#idk i got an itch to do something different!

[thewanderingmask]

it's cal!

[daisynik7]

Double the Fun

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader x Reiner Braun

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbors Eren and Reiner, modern day au, all characters are mid-twenties, explicit language, p*rn no plot, smut – threesome, vaginal sex, anal sex, anal play, spit play, nipple play, cunnilingus, face-riding, blowjob, hand job (M/M), double-penetration, multiple orgasms from the reader, sex toy use (anal plug), cream pies (in both holes), Reiner is a bit of a perv and sniffs panties (just like how he sniffed Historia’s letter in the finale LOL), pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweetie), slight degradation (use of slut, cock slut, whore, and cock sleeve to address the reader), slight breeding kink, sex without a condom (assuming reader is on some form of birth control)

Summary: You’ve been having a bit of a dry spell recently with how busy you’ve been at work. When you finally manage to snag a date with one of your online dating matches, you’re unfortunately stood up, leaving you in a worse mood than before. Lucky for you, your two hot neighbors are more than willing to cheer you up.  

Author’s Notes: Phew! This one is a doozy! Please make sure you read the content warnings before reading. This is filthy and shameless; I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I LOVE Eren and Reiner together, idk, they just always scratch this everlasting itch I have. I’m still getting used to writing threesomes, so I hope this is okay! Also, this is my first foray into butt stuff and I may have awoken something inside me, LOL. MDNI divider by the loveliest @/cafekitsune. Thank you for reading! 

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @slvt-for-smut @antique-remains @aiyaaayei

part 4 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

“Are you sure you don’t want me to sit, like, two tables away? What if this guy is sketch?” 

You can spot the obvious concern in Pieck’s voice through the speaker of your phone, which is currently face-up on top of your vanity as you get ready. You finish the last steps of your makeup, inspecting yourself in the mirror, satisfied. “Don’t worry, I’ve got pepper spray in my purse in case he tries anything funny,” you assure your best friend. It’s been a while since you last went on a proper date. Pieck’s always been a worry-wart about you meeting strangers from your online dating apps, constantly reminding you to stay vigilant. Tonight is no different. 

“You should at least let your hot neighbors know that you’re going out, so they can keep an eye out for you,” she suggests, throwing that in casually. Ever since you moved in a few months ago, she’s been rooting for you to hook up with either of the two men next door, Eren Jaeger and Reiner Braun. She’s met them plenty of times in passing and would much rather you date one of them instead of the countless of mysterious men on your current roster. 

There’s no denying that they’re attractive. Eren with his long, dark hair, striking eyes, and toned physique. Reiner with his sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and well-groomed goatee. They also happen to be incredibly friendly towards you, always greeting you in the hallway with a genuine smile, asking how your day went or what you’ll be up to. They’ve invited you for dinner on several occasions, which has always been pleasant, sometimes leaning towards the flirtatious side. You’re sure they’re just nice guys, cordial neighbors looking out for one another. There’s nothing more to it than that, even if a small part of you wants there to be. 

You step back from your reflection, checking yourself out once one more. “I’ll be fine, Pieck.”

“What if I can’t reach you? There should be at least one other person who’s aware of your whereabouts, right?” This is what binging too many true crime documentaries does. Still, you’re grateful for your friend’s concern, knowing it’s all out of love. You can tell she’s actually distressed about this, so you end up agreeing, mostly to appease her. She wishes you well before hanging up as you slip into heels by the door. 

You tug at the hem of your skimpy black dress, hand motionless on the doorknob. It’s your first date in over a month. Work has been so busy that you haven’t had time for romance or sex. The variety of sex toys tucked away in your drawer has been your only solace these past few weeks. To say you’re ready for some real action is an understatement. You’re also incredibly nervous, afraid you’ve lost your groove. That’s why you’ve taken extra measures to fully prepare yourself for anything tonight. 

With a deep breathe, you step out into the hallway, following Pieck’s advice. You knock on your neighbor’s door and Eren is the first to answer. His expression brightens when he realizes it’s you. “Hi,” he greets you, flashing that charming smile of his. He scans you up and down, taking in your appearance. “Wow.”

“Is that a good wow or a bad wow?” you grin, twirling for him. 

He swallows hard, checking you out once more. “Definitely a good wow.”

It’s that extra boost of confidence you need for this date, so you’re appreciative of him. “Thank you, Eren. You’re always so sweet.” 

He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “So, hot date tonight?”

You decide to be honest with him. “Yeah. It’s been a minute, so I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be. Any guy would be lucky to date you.” His eyes twinkle at you kindly.

