#and the ending has had me in a fervor for days

[rita-rae-siller]

Into the Abyss

(Please, feel free to listen to the song before, after, or during reading) TW: Suicidal ideation, talks of suicide

Alura stared down at the ground far below the roof she stood on. The courtyard of the city’s keep was littered with dead from both sides. Many were White Cloak soldiers. Warriors that trusted her with their lives, worshipped the ground she walked on, gave their lives to defend and uphold her. What was the point of all this? How many more would she have to bury before the killing ended? Before her part was played, and her price paid? 

“It’s a long way down,” Eyre’s voice whispered in her ear. Her presence felt like a cold pressure on her back and a ghostly hand on her shoulder.

“Not long enough,” Alura replied. It was only six stories high. She’d be lucky if she died on impact. “Is it time, yet?”

“Not today. Do you truly wish for oblivion that badly, Golden One?” Out of the corner of her eye, Alura could see the goddess’ spectral form. She looked like the heavens on a new moon. A faceless, formless mass of pure darkness, whose shape changed randomly between animals and humans alike. 

“I want peace. I want an end to the madness. Is that so terrible?” Alura asked. 

“Which one? The ideal, or your means of achieving it?” Eyre asked in return.

“What difference does it make in the end?” Alura shrugged helplessly. She was being pulled in so many different directions, hanging on by a thread which was only moments from snapping. When would her own desires fit into the equation? What remained of her own life to claim for herself?

“Look at where Grandmother Shadow has led you; to ruin and misery, as she has with countless mortals before you.” Itep chimed in with his wicked laughter. His voice brought the smell of brimstone, death and rot with it. “You will go down a tyrant and a murderer no matter what you do. Why not simply end it here, on your own terms?”

“The Undying wants you to die for nothing. The root of his evil will continue to fester unchecked in Eredahl. Until Gora is freed, you will never be free, even in death,” Eyre said.

“His madness will bleed into you and like all the others that have come before, you will be consumed by him. Do you think your death will break the cycle? That some other warrior will not come along and take your place, as has happened for the last thousand years of imperial history? All this work will be for nothing. Their deaths will be for nothing. You will die for nothing.” Itep countered. “Gora does not care about you, and you cannot save him from himself. I have tried for millenia.”

“What happens next doesn’t concern me,” Alura said, unsure which god that was truly aimed at. Her race was run. Matilde had outplayed her at every turn. There would be no returning to Eredahl. The White Cloaks had lost over half of their numbers and were now powerless against Itep’s Red Legion. Morvaara refused to even acknowledge the work she had done for them. She was a dead woman walking no matter what she did.

“The world you leave behind for your little boy doesn’t concern you? What kind of mother are you to not want a better world for her child?” Eyre scorned.

“This isn’t about him,” Alura replied. Achaedon was safe now. She’d done her part.

“No, it has always been about you. Your pain. Your suffering. As though the entire world does not suffer under the crushing weight of your empire’s ceaseless hunger that you have fed violently for years. Just like every Shepherd before you, you are violence and murder incarnate.” There was a mocking sting to Itep’s words. “You are pathetic. Weak. A wicked little girl, full of greed and blind ambition. How many thousands have you killed to get to this moment? And only now does the sight of their blood horrify you? You are Gora’s through and through.”

Alura closed her eyes.  Not a single thing he said was a lie. In her youth, she was proud to serve, took awe in the privilege that was her life. The first woman in imperial history to take the title of Rahmut, to bear Gora’s holy tahlivora. For so long, she viewed battle as a game. Proving her might was a sacred sport. Why should she get to walk freely out of the hells just for tearing down what she helped to build? 

“Still thinking about jumping, hmm?” Eyre asked. “It is a shame, really. You showed such promise.” When Alura did not reply, she continued. “And my poor Mara. What will I tell her of your end? That you have been planning this blaze of suicidal glory from the very beginning? I don’t think she would be very happy.”

There was an ache so deep in Alura’s chest, it felt as though her very ribs were breaking. “One day she will understand.”

“She loves you.”

“I know.” Holding back the tears, Alura prepared to take the last step off the edge. 

“Look upon the setting sun,” Itep told her. “Why not see your lord’s brilliant glory one last time before you spit in his eye and spurn his gifts?”

Alura opened one eye as the sun broke through the burning haze of the city. It was nearly touching the horizon. Something stirred in her chest as she opened her other eye. Her tahli began to glow faintly, and a fire began to build in her belly, warm and comforting. The wood beneath her feet began to smoke and sizzle before bursting into white flames. 

“Gora has not given up, Child. Inside of you, he rages on,” Eyre’s voice whispered in her ear. “Embrace him, and free yourselves.”

“Just jump and end this foolishness. Gora is not worth saving. Why not save what is left of your soul?” Itep hissed. 

Alura was hesitant at first. The last two connections had gone wrong. Gora was wild, his fury untamed. It swallowed her whole in its endlessness. But now, in a city surrounded only by enemies, there seemed little to lose in the situation. What better place to let him take a swing at the forces of his oppressor? They could burn down Itep’s holy city together.

She spread her arms to embrace the setting sun as she teetered on the ledge. Somewhere in the distance, Red Legion war horns called for a retreat, and White Cloaks sounded the beginning of an offensive push. 

They will all burn,  Gora told her as she closed her eyes. The Undying forgets that We are the Sun, not just War. Let them taste of our divine fire. Remind the world that the Sun cannot be chained forever.

Every night we fall, and every day we rise anew, Alura replied.

And she jumped.

taglist (Ask to be added or removed): @gabeorelse

[holeforzenin]

TOJI N MEGUMI’S SWEET GIRLFRIEND!!!

Tw - Cheating, breeding kink, forbidden relationship. Megumi is 20 n reader is a bit older, Brief Toji x reader. Not proofread

★彡

Imagine Megumi walking around the house shirtless, exposing every inch of his skin from his hips up, His smooth skin glistening under the warn-toned light as he walked into the kitchen for a snack but then Toji spots the fresh series of red, angry lines scattered across his upper back. He’s not dumb, he’s a grown man in his early 40s, he’s basically an expert at that shit considering the fact that he has them too. He knows exactly what it is and what caused it.

He starts teasing Megumi about it, about how his boring, grumpy ass is actually getting some pussy—not knowing that the pussy he’s getting is his sweet little girlfriend’s while he’s away on missions, absolutely oblivious to what happens between his son and girlfriend while he’s not there. The harsh markings from your sharp manicured nails mauling his son’s toned back as he fucked your slutty brains out and digs his cock deep into your insides while giving you one of the best dicking of your life, right on top of you and Toji’s bed.

–––

જ⁀➴ The “pussy” he’s getting is from the same sweet girlfriend of his that wakes up at 5am sharp to make breakfast and see him off to his 3-day mission just to have his son’s throbbing hard dick nestled deep into your greedy cunt—stuffing you full to the brim while his tip nudges against the deepest part of your pussy just a few hours later.

Megumi was three years younger than you, never had a girlfriend before and you felt bad for the poor boy and was soo tired and annoyed of having to keep buying new panties since the old ones were used to wrap around his preverted cock to jerk off, staining it with his seed instead of doing you and his father’s laundry so you had to find a way to deal with it…

જ⁀➴ The “pussy” he’s getting is from the same sweet girlfriend he calls every evening while he's away to make sure you’re alright and if you’ve eaten dinner, not knowing that his son is eating dinner right now—behind you, on this knees as his rough hands spreads your soft cheeks apart, nose pressed deep into your creamy folds while he sucks on your twitching little clit with fervor and intensity, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

Your juices drips down his chin disgustingly as he devours you like a homeless man eating his favorite meal for the first time in years, groaning vibrantly against your twitching core as he tastes your sweet pussy—desperately lapping up every bit of pussy juice he can suck out of you, making you audibly stutter but Toji doesn’t question it, maybe you’re just tired and miss him too much or something. You bit your lips, moving a hand down to push Megumi’s eager face further into your horny pussy as you teasingly wiggled your cheeks in his face. Your eyes roll back when you felt Megumi’s sly tongue dragging flat against your asshole, licking a long stripe at the fluttery hole before attempting to pry it open with the tip of his tongue, “Mmm, don’t worry baby I’m fine—just have a sore throat that’s all” you reassumed your older boyfriend on the other end, reasoning why you’re making odd noises.

જ⁀➴ The “pussy” he’s getting is from the same sweet girlfriend he calls Megumi for—to check up and make sure you’re safe and okay. After all, while Toji is away, Megumi is the man of the house, not knowing that you’re on your knees as they speak, both hands digging into his muscular legs for stability as he fucks his thick cock deep into your skull, his leaking tip oozing with pre-cum, dripping at the back of your throat as you look up at him with pleading eyes as your mascara mixed with tears drips down your pretty face while he just smiles down at you darkly—reassuring Toji that his girlfriend is well taken care of.

જ⁀➴ The “pussy” he’s getting is from the same sweet girlfriend who he promises to breed, babbling about how much he wants to give Megumi a sibling and watch your belly swell with his kid as he’s pounding you deep and hard in full Nelson, his huge tip nudging against your bruised cervix, brutally splitting apart your cunt while whispering into your ear. “Hah—fuckkk doll, your tight pussy is swallowing my dick so good, fuckk imagine if I fill you up and breed this pretty little pussy with my seed, How does that sound darling? Wanna give lonely Megumi a sibling to take care of?” He questions your fucked out self as he licks away the trail of salty tears lingering on your face. Not knowing that Megumi is just like him. Their minds are sooo alike. “Shitshitshit—such a good little horny slut, this pussy’s taking my cock sooo well baby. Whaddya say we make old man Toji a grandpa? Fuck he wouldn’t even have a clue it’s not his” he laughs into your ears as he licks your earlobe while drilling his swollen cock into your soppy cunt from behind, against the kitchen counter just 20 minutes before toji gets home.

જ⁀➴ The “pussy” he’s getting is from the same sweet girlfriend who gets her sweet cunt and tight asshole stuffed full with his son’s seed almost every other day. Megumi would brutally fucked your tight pussy against the bathroom sink while he’s taking a nap, your panties bearly hanging around the sides of your ankles as Megumi manhandles your body back onto his cock—forcing you to meet his thrust halfway as he pounds it into you, he's so girthy and big, definitely not as big as Toji’s but it’s definitely a lot more stiff and eager, his tip bullyingly grazes against your g-spot as you cried out, making him grunt before quickly slapping a hand over your mouth to shut you up. “Can’t a nasty whore shut the fuck up? Or do you want him to wake up and see you creaming on his son’s cock? Is that what you want? Such a cock-hungry little slut.”

જ⁀➴ The “pussy” he’s getting is from the same sweet girlfriend that he buys sexy lingerie for, to wear and model them for him and he finishes off the show by ripping them to shreds off of you and fucking you into a brainless whore—but like father, like son, Megumi does the exact same when he’s not there. It’s like they both think alike when it comes to certain things—that being sex. No wonder sometimes some of them tend to go “missing” leading him to buy you even more for his son Megumi to fuck you in. He loves seeing you all dolled up with your matching pink panties and bra. It makes both of them absolutely feral.

જ⁀➴ The “pussy” he’s getting is from the adoring girlfriend who he fucks absolutely stupid and good, to the point where your toes curled as your eyes roll back to your skull—a moaning mess as he forces out orgasms after orgasms out to you till the whole mattress is drenched and soaked with cum. The only (downside?) would be Megumi hearing everything from the next room, brows furred together has he angrily fist fuck his pulsating cock, imagining he was the one drilling deep into you instead. The next day he’d corner you while your sitting on the couch and manhandle your body so you’ll be face down and ass up—stuffing three thick, long fingers into your tight asshole, stretching it apart while he snakes his tongue deep into your hungry pussy—exploring your insides. Your asshole taking in his fingers with pure pleasure as you buckle your hips back onto his face, like a whore—eagered for more.

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 1

SERIES SUMMARY: You’ve been best friends with Oscar Piastri since you were seven, far before the dream of Formula 1 even seemed possible. You’ve been with him from the very beginning—due, in no small part, to the fact that you’ve been in love with him since you were a teenager. But when a breakup and championship battle rattles the very foundations of your friendship, you begin to question if you ever really knew him. (Best friends to lovers, based on the song Wildflower by Billie Eilish)

WORD COUNT: 11.1k

WARNINGS: Oscar is not a very good boyfriend to Lily and Lily is not a very good girlfriend to Oscar. Potentially changed some dates (I think Oscar and Lily started dating when they were 17 or 18, but I’m making them 18 for the sake of the flashback scenes). Reader is “the girl he told me not to worry about” through no fault of her own. This story has a lot of complex character dynamics and everyone is flawed! References to sex but no actual smut.

A/N: Ah new series! I hope this is good—I’m trying some new stuff with the flashbacks and story layers, so I hope it doesn’t read too confusingly! Also, I’m trying to be more intentional with showing instead of telling with my dialogue and such, so hopefully that is an improvement. I always welcome constructive criticism, but either way, I hope you all enjoy this.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

“Lily left me.”

He only needed those three words to convey the gravity of the situation. On the other end of the line, you were silent. He was too. What was there to say?

No, it couldn’t be real. Oscar and Lily were inseparable. The dream couple of Formula 1. Your best friend had been in love with her since the pair were 18, attending boarding school in the UK together while Oscar pursued his dreams of making it to F1. 

They were each other’s everything. At least, that’s what the world thought.

But you had seen this coming for a while now. It was just a shock for it to actually happen. 

Finally, after an eternity, you spoke, still too shocked to formulate a coherent thought. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean she fucking left me. What else do you want me to say?” You could hear the quivering in his voice, giving away the sadness behind his abrasive response. You weren’t offended one bit. 

“Shit, Osc, I’m so sorry. I… don’t know what to say. Do you want me to come over? Or you can come to mine?” 

“I’m outside yours right now. In the car park.” 

“I’ll let you in,” you said. The mental image you conjured of Oscar outside your apartment crying in his fancy McLaren would have been comical, if not given the circumstances.

He let himself in only a few moments later, hoodie covering his tall and muscled frame. He was soaked from the rain outside—he must have come directly from the confrontation. 

“Oh, Oscar,” you said, pulling him into a hug, cringing at the contact with his soggy hoodie, but knowing that there were far more important things to be worried about. 

You rubbed your hands up and down his shoulder blades that now heaved with sobs. His entire body shook with the fervor of his tears, and you just held him, gently shushing him and promising that everything will be okay. 

“I don’t know how she could do this to me,” he said, gasping out the words between haggard breaths. “The championship—I can’t do it without her.”

“I know,” you assured him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not, YN, it’s not gonna be okay. I love her. And she just threw away so many years.”

“I know.” You just kept assuring him, tightening your grip on him as his sobs became more intense. “Just breathe.”

“Why would she do this to me?” he asked. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

You knew. And deep down, Oscar did too. That was a conversation for another day. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this coming. 

You didn’t have it in you to lie to him. You had always been the type to pride yourself on being honest, even when the truth hurt, but you couldn’t bear to do it now. You changed the subject.

“Oscar, you’re soaking wet. I’ll find you something else and warm that up in the dryer, yeah? Just sit down, take a deep breath, and let me get this figured out.”

He sat down on your couch and took off his hoodie and t-shirt underneath, revealing his toned body. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before—you’d been friends with him since you were seven, growing up together. He almost felt like a brother to you, sometimes.

Maybe it wouldn’t be weird at all, except for the fact that you’d been in love with him for over a decade now. 

But right now that didn’t matter. He had plenty of old hoodies over in your apartment, which you carefully folded every time he forgot them. Placing his wet clothes in the dryer and setting the temp on high, you reached to the shelf above you and grabbed a random one. You unfolded it—an Alpine hoodie from back in the day, before his time at McLaren. You smiled at the memories that flashed in your mind, before quickly returning to Oscar with the garment. 

He had moved from your couch to your bedroom, holding a pillow on his lap, hunched over where the top of it met his chin. He was staring off into space, not breaking his gaze at the plain white wall.

You sat next to him, handing him the hoodie, and he mumbled a small thanks as he grabbed it. He didn’t put it on, instead just holding it with the pillow, as if filling his arms with the plush material would fill the hole now left in his heart.

“Oscar, I… don’t have anything profound to say. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond at first, instead just silently letting the tears well up in his eyes. 

“I guess I should have seen this coming,” he said quietly. 

You paused, unsure whether or not you should agree with him. But you were nothing if not honest.

“Yeah,” you said, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“I guess we just both fell out of love.”

“I mean… how did the conversation go?”

It would be stupidly easy for Oscar to lie and say he didn’t remember Lily’s every word. But he knew better, and so did you. As he explained, the memory replayed in his head.

“I can’t do this anymore, Oscar,” Lily said, a simple yet devastating statement.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” His confusion was genuine, much to the chagrin of his angry girlfriend.

“The fact that you even have to ask that proves my point.”

“Lily, talk to me. I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Oscar stood up, now understanding the full gravity of the situation he found himself in. 

“I’m trying to say that I’m not happy anymore, and neither are you. I wanted to at least give it until the end of the season, but I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when we both know bloody well that it’s not! Don’t you want something better than this, Oscar?” Lily pleaded. 

“I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Don’t lie to me. You say that but you put everything else before me. I’m not a priority to you. I haven’t been in a long time.”

“I’ll quit F1. We can go back to the UK and live a normal life.”

“No. We both know that you wouldn’t do that.” Her tone was incredulous, twinged with a slight anger at the mere suggestion. 

��Yes, I would. I’d do anything. Don’t do this, Lily. Not now, not when I need you the most.”

Lily grabbed his hand, leading him to sit down on the couch next to her. “Oscar,” she began, “we had a good run. You made me so, so happy for so long.” She reached up to gently cup his cheeks and wipe away where tears were now forming at the edge of his eyes. “I saw you achieve things that neither of us ever thought were possible. But…I can’t stay any longer. Not when there’s no place for me in your heart anymore.”

You sighed. You knew every word that Lily had said was right. But you also knew you couldn’t get that through to Oscar, at least not until the shock wore off.

The words remained unspoken. You had been there for all of it. Lily was his first love, his only girlfriend, and everyone assumed that he’d marry her one day; you included. 

“I just…I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on acting like my life didn’t just fall apart. How did you do it?”

This was Oscar's first breakup, but you had been through too many, it seemed, since he was asking you for advice on how to handle them.

The truth? It was very easy to get over a breakup when every partner you’ve ever had was a feeble attempt at denial. When they all inevitably failed, you just went back to bask in Oscar’s platonic love. It was enough. 

“I won’t lie to you, the first one is always hell. You feel like you’re going crazy for a while. You lose hope that you’ll ever feel happier, because everything reminds you of them. And then one day it just…doesn’t. The only thing that heals it is time and finding love around you, you know, friends and family.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

‘Well, I’m not going to lie to you and say it’ll be easy, because it won't. But it will be okay—not today, but someday. You’ve got something to focus on with the championship. And I’ll be here.” You gave him an empathetic smile. 

