Leona took a little peek again and had to hold himself to not cum, his cock twitched at the pretty sight of your pussy holding him in like a vice. ”Oh, look at you” he coos “someone missed me that much?” he punctuated his words with a deeper thrust making your choke on your own spit and muffle your moan on his hand. The smell of your arousal tickled his nose, his mind full of you. The arrogant lion put a hand in between your legs to rub your clit, being mean enough to grab a hold of your mound and let a cauculated slap that made you tighteen around his dick, letting a low noise between a hum and a moan, a cocky smirk adorning his lips.

Your hands rasping at the trunk of one of the trees on the botanical garden, legs parting just for him, his pretty little herbivore. Every sharp and deep thrust making that knot inside of your loins tighten so much to the point it would snap anytime soon, tears prickled your eyes at the overstimulation, but you loved, how couldn't you?

”Ah, ah, we don’t noises coming out do we? So be quiet. Unless you want to get that mouth working.” he mutter rocking his hips harder this time. You should be ashamed of how sloppy you were, really. If anyone was closer they probably would’ve heard the slick sounds of your dripping pussy by now.

”Gonna get a bit mean now love, be prepared” He muttered and kissed your hair, holding your arms for leverage as he started to piston his hips again, the sound of his hips slapping against your asscheks was music to his ears, he almost felt bad for not recording it. Anytime now the bell would ring and your little time together would be over, so he had to be fast. Leona bottomed out again letting you take a breath and started to fuck you harder and faster, one hand travelling to your midsection to steady you while other grabbed your chin towards his direction, kissing your to muffle down the desperate and boderline pornographic sounds that leave your mouth.

He part the kiss and hisses out, eyes closed and his hips dont fucking stop, and he swear he can almost taste your release in the air when he lick his lips, the knot on your tummy is about to snap, your abdomen twitch, your toes curl, and it feel so, so good and its almost there… just a little bit more and—

Leona get his cock out and grunt, breaking your orgasm and you look behind almost growling while he hold he base of his beastman cock, angry tip swollen and letting globs os precum falling on the ground.

”Leona what the fu—?” You rasp and he grab your face interrupting you and kissing your sloppy. His tongue making your legs tremble as he part the kiss and grab a hold of your thighs lifting you up, his face is some tones reddish, his pupils blown and his fangs rasps dangerously on your neck as he inhales your scent, aligning his cock on your entrance again.

”I’m gonna put a cub on you pretty cunt.”

[davinawritings]

PLEASE PLEASE i begg youu siren(y/n) x werewolf smut, where the wolf bf is in rutt

A Sirens Call

Hello! Thank you for the request! I'm sorry I somehow missed the part about the werewolf being readers boyfriend until I already finished it so I accidentally left that out. Still, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Werewolf X Siren(hybrid) Reader

Warnings: Sex, Creampie, Knotting, Oral (Fem Receiving), Stomach Buldge, Size Kink

While you look primarily human thanks to your father, your mother had passed on her alluring voice. Human men have always been weak-willed when it comes to the song of a siren. Being a hybrid meant you, too, could lure men with just the sound of your voice. 

It was almost pathetic watching men fall for you so quickly. To see the spark in their eyes, a vision of having your body all to themselves before it was ripped away as you flash them your razor-sharp fangs. One look at the deadliness you possess would have them running. Sometimes, if you were bored, you would start singing again, watching as they became entranced and made their way back to you, only to repeat the process over and over until you grew bored again.

Today was like many others. You found yourself lying by the wide river, perched on a rock, and bored out of your mind. Your grin widened as you heard someone moving through the forest in the distance—finally, a human to entertain you on this dull summer day. 

As you begin your siren’s song and hear the man make his way toward you, your body buzzes with excitement. Toying with him should give you at least a few hours of entertainment if you try to make it stretch.