You imagine Pieck screaming at you from twenty miles away, begging you to date Eren instead of going out with this random swipe right. Eren is simply a sweet guy paying his neighbor a compliment. There’s nothing more to it than that. Before you get the chance to thank him, Reiner’s deeper voice calls out from inside the apartment. “Who is it?”

Without taking his eyes off you, Eren answers with your name. Soon, the blonde joins him, jaw dropping when he notices you. “Fuck.”

Eren elbows him in the chest, to which Reiner mutters a strained apology. “Sorry. You just look amazing.”

The flattery is almost too much, cheeks warm with embarrassment, stomach fluttering. “Thank you.” Reiner is usually the more forward of the two, blurting out whatever is on his mind, though you’re not complaining. 

Grinning, Reiner asks, “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Someone I met online. My friend said I should let my wonderful neighbors know my whereabouts tonight, in case I end up missing,” you explain casually. 

“How morbid,” Eren chuckles. “We’ll keep an eye out for you later so that your friend doesn’t have to worry.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Reiner raises a brow at you. “Unless you’re planning on sleeping with him. We probably won’t see you if it does go well.” He hunches forward when Eren lands another blow to his chest, shutting his roommate up. 

You giggle, agreeing with him. “No, you’re totally right. I’m going to stay optimistic and say that if I don’t come home tonight, that’s a good thing.”

“We’ll hope for the best, then,” Eren replies, beaming. 

You turn to leave, waving farewell to them. Reiner yells out, “Have fun tonight! But not too much fun!”

~~~

You return to your apartment complex less than two hours later, heels clicking loudly on the tiled steps, feet heavy with disappointment. After taking a twenty-minute taxi ride to the restaurant you agreed to meet him at, you proceeded to wait an entire hour only to realize that you’ve been stood up. No text, no reply, no call. You’ve been made a fool, completely humiliated, the night and the rest of your weekend absolutely ruined by this asshole’s no-show.  

It takes you a while to dig through your purse for your keys, patience already worn thin. Frustrated, you groan out loud, staring up at the ceiling. “Why me?”

In the worst timing ever, the door to your left swings open. Eren pops his head out, saying your name curiously.

Reluctantly, you turn to face him. “Hey.”  

He comes out, dressed casually in sweats, hair wrapped in a messy bun with the few stray strands draping the back of his neck. “That was quick.”

With an unconvincing smile, trying to hide the shame that currently consumes you, you admit, “I got stood up.”

His demeanor changes instantly. The concern on his face is endearing, and when he drifts towards you, he reaches out, then drops his arm, unsure how best to console you without crossing any lines. “No way.”

You nod, sighing. “It’s true.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He steps closer to you, hesitantly placing his hand on your shoulder, testing the waters. 

You smile at him, enjoying this simple touch of comfort. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”

The two of you linger like this, Eren gazing into your eyes, holding you. His palm is hot on the fabric of your dress, and for a split second, you wonder how pleasant it’d be on your bare skin. And maybe it’s your wishful thinking or your desperation for human contact after being rejected tonight, but you can feel the heat of a spark between you now. Before you let your fantasies drive you to do something unprecedented, you search your bag again, finally retrieving your keys. He lets you go, watching you shove them into the keyhole, unlocking the door. “Are you okay?”

In all honestly, you’re not, but there’s nothing him or anyone else can do about it, right? “I’ll be okay. Sucks that I got all dressed up for this, though. What a waste.”

He doesn’t respond right away, choosing his words carefully. “Well,” he starts, the faintest blush tinged on his cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be.” 

You stare at him, heart beating faster, making sure you’re understanding him correctly. “Really?”

He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Yeah. Maybe we can get some use out of it.”

“We?”

As if on cue, Reiner emerges from inside their apartment, having heard everything. “Fuck that shitty asshole. You’ll have way more fun with us.” He stands next to his roommate, grinning at you.

This time, you do listen to Pieck’s voice in your head, yelling at you to go for it. To let these two alluring neighbors of yours take care of you the way you deserve. Already feeling better, you give them a coy smile, opening the door to let them in. “Okay, then. Come on in.”

~~~

It’s the first time they’ve ever been inside your apartment, though you save the formal tour for later. As soon as the three of you are inside, door shut, shoes off, they’re both kissing you fiercely. Eren faces you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, hot and heavy. He caresses your sides, squeezing the curves of your body through your dress. Reiner is behind you, grip just below Eren’s, firm on your hips. His lips brush delicately on the nape of your neck, groin pressed to your backside, the bulge protruding from his pants growing harder and harder between your ass cheeks. You moan into the kiss, pussy throbbing in your lingerie, eager to be touched by either man, by both of them. Why did you even bother trying to hook up with strangers online when the perfect matches were beside you all along?