Maybe you weren’t the most comforting friend to most. But you and Oscar had a bond that was very different to most friendships. You understood each other’s idiosyncrasies in ways no one else could. So when shit hit the fan, it was always each other that you went to.

You continued, “You can stay here as long as you like.”

“Thank you.”

There was only one problem: your apartment only had one bed. And to the dismay of fanfiction writers across the world, you all would not be sharing it. 

You distracted Oscar by cooking a meal and watching a comfort movie—Cars, a classic. You could tell he was exhausted by the way his head on your shoulder sloped just a little too heavily downwards as the credits rolled. 

“Okay, let’s get you to bed,” you said, gently pushing him awake. He sleepily stumbled back into your bedroom and collapsed on the bed, almost instantly falling back asleep.

You took the couch, but despite the money you spent splurging on the extra cushioned sofa, no sleep came to you. 

It wasn’t any physical discomfort that fueled your insomnia, but rather, the events of the previous evening. Lily had actually left Oscar. She had finally pulled the plug.

Yes, in some ways, it was expected. But at the same time, you couldn’t imagine a version of your best friend that wasn’t madly in love with his girlfriend. 

From the outside, though, you couldn’t blame Lily one bit. You wondered what had been the last straw. 

You could think of three possible moments. First: The Apartment. 

“I’m moving to Monaco,” Oscar began, and you felt your heart drop in your stomach. Of course, one day he’d make it to Monaco. That was the dream of every Formula 1 driver, right? The beauty of the French Riviera and tax evasion. And you’d be left at your aging flat in the UK, waiting for those precious few days a year where he was free to grace you with his presence. 

“That’s amazing!” you said, only half believing it to be true. 

“In a few weeks I’m gonna go look at condos. Come with me? Lily can’t get off work.”

“Of course,” you replied. You’d already been to Monaco before for Oscar’s races, but you wouldn’t turn down any reason to get out of the constant dreary rain of the UK. 

You felt like a celebrity as you coasted through the Monte Carlo streets in the passenger side of Oscar’s McLaren, on your way to tour fabulous properties for your best friend (the actual celebrity). You breathed in the saltwater breeze, fresh and tinged with the air of wealth and splendor.

But it hurt your heart to know that you were helping your best friend leave. You imagined him getting up and doing his morning runs along the harbor, the sun blazing down the strained muscles on his back. Then you laughed to yourself at the thought of Oscar, the pastiest Aussie you knew, getting sunburnt. 

At the first property you met the realtor, who (after mistaking you for Lily; not the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last) took the pair of you to different condos throughout the day. 

Oscar decided on the final one you saw; two bedrooms, plenty of natural light, and a great view. Elegant, refined and practical—just like Oscar himself. 

The realtor handed him the paperwork and left as you stood on the balcony, looking at the beauty of the city before you. You were quiet, unusually so, and Oscar noticed. 

He sat the paperwork on the kitchen counter and walked onto the balcony next to you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice lowered. “You’re gonna make such beautiful memories here.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me now?”

You smiled and laughed. “A little,” you admitted, “I can’t help it. I’ll miss you all.” 

“You could always come with us. You seem to like it here,” he teased, tilting his head toward the edge of the balcony.

“You’d have to give me a raise if I was gonna afford Monaco rent prices.” You’d been running Oscar’s merch store and social media for the past few years, making a great wage, but nowhere near the immense wealth you’d need to call a place like this home. You joked with him, knowing Oscar actually had nothing to do with how much you got paid. 

“I would if I could. But, I mean, if you had a place to stay it wouldn’t really be that bad.”

“Are you suggesting I move into your guest room?”

Now he laughed. “No, but I’m just saying, if you had an apartment, you could make it work.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused, but trying to go along with the joke. “Well, sure, but apartments don’t just appear out of thin air.”

“You never know.” Oscar scratched the back of his neck and looked away, a sign of the awkwardness that now blanketed your moment on the balcony. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Well, theoretically, if someone were to have a spare apartment that they weren’t using, you could live there and Monaco would be a reasonable place to live, no?”

You didn’t answer his question, instead just giving him another confused glance until he gave up whatever he was trying to say. He still couldn’t meet your gaze. 

“Look—I don’t want to live so far away from my friend. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Oscar, you…”

“I got you an apartment.”

“You… bought me an apartment. In Monaco.” It came out more like a statement than a question, evidence of your shock. He reached into his pocket and dug out a key, holding it out to you.

You just looked at him with an incredulous expression. “Oscar, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not?”

“How much was it?” 

“I have more than enough money.”

“Answer the question.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “About 4 million?” 

Your eyes widened in shock. “Before you say anything,” he began, “I made over 30 million last year. I have more money than I’d ever know what to do with, so why not just spend it all on the people I love?” 

“Oscar… I can’t, that’s too much.”

“Will you at least go look at it with me? Actually, I’m driving, so you don’t have a choice,” he joked, walking back into the apartment. “Let’s go.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. There was no way you could let Oscar buy you a 4 million dollar apartment, but also, how could you not? The wind whipped through your hair as you rolled down the window of his McLaren, drinking in the beauty of the city around you. 

The apartment was smaller than the one he had picked for himself and Lily, but you didn’t mind one bit. It was perfectly cosy, and God, the view was spectacular. You could see the whole city from his apartment, but here, you could see the water. You stepped on the balcony and took a deep breath, taking in the sound of the ocean waves beneath you. 

Oscar followed you. “It’s a bit small, but I figured you’d like the view.”

“Oscar…”

“If you really don’t want it, I can rent it out. But I’d much rather have you close.” He held out the keys again. “What do you say?”

You could have told him you needed more time to think about it, but deep down, you already knew what you wanted. You took the keys. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Oscar. Seriously.”

“No need to thank me.” He smiled.

Back in the UK, he showed Lily the photos he had taken of the condo he had chosen for them as they went over the paperwork one last time.

He grabbed the pen to scratch out one of the boxes Lily had checked, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

“Oh, did I mess something up?” Shit. She leaned over his shoulder, reading the paperwork aloud. “Please indicate if you own any additional properties in the principality of Monaco.” She looked at Oscar. “You already have a property there?” 

“Oh, erm, yeah,” he said, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“How come I never heard about this?” 

“Um, I just got it a bit ago.”

Lily could sense her boyfriend’s hesitancy. “Is this something I wasn’t supposed to know about?”

“Oh, no,” he said, “it’s not like that. I just didn’t think to mention it.”

“So, what is this property?”

“An apartment.” 

Lily hated feeling like she was having to interrogate Oscar, but clearly there was some piece of the puzzle missing that was causing his reluctance. 

“An apartment?” she questioned. “You got another apartment?”

“Yeah, I, um,” he looked at the ceiling while scratching his neck, a clear sign of his nervousness, “I was planning on giving it to YN.”

“You bought YN an apartment in Monaco? When were you planning on telling me about this?” 

His walls of defense had finally broken down. “It’s not a big deal. I made more than enough last season, I could afford it.  And it’s just easier to have her there for the brand shoots and media stuff. Plus, I mean, she came to London to support me after graduation, even though I know she hates it here. I just figured I should repay the favor.”

“...Okay,” Lily began, her voice tinged with skepticism. “So, you do realize what this looks like, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my boyfriend bought an apartment for his “best friend” and tried to hide it from me. That’s the kind of thing cheating husbands do in movies, buy an apartment for their mistress for her to keep it quiet.”

Oscar wasn’t sure what annoyed him more, the air quotes Lily placed around “best friend” or the insinuation that he had been unfaithful. 

“Lily, seriously? I’m not cheating on you, I love you and you know that.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You know YN and I have been friends forever, it’s not like I did this for some random woman. I don’t appreciate being accused of lying.”

“But you were lying by omission.”

“Lily—”

“You know, nothing against her, but one of the reasons I was looking forward to this move was having more…us time. Without YN.” 

The statement brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Despite what she had said, it seemed like Lily did have something against you.

“You know, this kind of thing is why I was putting off telling you about it.”

“What are you saying?” she asked. Oscar knew he was tempting fire, but he didn’t care.

He continued, “You’re freaking out because I did something kind for a friend. I’m allowed to do whatever I want with my money.”

“I never said you weren’t, and I’m not freaking out. But I guess I’m just such a horrible person for saying I want to spend more time with my boyfriend.”

“If you’re putting down my “best friend” to do it,” he said, mocking her air quotes, “then yeah, that’s not cool.” 

“Oscar, you’re being so…weird about all of this. I’m not insulting YN. I just want to spend more time with you.”

“We’re literally going on vacation in February!”

“With friends. You invited your friends to our romantic getaway, Oscar.”

“You know I only have so much time off during the off season, and I’m spending most of it with realtors and accountants and eight thousand other people preparing us for this move. God forbid I want to invite my friends to Italy with us. Not everything can be just us, Lily.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’m done with this conversation.”

The second next instance you could think of happened on the trip.

It was a beautiful getaway to the Amalfi Coast, your dream destination that you’d somehow never made it to.

The group of Oscar’s friends, including you and Lando, had plans to come and go, with everyone being gone before the fourteenth so that Oscar and Lily could have their Valentine's Day date. Of course, you knew nothing of the arguments they’d had in the past about this, but you had common sense enough to not be a third wheel. Oscar thought this was a good enough compromise. 

Well, he thought. 

From the moment he picked you up from the airport, you could tell that the energy was different than usual. He blamed it on jet lag, but you knew better. You knew your best friend too well.

It didn’t take you long to figure out the problem was between him and Lily. She was colder towards him; not enough for anyone but you and him to notice, but still there and undeniable. 

Even weirder was Lily’s…preoccupation, it seemed, with pointing out single and attractive men to you. It wasn’t a hushed reality that you were single, and had been for some time. You'd given up on dating a long time ago—you knew that you had already found the love of your life, and he just happened to be Lily’s boyfriend.

But, of course, you’d never tell anyone this. Lots of people were confused because you seemed so fine being single. But you thought that Lily, one of your best friends (at least, by association), would know that you weren’t really interested in meeting anyone. 

You sat with Lily in a restaurant overlooking the coast, the balcony having been rented out by Oscar for one of your last dinners. You all were waiting for him and Lando to join you, passing the time by ordering wine and appetizers.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Lily said, gesturing her head to your waiter that was walking back into the main restaurant. 

You didn’t really know what to say. You glanced at him through the glass wall. “Lily, he most definitely plays for the other team, if you know what I mean,” you joked, reaching for a slice of bread on the table. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

“Well I don’t mean for me, I meant for you.”

You chuckled. “For me?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you want to get yourself a hot Italian man?”

“I’m perfectly happy being single.” You tried to diffuse the awkward conversation, keeping a kind tone in your voice as you ate the bread and looked into the distance at the coastline.

“Oh, come on. We’ll get you someone, don’t worry.”

“I really am fine being single.”

“You know who else is single?” she asked, clearly ignoring your protests. “Lando!”

You laughed aloud. “Oh God, no. If I wanted to be cheated on, I would have stayed with my ex. Besides, Oscar would kill him.”

A curious fact: Oscar had never approved of a single person you had ever introduced him to. You had to spend hours talking him out of running over your ex with his F1 car after you found out about his infidelity. 

“Oh, who cares what Oscar thinks? I think you should go for it,” she said, watching as the waiter returned to pour your glasses of wine. 

“Lily,” you said, holding your glass, ready to take a sip, “I don’t want to be in a relationship, like, at all. It’s just…not for me.” You sipped the wine, but through the reflection on the glass, you could see that Lily had pursed her lips in an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“If you want me to stop third-wheeling you and Oscar, you can just say so,” you joked as the boys made their way to the balcony to join you. 

You didn’t know it, but your joke cut deep in Lily’s heart. 

Nothing was said about it during the dinner, but Lily’s strange energy continued. It quickly became uncomfortable how much she was pushing Lando and you to interact. 

And when you all made your way to a local nightclub after the dinner, it didn’t get any better. Lando quickly got himself lost in the crowd, and you were once again left to be the third wheel. 

You could tell that Lily was getting annoyed, but to be fair, she was also annoying you. 

“Go dance with Lando!” she shouted over the thumping bass. She gestured to the opposite corner of the small club, where Lando was currently making out with some random Italian woman. 

You pointed this fact out to Lily, who just grimaced. 

“Do you just want me to go away?” you joked.

“Yes!” she said, and you were taken aback, because she was definitely not joking. 

Oscar was at the bar getting drinks, far enough away that he couldn’t hear. To be honest, you didn’t even want to be in this club anymore. 

So you snuck out and began your walk home without telling any of them.

As you walked along the cobblestone streets, Oscar handed Lily a drink, pausing when he noticed that you weren’t there to receive yours. “Where’s YN?” he asked.

“She wasn’t feeling well, so she headed back,” Lily said. 

“By herself? Should we go check on her?”

Lily wanted to roll her eyes. “No, she’s just tired. C’mon, let’s go dance!”

Oscar obeyed, but couldn’t ignore the feeling inside him that something about this whole night had been odd. 

The next time he saw Lando, he decided to say something about it. 

“Hey mate, are you going back soon?” he asked. Lando nodded, clearly tipsy. “Can you check on YN? Lily said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Sure,” he said, annoyed at the mention of you again.

He did come back to the house soon, but with an equally drunk and giggly woman on his arm, the same girl he had been making out with in the corner of the club. 

You didn’t expect any of them for a long time, so you sat in the living room of the AirBNB, watching the waves cascade into the shore, romanticizing this complicated feeling that coiled itself inside of you. 

That was, until Lando stumbled in. 

His eyes got wide as dinner plates upon seeing you. The girl on his arm giggled and walked off into the nearest bathroom. 

“Hey YN,” he slurred. “Are you dying?”

You laughed. “I’m fine.”

“Lily said you were sick.” 

“Nope, I’m good.” 

He looked to the closed door of the bathroom. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“You’re fine. I’m…uh, not interested, anyway. I don’t know what Lily’s been on about today.”

“Oh, thank God,” he exhaled. You laughed, despite the sting of rejection in his relief. “Well, I’ll keep it quiet.”

“I’ve got headphones.”

You made your way to your room and put on your noise cancelling headphones, passing the time by scrolling and catching up on work emails, before falling asleep.

You didn’t sleep through the night, instead waking up in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was just beginning to round itself along the golden coast. You left your room to get a glass of water, not expecting to see the rest of your friends in the kitchen.

Lily looked hungover as hell, leaning her elbow on the counter, her hand resting uncomfortably on her forehead. Oscar was leaning against the counter on the other side while Lando sat at the bar next to Lily, drinking something out of a mug. His flight home was going to leave soon. 

You nodded to your three companions as you sipped your water glass, feeling the tension around you like an oncoming migraine. 

“You feeling okay?” Oscar asked. “Lily said you weren’t doing well last night.”

“Ah, just tired,” you answered. Lily had lied to both Lando and Oscar. That was a conversation for another day. 

“Well rested now?” Lily asked, her voice tinged with anger and fake sympathy.

“I’m fine,” was all you could answer. You glanced at Oscar, who gave you a knowing look. You had no idea what had gotten into her.

“Are you feeling okay, Lily? You look like you’re about to throw up,” you said, a more genuine concern in your voice.

“I’m fine too,” she said, clearly not fine.

Lando’s Uber pulled up, and you took the opportunity to help him transfer all his bags in one trip.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on with her?” he asked as you heaved the suitcase up into the trunk.

“No idea,” you answered. “Before you all got to the restaurant last night she was being…weird. For the record, I didn’t put her up to any of that.”

“I figured as much. You’re not the type.” Lando was right—it was common knowledge that you were happily single. 

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. For the record, it made me uncomfortable too.”

He exhaled. “Eh, we’re cool. No hard feelings, yeah? I’m sure she’ll snap out of it.” 

“I hope so,” you said, giving him a wave as the car disappeared into the winding roads of the coast.

Back in the house, you could hear Oscar and Lily whispering to each other. You wanted nothing more than to disappear and act like this weird night and morning had never happened, but unfortunately, you had to cross through the kitchen back to your room. 

A hush went through the room when you entered. You walked as quickly as possible through the kitchen, but were stopped by a voice.

“YN,” Lily called. “I think you should leave.”

“Lily—” Oscar interjected.

“I was just going back to my room anyway,” you explained.

“That’s not what I meant. I think you should go home.”

“Lily, don’t do this—” Oscar pleaded. You just stood in shock.

“Actually, let me clarify,” she continued. “YN, I don’t want you here. Go home.”

“Lily!” Oscar interjected. “Don’t say that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, even though it was definitely not fine. “Let me pack and I’ll be on my way.”

You turned and continued back to your room, fully prepared to do as you had just said. But Oscar followed you.

“YN, wait. Stay,” he said. 

“Oscar, it’s fine.”

“I am so sorry that Lily said that, but I want you here.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two or why she’s so upset at me, but if someone tells me to go, I’m not going to overstay my welcome.”

“Still, that was so rude.”

“I’ve got thick skin. I won’t cry myself to sleep over it.” You looked out the window to the coast. “Look, I’ll just find someplace else to stay. A hotel for a few nights is cheaper than trying to reschedule my flight, anyways.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me, Osc,” you said, patting his shoulder. “Go talk to her, figure out what’s wrong.” 

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I already know what’s wrong. She’s mad that we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Then go spend time with her.”

“That was the plan! But, I mean, I’m pissed that she said that to you. And she spent all day yesterday trying to set you and Lando up, which was fucking weird.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled with a twinge of laughter. “Look, with my record I can’t exactly give you love advice, but I don’t mind leaving. You all clearly need some space, anyway. Just text me if you need anything, okay?”

Oscar gave you a flat smile and nod. 

You packed and quickly booked a private room at a local hostel for the next few days, planning to enjoy the last few days as a solo trip. You truly didn’t care, but in the back of your mind, you hoped that everything would be okay. You never received that text from Oscar. 

Back at the house, Oscar and Lily were alone. And neither of them were happy.

“Just fucking go with her if you’re that mad,” Lily said, egging Oscar on. He had always been slow to anger, but he couldn’t deny that he was pissed.

“What is wrong with you?” he questioned. “Why would you say that to her? Do you understand how rude that is? And not to mention the fact that you were being fucking weird with her and Lando all night.”

“Oscar, I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“No, I’m pissed!”

“And, as usual, it’s all about your feelings, hm?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act stupid. Do you know how much I’ve put up with because I don’t want to hurt your feelings? Every vacation, every race weekend, she’s always there. And I put up with her because she’s your friend, but I don’t like her, Oscar.” 

“What did she do to you?” he asked. But Lily couldn’t answer. It wasn’t like there had been a specific incident or falling out; in fact, you had always been kind to her. Lily’s silence was all the answer that Oscar needed. 

“You knew that YN and I were a package deal from the beginning.” 