As he stomps out onto the river bank and from behind the trees, your song falters, and you see it is not a human man. Instead, a large werewolf stands about fifteen feet from you. He is easily over ten feet tall and made of muscle. His shoulders are double yours, and his biceps look thicker than your thighs. His dark gray fur and bright yellow eyes only add to his intimidating appearance. 

As he moved closer, you stopped your song and flashed him your teeth, waiting for him to turn away as all the men do. Instead, he gave you a wide grin, flashing his own sharp teeth as he looked your body up and down. His advances started again, and you almost turned to make a run for it when your eyes caught on the reddish-pink flesh sticking out from between his massive thighs. 

His cock bobbed up and down with each step, hanging heavy. The tip is even redder than the shaft, with veins running along the long length. The thinnest part under the tip must have been thicker than your wrist, and the knot forming at the base was already larger than your fist. 

Your mind screamed to turn and run, but your body stayed locked in its spot, your cunt getting wet at the sight. He reaches you quickly, towering over your body before lowering himself down and shredding your simple dress with his long claws. He pushed you back on the rock with ease before licking his long tongue up your wet slit. He lets out a growl before burying his snout in your pussy and fucking his large tongue inside you.

The moans you let out are even more alluring to the werewolf than your songs as he thrusts his cock into the air, precum dripping down his length as he devours your tiny pussy. 

Your juices gush from your hole as you cry out in pleasure. He seems to dream you ready for his cock as he moves up your body, lining his cock up with your dripping hole and thrusting in his tip. 

You grab onto the fur of his chest, which hovers above your head, back arching as he thrusts more and more of his massive cock into your wet heat. With one hard thrust down, he fills you completely, and you scream out at the stretch. He gives you no time to adjust as he begins fucking you with hard thrusts. 

His knot slams against your entrance, and your clit gets smacked on each stroke. The werewolf groans and growls as your cunt clenches and sucks him in. He lowers his body slightly, and his fur starts rubbing slightly against your sensitive peaked nipples, only adding to all the stimulation you feel.

He lifts up slightly as he speeds up his thrust more, and you glance down, moaning at the sight. The tip of his cock bulges your belly on each stroke, his cock glistening with a mixture of your juices and his precum. Your pussy begins clenching down, and your nails dig into his chest as you gush around his massive cock.

He lets out a loud growl, and you cum around him, putting the majority of his weight on his hips until his knot manages to push inside your pussy. You scream as he locks inside you, overcome with another orgasm before the first even ends. Your insides are pumped full of his hot seed, filling your womb and stretching your lower stomach.

Your legs shake slightly as you both come down, the werewolf holding his weight above you so you don’t get crushed to death. It takes several minutes for his knot to go down, and he finally pulls out with a wet pop. The mixture of your arousal and his cum pouring out of your gaping and twitching cunt.

You slowly turn onto your hands and knees, legs shaking as you begin crawling out from beneath the massive male. Though he doesn’t let you get far before he growls and shoves his still-hard cock back into your cunt from behind, using his own body to press your chest to the rock, ass raised high to receive his brutal thrusts. 

As your body begins nearing its third orgasm in such a short amount of time, you can’t help but realize that you won’t be bored the rest of the day because this werewolf is definitely in rut. 

[fear-is-truth]

NSFW ALPHABET — REMMICK

warnings — MDNI 18+・ fem!reader ・nsfw・not proofread

𝓐 = 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 . . . what he’s like after sex

it depends. if you’re still human, he’ll be more attentive—wipes you down with a damp rag, presses a few idle kisses along your shoulder while you lay in his arms.

if you’ve been turned, the emotional barrier between you is much thinner, if not nonexistent. there’s silence, but not emptiness; the hive-mind makes pillow talk redundant. you both lie still, overstimulated and wired, thinking at each other. more often than not, you start fucking again. neither of you really need rest, and it’s easy to lose a few hours that way.

────────

𝓑 = 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 . . . his favorite body part of his & yours

he’s a thigh man. and an ass man. both. you could be walking past him and he’ll just land one playfully.

his own favourite part of himself is his hands: thick, calloused and skilled in many ways.