Reiner chuckles, breath hot on your ear, voice low and rugged. “You’re really horny, aren’t you? All dolled up and ready to be fucked, huh?” There he goes again, blunt and straightforward and so fucking sexy, exactly what you need tonight. 

And here is Eren, soft and gentle, committed to kissing you, whispering sweet nothings any chance he gets. “You’re beautiful. Such a gorgeous girl. So pretty for us.” Also exactly what you need. 

You lead them into your bedroom, Eren flipping on the light switch, keeping his lips on you while Reiner strips out of his clothes, starting with his pants. Eren does the same, hoisting his shirt off, revealing his impressive figure. You attempt to slip out of your dress, but Reiner stops you. “Keep it on,” he rasps, down to his underwear now, boner more obvious, poking out from his briefs.  

Eren pinches your butt, snapping the tight fabric to your skin. “We’re not letting this go to waste, remember?”

You nod mindlessly, brain hazy with lust, too eager to be fucked. “Fuck me,” you beg, spit smeared all over your lips. 

They both laugh softly, walking you towards the bed. “So impatient, so needy,” Eren coos, positioning himself in front of you, toying with the hem of the skirt.

Reiner sits up against the headboard, propping you up on his lap, your back pressed to his muscular chest. “What’s the rush, baby?” he teases, licking a stripe behind your ear. “We’re going to take care of you. Right, Eren?”

Eren bites his lip as he works your dress up past your thighs until it’s bunched up at your hips, exposing your soaked thong on your wet cunt. “Oh fuck yeah,” he huffs, salivating. “Gonna make you feel so good. Make you come so fucking much.”

You spread your legs wider for him, a pathetic whine escaping your throat, more and more desperate by the second. He hooks his finger on the crotch of your panties, smirking at the string of arousal that stretches between the fabric and you. “So fucking wet, holy shit.” 

He tugs it all the way off your legs, tossing it over to Reiner, who brings it up to his nose, taking a big whiff. “Such a slut for wearing these on a first date. Our naughty girl.” He lets your lingerie fall from his grasp onto the floor, sliding to the plush of your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart. 

Eren dives in, spreading his wide tongue flat on your clit, moving it side-to-side, stimulating you into your first orgasm. Your knees twitch from the sensation, the pleasure rippling through you like waves of ecstasy. You turn your head towards Reiner’s, opening your mouth, pleading him for a kiss. He obliges, sticking his tongue inside you, slurping up your saliva, hungry for it. “You’re so fucking nasty,” he growls, reaching for the drawer beside the bed. “Bet you have toys hiding in here. Why don’t we have some more fun and play with them?” You whimper wantonly, keen on the idea of Reiner using whatever he wants on you to make you come again. 

He finds exactly what he’s looking for: your precious anal plug, tapered on one end, heart-shaped gem on the other. When he pulls it out, he barks out a laugh, almost like he can’t believe his luck. “You really are a whore,” he whispers in your ear, sinister and wicked, about to have too much fun with this. “Did you prep yourself to be fucked in the ass? Be honest.” Even Eren pauses, peering up at you, curious. 

“Yes,” you mewl, squirming with arousal, body tingling all over.

Eren’s chuckle reverberates against your clit, releasing you from his mouth to lap at your wet slit. “Good girl,” he muffles, collecting your cum on his tongue. “So perfect for us.”

The dynamic between them spurs you on, Eren playing the good guy, Reiner playing bad. Both of them work together with a common goal in mind: to cheer up their pretty neighbor from what would have been a bummer of a night. But already, you’re thankful that you were stood up; you’re certain now that this is the much better alternative. 

“Eren, switch spots with me,” Reiner demands. “And you,” he says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “On your stomach.”

You both obey him without protest. Eren leans against the headboard with a dazed look in his eyes, licking his shiny, cum-coated lips. He smiles as you gaze up at him, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him. You open wide, tapping the tip of his dick on your tongue before sinking down on him until you’re too the hilt, swallowing him into the back of your throat. He cups yours cheeks, caressing you gently. “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth. My gorgeous girl.” You accept the praise shamelessly, relishing the distinct taste of him.