Tears came to Lily’s eyes. “But this was supposed to be our trip. Just us.” 

“Lily, they were only here for a few days. I specifically set it up so that we’d have 2 weeks to ourselves after they left. Is that not enough?” 

She was silent, at first. Then came a question out of left field. 

“Were you going to propose?” she asked.

Oscar made a face. “Propose?”

“I thought the point of the trip was that you were going to propose.” She looked away, trying to hide her tears. “I’m tired of feeling like an outsider in my own relationship. I’m sick of YN third wheeling, so I thought if I set her up with Lando, maybe she’d leave us alone for a while.” Her voice was tinged with an angry mocking. 

She continued, softer, “Oscar, I want to be your wife, I want to grow old with you—”

But Oscar had little sympathy for her. “That’s really what all this was about? Lily, I’m not proposing any time soon.”

“We’ve been together for nearly five years.”

“I know. But with the season starting soon—”

“There’ll always be another season, another race. Is your plan to just marry me when you retire?” The sarcasm had returned to her voice. “Do you even want to marry me?”

“Of course I do. But we’re young, we have time. I’m in no rush.” 

“I feel like you don’t care about what I want at all.”

“Lily, I’m trying. But I feel like you want me to cut off my best friend and settle down at 22. You’re asking things of me that I can’t give you.”

“Then why are we even doing this?” Lily asked.

“Because I love you, and I want this to work! But Lily, you can’t treat my friends like that. If you’re angry at me, talk to me, but don’t take it out on them. YN is an important part of my life, too.”

“I’m well aware.”

Oscar sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Lily announced, leaving the conversation altogether. 

When she woke up, her head was pounding. Oscar was asleep beside her, his back towards her, no warmth even in his unconscious state. She had slept through the entire day—the moon hung high in the sky. 

As she quietly made her way to the kitchen and got some water and a snack, the memory of what had happened came back, rushing over her. She felt horrible. 

The sleep and food had reset her mind. Make no mistake, she was still upset at Oscar, but what he had said was right—she shouldn’t have taken it out on you. She needed to make it right. 

She texted you. Hey YN, are you awake? I’d like to talk. In person, if you can. 

Only a few minutes later you responded, affirming that you were available and sending the address of your hostel. Lily got there quickly, quietly walking through the rooms to your private room in the back. When you shut the door behind you and you both sat on the bed, she broke down. 

“YN,” Lily began, “I am so sorry about this morning. Truthfully, I was upset at Oscar and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I was so rude.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.

“No, it’s not,” Lily interjected. But she seemed at a loss for words. “I just… sometimes, I feel like I hardly get any alone time with Oscar anymore.”

“Because I’m always there?” you joked, not knowing how close to the truth you really were. Lily didn’t respond. “Look, if you want me to take a step back, I can do that.”

Her response was quiet. “Would that be too much to ask?”

“No.” But it was, in a way. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces, but your expression gave away nothing. “I understand.”

“I don’t think he loves me anymore,” Lily confessed. You normally didn’t want to know the details of their relationship, because the truth was too heavy to bear. But it seemed cruel to cut her off. “I feel like he never wants to be around me, like he prefers his work and his friends over me. I want to get married and he doesn’t. He keeps saying it's too soon and he’s busy, but it’s been nearly five years! I mean, how long does he want me to wait?”

You felt uncomfortable, not sure how to comfort your best friend's girlfriend. So you were honest. “I don’t know, Lily. I don’t know what goes on in Oscar’s head any more than you do.”

“Yes you do,” she replied. “You’ve known him longer.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“No, no, no,” you said, wrapping Lily in an embrace as she cried. “No, he’s not. He loves you so much.”

“No,” she echoed. “He doesn’t.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just held her. 

At one point, your phone buzzed, illuminating the screen. Some unimportant notification, but you noticed the date and time more than that. It was past midnight; Valentine’s Day. 

The third instance was during the first weekend of the 2025 season; the Australian Grand Prix.  

You hadn’t heard from Oscar since the trip. You didn’t really know what to say, and part of you was dreading having to speak to him, knowing that your mere presence was now a strain on his relationship.

Of course Lily wanted more time with him. It made sense. You were present at…most things, actually. But Oscar always invited you, and besides, they lived together. If you had known that you had overstayed your welcome, you never would have gone in the first place.

But on the other hand, you and Oscar had been a part of each other’s lives for nearly double the time that Lily had been around. It wasn’t a competition, but you couldn’t shake that sour feeling that rested in your stomach, that if given the chance, Lily would want you gone for good. 

Regardless, between the trip and the grand prix, life went on as normal. It was odd, since your job was literally running all the official OP81 media pages and merch website. You couldn’t not be a part of his life—you made your living by posting memes about him on the internet and organizing all his merch sales.

So, naturally, you went to nearly all the races to take photos of fans, the paddock, and the garage. It was one of your favorite parts of the job. 

But Australia was different. It was Oscar’s home race, and a place full of memories for you. 

Your family had moved to Australia when you were only seven, having absolutely no friends, except the sweet boy next door in your cul de sac. At first he was cold. You thought he hated you. But you were nothing if not stubborn. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday; for Christmas, you asked for a pink motorized jeep, just like the black one that Oscar—the neighbour boy, back then—had. You squealed for joy when you got it. And the very first thing you did was challenge him to a race.

He ignored you. So you rammed your car into his, causing both of them to break. Ever since, somehow, you’d been inseparable. 

Your parents traveled a lot for work, so instead of constantly going with them, you found yourself staying with the Piastri family for months at a time. Nicole truly felt like your second mom, and Hattie was the sister you never had. And Oscar was…Oscar. It was impossible to describe the bond between you. 

Your parents were never too keen on Oscar, though. They kept it quiet when you were little, but as you grew, their dislike became more outward.

He was 14, leaving for boarding school in the UK. When he told you, you cried. That’s the only time he ever saw you cry.

You wanted to go with him, but your parents couldn’t afford it. He promised he wouldn’t let your friendship die, and he was true to his word. When he got into the higher formulas in racing, he helped you get your job so that you all would never be that far from each other again. 

But your parents always said he was using you, stringing you along, exploiting your labor. Though you’d never admitted it to another soul, they knew you well enough to understand that you loved him. 

You cut your parents off a long time ago. 

Sometimes the fans were worse. Half of them loved you—the half that understood that you could give them access to your idol—but the other half of them called you a beneficiary of nepotism, a gold digger, or a homewrecker. You learned at a young age to develop thick skin. 

And it was how you both behaved on race weekends that really exemplified the difference between you and Lily. 

You liked to be everywhere at once—in the garage trying to interpret the engineers’ technical jargon, in the grandstands taking photos of fans, in the pitlane shooting the shit with the race stewards. You always wore Oscar’s merch, and you wanted to be in the middle of all the action.

Lily, in contrast, was more reserved. She always looked put together, and frankly stunning, at all her appearances. She preferred to watch the race from the comfort and privacy of McLaren hospitality, and when she did interact with fans, she was respectful but short, very conscious of her space.

Neither of you were better or worse than the other. But no one could deny that you were polar opposites. 

You got to Australia before Oscar himself did, having been invited to spend a few days with your surrogate family before you’d have to stay in the hotel, per F1 employee policy. Nicole had told Oscar, who you assumed had told Lily, and when you didn’t hear anything for a few days before you were meant to fly out, you thought everything was fine.

Of course, you thought wrong. 

You spent 3 days with Oscar’s family, relishing the warm feeling of belonging that you’d missed. The Piastri guest room felt more like your own childhood bedroom. Of course, Nicole asked how you’d been, but you were politely distant, wanting to respect the fact that Oscar and Lily’s relationship was none of your business. 

When the pair finally landed in Australia and made their way to Oscar’s childhood home for the night, though, things worsened. 

When Nicole got back from picking them up from the airport, you were in the kitchen prepping dinner. Hearing the front door close, you looked up and smiled, greeting the group.

“YN! What are you doing here?” Lily asked, her voice tentative. 

Nicole answered for you. “Oh, she’s been here since Sunday. I’m so happy to have all my kids under the same roof again,” she joked, turning to Oscar to reach up and pinch his cheeks.

Lily just gave a pained smile. 

You didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t talked to Oscar in nearly a month. You wanted to honor her wishes—but it seemed like her wish was for you to vanish into thin air. 

The rest of the night you were unusually quiet, trying to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult for Nicole to notice that something was up, but she knew better than to bring it up in front of the whole table. 

After dinner she wanted everyone to gather in the living room and watch a movie, which you quickly bowed out of, complaining of exhaustion. 

As the credits rolled, Nicole leaned over to whisper to Oscar, “Is everything okay with YN?” 

Lily overheard and interjected, “She’s fine.” Nicole raised an eyebrow. 

Oscar responded, “The home grand prix is always busy for her.”

The answer wasn’t sufficient enough to crush Nicole’s suspicions, but she didn’t have any more time to pry as her son and his girlfriend quickly decided to retire for the night themselves. 

The next morning, as everyone was packing to get to the hotel, Nicole decided to ask you herself if everything was okay. But predictably, again, you just said that you were fine. And the morning was so hectic that she didn’t really have the time to interrogate you.

Once you all got settled and to the track for media day, work mode took over, and you forgot all about the tension at the Piastri family home. Though you quite literally were paid to follow Oscar around all day, you felt more like the paparazzi than his friend, hardly ever speaking to him.

And as you went back to the hotel room alone to edit and post for tonight, you felt like a stranger in your own body. 

You didn’t want to do this anymore. You missed your friend, but more importantly, you missed being yourself.

But what were you supposed to do? You loved Oscar. Oscar loved Lily. Lily hated you. 

You were stuck between three impossible choices: stick around and be forced to subdue yourself into a shell of your true personality until Lily decided she wasn’t upset at you anymore, lose everything you’d ever built by quitting and moving away like you knew she wanted, or continue being yourself and possibly cost Oscar the love of his life. 

Yeah, this was a wonderful predicament you found yourself in, through no fault of your own.

You moved like a zombie through the free practices and qualifying. When it was finally time for the grand prix, you assumed your usual place in the McLaren garage, for work if nothing else.

But then, Oscar won. 

No team rules. No convoluted strategies. Just Oscar doing what he did best.

You couldn’t hear your own thoughts over the shout of the garage and the crowd in the distance, cheering out for their hometown hero. You ran out with everyone to the barricades to greet your best friend.

Though he still had his helmet on, you could see the effects of his smile in his squinted eyes. He pumped his fist in the air, cheering to himself before running to the barricades to jump into the waiting arms of the crowd. You cheered with them, overwhelmed with pride. 

Oscar locked eyes with you, cupping your face with his gloved hands and pressing the top of his helmet to your forehead. “I did it, YN!”

“You did!” you yelled, smiling ear to ear. 

Of course, people took photos. Photos that Oscar posted later that night. 

Lily didn’t like it—the sweet intimacy of the moment, front and center on Oscar’s Instagram page. Why would you post that? It was like you were taunting her. 

Lily sat on the edge of the hotel bed while Oscar showered, both of them preparing to meet you, Lando, and a few McLaren team members to celebrate his win. 

When Oscar emerged from the bathroom, Lily asked him, “Osc, can you do me a favor?”

“Hm?” he murmured as he dried his hair. 

“Can you take down that picture that YN posted?”

“YN posted something?” he questioned, grabbing his phone. As his social media manager, you had access to all his accounts, but occasionally he’d post something himself, too. “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

Lily pursed her lips. “The first picture from the post she made an hour ago.” 

“Oh, this?” Oscar held up his phone. “I posted that.” 

Lily was silent. 

“Why do you want me to delete it? It’s a good photo.” 

Lily just looked at him. Oscar sighed and archived the photo. “There, happy?”

His tone was much harsher than he intended, but to be honest, he was getting tired of the constant fighting, and his patience was wearing thin. 

Lily kept quiet, just silently going into the bathroom to start doing her makeup.

In the lobby of the hotel an hour or so later, you awkwardly stood with Lando waiting for the couple to arrive. Once again you were torn—should you miss out on celebrating with your best friend on his first ever home win, or should you go and strain his relationship further? 

You were just going to say screw it and go back up to your room when you saw Lily and Oscar walking towards you. Though there was no tension between them, there was no love either. They both just looked…tired. 

Everyone had decided to keep it relaxed for tonight, just doing a nice group dinner with Oscar’s family. It was fine, albeit a tad awkward, because you were sitting between Lando and some McLaren employees you didn’t know, at the opposite end of the table from Lily, Oscar, and his family. 

You knew this couldn’t continue forever. Something had to break. And it did, when you and Lando ended up back in Oscar and Lily’s room, drinking your way through a bottle of nice champagne. 

The alcohol seemed to have calmed Lando’s nerves, as he was actually normal with you. And Oscar was a blushy, smiling mess and he and his teammate laughed at something you couldn’t remember. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but the mood was ruined by Lily’s drunken slurring. “Oh my God, YN, just shut up! Go away!” she giggled and grabbed Oscar’s arm. 

Usually, you were calm, letting any infraction roll off of you like waves on the beach. But the alcohol emboldened you. 

“Lily, what the fuck is your problem with me?” you asked.

The mood shifted, and Lily gave you a look of disgust. “I was just joking, God.”

“No you weren’t.” 

Lando chimed in. “Well, I think I gotta call it a night.” He got up and patted Oscar on the back. The two men stood up to walk out, leaving just you and Lily alone in the hotel room. 

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but don’t act like there isn’t one. It’s obvious that you don’t want me around, I don’t know what I ever did to you.”

Lily had clearly been sobered up by your seriousness. Still, she burst into tears. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

You sighed, unable to keep your anger in the face of her cries. She continued, “I just… Oscar and I were each other’s first everything. First love, first kiss…first time. I love him so much.”

“I’m not trying to steal him from you.” 

Lily was quiet, and so were you. Something she had said gave you pause. 

They were each other’s first everything—no, that couldn’t be true. 

Because you were Oscar’s first. 

It had been many years—you were both 18—and you had never spoken about what happened. But you remembered. 

He came back home for Christmas from the UK. It was before he had even met Lily. 

You welcomed him home with an embrace—even with the frequent phone calls you had, you couldn’t help but miss your best friend, now here before you, in the flesh.

Neither of you could sleep that night, and somehow you both found yourself in Oscar’s childhood bedroom, quiet in the early hours of the morning.

Though it was warm outside, Nicole had a habit of keeping the house frigid, so you and Oscar huddled together under the handmade quilt that decorated his bed. The moment was tender and quiet, together in the soft darkness. 

“Do you like it in the UK?” you asked him, your question searching for a genuine answer. 

“It’s okay, I guess. It’s what I have to do for the races.”

“But do you ever get…lonely?”

He paused. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

You traced small circles on the skin of your leg. The closeness of the moment was uncomfortable. 

“But you have friends, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re not, y’know, friends for life.”

“I get you.” You really did, not having many friends of your own since Oscar left. “But you must have a ton of girls, though. They all want the cool race car driver.” You smiled, trying to use your humor to lighten the intimacy of the moment. 

“No,” was all he answered. “And if I had a girlfriend, you’d be the first to know, anyway.” In the dark of the room, you could only see the outline of his features, but you could feel the pull of his eyes looking at you. “What, do you have a boyfriend? Is that why you’re bringing this up?” he asked. 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“What do you mean, of course?”

“I mean, why would I have a boyfriend? I have no friends and half the people at school think you don’t even exist.”

“What?” he laughed.

“Well, yeah, when I say my best friend drives race cars in the UK, most people think I’m making you up.” 

“Shit,” he laughed. 

“So, yeah, it doesn’t exactly get me dates,” you laughed. You felt your throat stiffen. “I haven’t even had my first kiss or anything.”

The silence in the room was thick. “I haven’t either,” Oscar confessed. 

You found it hard to believe. Oscar was handsome, funny, everything a girl could want. Neither of you had ever been social butterflies, though. 

Under the blanket, Oscar reached for your hand, placing it in his. Your heart was beating out of your chest; you had never even held a boy’s hand. 

“We could just…do it now,” he said. “Just to get it over with.” He feigned his usual nonchalance, but you could feel the increase of his heartbeat and the ever so subtle tremble in his voice. 

It would be easy for you to laugh it off like a joke. But you knew it wasn’t. And you wanted him. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice breathy with nervousness. 

You sat up on the bed, and saw the dark outline of his figure leaning towards you, gently tilting your head. 

And when his lips met yours, it felt like home. Like everything in your entire life had left you up to this moment, here in the warmth of your best friend’s childhood bedroom.

The kiss lasted longer than you anticipated, but when he did pull away, it was too soon. You were grateful for the darkness that hid your expression. But even without the light, Oscar could see the truth behind your eyes.

“We could…keep going.”

“Okay,” you repeated. 

One of his hands found your waist now, pulling you closer, as his other hand pushed back your hair that had fallen in your face.

Once again his lips met yours. It wasn’t like a spark within you—more like a calming, a sense of peace and safety. Of all the boys you’d crushed on before, Oscar was different. You trusted him with everything. 

And you showed him so. 

He slipped his tongue past your teeth, tentative, as if he was scared to do the wrong thing. But you let him close the gap, your own tongue gliding along his, goosebumps going down your back the closer you got. 

He wanted to put his hands all over you, but he was nervous.

He pulled away. “I…don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t either. Is it actually your first time?”

“Yeah. You don’t mind me being your first?”

“I trust you.”

So you both took it slow, taking each other’s hands where you wanted to be touched, not focusing on anything but the other. 

The love you made was quiet and simple, beautiful yet imperfect. But you didn’t need perfect. You just needed him. 

The next morning, you slipped out of his room before anyone was awake, afraid of what would happen if they found out.

But no one ever did. Oscar never said a word about it ever again, and neither did you; after the holidays, he went back to school and met Lily, and the rest was history. 

But you remembered. And as you sat in that hotel room years later waiting for him, you felt numb. 

By the time he got back Lily had calmed down, but you couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You announced your departure, but Oscar decided to walk you out, too. 

You closed the door behind you, but Oscar pulled you to not leave so quickly. 

“Hey, is everything alright with you and Lily?”

“No. It’s not.” 

He sighed. “I don’t know why she’s being like this.”

You just stared at him, your face blank. 

“What,” he asked, “don’t tell me you’re mad too.”

“Was Lily your first?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” 

Oscar looked over his shoulder. “I’d really rather not talk about this in the hallway…”

“So do you want to go in the room and talk about it? In front of her? Because you lied to one of us. Which one was it?”

“YN, it’s—”

“Which one of us did you lie to, Oscar?”

He let out a sharp exhale, knowing there was no way to escape your line of questioning. He leaned down to whisper to you. “I didn’t lie to her. She just…assumed, and I never corrected her.”

“That’s still lying.”

“You really think I should go in there and tell her the truth?” His voice dripped with frustration.

“Yes. She deserves to know.”