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𝓒 = 𝐂𝐔𝐌 . . . anything to do with cum, basically

remmick is so gross about it. drools for it, actually. blood is sustenance but your cum is indulgence. he’ll eat you out and stay down there after you’ve finished just to lap up the slick between your thighs.

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𝓓 = 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 . . . pretty self explanatory

he’s entertained the idea of letting you taking control—act mean and tell him what to do.

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𝓔 = 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 . . . how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?

centuries. there’s nothing you do that surprises him—except how much he likes you.

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𝓕 = 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 . . . this goes without saying

remmick loves hittin’ it from the back. he prefers it when you have your ass up while he works himself in—so that he can admire every ripple of flesh when he bottoms out or smacks your asscheek.

────────

𝓖 = 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐘 . . . is he more serious in the moment? or is he humorous? etc.

yes, actually. the foreplay gets kind of stupid sometimes.

he hums under his breath when he eats you out, and has this nasty little habit of nipping at your inner thigh just to hear you squeal in surprise. “whisht, sweet girl,”

but the minute he’s inside you, all the humour drains out and he’s dead serious. you go from laughing to screaming (in pleasure) in no time.

he seems to be the type of guy who talks to your pussy.

────────

𝓗 = 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 . . . how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

a full bush ! your combined cum always get smeared through the hair at the base.

────────

𝓘 = 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect

he’s kind of a hopeless romantic in his own right, albeit his lewd way of expressing it.

sex with him is so deeply instinctual, even the first time feels like a déjà vu. maybe it’s the way he worms into your thoughts and adjusts to what you like. or the way you start to want what he likes, whether you meant to or not. either way, it never feels unsatisfying.

────────

𝓙 = 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅𝐅 . . . masturbation headcanon

when he jerks off, he thinks about the time you sat on his face. a lot. often licks his lips without meaning to, like he can still taste you. never quiet about it—low groans, timed just right so you’ll hear him. he wants your attention.

────────

𝓚 = 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 . . . one or more of his kinks

blood play, coercion, breeding, spitting, semi-public stuff : not exhibitionism exactly—just the risk of being caught.

────────

𝓛 = 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 . . . favourite places to do the deed

anywhere. he’s not picky. up against trees. laid out on blankets in a field. once fucked you half-submerged in a creek because it was a hot summer night and you wouldn’t shut up about swimming.

────────

𝓜 = 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 . . . what turns him on

your blood. your body. your mind. he gets off on knowing you want it. hive mind gives you away, even if you’re shy.

also: boredom. he’s immortal, there’s not much else that keeps him entertained like you do.

────────

𝓝 = 𝐍𝐎 . . . something he wouldn’t do, turn offs

he’s open to almost anything (except for stuff that involves garlic or silver), but the idea of watching you with someone else? nope. he’s the jealous type.

────────

𝓞 = 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋 . . . preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

remmick is a giver, first and foremost. obsessed with it. doesn’t simply enjoy it—he practically turned eating pussy into a form of art.

he likes receiving too, of course. has this habit where he keeps on hand wrapped loosely around your throat when you’re sucking him off. he’s very vocal and enthusiastic.

────────

𝓟 = 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 . . . is he fast and rough? slow and sensual?

he can go fast and rough, especially if he’s hungry or pissed off—but what he truly prefers is slow and sensual.

────────

𝓠 = 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 . . . his opinions on quickies

happens more often than not. he can take you apart in under two minutes if he wants to—you never go long without it. there’s always a reason to pull you aside.

────────

𝓡 = 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊 . . . is he game to experimenting? does he take risks? etc.

yes ! you often have sex in semi-secluded spots.

────────

𝓢 = 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀 . . . how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?

fucking endless. you’ve gone hours before. day into night, hips sore and thighs shaking. he lets you take breaks and drink some water, then gets hard the second you crawl back over him. if you’re human, he’ll hold back. but if you’re turned? that’s a different story.