From behind, Reiner worships you, squeezing your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to ogle at your fluttering hole. Without warning, he hocks a frothy wad of spit directly onto it, teasing his thumb on the rim. “Fuck, baby,” he utters as you moan on Eren’s cock. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”

You nod, taking Eren deeper, your nose pressed to his groin, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, bracing yourself. The plug is slick with lube as Reiner pushes it in carefully until the heart-shaped jewel is flush to your hole. He swears under his breath, marveling at the sight before him, cock pulsating in his fist. You stay like this for a while, adjusting to the toy inside you. It really did help that you prepared for this earlier. 

“So sexy,” Eren murmurs from above you, staring on your backside. “You take it so good, sweetheart.”

“Like an obedient slut,” Reiner adds, using his thumb to push the plug the slightest bit deeper. He lifts your hips to position himself below you so that you’re straddling his face. “Can you come again, baby?”

“Of course she can. She’s our good girl,” Eren purrs, petting your head softly as you continue to blow him. 

Reiner eats you out sloppily, different from Eren, who’s intentional with his every move. It sends you into another frenzy, pushing you closer and closer over the edge, especially when he begins playing with the plug, pumping it in and out of you slowly. You’re overstimulated with Eren’s hot cock throbbing in your mouth, clit swollen on Reiner’s tongue, and asshole puckered around the smooth glass of the plug. You reach your climax easily, gushing all over Reiner’s face, riding out your orgasm until you’ve completely soaked him in your juices. He drinks it all up, messy and greedy for every drop of you he can scour. He really is as insatiable as you imagined he’d be. 

You release Eren to catch your breath, to which he tips your chin up to face him. “You’re incredible,” he says, the familiar twinkle in his eyes making your heart race. You paw at his chest, crawling up to meet him for a kiss. 

Reiner quickly joins the two of you, not wanting to be left out, rubbing his hard cock between your ass cheeks. You kiss the both of them at the same time, all of your saliva mingling together into a hot, wet mess that you’re currently intoxicated by. After a moment, Eren pulls back. “Does our pretty girl want to get fucked now?”

“Show us how big of a cock slut you are,” Reiner grunts, circling the jeweled end of the plug, teasing your hole. 

Eren helps remove the dress off you completely, hoisting it off your body. He stretches his arm towards the drawer. “Are the condoms in here too?”

You shake your head briskly, bringing his attention back to you. “I want it raw. Want you to fill me up.” 

They both moan, clearly fond of your request, kissing you feverishly. Eren nudges your breast into his mouth, latching onto your nipple. Reiner sucks the skin all along your neck, leaving his love marks, growling, “You want us to breed you, huh? Want all this cum inside these tight little holes of yours. Oh fuck.” His voice is rough and husky, gradually losing his composure. 

Eren’s remains tender, his breath soft on your bosom. “We’re going to breed you so good, sweetheart.” He shimmies down the bed, lying flat on his back, peering up at you with adoration. You straddle him, rubbing yourself on his shaft, needy for friction on your aching clit.

Reiner’s embraces you from behind, groping your chest, focusing on his roommate’s dick and your wet cunt gliding along it. He reaches between you and Eren, fisting his friend’s cock with fast strokes. “Look how hard he is for you. He’s going to fuck you so good. Make you cream all over the sheets.” Your pussy is sopping with arousal from the dirty talk alone, but watching Reiner touch Eren has you dizzy. 

“Fuck, Reiner,” Eren moans, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “That’s so fucking hot.” He lets his roommate jerk him off while you continue to grind yourself on him. Soon, he replaces Reiner’s fist with his own, cockhead glistening with precum. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Reiner moves to your swollen bud, tapping it with his thick fingers. “Oh yeah, she’s fucking ready. Come on, cock sleeve. Put it in.”

Without wasting another second, you line yourself up with him. Eren slides in smoothly, his entire length in you, pussy stretched around him perfectly. You whimper from the fullness, his cock to the hilt and the plug nestled in your backside. Reiner places his hand on your posterior, urging you to lean down so that your chest-to-chest with Eren, who kisses you passionately, remaining still inside you. “Eren,” you whimper his name, drooling into his mouth. He smiles against you, delighted at how fucked out you are for him.

Reiner adjusts his stance, hovering over you by planting one foot on the bed to prop his knee up, giving him enough leverage. He focuses on the plug, tugging it out just barely only to push it back in, repeating this several times, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Finally, he removes it completely, staring wide-eyed at your gaping hole, oh-so-inviting for his fat cock. “Look at that,” he croons, circling your rim with his finger, sensitive to his touch.

You want so badly to be stuffed full by both of them. In a trembling voice, you whine, “Please, Reiner.”

Laughing, he delivers a harsh smack to your ass, skin immediately stinging from it. He dribbles more of his spit onto you, teasing the tip of his dick on the rim. “Not yet, slut.” You can’t see him, too immersed in kissing Eren right now, but you can practically hear the wicked grin on his face, watching you squirm below him as he torments you.