“You know why I never told her? Because I knew this shit would happen, she’d get jealous and try to push you out of my life. If I tell her now, she’ll make me choose between the two of you.”

“Do you blame her?” you asked, astounded at how Oscar could be so clueless.

“Seriously?” he retorted. “You think she’s justified in doing all this to you? The entire reason she’s mad is because she knows if she tries to make me choose, I’m not choosing her.”

“Don’t say that! Oscar, she’s your girlfriend. You should love her.”

“I do. But things just…aren’t the same anymore. It’s like she wants me to change my whole life for her. I can’t do that.”

Unbeknownst to you, Lily got up from the bed and walked to the door, pressing her ear to it, where she could faintly hear you and Oscar arguing. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Oscar continued. “And if you don’t want her to split us up, just let me handle it.”

“Oscar, she deserves better than this. I’ve missed spending time with you, but… you’ve got to tell her the truth.”

Lily opened the door. “I knew it,” she said, her eyes full of tears. “I knew you were cheating.”

Your eyes were wide as dinner plates as Oscar cursed to himself. “Lily, I swear to God that is not what happened—”

“Don’t. Don’t even try,” she said, but Oscar pushed his way back into the room anyway. He looked back to you, and even without words, you knew it was time to go. You needed some sleep.

Unfortunately, Oscar would not be getting any sleep tonight. 

“Oscar, just stop lying to me! I’m tired of this!’ Lily cried, curling her legs to her chest as she sat on the bed.

“Lily, I swear, I have never cheated on you. What YN and I were talking about was something from a long time ago.”

“We’ve been together for five years!”

“Can I just explain myself? Please?”

Lily just broke down in sobs. “Do whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

Oscar sighed. “Look, I…I have lied to you. You weren’t my first. YN was.” He looked at his girlfriend, who was still just silently crying. “It was before we even met, and it was just once, and we’ve never done anything since. I would never cheat on you, I love you and—”

“When and where was it?” Lily asked, cutting him off with her statement more like a command than a question.

“The December before we met, when I came home for Christmas.”

“In your bed?”

He nodded.

“Oscar, I slept in that bed next to you the other night.”

He said nothing. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Haven’t I been good to you?”

“Lily, I promise, I love you more than anything.”

“Then why would you lie to me for five years?”

Oscar took a deep breath and said, “Because I was afraid you would be upset. People don’t understand that me and YN are just friends. I mean, we were raised together, she’s like my sister.”

“You had sex with her. You took each other’s virginity.”

“It wasn’t…like that.”

“How can it not be like that? Do you even hear what you’re saying?” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

About an hour after you left, you heard a knock on your hotel room door, and you answered. It was, of course, Lily. 

“Tell me whatever Oscar wouldn’t,” she said. Her eyes were still puffy and red. 

You welcomed her in, beginning to tell her the entire truth. “Oscar and I had sex when we were 18, before he met you. We never talked about it afterwards. After you met I didn’t want to bring it up, I just assumed he’d do the right thing and tell you. I didn’t want to pry into your relationship.”

So, your stories matched. And Lily knew that you were nothing if not honest. 

“Do you love him?”

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend.”

“No, I mean, are you in love with him?” 

You didn’t answer immediately. What were you supposed to say?

Tears fought their way to the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I don’t know,” you began, but that was a lie, you did know. “I guess…I have a special type of love for him. We grew up together. When we were younger, yes, I wanted to be his girlfriend. But then he met you, and… Lily, he was so happy! I just…I realized that I wanted him to be happy more than I wanted him to be mine. So I made peace with the fact that this is how it had to be.”

Lily was overwhelmed with your honesty, in the face of so much deception. 

You continued, “I don’t blame you for being upset at me. Oscar should have been honest about what our friendship was like from the very beginning instead of lying to you. But I swear, we haven’t done anything while you all have been together. I’ve been cheated on and I know how much that hurts, I would never do that to anyone else. I’m so sorry it ended up like this.”

“No,” Lily said, “You’re the only one who’s been honest with me throughout all of this. Thank you.”

After that, you hadn’t heard from Oscar after that for a long time. Or, at least, a few weeks felt like a long time to you. But you had other pressing matters—your workload was through the roof with Oscar’s wins. Lando had snatched himself a win too, setting up an early battle for the championship. It was too early into the season to call it, but you knew Oscar was feeling the pressure with the possibility of his first championship dangling so close in front of him. So you kept your distance, not wanting to be a distraction.

That was, until he called you, saying just those three painful words.

“Lily left me.”

The sun was cresting over the horizon, illuminating the thick glass of your balcony and flooding light into your living room. You hadn’t gotten an ounce of rest. 

From your bedroom, you could hear Oscar snoring. You just let him sleep. 

God knows you both needed it. 

[saetiate]

itoshi rin x f!reader smut, portal sex, lowk witchcraft (sigils mean that his sex toy = your pussy basically), very slight semi-public don't get caught stuff (you don't actually get caught), oral f!receiving, p in v word count: 1.75k author's note: please save me i'm deranged

Rin has loved you for years.

He twists his phone in his hand, your contact name right at the top of his notifications. Just thinking about confessing to you has his insides turning, makes him want to slam his head into the nearest wall. He'd rather waterboard himself than say something.

He almost runs into the old lady that holds a hand up to stop him in his tracks.

She tells him that he "seems to be in a bit of a predicament," which he doesn't get at all. But then he looks up as she lead him into a little store right next to a sex shop, handing him something in one hand, the other hand holding up the little machine for making a payment.

Imagine her whilst you use this.

That's easy enough. He's been imagining having you for years. Memorized what your laugh sounds like, twinkling windchimes; how your face looks when you smile.

The toy part is new though. He turns it around. There's a little image near the base of it, like a drawing of some sort.

God, this is so dumb. He knows it even as he lays down in bed and closes his eyes. But then he finds himself all-too-easily imagining your thighs clasped around his head, the taste of you fresh on his tongue.

You're at work when it starts.

You're in the pantry getting a necessary pick-me-up coffee between lunch and the end of the work day when you start to feel something between your legs that makes all your movements stop. Something that has wetness blooming immediately. You try to shake it, keep the thought boxed up in the back of your mind, but you- you can feel it. Can feel something between your legs even when you know logically there's nothing there.

The only thing you know is you've got to get out of here. Away from your coworkers and their gossip session in the corner, the girl kicking the printer at the end of the corridor as you stumble into your office. You quickly pull on the blinds to shut them, only half-registering locking the door before you're falling into your seat.

What the fuck.

It feels like a searing hot, wet tongue is cleaving right between your folds. Your hand clamps around your mouth with a slap, hyperaware of the feet you can see walking by your office right at the bottom of your blinds. Hyperaware that anyone could still knock, have a question or need an update.

You've always been glad to have your own office, but you've never been quite so grateful now. When your legs are clasped together so tight they ache, and slick drips down your cunt.

The worst part might be that the only person that's running through your mind throughout all this is Rin.

Rin, who you've known for years. Who has been a stable friend. Who you know is attractive to the point of model-beauty, successful and busy and you're being forced to come to terms with the fact that this is not the first time you've thought of him like this. Clear blue eyes that peek past your inner thighs and lap at your cunt with so much fervor you're almost embarrassed.

You swear you can feel the tap of the tip of his tongue over your clit, the precise way it circles around that has you leaning over your desk, gripping it tight. It's a miracle you haven't made a loud enough sound to disturb. You feel the wave of your orgasm coming to you fast. How long has it been since you've had someone eat you out so vigorously? How is it so clear in your mind to the point where you can feel every movement, unpredictable even to you?

You feel a tongue lap over your clit again and again, the noise of the office outside turned background as the coil in your gut turns tight and you're keening over, coming hard in your chair, so wet you're half worried about whether it's seeped through your work clothes.

You think that's it, and then —

It gets so much worse.

You can feel something entering you, a hardened phantom-cock that slides past your wet folds with ease, every inch sinking in. You squeal behind your hand, shutting your eyes tight.

This you can't just be imagining, not when you can feel the stretch of your pussy accommodating for what's entering you. It slides back out of you just a little before pushing in even further, so big it feels like it's bullying you. You think you can almost feel the warmth radiating off of it from between your legs.

You can't help but moan when you finally reach what you think (hope) is the base, cock head pressed so deep in you that you feel stuffed full.

~

Rin half-thinks he's losing his mind, crazy with how hot and wet what is supposed to be a toy feels as he slides it over his cock. Are sex toys supposed to feel like this? It's so tight around his cock, contracting on its own, he feels like he's being pushed out. He tries to pull out just a little, only to feel like he's being sucked in instead. Like even you can't decide how you want him.

He gives in to his own temptation, pressing in despite the way it feels like a vice wrapped around his cock, and resistance gives way to slick, wetness dripping over and coating his member.

He feels dizzy with need as he presses in close, until the toy is around the whole of his cock, right at the base, the head of his cock hitting the back of it. Everything is warm and wet as he can't help the way his hips thrust up into it anyways.

~

You feel the phantom cock lodge deeper inside you even as you mentally beg to no one that you're so full, that there's no way you can take any more.

The way it fucks into you is with an intensity you've never experienced before, pressing into you over and over again. Your heart beats fast in your chest; the thrusts a little too fast, too deep to what you're used to. You want them to slow down and keep going all at once, slumping over your desk in a silent scream.

~

He imagines you in different ways, clear like sunlit water, something that both scares him and makes his dick throb. Underneath him, pressing your thighs close to your chest, slamming into you with his mouth against the column of your neck, and then lapping up your sweat in the valley between your breasts. On top of him, his hands on your waist as he brings you up and down over his cock.

All Rin can think about is how good it feels, your pussy wrapped around his cock. How you'd look under him, flushed and pretty. He wants to drop his head in the crux of your shoulder, breathe you in, listen to you moan and whine. He can feel your slick drip down his cock, how you're clenching around him so hard it makes him hiss and grit his teeth.

"Fuck," the words leave him in a heated exhale. "Gonna-"

~

The way his cock fucks into you is so pointed, something that feels like lithe fingers circling your clit until stars burst into your vision. Another heated hand feels seared to your side, pulling you down over his cock.

Your hand is wrapped around your mouth so tightly, afraid to make a noise, your breath coming hard and fast as starlight sparks up your spine, a desperate mewl leaving the back of your throat.

Hearing Rin groan next to your ear, more real than you have ever imagined before — that has you crashing hard into an orgasm.

~

Rin feels your walls get impossibly tighter around him. He wants to see you like this in reality. Wants to see if you really arch your back in exact way he's imagining, wants to press a long kiss to your lips as his hot breath pants over your skin.

Your cheek pressed against his cheek, saying his name. The details all come together. An embarrassing dream he will never admit to anyone, something as soft as his name on your lips and your skin pressed against his, enough to run him entirely speechless, making him rut into the toy, and has him spilling into it.

~

Fractured breaths make their way up your throat as you come to your senses, spell like a fog descending and dissipating into the ground.

You're in your office. You can make out the click-clacking of keyboards outside the room, light chatter, the sound of your emails coming in.

Oh, fuck. How long were you out for? You can feel the mess between your legs, your pussy both is dripping and isn't, your slick soaking your panties, damp against your inner thighs.

But somehow it's… not as much as you initially thought it was? How it felt?

Your hands find your phone before you can think it through, tapping Rin's contact, something both impulsive and natural.

~

Rin's vision finally blinks into reality, the vision of you still like a lingering dream, toy still in his hand. He touches the inside of the toy curiously, a finger tracing the inner wall.

He swears it didn't feel like that when he had his dick inside of it. It felt softer, warmer, slick with need.

Whatever. He probably just imagined it, in his insanity of want for you. He cleans the toy out and chucks it in a box, a dark hidden corner where he doesn't have to see the scam he bought ever again.

And then his phone starts buzzing.

He picks up on fifth ring, after the shock leaves his system.

"Rin?"

"Yeah." He clears his throat, gulping down the emotions he brought up just moments ago.

"Hey! Hey, um. Haha. So I get off work in like, just over an hour ish? Do you wanna- um," he swears your voice sounds almost shaky, out of breath. "Do you wanna get dinner or something? I mean, it's been a while since we met up, hasn't it? And you're like, off-season or something, right?"

Rin spins around to eye where he just threw the toy.

"Yeah." His back hits the wall behind him, a small, soft smile tilting up the corners of his mouth just slightly. "Okay."

hi hello here's the rin version! so the diff between the sae and rin versions is that rin isn't really thinking about why or how this is happening in the moment HAHA he's much more pleasure chasing than sae going what the actual hell is happening and continuing anyways :> OKAY sorry for the wait for this and i hope you enjoyed!!!

[shitpostingkats]

An Asexual's love letter to Good Omens 2

There's an infamous quote by Neil Gaiman going around, regarding the general vibe of season 2, and many people (I believe humorously) yelling that it could not be further from the truth. Particularly in the last episode, where that happens.

I disagree.

The final episode of season 2 was deeply, deeply comforting to me. 

I am asexual. Have been my whole life. Even before I had the words to describe what that was, child-me had this feeling in their gut of being an outlier, that everyone was exaggerating, or in on some joke, that I wasn’t privy to. Because I was bombarded on all sides by shows and movies and books, telling the same story of love, again, and again, and AGAIN. It’s drilled into our brains with the same fervor as the days of the week, or the quadratic formula. Meet-cute -> misunderstanding ->declaration of feelings ->kiss. More or less steps can be added to account for runtime or complexity of narrative, but that’s the basic structure that a relationship follows. It MUST be, because that’s the formula every character who's ever been in a story goes through, often times when it even feels like an add-on, like it’s only there because this is a story, there HAS to be a romance. And it has to follow the steps.

For a long time, I felt love wasn’t for me, because if there’s only one way to be in love, I sure as hell wasn’t feeling it. 

Instead, the relationship I ended up in looked a lot like what Beezlebub and Gabriel go through. Meeting someone routinely until it starts to feel comfortable. Getting to know them and slowly growing more attached. Eating chips and listening to music.

We like to joke whenever someone asks us how long we’ve been together, because the answer is we just sort of slowly fell into it, and we honestly don’t know when the line got blurred between ‘friends’ and ‘partners’. And, at least for me, a good deal of that confusion, that hesitancy to label, came from the fact that what I was feeling, what we were, couldn’t be love. It couldn’t be romantic. 

We were just quiet and gentle.

And that wasn’t love.

Because it was slow, because it wasn’t physical, because there was no structure aside from consistency and companionship. Because it didn’t follow the Rules.

Then I found myself in stories, and it felt like a revelation.

Beelzebub and Gabriel aren’t the first time I’ve seen a love like I feel represented in a narrative, but it never stops feeling special. And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop celebrating it.

Throughout the sequence in the pub, I kept expecting them to “confirm” Gabriel and Beelzebub. A dramatic line, a kiss, a whatever. That’s what I’ve been taught to expect, after all, that’s the only way a relationship is “real”. Of course, this doesn't mean Crowley and Aziraphale sharing a dramatic kiss is wrong, or that I can’t see why it resonated with so many people, but for me. Those moments in the pub are worth so much more.The last scene might have been literally showstopping, but those handful of moments between the duke of hell and an archangel were the beating heart of the season for me. A simple love story in four scenes. No kisses. No ‘I love you’s. Not even any definition of what. The love Gabriel and Beelzebub have is strong enough for them to both want to shatter their worlds and flee their lives and it's just. 

It's just that. 

Two people in a pub, playing the other's favorite song, giving a little gift, buying a packet of crisps. 

That sequence means far more to me than any kiss ever could.

Love isn’t only real when it's hot and sudden and ephemeral, it can also be

Quiet.

And gentle.

And still romantic.

Still real.

[floralcyanide]

ᴜʟᴛʀᴀᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ― ᴀʀᴛ ᴅᴏɴᴀʟᴅsᴏɴ

sugar daddy!art donaldson x afab!sugar baby!reader (nsfw)

a short introduction to you and art's relationship.

⤳ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, mutual orgasm, penetrative sex, age gap (reader is mid 20s)

⤳ word count: 0.4k

⤳ author’s note: I have been struggling to write anything for weeks now and this sorta poured out of me. it's not much but I think I may make this into a blurb series. maybe. idk yet. I'm sorry it's definitely not what y'all wanted or expected. it's not for me either, but I think if I don't do the blurb series, this will be the beginning of my hiatus for now. much love!

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ��ʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Art had ripped off the cute outfit he had picked out for you in a pinch, and it hadn’t even been on for more than ten minutes. Today at practice, he had tentatively braided your hair into two plaits after the rubber band holding your ponytail snapped clean off. Now, he’s gripping them with fervor as he slams into you from behind. Your ass is up in the air with your back arched as perfectly as you can muster despite your sore muscles from earlier. The mix of your pleasure seeping out of you as Art pounds into your welcoming cunt echoes in the room, along with the front of his thighs smacking the backs of yours.

“Just like that,” he leans down to growl in your ear, “Such a good girl for me, hmm? You like me pulling your hair like this?”

You nod, whimpering an incoherent response as you’re delirious from the feeling of Art driving his cock into you. It’s hard to form words at this point. Art chuckles cockily, shoving your face down into the very mattress that he sleeps on every night with his wife. This fact doesn’t slip far from your mind the entire evening or didn’t every evening before this. Tashi, however, didn’t care. As long as you and Art focus on your aspiring tennis career, you can do as you please at the end of the day. Tashi saw herself in you. And after all, there had been an agreement. Art would care for you in numerous ways as long as you played tennis and were coached by him and Tashi. Everything was fine this way and has been for a little while.

Art lands a harsh smack to your right asscheek before gripping it to ground his thoughts, driving himself deeper inside your fluttering walls until he eventually hits your cervix. You elicit a sharp cry at the feeling of unbridled pleasure at the sensation, causing Art to repeat his exact motion over and over until you cum around him, your orgasm washing over you in violent waves. Art finally cums shortly after as the feeling of you losing control underneath him sends him over the edge. You lay on your stomach on the bed, catching your breath as your eyes are heavily shut and unwilling to open. Art runs a hand down your back soothingly, giving you a moment while he pads to the bathroom to retrieve something to clean you up with. 

You still can’t get entirely used to someone taking care of you like this. And for now, you’re going to relish it to its full extent. 

[gorgeous777]

Sneaking Around, Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warning!: This is the first time I've written smut in a few years, so I apologize if it's not very good. And/or any spelling-grammar mistakes.

The following below includes fingering, p in v, somewhat rough sex, and mild degradation. Enjoy!

------------------------

Being around your husband discreetly wasn't exactly an easy feat. Upon his request, you've kept your marriage a secret from the student body. It left things between you private and mostly peaceful. Not that you minded the secrecy. The idea of students spreading unnecessary rumors about the subject didn't sound very appealing. But still, the whole ordeal had its cons. Being affectionate or more-than-professionaly-friendly was out of the question. Though knowing Severus, it was bound to be like that even if you two weren't hiding your marriage. Nonetheless, the way you smiled at him didn't go unnoticed by students. Nor did the occasional flirty comments you left his way.