────────

𝓣 = 𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒 . . . does he own toys? does he use them? on you or himself?

he doesn’t own any toys; but he’s not too squeamish about it either.

────────

𝓤 = 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 . . . how much he likes to tease

he’s wildly unfair. if you’re turned, he’ll hijack your thoughts through the hive-mind, conjure up the most sordid fantasies and let that pulse into you at random.

kind of a sore loser. if you tease remmick, he’ll humour you in the beginning but soon gets impatient.

────────

𝓥 = 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 . . . how loud he is, what sounds he makes

100% a grunter and a moaner. very loud, too.

────────

𝓦 = 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 . . . a random headcanon

one night, remmick fucked you on top of a still-warm corpse—some white-robed klansman whose blood was still slick on remmick’s mouth. he was wild from feeding, pupils blown wide, and you’d never seen him like that—so feral, so desperate. it was the best sex you ever had.

────────

𝓧 = 𝐗-𝐑𝐀𝐘 . . . what’s going on under those clothes

in terms of length, he’s about 6.5 inches, but he’s got a thick girth — enough so that you can feel every vein and ridge. it’s a lot to take in, even when you’re used to it.

────────

𝓨 = 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . how high is his sex drive?

unreasonably high. you don’t go a day without him getting his hands on you.

────────

𝓩 = 𝐙𝐙𝐙 . . . how quickly he falls asleep afterwards

no, he doesn’t fall asleep after sex. he’s a vampire—he doesn’t need sleep the way humans do, and even when he rests, it’s more like going still than truly drifting off. after sex, he usually stays awake next to you, watching.

[explicit-tae]

Little Doe (2)

It’s day 7 of Hoseok’s heat and you agree to indulge in one of his many fantasies.

Word Count: 3.644

Warning: smut, hybrid/shifter universe, wolf hoseok, doe/deer reader, heat/rut sex, dirty talk, licking, rough oral sex/face fucking, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, knotting, biting, impregnation/breeding kink, consensual non-con, creampie,

Part One | Taglist | Alternate Universe Masterlist

Jung Hoseok was a predator shifter. A wolf. 

Nothing got Jung Hoseok’s blood pumping more than running through these very woods that he lives deep within. He knew them like the back of his hand. After all, this is the very land he and his pack run along all the time.

It’s why Hoseok knows that you wouldn’t get far from him - not at all. If it was one thing Hoseok loved - especially during his heat where his wolf was most active - was a game of chase. Like cat and mouse.

Though, this chase was between wolf and doe. 

Your breathing hitches and your legs were aching. You’re unsure how long you’ve been running, but you were growing tired by the second. Though you had to admit that your own blood was pumping with adrenaline. When Hoseok, on the final day of his heat, asked if he and you could act out a fantasy - one that he’s kept bottled up deep within him, you were curious. He had offered to pay you more if you agreed on the idea, stating that it wasn’t, in his own terms, ethical. 

You agreed, your safe word being a goofy word you and he had come up with as Hoseok wouldn’t be listening if you said “no” or “stop”, though you doubt you would be.

On the second day when you had woken up to a throb in your neck, you instantly noticed when you looked in the mirror. You, to avoid the awkward conversation, had decided to ignore it - for now. You continued on with dealing with Hoseok and his heat like nothing had happened.

Of course, you and Hoseok would have to talk about it eventually. But as of right now…

You dodge tree branches and a few times almost manage to fall right on your face. Your speed isn’t as fast as it once was, nor was it fast enough to outrun a wolf, but you were determined to get as far as you could.

Hoseok can smell you. A natural herbal scent that only those like you - prey shifters - possess. At times, your scent would naturally blend into that of the forest, but your scent was one he could never forget.

Hoseok can sense you not too far away. He can hear your running feet hitting against the grassy ground, dodging trees and branches in your way. Your pounding heart was just as loud as your gasping moans - something he could sense no matter how far away you were. Those desperate pulls of oxygens you take to keep air in your burning lungs. 