Eren intervenes, annoyed with his friend’s behavior. “Come on, Reiner. Give her what she wants. She deserves it.” He nuzzles his nose to yours. “She’s been a very, very good girl.”

Eventually, Reiner relents. “You’re right. She’s a good girl. And good girls deserve to get fucked in both holes.” 

You shiver at his perverse words, bracing yourself. At last, he guides himself inside you, filling you to the brim. It’s better than any fantasy you could dream of, the sensation so intense, tears begin welling in your eyes.

They start thrusting simultaneously, Eren pummeling your cunt from below, Reiner pounding your ass from behind. It’s messy and raunchy, their hands slippery all over your body from lube, slick, and sweat. The air surrounding you is laden with lust and desire. The collective moans from all three of you echo off the walls of your small bedroom, along with the squeaks of your mattress creaking under the weight of your vigorous lovemaking. 

Reiner is rendered speechless now, totally concentrated on pumping his cock in and out of your fluttering hole, the only sound from his mouth being his ragged breaths. Eren slips one hand between you, his digits pressed to your puffy clit as he fucks up into your pussy. The other fondles your tit, thumb flicking your nipple until it’s perky. He continues to praise you, constantly musing about what a good girl you are, how perfect you are for them. 

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. You’re in a perpetual state of ecstasy, surrounded by the two hottest men in your life who are voracious for your orgasms. The sour memory from earlier has completely faded and all you can think about is the sweet bliss you’re currently indulging in. 

Eren is the first to come, no longer able to endure it. His even thrusts turn erratic. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming inside you sweetheart, oh fuck.”

You kiss him languidly, drinking up his moans as he floods your cunt with his load. Soon, Reiner swears loudly, announcing his own climax. “Fuck, gonna breed this slutty hole.” His cock swells, spurting his warm seed inside you.

You relax on top of Eren, who’s equally as spent as you. Reiner pulls out slowly, fixated on his own cum dripping out of you. “Fuck. Let’s see the other one, baby.” You lift off Eren, who almost seems reluctant to let you go. Both of them watch with hazy expressions as his creamy load spills out of you and onto his lap. 

The room is musty with the scent of sex, the sheets messy and stained beneath you. Despite that, you’re on cloud nine, soaring high from having the nastiest ménage á trois with your next-door neighbors.

Maybe you should try getting stood up more often. 

[jiminrings]

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane. 

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it.  “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye. 

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself. 

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.” 

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot. 

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.” 

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion. 

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place. 

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor. 

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to.  You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder. 

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation. 

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears. 

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.” 

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her. 

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know,  try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts. 

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

.

.

.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas. 

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with. 

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it. 

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ DOWN BOY!

♰ featuring: shidou ryusei [blue lock]

♰ note: i've been having unholy thoughts of feral/muzzled!shidou for the longest time now and was ITCHING to write this i stg that image of him in the manga in the straight jacket made ME feral. (spoilerss?????? ig???? not rlly???) but uhhh yeah, enjoy!

sypnosis: you want to try something different in the bedroom. your boyfriend is not happy about it in the slightest. wc: 4.8k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. fem/fem-bodied reader. switch!reader. switch!ryusei. bondage. use of handcuffs. use of a muzzle/restraint mask. use of cock rings. implied thick/chubby!reader. SHIDOU RYUSEI HIMSELF. feral!ryusei. slight pet play(?) (idk u make him whimper for u and refer to him as a dog/mutt). degradation. orgasm denial/edging. dry orgasms. ball-sucking. unprotected sex. big dick!ryu agenda! cervix-fucking. squirting. rough sex. dacryphilia. spanking. choking. creampie/breeding. cursing. excessive mentions of drool/saliva/spitting. groping. hair pulling. ONE cock slap.꒷꒦

“Babe, is all of this really necessary?”

Ryusei sighed in a bored tone as you clicked the second pair of fuzzy handcuffs around his slender wrist. You rolled your eyes as you straddled his naked waist, trying to figure out how to cuff the other end of the fluffy device to your shared headboard. He has been asking questions like this ever since you first suggested letting you top him.

Handcuffs, babe, really?

A cock ring—what is that supposed to be for?

Is that . . . Is that a muzzle?