It rose some suspicion, of course. Suspicion that remained unsolved for the moment. The most widely disliked professor and the nicest together? It didn't make any sense. Merlin forbid a pretty professor like Y/N fancy the dungeon bat that was Professor Snape. You'd overheard the whispers and small talk here and there, and it usually gave you a good chuckle or grin.

Though, like any other thing, it had pros too. Some that gave a thrill or twinge of excitement. Even if it was at the disposal of an agitated husband. Which is what got you where you were right now: sneaking around. Dinner in the Great Hall had ended no to long ago, and student curfew was now in place. Still, there were a few students here and there on their way to their common rooms. You shot them a few warm but awkward smiles as you walked past them. It got you some odd looks, but your focus was elsewhere. Thoughts of him plagued your mind throughout the day. Intimate thoughts. You tried to keep to under wraps, to be calm and not give into temptation. Key word; 'tried'. All the effort needed wasn't there. Being intimate on school grounds was something you normally avoided. The risk of getting caught was huge. Not to mention it put both your jobs in jeopardy. That and your pride. But, as of right now, the risk very much felt worth it.

It was the only thing you could think about throughout the day. During the breaks between classes when you saw him in passing. When you weren't actively teaching. During dinner at the high table when you sat side by side. Surely he couldn't blame you. The way your body felt was out of your control. Not like there was any other man who could satisfy you. Not like him. And so, after a few minutes of awkwardly shuffling about the castle, you found yourself in the dungeons. Frisson coiled through your body as you thought about what was going to happen. With a grin, you pushed the classroom door open. The sound of the heavy wooden door scrapping against the stone floor instantly made the man in the room snap his head in its direction from the shelf he stood broodingly at. A not-so-innocent smile tugged at your lips as your husband gave you a less than pleased look.

"Hello darling" You say while trying to sound like you were up to anything but no good. He quirked an eyebrow at you ever so slightly in suspicion, watching closely as you came into the room and shut the door behind yourself. "...To what do I owe the pleasure of this unannounced visit, Professor?" He finally spoke back after a moment of judgmental silence, his voice upholding its normal monotonic fervor.

A weak, unconvincing chuckle left your mouth as you walked over to him as casually as you could muster. "Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see you is all. Not so bad, right?" Severus' black orbs followed your movements, clearly not impressed. "Seeing as it has evaded me that I didn't marry a woman of sound mind, I will remind you of a previous discussion." In slow, cool steps he came closer to you. And closer. Until the backs of your legs hit the edge of a desk. "..We are to keep a professional air when at work. Is that understood, Y/N?" No response. You stared up at him with an orphic look in your eyes. He was so close you could feel his breath fanning softly against your face.

You swallow lightly, trying to find the words to respond. Though, it was hard, and a shaky exhale came out before anything verbal did. "I.." Your tongue darts out momentarily, wetting your lips. "Sorry." Is all you can muster. Your response was less than satisfactory, and his eyes slowly analyse your face. "Sorry?" He repeats in a slightly mocking tone. You nod your head in response, "Yes." A dry hum came from Severus at your weak confirmation. His lips pursed into a thin line with narrowing eyes. Suddenly, he dipped down and scooped you up in his arms bridal style. He'd made up his mind to something in which you where completely clueless. "Severus what are you-" "Silence." He interrupted.

A small huff of irritation came from you, but you complied with his command without any further protest. Still, that didn't stop the pout that formed on your face. He carries you back to his desk, gently placing you on the edge of it. When you went to open your mouth to speak again, he dipped a hand beneath your dress. Your eyes widen in disbelief and a red color spread across your face. "Tsk." He gives you a scolding look, the tips of his fingers pressing against your damp panties. "Pathetically eager, aren't we?" He said dryly as his fingers snaked beneath the moist fabric and touched your yearning flesh. A sough noise left your lips, earning another scowl from him. "If you had any semblance of self control, you'd do best to keep that pesky little mouth of yours shut." His voice came out like a cold hiss in your ear a he spoke. A stark contrast to his tender touching between your thighs.

Two fingers gently ran along the length of your sensitive flesh before they slowly dipped inside you. A small whimper crept from the back of your throat, and you tucked your face into the crook of his neck in attempt to muffle yourself. His thumb found your clit and circled it lightly as his fingers pumped in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. You let out a little whine of protest at his teasing, only for him to make no change. "C'mon Sev, please. Give me more than that.." You plead, getting an amused scoff from him before he responded. "Always the needy one" And with that, both hands came to your hips. They gently grip the waistband of your panties before slowly sliding them off your legs. Your eyes watch his every move intently; hungrily. He frees himself from the tight restraints of his trousers, already fully hard. You part your legs further, giving him room. One hand lifts your dress as his other moves to hold your hip.

"Keep. Quiet." That was the last thing Severus said before he slowly pushed into you. Your breath hitched at the feeling and you body felt like it just burst into flames. Finally. He rocked his hips in a gentle pace, giving you slow, deep strokes. You slid your hands beneath his arms and placed them on his shoulders blades, gripping at the fabric of his robes. He pulled back until it was just his tip in, then pushing all the way back in. It was good. But not the satisfaction you so desperately craved. His breathing grew heavy and his brow furrowed, mean while you felt more needy than you had all day. He was still teasing you. Cruel was the man you married. You buried your face into his neck and bit down on the skin that peeked out from the collar of his robes. He let out a small grunt, snapping his hips forward in retaliation.

A sharp whimper left your lips at the feeling. That was more like it. You bit down harder, trying to get more out of him. "Quit it, you little brat." He hissed through gritted teeth, his hips snapping forward once more. "Stop tormenting me then" You whine back, your words coming out a murmur against his skin. Suddenly he hooked his arms around your thighs and put your ankles over his shoulders. In the process your back fell flat against his desk. He shot a glare down at you as you looked up at him with wide eyes. At this angle, he was able to push deeper into you. His hips moved at a quicker, more rough pace. Tender moans and whimpers left your lips as your face contorted in pleasure. As if your noises weren't enough to give away what the two of you were doing, wet sounds emerged from your bodies joining together, over and over again. His facial expression was that of a sneer, though the look in his eyes was far from it. Heavily lidded and glazed over with lust.

A low moan of his own left his parted lips, his expression relaxing. So much for keeping quiet. A warm knot had since formed in your lower stomach. Growing hotter and tighter with each erratic thrust Severus gave into you. With every one your body rocked up and down against the desk, only adding to that knot. It was like you could feel every nerve in your body buzzing with pleasure. Tensing and curling on one another. Causing your body to tremble with the intense throbbing between your legs. If there was one thing Severus was good at, it was bringing you over the edge. Even at the disposal of his own release. He angled his hips slightly, then hitting that special spot inside you with each snap of his hips. A long, needy moan erupted from your throat. That knot pooling in your stomach grew tighter. Aching like a sore thumb. Pulsing in all the pleasure point throughout your body.

He could feel his own need starting to rise. His hands moved to your barren thighs and gripped them as gently as he could muster in his state. He needed to feel your skin. Warm and soft flesh beneath his large, rough hands. They knead the supple flesh of your legs, squeezing and massaging them. As if he were trying to make a distraction for himself but failing miserably. "I forget how utterly pathetic you can be," He chokes out with small grunts escaping in his speech "like a bratty child begging for punishment". He grits his teeth once more, feeling you begin to clench around him. Clamping down like a hot, slick vice. His words, though somewhat belittling, added to the delicious fever that plagued your body. His voice, deep, almost like a purr. The smooth, sultry tone he took. As if it were velvet or butter. Caressing your quivering core.

And then you finally reach your boiling point. Pure ecstasy rippled through you like a title wave. Crashing through your core a gushing out all over his length. He continued to thrust in and out of you through your release, prolonging your pleasure. Slowly, his movements came to a stop, and the sound between you two faded. Either of your breathing was labored and uneven. A weak whimper left you as he pulled out, leaving you with an empty feeling. He gently set your legs down, to which you slowly began to sit up, only for him to push you back down.

"Lay back down you silly woman, I'm not done with you yet."

[lazyjellyfish300]

12 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 ~𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑶𝒏𝒆

CW: x fem!reader, smut, oral(m&f receiving), fingering, older dadbod!kento and older reader, mention of having kids ,fluff, au, reader is chubby/plump/curvy

A/n: I had a vision. Some of the plot from the movie Klaus and my unquenchable desire inspired this. it's still the 12th where I am so we're still on time 😩 Idk even what I'm getting myself into with Smutmas but we're gonna say fuck it and see how it goes and how much I can do 🥰

12 days of smutmas masterlist

Wc: 1.5k

dividers by @/saradika-graphics. pics from pinterest.

Hear me out, Kento Nanami as Santa Claus...

Nanami, who retired at the age of 28 and moved to Malaysia. Who loved the sun and lived on that beach for many years.

Nanami, who traded in the powdery white sand and teal seafoam for a humble cabin and blankets of snow in a thicket of evergreens in the far, far north sometime around after he turned 40.

Nanami, who realizes he's got it bad for you, the lovely woman who rides by his cabin while he's chopping wood, on your merry way to sell your world famous cranberry jam to the local village.

Nanami, who has fought some of the most menacing curses known to man, but can't muster up the courage to invite you in for hot chocolate, until one evening.

Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who simply can't say no to the beautiful blonde man with scars on the left side of his face, with crinkled eyes sweeter than the butterscotch goodies you loved to bake, a quiet handsomeness and gentleness he possessed that rattles the forgotten corners of your heart that no man has reached before.

Nanami and Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who both realize when you find yourselves accidentally underneath the mistletoe, that being "just friends" isn't gonna last much longer.

Nanami, who feels so warm and sweet like the peppermint tea he was drinking as he kisses you for the first time.

Nanami, who accidentally leaves a quiet moan in your mouth as the kiss gently escalates in intensity next to the cackling fire. Who turns red and apologizes for moving too fast but doesn't get to finish his sentence before you just grab him and press your lips against his with an even hungrier fervor than before.

Nanami, whose lips part at the elegant curves of your body and how they're even more bewitching against the silk of his sheets.

Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who coos softly, "Kento...", whose fragile voice quivers and shudders as your tight walls gently get coaxed open to the fat swollen tip of his long, heavy cock.

Nanami, whose hands intertwine with yours, who's in love by the first stroke, as your pussy just welcomes him, so soft and gushy, as it tightly embraces every inch.

Nanami and Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who are lost to the throes of pleasure that first passionate night in the cabin. Your legs end up on his shoulders as his thrusting only gets faster and harder in sexy rhythm before he cums inside you, only to sweetly interrupt your fleeting high with the unexpected but delicious warmth of his tongue as he shamelessly laps his love out of you, before a finger or two is added, before he's hard again, and you're onto round 2 already.

---

Timeskip to Kento Nanami who's 58 years old. His belly is softer and hangs over his pants thanks to you, his darling plump wife, who knows how to feed him and his bulking to adjust for the harsh conditions over time.

Nanami, whose golden locks are now overwhelmed by streaks of grey with chest, arm, leg hair, and a happy trail to match. Whose crows feet are more pronounced with laugh lines he's added along with his scars as memories he's made with you. Who's taken the liberty of growing his beard out ever since you complimented it.

Nanami, with a pair of thick thighs and a juicy bum that pillows when he sits in his chair by the fire after giving you a kiss, the fleeting cold on his lips, cheeks still rosy, and the faint gleam of sweat on his brow from working in the snow.

Nanami, who has always been that sweet soul you fell in love with and decides one year to leave the wooden creations he made in his shop for your future children you never had as surprises for the local kids in the village as a random act of goodwill.

Nanami, who realizes his small gesture is now the talk of the town and the kids can't wait for the mysterious "Santa Claus" to visit if they're lucky again.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who loads up a bag on his sled pulled by a small team of reindeer, visiting home after home to ensure no kids are left behind, a twinkle in his eye as he rides away into the night and imagines the adorable smiles that will break out that morning.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who now has a large workshop of loyal elves after they happened upon your humble abode in search of work one day.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's the best boss around and offers free meals, a place to live, PTO, paid vacations, a pension, retirement, and 3 years worth of parental leave to his elves in exchange for their labor.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who upgraded to 9 reindeer who are the best kept reindeer on planet earth, spoiled with endless carrots and pets and cuddles to pull his sleigh every Christmas.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who loves Christmas and all the cookies and milk the kids leave out for him but not quite as much as growing old with you, Mrs. Claus.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's on the cusp of 60 and still fucks like he's in his twenties when he's alone with his you, his lovely wife.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's more pent up than ever before but you wouldn't know it until Christmas Day when he lumbers into your shared bedroom after a busy night of delivering presents.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who doesn't need mistletoe to fuck your brains out. The workshop is empty, every one is home celebrating the holiday that was a year in the making while he's slowly peeling those frilly pajamas off your body and discarding them on the polished wooden floor.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's eating his favorite cookie of all, the one between your thighs that seems to mold to his tongue like you were made just for him by now.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who drinks his fair share of homemade ale but has never been drunker than right now when he's going down on you.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who has a knack for licking his plate clean(hence his dadbod) which has only served him extremely well when it comes to licking up both sides, underneath and all around your perky clit in slobbery trails that leave you a shaky mess.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who is happy to take his time. The gift of aging has left you both with a delay in getting ready, but it's considered a win since you both could spend all day with your heads in each other's crotches like it was all you were meant to do.

Santa Claus!Nanami who whispers in your neck while he fingers you,

"So good for me, darling. Always so warm and wet for me. I'm such a lucky man..."

"Did you think of me while I was gone, sweetheart? Bet you did, oh I can tell, darling. So naughty underneath that innocent smile...and just for me..."

"Kento..." You rasp as his lips snake around your nipple as he angles his thick fingers that are soaked by now in search for all those spots that make you cry to the stars, the soft wisps of his beard scratching the wrinkly skin of your inner thighs, and the aching bud of your clit. "Gonna cum too f-fast..."

"Isn't that the point, darling?" He groans. "You know I love it when you soak my beard. Don't be shy, now, love..."

And when you do his eyes are closed and he's humming like he tasted dessert for the very first time, nectar stained beard he wears with pride and it's no surprise he's already going back for seconds.

Santa Claus!Nanami and Mrs. Claus!Reader, who've been at it for nearly two hours now, surpassing the record you two set last Christmas.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's already cummed inside you twice, but hasn't quite had enough of you yet. Your mouth is dribbling up and down his shaft with mindless strokes of your head and eyes rolled back. You're relishing the salty taste, saliva mixed with the milky white thinly dripping around the base, letting the absent-minded little thin spurt of cum for his nth orgasm trickle down your throat while his tongue lazily squelched in and out of the unrecognizable gob of juices that built around your wet entrance from endless orgasms he drew out of you already, groaning when you manage to squirt another warm trickle right into his waiting mouth.

Santa Claus!Nanami and Mrs. Claus!Reader, now cuddled up in one another in the large porcelain tub with the jacuzzi jets, faint smell of pinecone candles lit on the countertop and bubbles all around you easing their way into your aching joints.

"Merry Christmas," he whispers to you.

Santa Claus!Nanami, whom with forever only gets sweeter as the blissful passage of time with him by your side makes it feel like Christmas every single day.

@actuallysaiyan

[superhoeva]

aaaaaand I want Rick Grimes to bend me over a tree stump and fuck me after he survives a fight, with who idk, but all that adrenaline would make him feral and I want to be on the receiving end of it. 👏👏👏

tw(s): smut (+18), p in v sex, rough sex, irritated!big dick!rick, f!reader, blood (mentioned), fighting (mentioned), bodily fluids (mentioned); set sometime during the s5!alexandria period (where rick is lowkey outta his mind and more often than not covered in blood lol) ⋆·˚ ༘ * word count: 0.8k

Rick looks straight out of a nightmare–face caked in blood that isn't his, shoulders tight, and rutting his dick into you with barely contained growls of self-indulgence.

You don’t know who he had fought or why, yet the adrenaline is still wafting from him at an incredible speed. It surges throughout his entire self, pulsing with a heated vengeance as he snaps his hips against you, hand keeping you pressed into the half-broken stump of a tree the two of you had stumbled upon.

Target practice was all he’d grumbled to Deanna when she’d asked what business he had outside the wall, not bothering with explaining himself any further before calling for you to join though a simple With me.

‘Target practice.’ It’d make you laugh if the tip of Rick’s cock wasn’t ramming itself into your innermost terrains. Splitting you open so deeply that he has to cup a hand around your mouth to muffle the groans that punch out of your chest.

He’s pissed, you can tell. Not at you particularly, and, in fact, you’re the only thing that’s keeping the bubbling anger at the bottom of his stomach just that–still there but simmerming low enough to keep his head more often than not. These people, with their dinner parties and their haircuts and their leaving the tower empty, should be lucky you’re here. Glad that Rick has the opportunity to channel his dissatisfaction into this eye-rolling, ferocious stroke. Reserved only for you and the way your ass looks when it smacks back into him.

“They got not fuckin’ idea what they’re doin’ here, do they?” Rick growls the question quietly, not bothering to listen for an answer. He gets like this when he fucks you sometimes… growly and babbling with no filter, under a pussy induced trance. (His pussy Rick had declared one day.) “Deceivin’ themselves into thinkin’ they’re safe when they can’t even man their walls. But not you, though–nah, you get it. You get me, you help me… keep me sane ‘n warm. Make sure the group feels loved and secure, keepin’ us together. Keepin’ me together…”

Rick is panting, and you’re weeping out noises into his hand now; at his words and the slick gathering along his girth. Moving his other hand from your back, Rick wraps his arm around your front and forces you upwards. Groaning at the new angle, he quickens his pace with an exactness that weakens your knees. Desperate huffs of air peppering out of him, the man fucks you with a fervor that forewarns you to how close he’s getting. How badly he needs you to cream your mess while he’s stuffed inside you like this.

God, he’s huge. Rubbing against your walls with veins that track his entire length. Thick head stretching and punching you a total of four more times before he has to cover your mouth again, vacuuming your wails into his rough palm. He has to bite his tongue a few seconds after, the squeezing and gushing of your hole enough to milk out the thick, filling ropes of his cum. Rick grunts his way through it, cock pulsing hard enough to force his mouth open with unsteady groans. He gives you one last solid thrust before letting himself stay tucked inside your drooling heat.

“God,” Rick breathes, bending to bury his face inside your neck. He’ll explain the blood that rubs off onto your skin to whoever questions it with ease. Walkers. She handled it, though. Just like always. Shaking his head, he laughs a little. A bit calmer now that he’s fucked out his indignations. You’ve eased his troubles, just by being you. “Pussy like this doesn’t make much sense, darlin’.”

You let the quiet stand as your answer, Rick patting your side tenderly before easing out his softening cock.