Hoseok understands it was one of the many aspects of the mating mark - if you ever accepted him, you would hear him just as the same. Hoseok doesn’t want to think of that right now as he is fully prepared to let you go tomorrow when this is all over.

Your senses are tingling, your nose twitching to detect Hoseok in the shadows. Your ears perk at the sound of rushing footsteps right behind you. You hear him, the sound of faint growling right behind you. Your body aches with exhaustion, begging for you to stop and allow yourself a break - but that would only mean that the beast chasing you would have a feast.

Silence erupts behind you when your feet give out, causing you to fall right on your face. Your ears don’t capture the heavy footsteps any longer and it’s silent.

Eerily silent, you think, your pumping heart appearing louder than the forest surrounding you.

Suddenly, without warning, you feel weight on your body, crushing you between him and the ground. There’s teeth on your neck, dangerously close to the mark and a faint growling in your ear. Hoseok’s breath is warm, causing goosebumps to slowly draw along your skin. “Got you.” Hoseok growls against your neck, his hips snapping into you. You can feel his bulge, already hardened against your ass. A sign that he was ready to take you again - and again and again.

Hoseok understood that he came to you because you were a prey. That you were so submissive that you wouldn’t fight him - and you weren’t at all. He was a predator and all predator shifters had the same thoughts. It excites him that your body vibrates with fear, even if you and he both know that he wasn’t going to hurt you - ever.

“Pretty little doe like you…” Hoseok’s tongue licks along your neck. It shoots straight to your core, causing a throbbing heartbeat to form. “...all alone out here.”

Hoseok’s cock is throbbing, ready to burst out of his pants and bury itself deep inside of you. To claim you as his over and over again - but he needs to be patient. You’re the only prey he knows that would ever indulge him in something like this and he doesn’t want to ruin it by devouring you so easily. It was the last day of his heat afterall, and it’s never as unbearable as the first few days.

You don’t process how Hoseok manages to turn you around, your back crashing into the ground and him hovering right above you. His expression is crazed, dark eyes peering down at you just like a predator would their prey. Though, his wish to devour you was something entirely different, a tint of sultriness in those dark orbs.

You did exactly what Hoseok wanted you to do, squirm underneath his tight embrace, a look of terror in your eyes. If you didn’t agree to be a part of this before, it would otherwise showcase how terrified you were.

Rough fingers rip through your shirt - a thin fabric you wore just for the sake of this moment. Your breast spews out easily, no bra in sight. Hoseok salivates at the sight of them as if he hasn’t marvelled at it all week.

You try to keep the moan between your lips when Hoseok’s calloused hands capture both breasts roughly. He squeezes them, groaning at how good they felt in his palms. He licks his lips, his mouth growing more and more wet as he salivates just like a wolf would.

Hoseok nudges his knee between your legs, your clothed cunt right against him. He feels the way it throbs against him, begging for any form of friction. 

“You…you’re so pretty.” Hoseok growls, his face coming closer to her. “Your cunts so wet. No matter how far you run, I’d always smell you.” he chuckles. “You’re lucky I told my pack to leave, little doe, who knows who would’ve captured you out here.”

Your heart jolts at Hoseok’s words. The thought of being in these woods which are so unfamiliar to you that are littered with wolves like him causes your heart to pound so rapidly. It’s Hoseok’s scent, so close and dominating, yet inviting, that calms your nerves down. You swallow the lump in your throat, your thighs closing against Hoseok’s.

Hoseok’s hands leave your chest to quickly tug at your shorts. Like your shirt, they’re ripped entirely and thrown aside without a care. Cotton panties stick right against you, your pussy soaked with arousal that has Hoseok chuckling. “Aw, little doe. Did the chase turn you on?” 

You gasp when Hoseok presses himself right against you, his eyes burning into your face. His cock is so hard. You’d think even you would grow tired of the same cock impaling you from various positions - but you hadn’t. Not when Hoseok was such a good fucker; so intentive with a dirty mouth coming from heart-shaped lips. 