Despite the fact that it seemed like he was asking you a never-ending stream of questions, you knew it was just his feeble attempt to try and sway you. It wouldn’t. However, you thought it was funny because, when you first suggested it, he was ecstatic at the prospect of you on top. He was, however, immediately protesting it after noticing all of the little toys and trinkets you pulled out to use on him. A black restraint mask that was intended to cover the lower half of his face and reveal his scowling lips, as well as handcuffs, a cock ring, and other items. It was no secret that he loved touching you, biting you, breeding you, and ravishing you any chance he got, and the fact that all of the items you brought prevented him from doing as he pleased annoyed him to no end.

Whatever the case, the mere thought of you domming him was enough to make him put up with this torture.

After figuring out how to cuff the handcuff to the bed, you grabbed both of Ryusei’s wrists and gave them a few firm tugs to make sure that they wouldn’t come undone. He, on the other hand, was more focused on your attire: a set of hot pink lacy lingerie that matched his eyes and perfectly complemented your skin tone. The sight of your full breasts dangling in his face was enough to arouse him, and the feeling of your thighs pressing against his sides had his semi-hard cock already straining against the fabric of his thin boxers.

Reaching to your side, you grabbed the black muzzle/mask that resembled the one he wore while being restrained in blue lock and secured it to his face. You noticed the irritated furrow of his brow, how his fuschia hues cast themselves elsewhere, away from you, and the way the corner of his lips pulled downward in an unamused frown. You could not help but giggle at him, finding it hilarious that your boyfriend was pouting so much over the fact that he could not touch you.

Placing two fingers along the side of his jaw, you turned his head to face your own, relishing in the way he purposely forced his eyes away from you so that he didn’t have to meet your gaze. “Aww, no need to look so pouty, Ryu.” You teased, mimicking his pout with a mocking one of your own. “Is the muzzle too tight on you, doggy?”

That caught his attention. His previously bored expression abruptly changed to one of vexation as his eyes darted to yours in a ferocious glare. His teeth bared at you from the mask's tiny bars, sharp canines clenched together from his indignation. He jostled under you in an attempt to lunge for you, but the cuffs held him taut.

Had he not been restrained, you knew that it would’ve been over for you if he managed to get his hands on you. You shifted your hips back to press down against his bulge, both of your hands resting against his muscled chest as you balanced yourself on top of him. Whatever curses he had on the verge of forming on his lips had died into a strangled moan. The sensation of your clothed pussy being pressed against his sensitive shaft had him reeling almost instantly into submission, causing you to smirk in triumph. He was always so easy to control when he was horny.

“That’s what I thought, pup.” You jabbed, patting him (condescendingly) lovingly atop his head, to which he responded with a small growl.

“Don’t push it, angel.”

Grinning impishly, you planted a kiss atop his mask, right where his lips should have been. From there, you continued to leave a trail of hot, slow kisses down his jaw, neck, chest, and abs until you reached your destination. Your minxish eyes locked onto his as your digits threaded themselves into the boxer's waistband. You then gently kissed the area where his tip, which was already dripping and staining the fabric, strained against the boxers. He tossed his head back with a groan, his cock twitching before you with anticipation. As you slowly pulled his boxers down his thighs, his cock would spring free, nearly slapping against your nose as it swayed erotically against Ryusei’s pelvis.

You couldn’t help but coo, watching as he twitched pathetically in front of you, aching for your touch. “You poor, poor thing. Already so pent up, and I’ve barely started touching you yet.” He didn’t respond to you, his hips bucking towards your face as you could feel his thighs spasming beneath you. “Too bad, you won’t be able to cum until I say so~.” Reaching into your collection of trinkets, you pulled out a pink silicone cockring and pinched it between your fingertips, holding it up tauntingly for him to see while sitting between his legs.

Ryusei reacted to this by whimpering indignantly, clenching his fists in the cuffs, and shaking his head with desperation. “B-Babe, c’mon. You don’t have ta’ do all of this.” He tried to reason with you, but you weren’t budging.

“Oh, but I do, Ryu~!” As you spoke, your voice was ablaze with glee. With one hand holding the base of his cock, you forced it to rise while using the other to place the cockring on his sensitive tip and roll it down at a rather agonizingly slow pace. The feeling of the tight ring sliding down his cock caused the blonde to hiss in both discomfort and pleasure as his heels dug into the bed and his hips bucked into your touch. “Think of it as my revenge for all the times you roped me into your horny little exhibitionist habits.”

“Oh, I’ll show you ‘revenge’ you little—”

You cut him off, unamused, with a firm squeeze of your digits around the cockring, making him toss his head back and cry out—a silent reminder that you were the one in control here. His cock twitched, his blushed tip turning an even darker shade of red as he was obviously pent up beyond relief.