Neither of you say very much as you regain your breaths. Rick pulls up your panties and cargos. You button and zip his jeans, the man barely letting you finish the action before reaching to cup your face. His thumbs stroke your cheeks and he stares at you hard. Not blinking and watching you scan the mess of his face.

“Better?” You finally question, soft and already-knowing. Rick puffs a laugh, lips quirking with a half-smile. Sniffing, he nods… and then nods again because he’s completely certain of his answer.

“Mm-hmm… always am with you,” he eases out. “Didn’t rock ya too hard, did I?”

“Might need to hold your arm for the walk back,” you tease, pulling a wide grin from Rick. “But I think I’ll live.”

“Yeeeah, you better,” he drawls, moving to peck your lips. When you dodge the kiss, Rick pouts into a fake frown. “What, you don’t like me, now?”

A chuckle shakes his chest when you shove him away with a drunk grin. “You’re filthy.”

“You never cared ‘bout that before.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, turning and starting a half-hidden limp in the direction of the commune. “Changed my mind. Don’t like you.”

Rick takes two quick strides to meet your pitiful pace, swatting his hand right onto your ass, and smirking at the squeal you let out. You're nudged into his side, arm automatically looping with his as you keep walking. Keeping you close. Tight.

“Hm. Pussy says otherwise, sugar...”

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[jjwistar]

( drabble ) vampiro ̨ ! 𓉸ྀི 一 이해찬 ՞

vampire!haechan x f!reader • NSFW (mdni)

genre: smut cw: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), dirty talk, creampie, yandere vibes; reqs: open | m.list

vampire!haechan who was absolutely and completely obsessed with you. he's seen a lot of attractive people in his life, but you were by far the most enchanting creature he's ever laid eyes on—which says a lot considering he's been alive for the best part of the last 500 years.

vampire!haechan who would follow you at night just to make sure you were safe. he wouldn't call it stalking as he had no intention of hurting you or anything like that, but just knowing you were safe would put his non-pumping heart at ease.

vampire!hyuck who was a huge bit of a perv. he knew where you lived, obviously. and sometimes he'd sneak into your room to watch you sleep, utterly smitten with you. and sometimes, during your deep slumber, he'd snag a panty or two—he'd have them wrapped around his thick and aching cock during the nights when his thoughts were solely focused on you and your addicting scent:

"fuck y-y/n... wish i was fucking your pretty pussy instead right now" he'd moan into the late hours of the night. "bet you'd be so tight and warm... fuck i wanna ruin you..." after replacing the image of his fist with fiercly fucking into your tight walls, he came in no time.

vampire!hyuck who finally introduced himself to you and was able to get close to you and actually ask you out and become romantic partners. it didn't take long for the both of you to let your relationship grow hot and heavy...

haechan was fucking into you with so much fervor, you thought that you were going to pass out. you're not entirely sure how you both ended up here; your ass up, back arched, and face smushed into the sheets while haechan was practically splitting you open. but honestly, you're too fucked out to care. "fuck, baby, you're squeezing me so good."

your brain was mush; all you can comprehend was the beautiful man hitting all the right places inside of you. your mind could only repeat his name like a mantra 'hyuck hyuck hyuck' god you could feel him in your guts, you could feel him in the back of your throat, you could feel him absolutely everywhere.

before you could process anything next, haechan unloads so much of his cum into your spent pussy. "ugh baby... fu-uck yeah, just like that. take it, take all of it. g-gonna fill you up for days..." your eyes rolled so far back into your head, you swear you see heaven. you feel oh so deliciously full; full of his cock, full of his cum, and so full of his love. no lover of yours has ever made you so loved before.

you can't even come down from this high properly because he's already flipping you onto your back and slotting his head between your thighs. haechan was nothing if not a messy fucker. immediately, he got to work on your cum-filled hole. he was eating you out like a man starved. you were so overstimulated and sensitive, you knew you weren't gonna last. "hyuck... n'more please." there were pathetic tears in your eyes, and they only spurred him on even more. moving his face away from your perfect cunt, he pleads, "c'mon baby, gimme one more. please baby, i know y'got one more."

he goes back to making out with your sensitive pussy; no rhythm in his technique, just desperately wanting to get more of your addicting juices from you. you were spasming from the overstimulation, and before you knew it, you came. you were practically a gushing waterfall and you covered haechan's entire face in your essence. god, he'd bathe in your cum if you'd let him.

"fuck, baby... you squirted everywhere." he had a crazed look in his eyes, and his fangs were protruding; so sharp, so dangerous, so arousing.

hey! first drabble on this account, yay! i suck at endings but i hope you guys enjoy this! :3

[81pastrys]

Hey I have a Lando smut request if ur feeling up for it. Hear me out: Lando and guided masturbation. Reader and Lando had a small petty argument over smth and readers too stubborn to admit Landos right and Lando being Lando is also being stubborn (rightfully so in this case) but bc they're avoiding each other they're both becoming more needy and so one night reader tries to get herself off but it's not working cuz it's not the same as having Lando do the work and he catches her and basically refuses to help her out in any way except by guiding her (and mean Lando would defo be present here imo) and making her torture herself through his instructions and refusing to help her until she's done what he asked (and until she admits she's wrong). And some lighthearted aftercare at the end of all this filth 😭. Apologies for the long request hope u have a grt day

Guided Mastur Meditation

Summary— She finds herself ignoring Lando after a telemetry fight and can’t help herself trying to ease the sexual tension, but Lando interrupts and ‘helps’

Warnings— SMUT ; teasing ; guided masturbation ; fingering ; aftercare provided

A/N— uhm hello?! I LOVEEE this

Lando One Shot List

“You’re wrong, I saw the data Lando!” She argued, standing her ground in the argument. She was saying that Oscar had the upper hand and bottled it in the race, but Lando argued the opposite.

“No he didn’t, he may have had a better set up, but he didn’t have any upper hand.” Lando stayed calm, he understood the data a lot better than she did, even with her engineering degree. “They set up our cars how we ask them to, he always has a different advantage.”

“Lan, Oscar bottled it.” She calmed down now, not as upset. “Half the turns were over shot and the other half was alright, you barely overshot any!”

“Undershot, love, he undershot the turns.” Lando corrected. She groaned and walked off. He silently laughed to himself. He opened his computer and continued looking to the telemetry. He went over his and Oscar’s. Proving his point to be right.

For the next few days they slept facing away from each other, the stupid argument and their stubborn attitudes clashing. It was probably the longest they had gone without getting each other off and it weighed on them. Her especially, wanting an orgasm from his hands, his mouth, she got wet thinking of it.

She went to their bedroom and played on her phone before sparking the idea to get herself off. Lando was busy right? She searched her socials for a good fan fiction of Lando and put her hand down her skirt that she wore.

She read and slipped a few fingers under her panties, soaked with her arousal. Not that ignoring Lando turned her on, but his calm demeanor throughout it all does. Her fingers gathering the slick, making it easier to rub circles on her sensitive clit.

“He touched her with fervor as he slipped his fingers into her tight cunt” She followed the fan fiction to a T, although she was not gaining any satisfaction. His thick, rough fingers just felt so much better than her small, nimble ones. It wasn’t the same and she groaned at the relief she couldn’t get from her own hands.

Lando decided he was going to show her proof as to how she was wrong and walked into their shared bedroom, her hand pulling back quickly as she closed her phone and sat up. She didn’t think he noticed but the smirk on his face said otherwise.

“Does ignoring me make you aroused?” He asked with a seductive hint. Her face flushed with pinks and reds. “I was going to prove to you how wrong you were, but clearly you had other plans.”

She thought she would get the relief she wanted from him, but she was incorrect for thinking that. “I’m not wrong.” She mumbled, hoping for some sort of rough sex to assert his dominance in how he was right by fucking her dumb.

“You can say that you are right, but we both know you aren’t.” He said, still not making a move from the doorway with his arms crossed. “Go ahead, don’t let me interrupt you.” She looked to him nervously. “Make it easier for yourself, take those off.” He was getting hard thinking about how he could ruin her, or he can just tease and edge her by using his words. “I don’t plan on helping you much.”

She did as told and took off the skirt and panties, tossing them aside. She sat against the headboard, still no motions from Lando. He looked at her to continue and when she didn’t, only then did he move. Her breath hitched. He sat behind her and rubbed her arms while kissing her neck and face. The closest they had been since the argument.

“Touch yourself for me love, make yourself feel good yeah?” He whispered, his voice husky and deep. He watched as her hand moved back and rubbed small circles on her clit. “That’s it, how does that feel love?” He taunted.

She let out a quiet moan and moved with more aggressive circles. When he was satisfied with her small whines and moans he grabbed her hand and moved it down more, allowing two of her nimble fingers to slip in. “Please.” She moaned. He was teasing her with his words, she didn’t dare picking up speed.

“Curl your fingers for me, touch that sensitive spot you love.” He instructed. Her leg twitched when she did. He smiled and kissed her ear as he continued guiding her. “Move your fingers love, slowly, not too fast.” He watched as she listened, moving her hand at a snail like pace, in and out. The wet noises echoing in the quiet room.

He rubbed her thigh and the other moved her hair. “Lan..” She breathed, leaning back. Her head fell perfectly on his shoulder as her mouth hung open. She could feel his dick hard in his pants as she leaned back, slightly teasing him.

“Go faster, get yourself close.” He teased her still, knowing it takes her a long time to get herself to a climax. “Curl your fingers when you thrust them in, try to keep a steady pace love you’ve got it.” He praised. She felt a climax bubbling and he could sense it by the way she was squirming and the tone of her noises. He grabbed her wrist and moved her hand away.

“What? Lan.” She whined, kicking her feet down and straining her hand against his. He kissed at her neck and she relaxed at the slight pleasure he was providing. One hand intertwined with his fingers and the other in the hold of his by her wrist, dripping with her arousal. “I was so close please?”

He laughed into her neck and gave her one more kiss. “Am I right?” He asked. She whined and spat out that he was but he didn’t believe her. “No, no, I want to hear you say why I’m right.” Her legs continued to move as she tried prying one of her hands away.

“Oscar didn’t bottle shit, I’m sorry.” She whined at him. “Please Lan, let me finish.” Once her legs stopped moving and her breathing calmed, he let her hand go. “You edged me and I told you that you were right, please!!”

Her hand returned but she couldn’t get herself close again, his words stopping and replaced by kisses. “I need more of an explanation as to how I’m right, love.” He taunted her again. Her unsteady hand not getting her anywhere.

“Oscar didn’t have an upper hand, you did- fuck.” She moaned. He removed her hand again and before she could protest, he rubbed small, slow circles on her clit. She whimpered and held onto his arm with her slicked fingers.

“So wet, love.” He said, focusing on teasing her more. “We should argue more often, if it gets you this aroused.” Lando smiled at her state, head leaned back, mouth opened, legs lax against the bed, her hands both tensing at his hand or arm.

“You were right, please lan, don’t tease me again.” She said breathlessly at his slow movements. He finally listened and his fingers took over, doing as he told her earlier. Thrusting in and out, curling as they entered. Her breathing picked up and he felt her walls constricting against his fingers, a climax right on the brink.

“Close already?” He asked. “I shouldn’t let you finish, telling me I’m wrong and that my teammate had an upper hand on me?” He teased and she whined again. His fingers picked up their pace, the slick loud and wet on his hand. He moved their intertwined fingers across her stomach to hold her still while he finished her off.

“Oh my god, fuck lan!” She moaned. Her body crumbled at the orgasm like he had predicted, him following her movements forward to help her ride out the high and not leaving her to have a ruined orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She strained.

“That’s it, such a good girl.” He praised, usuing his strength to lean her back against him. She closed her legs on his hand as his fingers worked her slowly now. She panted as he removed the torturous fingers. “How’s it feel to be wrong?” He teased her still.

Her mind was cloudy, not caring one bit about being wrong anymore. Her ears rang as he coaxed her through. “I want to be wrong more often.” She panted at him. He erupted in small giggles as she relaxed against him. He rubbed her thigh, letting her body have a break.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He moved from behind her, adjusting his own issue. He was going to deal with that later. For right now he was going to care for his girlfriend who he just gave a mind blowing orgasm. He returned with a damp towel to clean her up.

“You said you had proof that you were right?” She asked, cocking an eyebrow. He shut her up quickly as he cleaned her up, still sensitive from the orgasm. “I said you were right!” She protested as he cleaned her up, longer than usual.

“I know, I just like seeing you squirm and tell me over and over how right I am.” He finished and kissed her lips.

They both looked at the telemetry and it sparked another fight, this time he fucked her dumb and she never disagreed with him on telemetry again.

This is a long one! Absolutely LOVE the request btw

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia

[unfinishedslurs]

average batfam dinner conversation

“Maybe try therapy?” Duke suggested. “Just putting that out there. You know, as an idea.”

“You try therapy,” Tim snarked back, jabbing his fork into the broccoli with a worrying amount of fervor. 

“It would be good for you.” Cass grinned mischievously over her plate at Duke. He narrowed his eyes, and there was a muffled thump beneath the table. It was immediately followed by a slightly louder thump, and he yelped. 

Bruce really thought the kids knew better than to pick fights with her at this point. 

Duke scowled as he rubbed his shin. “I’m the best adjusted out of all you assholes.”

“Lies and slander,” Dick declared. “There is no ‘best adjusted’ out of us, and if there were it would be me.”

Everyone turned and stared at him for that. He stared back with a bright smile, daring them to challenge the notion. 

He was lucky Jason wasn’t here, because he would have picked a fight instantly. Especially because he’d been there for the worst of his and Dick’s fights, back when their family was smaller but somehow no less complicated. The rest of his kids were too tired to argue the point, thank god. 

“I went to therapy once.”

Now everyone was staring at him instead. He took another bite of his food. 

“Uh…are you going to elaborate or anything?” Duke asked. 

Bruce chewed, swallowed, and sighed. “The therapist kidnapped me and held me for ransom.”

“Oh my god.”

“That explains…a lot.”

“You mean everything about him?” 

That was hurtful. It didn’t explain everything about him. That would be ignoring both his parents deaths and finding out he lived above a giant cave that was the perfect size for a secret lair. Really, Dick, he expected better. 

“Sorry that happened,” Cass said, because she loves him the most. Then she added, “It does track.”

Never mind. Bruce was going to die cold and alone, rather than be surrounded by his army of tiny traitors. At least Damian was eating quietly, although he could see him hiding his gaming counsel beneath the table. He was supposed to be grounded, but Bruce could only deal with so many losing battles a day. 

“What if you went to a therapist outside of Gotham?” Duke suggested, apparently having latched onto the idea of Bruce seeing a professional. He didn’t know why. All in all, he thought he was handling things pretty well. 

Tim snorted. “Yeah, and then they’d take off their mask at the end of the session to reveal it was Ra’s al Ghul all along.”

“Yeah, okay, fair. But like, Ra’s al Ghul? That’s who you’re going with? Seems out of his area of expertise.”

“If you ask him, nothing is out of his expertise. He’s probably got, like, three psychology degrees or something.”

“More,” Damian said. The final holdout in the children's war against his mental health this evening. Bruce quietly despairs. “He is a knowledgeable man. Although most of the degrees he has earned are not legally recognized, as he did not actually go to a university for them. I myself have obtained several while living with the League.”

Duke nodded along. “So what I’m hearing is we hire Ra’s to be Bruce’s therapist.”

Tim immediately choked on his chicken and fell out of his chair. Dick had a similar reaction, erupting in a coughing fit that nearly toppled him too. Cass just laughed loudly. Damian was looking at Duke with disturbance written across his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Bruce decided then and there not to mention that he actually had confided in Ra’s some while training under the League. He’d take the secret to his grave, if only not to give Duke more steam. 

“Could be funny,” Cass said. “Mental illness? All illness can be cured with my special green pool.”

There was a strange silence after she said that, as if his kids were waiting for something. Dick frowned and leaned over Tim’s chair. “Tim? Buddy? Are you dead? You didn’t even make a joke about Jason being sick in the head.”

“Did I kill Tim?” Duke asked. “Shit, Jason’s gonna be pissed. He’s gonna have to stop calling him a cockroach.”

“Don’t worry, Thomas. The name still fits perfectly.”

Maybe he could skip patrol tonight and just…go to bed for once. Take a break. Smoke a joint and watch Real Housewives of Metropolis again, if only to quietly make fun of Superman’s guest appearance. Or loudly, if he felt like antagonizing Clark. 

“Wait, no, I think he’s actually choking, hold on-“ Dick’s chair tumbled over as he rushed to give Tim the Heimlich. Cass’s eyes widened, and she quickly grabbed a trashcan to save the floors. Bruce got a glass of water ready as he retched. 

Tim’s head popped up from under the table, and he pointed at Duke. “We have got to hang out more,” he rasped. 

Duke looked touched. “I just almost killed you.”

“That’s how I make all my friends, you’re not special.” He accepted the water, and Bruce quietly despaired as he helped him up. Why were his children friends with such dangerous people?

There’s a little voice niggling in the back of his head that says that maybe if he didn’t want his children to be friends with dangerous people, he should lead by example instead of befriending the most dangerous people on earth. He pushed it away. 

Damian sniffs. “Your self preservation skills are abhorrent, Drake. I should never have even bothered putting in an effort to get rid of you, your stupidity will make quick work of you sooner rather than later.”

“Puh-lease, like none of your friends have tried to kill you.”

“Obviously not. My instincts are far superior to yours.”

“Horton hears a bitch ass liar,” Tim singsongs, and immediately has to duck back under the table to dodge the fork that was thrown at him. Thank God Alfred wasn’t in the room for it. If the silver was scratched, Alfred would give him the I’m not mad just disappointed face. As if it’s Bruce’s fault his children are like this.

He takes zero responsibility. They came to him like that.

[bloodmoonmuses]

come back to me | mark lee

summary: your boyfriend, mark, drunkenly recounts the day the two of you met. (mostly to prove to haechan and johnny that love does, in fact, exist. even in the most unlikely of places.)

genre: mark lee x reader, established relationship kinda... but, like, also a meet cute? young love and all that jazz lol

It’s cold outside, the beginnings of winter trickling in with bitter fervor, yet you’re warm. Or rather, being warmed by the illusion of heat that courses through your veins: liquid courage. Now on your second bottle of soju, your form feels pliant, watery even, as you sway in the wind of your friends’ joy. 

In a booth (the leather of which is crackling at the seams) that forms a sort of semi circle, sits you, Mark, Johnny and Haechan. The wooden table before you is littered in plastic shot “glasses” and fried chicken wings that have been picked clean, and the bar is quite lively despite it nearing one in the morning. You lie your head against Mark’s shoulder, lost in the feeling of his muscles tensing and relaxing repeatedly beneath it.

“You good?” Mark whispers to you, shimming slightly as if to jostle a response out of you.