And even now, when Hoseok allows himself to push himself away from you enough to peel his own shirt off. His skin is always so warm, covered in only a bit of scars due to scuffles he had over the years. You pondered just how many wolf shifter women fawned over him - and how they’d react upon realizing he had mated with a doe shifter. 

“I knew where you were the entire time. Isn’t that fascinating?” Hoseok’s deep voice rumbles through her ears, bringing her back to the lustful reality. “I could hear your heart beating so loud. So afraid.  You doe’s are much lighter on your feet than us wolves…”

Hoseok’s pants are next to go, leaving him in tight boxer briefs that look seconds from falling apart. His cock is so big, you think, your own mouth salivating at the sight. You were supposed to play into the fantasy of the scared little doe - and though you were terrified of Jung Hoseok as a wolf naturally, you were far from fearing for your life. 

“But no matter how fast you ran, I was always faster.” 

Slender hands grip the waistband of his boxer briefs. Your eyes are trained on what's next - his cock springing out and bouncing off of his abdomen. His tip is so pink and angry, the familiar oozing of ore-cum leaking and sliding down his shaft. 

It’s so beautiful , you think, your cunt throbbing. 

“You’re so scared, little doe, yet so horny.” Hoseok inhales the sweet aroma of your pussy - so wet and ready. “Talk to me.”

“I-I…” you lick your lips, attempting to look away from his cock - the same cock you saw time and time again. It was hard. “…I don’t want…to?”

Your cheeks burn with warmth. You weren’t good at being the scared little thing he wanted you to be, but Hoseok isn’t upset. His lips curl upward in an amused smirk. 

“You do.” Hoseok coos. “You want to be fucked right here against the ground until you’re burrier with my pups.”

Hoseok was better at this, you note. You swallow, pussy clenching on nothing.

“P-Please,” you whimper, glossy eyes widening. 

Hoseok chuckles, finding you to be cute - and not following any directions for this roleplay. But he wasn’t upset, quite the opposite. He kikes that you’re comfortable enough to put your natural instixts on the back burner. 

Hoseok can still be rough as he wants - you’d let him. 

A slender, but rough hand wraps around his cock. Your eyes watch unblinking as he pumps it, coming closer to your face. He already knows you're salivating, wanting a taste of him. 

“Open your mouth.”

Hoseok’s demand doesn’t go unnoticed. Almost immediately do you comply , opening your mouth wide. Your tongue pokes out, already knowing that it was going to take everything for you to take his cock.

Hoseok doesn’t hesitate. He shoves his cock right into your warm, wet mouth. The sight of you alone was so slutty, he thinks, your mouth opening wider to fit him all. His tip hits the back of your throat, but you don’t fuss or complain - you were such a good little doe.

Hoseok’s hand digs into your hair, keeping your head steady as his hips rock back and forth. 

Those eyes, Hoseok thinks. Those big, innocent doe eyes that stare up at him so innocently. So sultry…glossy, teary eyes that grow even wetter with each snap of his hips. Your tongue twirls around his cock, suckling him deeper and deeper. His groans and grunts increase, sounding throughout the deep forest. Your gags mix in with it, drool trickling down the corners of your lips.

“You’re doing so good, little doe. I knew you wanted a cock in your mouth.” Hoseok growls, pumping his cock deeper in you.

Your thighs are wet with arousal, your nipples hardened. This lewd act of aggression is such a turn on, you think. Who knew you’d be so open with a predator shifter?

Hoseok gives a final thrust, his cock deep in your throat. You gag around it, your eyes blinking away the tears. You hadn’t noticed that your fingers were digging into the grassy dirt beneath you, your chest rising and falling. 

“If I’m going to cum anywhere, it’s going to be right inside of you.” Hoseok loosens his grip onto your hair. A hand touches your cheek, finding that even now did you look cute - even with glossy eyes and a cock in your mouth.

It takes Hoseok another moment to remove his cock, and when he does you finally are able to breathe. A bit of saliva pools from your mouth and drops onto your chest, your breathing becoming rigid as you attempt to calm it. 