“F-Fuck, fuck, okay! Y-Y/N, please, just do something!” He pleaded as he writhed beneath your now delicate touch, his hips thrusting into the air dryly. “Feels like I’m bouta’ explode here…”

Since you had already planned to do so, you decided to comply with his desperate pleas. You lean toward the underside of his cock and his two hairless balls, which have started to swell with his virile seed. You parted your lips, allowing your drooling tongue to lick over the seam of those fat orbs, drowning them with your skillful muscle and affection. Wrapping your lips around one of them, you suctioned it into your mouth, sensually rolling it around your tongue with a gentle hum that shot to his cock before moving on to the next one. Ryusei hissed, panting, his heels dug into the sheets, peering down at you through his blurry vision as you pleasured his balls.

You met his gaze with a wink as you placed a kiss on either one before proceeding upwards, slobbering along the underside of his length with your pillowy orifice until you reached his destined tip. Almost immediately, your soft brims enveloped around his cock, drawing inch by inch into your accommodating throat. Ryusei, the greedy slut that he was, started to desperately hump your face in an attempt to release the pressure he was feeling, but his efforts were in vain. While he was strong, he was heavily restrained in this position, and with your body weight pressing against his hips to keep them down, there was not much he could do.

“F-Fuck, babe, I-I can’t. Ngh, p-please. Your mouth feels s’fuckin’ good . . “ He babbled, drool pooling from his whimpering brims. He looked so pretty like this, begging for more, his face flushed as fat tears pooled in the corners of his eyes—you wanted to ruin him.

“Eyes on me, Ryu.” You ordered, your thumb rolling teasingly along his sensitive tip, and he tried. He really, really tried, but he was so stimulated that he couldn’t stop them from crossing and rolling in the back of his head. “C-Caan’t~!” He whined helplessly, his hips thrusting into your touch. “Y/N, I-I’m gonna…”

“I know, baby, do it. Come undone for me…” You purred as you wrapped your lips around his tip once more, this time going so far as to take him all the way to his base in one stroke, your pretty nose pressing against his pelvis and his fine patch of blonde hair. He throbbed against your soft tongue, his balls clenching and pulsing against your chin.

“T-The ring! God. Please, Y/N. Move the ring! W-Wanna cum down your throat . . . make a pretty mess of that f-fucking gorgeous face.”

You hummed with amusement, pulling your mouth off of his cock so that you could shake your head at him. Smirking sinfully, you sat up straight and vigorously pumped his shaft, much to his dismay. “Nu-uh. You can cum just like this baby or not at all.” More tears streamed from his eyes as you grinned cruelly at him, and his brims ripped with a howl of frustration and ecstasy.

“Y-Y/N, you f-fucking bi—” Your other hand cupped his balls while your busy hand tightened the squeeze on his cock, moving more forcefully. You're practically milking him now. “Ahn, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck~!”

As his orgasm finally overcame him, he abruptly lost his voice and began to violently convulse. His hips trembled and twitched in your hands. His thighs shook against yours as his back arched upward and his fists gripped the chains of the fuzzy handcuffs. His lips were drooling with saliva as his eyes rolled into the back of his skull, and a series of whiny whimpers and moans escaped him. His body thrashed as he struggled to wriggle free of your vice grip, which was still relentlessly pumping him throughout his dry orgasm. As his release reverberated through him, you could feel his balls clench and his cock pulse in your palm, shooting fictitious ropes of cum. Funnily enough, despite his intense "cumming," he still remained rock-hard, with his cock still standing proud in your palm.

“You look so pretty like this, Ryu~” You purred, admiring his thoroughly blissed out expression. His eyes were unfocused and half-lidded, his cheeks were flushed a deep maroon, and his lips were glossy from drool and tinged red and swollen from him biting them. But when he heard your voice, he seemed to return to reality. "Y–Y/N . . . Let me the fuck out of these things now, or so help me, I will fucking murder you," he snarled, his teeth baring once again and his eyes narrowing into a furious glare as he tried to break free of his handcuffs and lunge at you.

His tone was serious, as were his words, but you knew he wouldn’t actually kill you . . . maybe.

You sighed, shaking your head a verbal rampage of swears and half-hearted threats continued to escape his lips. You raised your hand, placing a firm smack against his cock, the appendage slapping against his thigh with an audible “plap”. His body twitched once more, and he let out a mix of a snarl and a throaty groan simultaneously.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Ryu. You’re acting like some untamed mutt.” You muttered, enjoying in amusement at how his expression appeared to flare more from his outrage.