The words that escape your mouth feel fuzzy on your tongue, staticky around the edges. “Never been better.”

For some reason, the night has taken a nostalgic turn, fueled by the alcohol in everyone’s system. Haechan and Johnny have been arguing about their love lives for the better part of an hour. It never fails to amuse you how much they like bickering simply for the sake of it. You tuned out about ten minutes ago when Haechan brought up Johnny’s commitment issues only to be met with a rebuttal about him using humor as a coping mechanism. Both comments clearly strike a nerve in the men respectively, deciding to psychoanalyze their exes in chronological order in an attempt to disprove the validity of one another's assertions. 

“I don’t like that we can’t make fun of Mark right now,” Johnny confesses when he’s finished talking about an ex who turned out to be a closeted sasaeng, turning his attention to you and Mark.

Haechan scrunches his nose, gazing upon you as well. “Look at you two… All cozied up- it’s disgusting.”

“Hey man,” Mark starts, “don’t blame me for the lack of love in your life.” You punctuate his declaration with a kiss on the cheek, giddy and lovey-dovey in your drunken state. “See?” 

Johnny pretends to gag.

“How’d you meet anyway?” Haechan asks, “-so I can avoid any scenario involving… that.”

“Mark hasn’t told you the story in, like, excruciating detail?” you scoff. “He’s told everyone.”

Haechan shakes his head. 

“Oh God, don’t get him started,” Johnny groans. Mark sits upright, effectively knocking your head off of his shoulder, ecstatic with the chance to relay the way you met each other in its sappy glory.

“Spring,” Mark starts. “I was seventeen, so I had just debuted a year before, and-”

The cherry blossoms. They were stunning, you remember. Glistening and quivering under the weight of all the raindrops that had accumulated on them. The sheen of puddles scattered on the roads and sidewalks... You took the bus to work, a little cafe job you worked while finishing up your requirements at the international school you attended, and during that time of year, those bus rides were some of the most peaceful times in your day to day life. 

You think back to your youth, bright eyes aged only seventeen years, and how the world then seemed filled to brim with possibility. One day in particular, a chilly one towards the end of spring, you remember watching Mark enter the bus, his boyishness evident in his untied shoelaces and clunkily carried guitar case. On his back was a spiderman backpack, you remember vividly, and his hair is frizzy from how light he’s bleached it. He comes off a bit frazzled as you watch him stumble into a seat, precariously balancing a flimsy pair of headphones on his head, and settle in it with his knees bent. 

Once he’s gathered his bearings, he takes off his backpack and retrieves a notebook and pen, placing it on his knees, and begins to write frantically- like if he doesn't put pen to paper in this exact nanosecond, the idea will leave and never return. In a world of sloth and languidness, you’re fascinated by his urgency. You take off your own headphones to hear how he sounds in the context of silence, it is seven in the morning after all, and it only draws you in further. The scratching of the pen against the paper, orchestrated by the humming that just barely escapes his lips lulling you into a state of hypnosis.

Periodically, he furrows his brows, tries out a different melody, then writes some more- over and over again, until the pattern becomes more fluid. More succinct. Like the beginnings of a fully fledged song. He’s smiling now, and you find yourself unknowingly mirroring his joy, the fuzziness of it spreading up your neck like a campfire consuming its kindling. You’re enraptured. 

You want to live inside his head. What a superpower to have; to breathe life into written language. And then suddenly, he’s stuffing his notebook into his backpack as quickly as he had taken it out. His stop must be coming up soon, you had thought to yourself. 

After putting his feet back on the ground, he gingerly places his palms against the bus window- as if to test its temperature. When deemed cool enough, he exhales against the glass, quickly etching a heart onto its foggy surface with a squeak. His fingers are calloused, that much you can tell even from across the bus, and he’s tired- if the bags under his eyes are any indication. Then, the bus crawls to a stop, and he stands. Again, you’re mirroring him instantly, body moving before your mind can catch up. It’s not your stop, yours is another three down, but you exit nonetheless, too enthralled by the boy in front of you to let him out of your sight.

You walk about a block, maintaining about a ten foot distance between the two of you, and watch him hobble down the sidewalk with his huge guitar case. He grunts occasionally, adjusting and readjusting his baggage when the weight becomes too much, humming all the while. Until, of course, he turns around, tearing the headphones off of his head, and asks, “Are you following me?!” in a frustrated huff. 

You stop in your tracks. Oh wait, you had thought, you are sorta following him. Well, the cafe is in this direction technically but-

“You’re not one of those people with a fansite, are you? Look, dude, I know we debuted last year, but I want a normal life just like-”

“I’m not a fan. I mean, not yet, I guess. Well- no. I was just… I’m not following you. Mostly.” you stammer. 

Mark scratches his head. “Then, what are you doing…?”

“You were writing a song on the bus,” you look at the ground, staring at your shoes in search of some solace, reprieve from the then stranger’s prying eyes. How did you think this would turn out any other way? “I thought maybe, you could… sing it. Like, out loud.”

Mark sighs. “Look, dude, I have practice and-”

“Right. I’m sorry for being weird, you just looked… Nevermind. Have a nice day- sorry to bother you.” You turn on your heels, in the complete opposite of the cafe you’re supposed to be going to, and make a break for it. As you trek up the hill, you shatter your reflection over and over again, the splashing of puddles beneath your feet the only sound tethering you to reality. 

“It’s not finished-” Mark starts, voice cutting through the rustling leaves and bustling city with piercing clarity.  You’re frozen, still facing away from the hypnotist behind you. “-but I could show you the idea. Because that’s what it is right now. Just an idea.”

You turn to face him. “Um. Sure. If that’s okay.”

Haechan interjects Mark’s storytelling, words warbling from his completion of a third bottle of soju for the night. “No way you actually sat down and played the song for-”

“Shh!” Johnny says, “This is the best part.”

“See, I knew you secretly loved this mushy-gushy stuff,” you say. 

Mark giggles. “So, like I was saying-”

You sit on a bench freckled cherry blossom petals and just-dried droplets of dew, knee bouncing nervously when Mark plops down beside you. Mark sets his guitar case down, flat in front of him, and opens it. Retrieving his notebook from his backpack once again, he places it on your lap, surprisingly enough. Wordlessly, he puts his guitar in his lap, throwing the strap over his neck and shoulders, and cranes his neck to re-familiarize himself with his feverishly scrawled ideas. Just before he strums the first note, he says, “Just an idea. Keep that in mind.”

Then he sings. A mix and hesitant laments of love lost, then found, yearning for the past, but hopeful for the future. But other words are not words at all. They’re more, like, messily sung runs. Like he’s sketching lightly, so he can erase later. He’s got a hook. He sings it three times, and the way his Adam's apple bobbles is now permanently etched in your mind. When he’s done, he opens his eyes slowly, assessing the damage done. He almost looks surprised that you’re still sitting there.

You whisper, voice whisked away in the gentle breeze, “I never asked your name.”

“Mark. Just Mark.”

“Nice to meet you, ‘Just Mark’.”

“What do you think? How do you feel?” Two entirely different questions, both of which hit your ear in a way that makes your stomach leap- or maybe it’s the gravelly timbre of his voice and unsure eyes.

“Good,” Mark’s eyes spur you on further, silently asking you to elaborate, “The song sounds good and I feel good.”

“Is that the only adjective you know? ‘Good’?”

“I know a lot of adjectives. I’m just… nervous. So, yeah.”

Mark grabs his notebook and returns it to his backpack, packing up his guitar as well. As he stands to leave, he turns and says, “Your name.”

“What?”

“You never told me your name.”

“_______,” you reply meekly.

“And your hand,” he urges, “give it to me.” You extend your arm and Mark delicately grasps your wrist. Then, Mark nervously scrawls his number on your palm, pen digging into your skin slightly. 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you have any thoughts beyond it being ‘good’, gimme a call.” And just like that, he’s gone, running down the hill to make it to practice on time.

As Mark ends his retelling of events with a wistful hum, Haechan chortles. “Yeah. You two disgust me.”

[moon-ttokki-x]

hiiii! i know you’re probably rlly busy with requests but i had an ideaaa

9th member reader who is in a secret relationship with jeongin and the other members are slowly like catching them doing couple-y things or something along the lines of that??

sorry if i didn’t word it right 😭

hihi~ i liked this idea but i wasn't sure how to set it all out... i wanted it to be short and sweet, don't know if i succeeded >< glad i got an innie request, he needed more fics . i just did the members catching on after a short while to make it simpler . here you goooo~~

that's true - (secret bf!yang jeongin x reader)

pairing: secret bf!yang jeongin x reader

summary: when the rest of skz finds out you and jeongin are dating, how will they react?

genre: fluffy to the max, idol! au, skz little shit strong agenda, slightly suggestive, this has no plotline whatsoever i'm sorry

a/n: div by @mikeykuns

skz masterlist

Jeongin groans as he stretches himself out on the bed, almost vibrating with the force of his extension. He bangs his fist on the headboard and you laugh as he whines, burrowing into the sheets.

"Don't laugh," he mutters, though a fond smile graces his fox-like features. "It's been so long since I had a night off."

You nod sympathetically and flop down on the sheets next to him. "Feels strange to not be rushing you off anywhere. You know, since you're always late-"

"No, I'm not!" He interrupts indignantly, sending you into a fit of giggles. "I just forget how quickly time passes sometimes. And at least I have you to tell me when I have stuff to do."

Jeongin's room is dark, the only source of light coming from the pinkish-gold glow of the triangular LEDs above his bed. They're exactly the same as the ones in Chan's bedroom, and not for the first time do you fight the urge to coddle Jeongin for his love of matching items.

You're both sprawled out silently on his bed, the spread ruffled and messy, and Jeongin's eyes are fixed on the closed and locked door. You know it's because he's afraid Chan will try to come in; none of the boys know you're dating each other yet, and you try and shake off the feeling that you're doing something wrong.

After all, you were their ninth member; some would call it a workplace romance, others a scandal. The youngest member of a kpop boy group and a newly added ninth member falling for each other was definitely something that the press would have loved to sink their teeth into. But you've managed to keep it a secret from seven of the nosiest people on earth, so you render the relationship secret and safe for the time being.

And, no matter how anyone else saw it, you thought it fate. Ending up with Jeongin was the best outcome in your view, with you always feeling so loved and warm around him, a bit like a cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter's day. You never went unappreciated, and in turn, he'd dedicated himself with even more fervor to his responsibilities, flushed with energy that came directly from your love. You couldn't have been any prouder.

Keeping it a secret, though, had come with its challenges; you often felt like a spy, having to run rings around the boys and duck out of sight whenever one of them appeared. You felt bad for a little while before realising that it was probably for the best; they would have a field day teasing their maknae if they found out you were dating.

You brush those thoughts aside momentarily as you look across to where your lover is silently staring up at the ceiling, no doubt relishing the quiet comfort of a night in, with no duties or events to rush off to.

"Innie," you say softly.

He responds with a quiet hum, eyes closed.

He must be exhausted, you think. The group had such a busy day; Chan had stayed late at the studio to finish yet another song track, so you'd taken the opportunity to be with Jeongin while you could.

You lean up on one elbow and survey his face; bare, the tiny marks and scars on his skin making him look more beautiful than any cosmetic ever could. You lightly touch the little scar on his jawbone, feeling the slightly raised scar tissue, the dry smoothness of the skin around it, so delicate where the hair starts to grow in tiny, soft waves.

His hair is messy, splayed out against the sheets, a bit like when he wakes up and looks a bit like a lion, his hair sticking out in all directions. You hope against hope that none of the boys will try to burst in and interrupt this precious, silent moment between you.

He's almost fast asleep already, so you lean down and press a chaste kiss to his slightly chapped lips, stroking the soft hair out of his face. Laying down next to him, you peek up to check the door is locked before falling into a heavy, inviting sleep.

.

The second you wake up, you throw off Jeongin's arm, which is laying heavily across your middle. Checking the time, you smooth back your hair and shake the fox-like boy awake.

"Innie," you hiss. "Chan will be back by now. Wake up."

"Oof," he responds.

You sigh and quickly straighten out your appearance in the mirror, slipping on your jacket and then tiptoeing to the door to check for noises. This isn't the first time you've had to sneak out of his room. Hearing nothing, you sigh and soak in the welcoming sunlight streaming from the window, before moving to shake Jeongin awake once more.

"Innie, come on."

"I'm up, I'm up," he groans. "Chan-hyung will probably still be at the studio... he always works til the morning..."

"I gotta go, then," you say, checking your watch. Ten minutes til you have to head down to the studio for a Tiktok video filming. "See you later."

You can barely hear his sad, murmured goodbye as you head out the door.

.

"Sleep well, Y/n?" Felix asks as he runs through the dance steps again.

You nod, side-eyeing him in suspicion. Does he know about you and Jeongin? "Yeah, thanks. I fell asleep in Jeongin's room."

"Not the first time you've done that," Hyunjin laughs. It's no secret that you would often head to the Jeongchan dorm for some better shut-eye; somehow, being in Jeongin's room always helped. And it was the perfect excuse to be with him too, away from prying eyes and unwanted interruptions.

You've all been at the studio for around two hours now; the boys are beginning to get tired of rehearsing the comeback routines, but after an insistent Seungmin begging for a break, Chan finally gives in and allows the boys and you a moment of respite.

You sigh and flop down against the wall, eyes tracking Jeongin across the room. He's taking swigs of water and fanning himself; no doubt sweaty from the dance exertion.

"Y/n," Chan says from above you.

"Hey," you say, not bothering to look at him. "Need something?"

"Actually, yes," he moves to sit down next to you, stretching out his legs in front of him. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

You turn to look at him them, expression betraying nothing. "No," you say cautiously. "Why?"

He holds up your phone between two fingers, an eyebrow raised in a pointed expression. Hyunjin and Jisung snicker from behind one of the couches lining the back wall.

"Where'd you find that?" You glower at him, knowing you've been caught.

He chuckles. "Wasn't a secret, Y/n. You slept in Jeongin's room last night, didn't you?"

You shrug, holding onto a shred of hope that he somehow still doesn't know. "So? I fall asleep there all the time."

"Seems a little strange considering the fact you have a perfectly good dorm of your own," he replies without missing a beat. "Minho and Jisung hardly see you anymore. Your shelves in your room are dusty as hell at this point. Why Jeongin's room?"

You shrug, looking at your faraway reflection in the mirrors. "He's my friend, and it's easier to sleep when he's near me."

"Right," Chan drawls, tossing your phone onto your lap. "Because it's perfectly normal for you and Jeongin, friends, to be sleeping in the same room, on the same bed."

"So? You and Felix do the same thing."

Chan makes an exasperated noise. "Just admit you're dating each other. I already got Jeongin to spill."

You choke on your tongue then, spluttering in disbelief. Hyunjin dissolves into cackles. "What?"

"Yep," he replies, remorseless. "Made him admit it without trying. It wasn't hard when he's always looking at you so lovestruck."

You scoff and look away. "It's none of your business anyhow."

Chan puts a hand on your shoulder as Jisung makes a dirty comment in the background. "It's okay if you're dating him, Y/n. Just- there are some things that shouldn't get too public, you know? For safety reasons."

You sit up, indignant. "But we're keeping it quiet, I swear. None of you even knew til a week ago."

He nods just as you shoot an accusatory glare at Jeongin across the room, silently betrayed. "That's true, Y/n, but just be careful. Congratulations, anyway."

You sigh just as Jeongin sheepishly comes over, bowing half-heartedly to you as he settles against your legs. "Sorry, Y/nnie."

"It's okay," you whisper. "They were gonna find out anyway."

"Chan-hyung is a detective," he says honestly. You laugh and stroke his slightly damp hair.

"Oh, and just a note," Chan coughs awkwardly. "Jisung overheard me telling Felix about it and now the whole group knows..."

"Took you two lovebirds long enough," Minho calls snidely from the other side of the room, Seungmin snickering beside him.

Hyunjin interrupts. "How long have you two been dating in secret anyway?"

You look up at the ceiling, thinking. "Maybe two months?"

"Two months!" He screeches, flailing and almost hitting Changbin in the face.

"Get them married already," Jisung rolls his eyes, giggling.

You groan and bury your face in your hands, fighting a smile.

"We kinda asked for the teasing, to be honest," Jeongin whispers.

"Yeah," you say, resigned and affectionate. "That's true."

a/n: my sweet sweet innie

[sunday-bug]

May I request Steve Kemp and vampire reader, please? Thank you in advance!

So Take a Bite

Pairing: Steve Kemp x Vampire!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Content: BLOOD, feeding from live humans, p in v sex, mentions of cannibalism & murder, Steve being manipulative & charming to get his way (ya'll have seen Fresh, he's a bad, delicious guy)

Synopsis: Steve supplies exactly what you crave... but what if he's offering you more?

A/N: I’ve never written anything like this so don't judge too harshly lol although I’d love constructive feedback - also thank you for this prompt because it made me write outside of my comfort zone and I had a TON of fun with it - thank you for your patience anon - I know this has been in my inbox for months ❤️ also thank you to @navybrat817 for reminding me that Steve can steal blood from the hospital because he’s a doctor (I have no common sense sometimes) also I listened to The Offering by Sleep Token A LOT while writing this lmao ok I’m done yapping

“I’m almost out, Kemp. I’m serious. Don’t fuck around with me. I can expose your sick ass in a second.”

Steve scoffs, “My sick ass? You’re the one that can’t survive without what I provide you. You need me. Just admit it, sweetheart.”

Steve hears you grumble over the phone and smiles, pleased with himself. There’s a market for everything - human meat & blood are his niche. And he’s damn good at both of them. Some people are just impatient and ungrateful. He waits for you to say something - he isn’t going to break first.

“Fine. Meet me tonight. I’ll pay you an expedience fee,” you say firmly.

“Double. You’ll pay me double. I’ll make sure it’s fresh, and you can have it tonight.”

He hears your breath intake on the other line before you answer, “Deal.” You hang up before he can.

-

Steve takes his scrub cap off and throws it in the laundry bin of the surgeon's locker room. Another day of routine procedures - a couple breast implants, a skin graft, a rhinoplasty, and a face lift to end the day. He walks to his locker and changes from his scrubs into his street clothes. 

“You done for the day, Kemp?” A familiar voice asks.

Steve looks up to see Dr. Lowndes striding towards him.

“Yeah, all done,” he says politely, grabbing his bag and walking toward the door. “Just going up to see my Nana. She was admitted last night for chest pain.”

“Oh, is she in the ICU? They look swamped today.”

“Uh, yeah, ICU. But she’s going to be fine,” Steve lies. Lies about the whole thing. His Nana has been dead for a decade.

“I hope so. Have a good afternoon,” Lowndes says.

“Sure thing. You too,” Steve waves and darts out of the locker room like a man on a mission. He takes the stairs to the fourth floor and surveys who the nurses on duty are - Mandi, Alexis, Torriana, ah… there she is, Brynn.