You blink a few times to get rid of the tears. You cough a few times before licking your lips.

“Where’s your pack?”

Hoseok furrows a brow for a moment. “Not here,” he responds. “I sent them away. They won’t be back until tomorrow.”

That was good, you think. Though a part of you felt bad for having them go away from home because of you - they would have stayed nearby if you were another wolf, or at least a predator. 

With all the power you could muster - compared to Hoseok, it was like a small child pushing him away - you manage to squirm from beneath him. 

For a moment, Hoseok watches you with curious eyes - until he realizes that you’re running away from him. You aren’t as fast as before, still attempting to catch your breath. A growl seeps from his throat, a natural instinct a predator has to a running prey, and he knows you’re doing this to further excite him.

Like before, your legs give out and your bare chest hits the mossy ground. You didn’t get far, but you were fully prepared for the man to capture you like his natural instincts desired.

Your hips are forced upwards, your face against the ground. Your thighs are ripped apart so Hoseok could shove his face right between your legs, his tongue licking between slick folds. 

You shudder, a shiver running up your back. The hair on your skin stiffens, your thighs trembling with satisfaction. His tongue devours your clit entirely, wet muscle gliding up and down, teasing your clenching hole. When he’s not teasing your hole - wishing it was his cock impaling you from behind - his tongue was circling your clit in rushed, deep motions. His nails are digging into the soft flesh of your hips, left hand roughly trailing from your hips, to your lower back to your ass. He grips it into his palm harshly. Possessively. 

Hoseok grunts against your pussy, sharp nails digging into your flesh deeper and deeper at the sounds of your lewd moans. 

Hoseok is addicted - he knows he is. The way you taste for him, so sweet and delicious that always leaves his mouth watering. Your scent intoxicates him each and every time he inhales. He swears it's because of the stupid mark on your neck that leaves him so inthralled by you.

“H-Hoseok!” you yelp, your stomach clenching, your eyes rolling. He hasn’t stopped - not even to catch his breath. He doesn’t even allow you to pull yourself away. He would only growl and press you further onto his tongue.

You’re unsure how this was going to end. Hoe you could go back to work like nothing happened - how you could further entertain other men; preferably prey shifters. You couldn’t be with another predator and not think about Hoseok. 

How would you deal with the mark on your neck? 

Juices run down your thighs in a trembling mess. Your breathing increases and your nails dig into the dirt - you were going to have to bathe twice when Hoseok was done with you out here, you’re sure. With a few more wet laps of your swollen bud, Hoseok pulls himself back with every muscle he could fiber, against his wolf’s wishes.

“So slutty,  little doe.” Hoseok licks his lips of your arousal. There’s a natural growl in his throat as he looks down at you hungrily. “Dripping all over the ground.”

You whimper when you feel fingers rub along your already swollen clit. Hoseok’s dark eyes observe the way your hole clenches and unclenches, wishing you had something deep inside of you. You’re so wet, that he’s sure that he could sink in you right now and fill you just how you want. He could fill you so deep with his knot - Hoseok’s throat grumbles.

“You’re so…” Hoseok inhales deeply, taking in your sweet aroma. If there were anyone else in these woods, they would surely be just as intoxicated by you like he was. 

Hoseok would have to kill them.

“...so enticing, my little doe.” Hoseok continues with a low hum. “Your skin is so soft and…your scent so strong. It’s driving me crazy.”

Hoseok places his fingers into his mouth, twirling his tongue around his digits to further taste you. He shudders. 

“-seok…” Hoseok only manages to hear the last part of his name. He blinks a few times, his eyes focusing on you. “...please fuck me.”

Hoseok exhales. Your back is already arched, thighs pushed apart. Your tight hole welcomes him fully.

“You’re so bad at pretending to be scared, little doe.” Hoseok murmurs. He liked the idea of you not being terrified of him like you were when you first smelt his scent. Even if his natural predatory instincts like the chase, he likes the way your body wants him even more.