“Hi ladies,” Steve says with a smile as he sidles up to the nurses station. He catches Brynn’s eye slyly and smirks. “Heard you guys are busy today.”

“Yes, very,” Alexis says, not looking up from the medical chart on her computer. She’s always a bit prickly with him.

“I, uh, think my Nana was admitted last night… Brynn. Can you help me out with that?”

“Of course, Dr. Kemp,” she says professionally.

“Walk with me,” Steve instructs, maneuvering her away from the desk. So ductile, so meek, such a good listener. She follows him with fervor.

“How many units do you need?” She asks quietly as they round the corner, getting straight to business.

“How many do you have?” Steve asks, entering an empty patient room and shutting the door behind them both.

“Dr. Kemp, I-,” she starts.

“I need 12-15. Tonight. Now, actually.” 

“Okay, I don’t know if I can get them now,” she sighs, biting her bottom lip nervously.

“You know, you look really pretty today. Are these new?” Steve reaches up gently to look at her earrings. She closes her eyes and leans her cheek into his palm. “Are they from your fiancé?” He growls, tugging on one gently. Her eyes snap open and she pulls her face away from his hand.

“Yes, they are.” She looks at him with desperate eyes. “Pull your car around to the trauma bay. I’ll bring them out in a styrofoam cooler. And Steve?”

“Yeah?” He asks, hand on the door knob.

“I’d leave him for you if you asked,” she whispers, tugging on the earring he’d just touched.

“I know you would, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it later, okay?” He gives her a gentle smile before turning around and heading down to his car. The secret is to keep her hopes up - give her just enough to make her bend to his will. She’s a pretty girl, but too young and naive. He’d love to take her home and sell her for parts, but that damn fiancé fucks up that plan. Besides, he has her right where he wants her. And if she quits, he’ll charm another to do his bidding.

He pulls his sleek car around and sees her standing there waiting, cooler full of liquid cash. He pops the trunk and watches her set it inside. She walks around to the driver’s side and he cracks his window.

“Text me?” She asks sweetly, eyes full of hope.

“Sure thing,” he replies with a wink before taking off, knowing he doesn't even have her number saved.

-

Steve pulls out his phone as he parks in his driveway and sends you a text: It’s fresh. My place. 7pm.

You respond with a thumbs up emoji and count your cash out on your bed again, making sure you have enough to cover his exorbitant fee. You huff in frustration and thirst, but damn it’s worth it. Steve is the only one that provides exactly what you need - fresh human blood. 

You’re going to be late on your rent payment again now because of this beautiful asshole, but what else can you do? Starve to death? Not an option. You put your money in your bra and get in your car to drive to his place. Motherfucker just has to live 20 miles outside of town. That’s gas money now too.

You pull up to his house into his weird fancy driveway that looks like Swiss cheese and park your beater next to his stupid sports car. Fucking Kemp. Such an asshole. You shoot him a quick text that you’re here and wait for him to come outside. Your phone buzzes and you look down to see that he’s texted you back: Come in. Door’s unlocked. You swallow, never having been inside Steve’s place. This whole exchange usually took less than five minutes before you were satiated and on your way. You knock on his front door and hear rustling on the other side before he opens and invites you in. 

“What’s with the change of protocol?” You ask warily, looking around the entryway.

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “I thought we could have dinner. We always rush the interchange. I figure it’d be nice to have a meal together.”

You shudder at the thought. “If you think I’m going to eat anything you’ve cooked, you’re out of your damn mind, Kemp.”

He utters your name, “It’s vegetable risotto. Now come in.”

You walk into Steve’s home and let him shut the front door behind you. It’s nice - retro, but the kind of retro where everything looks incredibly curated and expensive. 

“Wine?” He asks, plating your food.

“Sure, thank you,” you reply, walking around his dining area and checking out all of his artwork. “Actually, can I just have some of my supply? I shouldn’t drink alcohol when my tank is nearly empty.”

Steve laughs lightly at your word choice and nods. “Sure, pay me now. I’ll even load the cooler in your car because I’m such a nice guy.”

You roll your eyes and sigh, taking the cash out of your bra and handing it over to him. 

“Classy,” he notes sarcastically, taking the money from your hands. “Sit.” You watch him retrieve the cooler from the refrigerator and take a unit out. “You, uh, just straight from the bag or would you like a glass?” He asks.

You can’t help but laugh. “A glass would be nice.” He takes one from the cupboard and gestures for you to do the rest. You prepare your “drink”.

“Gimme your keys. I’ll run this out to your car,” he says nonchalantly. You toss him your car keys and he walks out the front door to stash your goods in your trunk. You lift the lid of the pan on the stove and inspect it closely. It looks and smells normal, but you’re still rightfully skeptical. Steve saunters back in at that moment, and you drop the lid loudly onto the pan.

“Vegetable. Risotto. I promise,” he reminds you sternly. “I don’t surprise anyone with my acquired tastes. Truthfully, I don’t have many dinner guests. But I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, but this is helping immensely,” you assure him, holding up your half empty glass. His eyes flit from the glass to yours and you shrug. “You think it’s weird," you say.

“I’m not one to judge,” he sighs, pulling a dining chair out for you. “Sit.”

You sit in the plush chair and watch him bring a plate to you. The food is still steaming. He puts his plate down and sits at the head of the table next to you. He takes a bite and smiles. “I’m a great cook. I’ll brag about that.” 

You smile and take a bite. Damn. He is a great cook. You both sit in silence for a few moments, enjoying the first bites of your meal. You finish your drink, feeling the vitality course through your cold veins once more. Steve watches you finish off your glass and take a bite of the risotto.

“Feeling better?” He muses, looking at your eyes closely. “You look… revitalized.”

“I feel it.” You say with a grin. “There’s nothing like the feeling right after… drinking.”

“I think I know what you mean,” he says. “Like you’re high on life?” 

“Yes, exactly,” you agree, leaning in closer over your plate.

Steve smiles and looks down. “You know, we have more in common than you think we do, sweetheart. You say I’m sick for how I choose to live, but how are you any different, really?” 

You consider his question carefully. “I don’t hurt people. That’s the difference, Steve. Isn’t that obvious?”

He nods before smiling darkly at you. “You’ve never had it from the tap? Never tasted it hot from the source?”

You swallow against your better judgement, your body betraying your mind. “N-no… and I never will.” 

“Who are you trying to convince? Yourself or me?” He stands up and grabs your barely finished plate from you before setting it on the kitchen island. “Come with me.” 

You reluctantly follow him and he offers his hand. You hesitate, not sure what his plan is. “I want to show you something.” Charismatic fucker. You take his hand - warm, big, inviting - and he leads you to a large wooden door. 

“Steve, I actually think I should go,” you say quickly, wishing it had come out more composed. You don't want him to know that you are slightly panicked.

“You’re free to leave at any time,” he assures you softly before bringing a hand up to push your hair behind your ear. “I just wanted to enjoy dinner with a beautiful woman. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, you didn’t,” you assure him, shocked by his words. He thought you were beautiful? Steve Kemp thought you were beautiful? “Lead the way," you offer unsteadily now.

He smiles and rubs his thumb against the back of your hand as he unlocks the oversized door. You walk down a curved stone staircase into a cool, dimly lit, and extremely clean basement with a hallway of doors. “This is my favorite part of the house,” he whispers, peering down the hall. 

“Why’s that?” You ask sweetly, still reeling from his earlier admission.

“It’s where I can be myself,” he answers matter-of-factly. His eyes meet yours and they crinkle at the corners as he smiles darkly. “I want to share it with you because you understand the lengths we go to to satiate ourselves. To satisfy our hunger. To indulge our tastes. To meet our needs. You know what’s necessary. Plus, I know you think about me, sweetheart,” he says the last part into your hair and a shiver runs down your spine. “Just like I think about you.” 

Your knees nearly buckle at his confession. “I do… think about you,” you admit.

“I know you do,” he whispers. “I want to take care of you. Let me show you something special I’ve been saving for you.”

“For me?” You ask incredulously, following him down the hall. He unlocks a door and slides it open slowly, blocking the view inside with his body.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t freak out,” he warns you calmly. 

“Uh, okay,” you agree hesitantly. Steve steps aside to reveal a small room with a floor bed, toilet, large mural of the beach, and… wait… a woman stands up slowly, eyes wide with fear. Her mouth is muzzled like a dog. She cowers into the corner. 

“This is Noa,” Steve informs you emotionlessly. “She’s been a bit… disobedient lately.” He walks over to her and reaches into his jeans, revealing a pocket knife. The blade gleams in the light. “Come here,” he instructs you calmly. 

“Noa, stay still,” he says gruffly, looking at her with an irritated expression. “This is my friend,” he says your name and introduces you to her. He slyly takes a syringe from his other pocket and injects it into Noa’s neck as she’s looking at you pleadingly. Her eyes flutter closed and her body slumps into Steve’s arms. “Good girl,” he whispers, lowering her onto the floor. “I’m eliminating her next week to fill an order and thought you’d like to taste the elixir of life from the source.” He says everything so calmly, like this whole evening is routine and not completely fucked.

He assesses your gaze, rubbing your arm gently in an attempt to calm you. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. But it’s just business, just like how I supply what you need. People pay for this. I supply it to them. I just knocked her out for a bit. She’ll wake up in a few hours. Aren’t you curious? Just a taste.”

You lick your lips involuntarily at just the thought of sinking your teeth into her soft exposed neck. Your gums ache, even though you’d just had a drink upstairs. “Steve… I-I don’t know if I can. She’s a human being. You’re taking her life from her. This is kind of crazy. I mean, you’re a murderer.”

“It’s only crazy if you say so, just like anything else in this world. Look at me,” he says gently, cupping your chin in his hand and aligning your gazes. “Let me take care of you. I can provide you exactly what you need. Fresh. From the source. Whenever you want it. I just… I want you. We would make a delicious team.” Your eyes close at his offer and your dark instincts take over. Energy thrums through your body from your chest to the aching sweet spot between your legs. You open your eyes to see Steve smiling at you, knife raised to Noa’s neck. He makes a small slit and blood seeps through the gash. Your nostrils flare as your senses are filled with her scent - dark, heady, fucking exquisite. You don’t think before your mouth is on her neck and you’re drinking right from her. Your entire body feels like it’s floating. Nothing has ever tasted so perfect. 

“There you go,” you hear Steve say next to you. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever had before, isn’t it?” His eyes are lit from within watching you feed on Noa. “You look so perfect like this. You’re fucked up just like me, pretty girl.” 

You pull back and lick your lips, the hot, sticky liquid stubbornly dripping down your chin, and look at Steve. His eyelids are heavy with lust, pupils blown wide. He inches toward you, his eyes moving from yours to your blood-covered lips. His mouth parts slowly, and that’s all the invitation you need. You crash your mouth into his and he hisses, smiling into the kiss. You’re both on your knees, hands everywhere on each other, grasping at fabric, skin, and hair. You break apart from him suddenly and search his face, his mouth now covered in Noa’s blood.

“What’s wrong with you?” You ask suddenly, the heat between your legs growing hotter and more violent by the second.

“I could ask you the same question,” he breathes out, reaching for you. “This is getting you wet - all of this. The blood, the basement, fuck, you’re worse than me.”

You crack a smile, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “How’d you know?”

“Demented recognizes demented, darling,” he sighs, clutching you to his chest.

“Take me to bed, Steve,” you demand, leaning down slowly to nip at his neck. He lets out the smallest gasp and picks you up, wraps his arms around you, and carries you out of Noa’s room and upstairs to his. He lays you down on the bed and unbuttons his shirt, revealing a sculpted chest. You shudder at the sight of him. You’ve always thought he’s beautiful, but now you know for certain that he is. He climbs onto the bed and lies next to you, maneuvering your body so you’re straddling him. You lean down to kiss him and lick the leftover blood from his mouth. His eyes darken even more.

“Bite me,” he requests.

"I want to," you whine.

"So take a bite," he says again.

You shift in his lap excitedly before leaning down to kiss his neck, teasing him a bit. You feel your canines extend in pleasure and run your teeth over his flesh gently, getting him used to the feeling. Goosebumps prick up all over his body in response and you hum. His hands find your hips and press you into him so you can feel his growing arousal. You moan at the thought of him being turned on by you.

“Ride me while you feed on me,” he demands, running his hands up your back against your bare skin. Your resolve snaps again, and you remove your clothes quickly, tossing them around the room. He bucks his hips to remove his pants. You’re both naked and writhing with pain for the other. You slide onto him and indulge in the sensation of being filled to the hilt. Your hips start rocking on him as he pulls you down to his face and kisses you softly. “Feed,” he begs. 

You smile at him, flashing your pointed canines and watching his eyes gleam with a mixture of arousal and fear, like he’s met his match. You find the hollow of his neck and sink your teeth in. His blood is a masterpiece - full of punch, energy, youth, and vitality. You thought Noa tasted incredible, but she has nothing on Steve. He moans beneath you,  and you know you’re on the edge of losing it. 

“My frenzied baby,” he whimpers, holding your head in his hands as you break free from your feed. “So precious.” His gentle praise makes you come as you toss your head back, riding it out on him. 

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart,” he encourages, gripping your hips with certainty as he loses himself in you, moaning your name in satisfaction. You lie down beside him, tracing the two small puncture wounds in his neck and smiling. Finally, someone that wanted you for you - all of you.

“Stay the night,” he offers, pulling you close to him. “I’ll even let you take your pick for breakfast in the morning.”

You grin at the thought of drinking from the source again. “Sounds like Heaven.”

“Even though we’re going to Hell,” he whispers, nuzzling into you. 

Taglist: @ruexj283 @buckybarnes82 @buckybarnesslutshop

[solxamber]

Maybe a request where reader had a potion class accident with grim and idia as partners for it, and turned into a cat for a temporary amount of time due to a mishap?

I just think it sounds like idia would 100% milk this for all its worth cuz an event has occurred involving cats...

and i think grim being around with reader and idia would infact add to the cat meter, sounds amusing to me at least

Stay safe have a good day your writin is great :]

Mishaps and Kitty Cats - Idia x reader

love this request, combined 2 of my favorite things- cats and idia

Potionology wasn’t exactly a class you thrived in, but how hard could it be? You just mix some ingredients together, follow the instructions (mostly), and hope Grim doesn’t knock something over. Easy enough, right?

That was your first mistake.

The second? Teaming up with Idia and Grim.

Idia, hunched over his tablet, was busy calculating potion probabilities or something nerdy, while Grim was... being Grim. Pawing at random ingredients, making snide comments, and generally being more of a hindrance than any helpful mascot should ever be.

“I’m telling ya, we don’t need all these fancy-schmancy ingredients!” Grim huffed, flicking his tail dismissively. “Just throw in some catnip and call it a day!”

Idia, not even bothering to look up, mumbled, “Uh, no. That’ll throw off the potion’s balance and potentially, like, destroy the entire lab. But, yeah, sure, go ahead. I’ll just be over here doing the actual calculations.”

"Catnip," you muttered, shooting Grim a sideways glance. "Right. Because that's the missing key to magical success."

Grim puffed out his chest, as if the sheer confidence would make up for his utter lack of sense. "You mock, but I know what's what."

You sighed. Maybe pairing with the guy obsessed with cats and the guy obsessed with numbers wasn’t the best move. “Idia, are you sure you’ve got this under control?”

“I’ve got this down to a 96.8% success rate,” Idia said, tapping away on his tablet with the fervor of someone far too invested in digital alchemy. “The probability of anything going wrong is, like, practically nonexistent.”

You peered into the cauldron. It was bubbling ominously, more like it was contemplating murder than mixing into a helpful potion. “And the other 3.2%?”

“Well... worst-case scenario, you might end up as a squirrel. Temporarily. Maybe.”

Before you could even process what he just said, Grim—bless his chaotic little heart—decided to tip over a vial of glowing green liquid into the cauldron. “Oops.”

There was a brief, deadly silence. Then a whoosh of bright smoke exploded from the cauldron, enveloping you, Grim, and Idia in a thick, magical fog.

Coughing, you blinked through the haze. Everything seemed bigger, or maybe you were smaller. And then you noticed Grim staring at you with wide eyes, mouth hanging open.

“What?” you asked—or, at least, you tried to ask. What came out instead was a small, pitiful meow.

Grim blinked. Twice. “Nya?!”

Idia finally looked up from his tablet, and when he saw you, a grin spread across his face so wide it looked like he had just won the rarest item drop of his life. "Oh. My. Gods."

You stared at him, then down at your—oh no. Oh no no no. You had fur. You had paws. Your tail lashed back and forth as panic began to settle in. "I’m a cat?!"

"This. Is. Amazing!" Idia was practically vibrating with excitement, not at all concerned about your current feline predicament. "This is like, peak event status. You turned into a cat! This is exactly like that one episode of 'Magical Meow-taku no Monogatari' where the protagonist gets cursed and—"

Grim cut in, his tone somewhere between horror and indignation. “Nyaaa, wait a minute! I’m supposed to be the only talking cat here! This is outrageous!” His fur bristled as he looked between you and Idia, clearly not enjoying this turn of events.

You tried to hiss at Grim, but all that came out was a squeaky mewl. Great. Even your protests were adorable.

Idia, meanwhile, was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Oh man, this is like, prime meme content. We need to document this! Hold on, I’m sending a message to the dorm chat.”

You swatted at his leg with a paw, trying to stop him, but your efforts were in vain. He was already furiously typing into his tablet.

“‘So, uh, our partner just turned into a cat lol. 10/10, would pet again.’ There, sent,” Idia said, looking way too pleased with himself. He looked down at you, his expression downright giddy. “You don’t even understand how happy this makes me. A real-life cat transformation! This is like, a rare gacha pull, but better. Because it’s you. As a cat.”

Grim groaned dramatically, throwing his paws up. “Unbelievable! I can’t believe this is happening! Now there’s two of you! This was supposed to be my thing!” He shot a glare your way. “You better fix this fast, or I’ll never live it down.”

You tried to roll your eyes—well, as much as a cat could roll their eyes—and sat down, tail flicking impatiently. You’d really like to be human again, thanks.

But Idia wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

“You know,” he said, voice taking on a thoughtful tone, “I could, theoretically, keep you like this for a while. I mean, think of the content. We could have a whole cat-themed channel. Imagine it: ‘Cat Adventures with the Prefect and Grim!’ You could be a streaming sensation!”

Your wide-eyed, horrified stare was lost on him as he started muttering to himself about potential subscriber counts and fan art. Grim, meanwhile, was rapidly spiraling into a jealousy-fueled rage.

“No way! This can’t happen! I’m the mascot! Me! Not you!” Grim wailed, tugging at his own fur as if his dignity depended on it.

In the background, Idia was already searching for the best cat toys to order online.

This was going to be a long day.

Masterlist