“Stay right there.” Hoseok grumbles, positioning himself closer to you. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want, my little doe.”

You don’t need any preparation. You’re wet enough that Hoseok pounds right into you all at once. He pants, his eyes squeezing shut. His hands find your waist easily and he begins to rut his hips back and forth. 

You cry out in pure pleasure. It’s something so indecent about getting fucked out in the open like this. You were told that only predators were obscene like this, but that was by an uppity prey shifter who never actually slept with a predator. 

Now, having fucked Hoseok time and time again in under a short amount of time, you’re unsure if you could ever see yourself enjoying fucking anyone else. Would they be as rough as him? As vulgar in the way they spoke? As dominant? As intensive?

Your pussy squelches loudly, Hoseok’s cock ramming in and out of you in such a rapid movement. Your soft flesh is already bruised by him, but you aren’t bothered. “Your pussy missed being fucked, hasn’t it?” Hoseok spats. “It’s only been a few hours.”

Hoseok’s thrusts are punishing and he has the stamina of a wolf that never lets him down. You’re unable to form actual words, instead focusing on breathing through your moans. Your head is in your arm, fully allowing him to have you whichever way he truly wanted you.

“Who knew a little prey like you would be able to take me the entire week.” Hoseok continues, his throat forming even more growls. “How are you going to go back to work with my scent all over you, little doe? My hand marks all over such pretty skin. Who would want to deal with you then?”

You gasp out when your hair is pulled, drawing you back. Hoseok’s thrust isn't finished yet. No, he manages to go even deeper, his cock plunging in and out of your wet pussy that has your eyes rolling. Your chest bounces rapidly, moan’s dancing off of the tall trees. 

“Why, little doe?” Hoseok growls. He’s close to your neck again - close to the mark. His tongue trails around your shoulders. Your skin litters with goosebumps, his warm breath tickling it. “Why are you so tempting?”

“Ho…seok.” you moan out. Your hand touches his thigh for support.

“I don’t think I could let you go, little doe.” Hoseok places his own hand against the lower part of your stomach. You can feel his cock seemingly expanding, punishing thrusts growing deeper and deeper. “I think I’ll keep you here with me forever…” he grunts.

Your walls tighten around Hoseok’s cock, your own lustful thoughts finding that extremely hot, even if the sane part of you knew that it wasn’t possible. 

“...keep you nice and pregnant with my pups.”

Hoseok’s hand begins to rub your stomach, shaking his head. He couldn’t help it. His rut was made to impregnate someone, and you so happened to be that someone. He hasn’t stopped thinking about how gorgeous you’d look while pregnant - so round and swollen and flush. Your breast increasing overtime along with your stomach, full of milk for his children.

Fuck, Hoseok wasn’t going to last long. He never did when he thought about breeding you - but then he’d be ready to go again in another ten minutes and repeat the process.

“Or maybe a little fawn.” Hoseok’s teeth finds your neck again, sinking down on the mark. “Little fawn that looks just like you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-Yes!” you squeal - of course you would. You’d be down for anything as long as he fucked you like this.

“I bet you would.” Hoseok grunts, his teeth sinking even deeper against you. 

Your body is pressed onto the ground again, Hoseok rutting his hips deeper and deeper into you. Juices pooled out of you, coating the already wet ground beneath you. 

Your eyes clenched shut as Hoseok’s sloppy thrust came to a sudden halt, warm liquid spilling into you. Hoseok’s hand doesn’t remove itself from your stomach, if anything he holds onto you tighter, his teeth never leaving your neck.

This is what wolves did, you think. To mate. You knew better than to move away from him at such a primal time like this. He had to satiate his wolf and knotting you was the way to do that. The pressure is uncomfortable, sure, but you aren’t complaining as you should be. The act, as your senses begin to clear, only confuse (and frighten) you even more as you’re unsure how you were going to break the bond with Hoseok - and if his wolf would even allow it.

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