You stood on your knees between his legs, turning around so that your rear was facing him. Your thumbs hooked into the waistband of your lacey panties, sliding them down teasingly at an agonizing pace. When Ryusei saw your ample rear exposed to him, you could hear his breath catch in his throat. However, what really got his attention were the thin threads of translucent arousal that still connected your puffy folds to your panties. Of course, you would become aroused by his torment.

“Fortunately, I already possess the ideal remedy for taming feral creatures like you~.” You turned back to face him, crawling up his body until you were straddling his waist once more. Reaching for the restraint mask, you undid the buckle behind his mask, allowing it to slide away from his face and reveal the full extent of his drool-stained lips and chin. You smirked slyly as you balled up the panties in one hand and grabbed Ryusei's cheeks in the other, squeezing until his jaw finally gave way enough for you to stuff your panties into his mouth. He was glowering at you with promised malice. You were certain that if looks could kill, you would be long dead, but so be it. You leaned down and gently kissed his nose, to which he growled in response.

Returning to your original position lower on his body, you turned around so that he would be able to see your ass perfectly as you straddled his waist. Your digits took hold of his sensitive length and guided it up to your plump folds as your hips rose, before slowly and delightfully lowering yourself onto it. Both of you released guttural moans from the intrusion as Ryusei’s cock filled you inch by inch until you had finally settled on his hilt. The feeling of being filled to the brim by his cock elicited nothing but a loud, pornographic mewl of absolute ecstasy from your lips. Behind you, you could hear your partner making strangled groans, and you could feel him trembling beneath you. He was pleading with you to move, to do anything, from behind the makeshift gag. Of course, you willingly obliged because you were as desperate as he was.

You made an arch in your back and began to rock your hips back and forth and up and down along his cock, your hands on his thighs, as you began to ride him within an inch of his life. Your ass pounded rhythmically on his pelvis, the rather obscene sound reaching both of your ears as it reverberated off the bedroom walls, encouraging you to go faster and harder. When you heard Ryusei's choked and muffled groans, you couldn't help but clench tightly around his cock. His inability to do anything but watch as your ass rippled against his pelvis while pinned beneath you, along with the sensation of his cock hitting those deep sweet spots inside of you, enthralled you with euphoria. You could tell he was getting ready for another dry release because you could feel his still-sensitive cock throbbing inside of you with need and because of the way he suddenly began to thrash behind you.

“Settle down, Ryu.” You chided gently through your breathless pants and pleasured moans, slowing your pace so you could instead rock your hips along his own, grinding yourself delightfully against him. “Or else I might not let you—”

SNAP!

“. . .Cum.”

Your hips slowed to a halt, breath catching in your throat as the sound of something metallic snapping was audible. You were not a moron; you were perfectly aware of what that noise was. You slowly turned to look over your shoulder at the offender as if it were a scene from a horror film, only to find that your worst suspicions had been proven correct. Ryusei sat partially upright, one end of the fuzzy cuffs still fastened to the bed, it’s chain severed, and the other still connected to his wrist—his chest rising and falling erratically from his heavy panting. His face contorted into a mask of fury, his brows furrowing in a dark storm. His eyes were wild and alight with some kind of feral sadistic glee, blazing with an intensity that was both frightening and arousing. His lips were furrowed between a joker-like grin and a ferocious snarl as his sharp canines bared along the fabric of your panties, which were still balled in his mouth.

Oh, he was going to fuck you up.

“R-Ryusei . . .” You stuttered, your voice soft and already pleading, as though you were trying to reason with a feral beast.

His movements were nearly faster than sound, and he remained silent as his now-unbound hand grabbed the wrist that was still restrained and pulled it free with a single, powerful tug.

He was free.

Silence filled the room you two were in as neither of you uttered a word—you not daring to speak, and Ryusei was too busy savoring your fear to ruin his moment. Panic etched deep lines onto your face as your heart skipped a beat, and terror surged through your veins like ice. His cock, still nestled deep inside of you, twitched. He was getting aroused by this.

You scrambled to get off of him, like an imaginary gunshot signaling the start of the race, with every intention of running as far away from him as you could, but it was futile. You could not compare to him in terms of strength or speed. The instant you turned to flee, he was tackling you down to the mattress, causing you to scream in a combination of surprise and terror.

“Oh, nah, baby. Where you goin’?” He started after removing his panties from your mouth, placing them mockingly beside your head as he pressed his full weight into you. He had a hand placed firmly between your shoulder blades, and both of his thighs were caging your own to keep you pinned beneath him. “You don’t get to put me through all of this shit.” He paused, giving you a harsh thrust to accentuate his point, which drew a breathless gasp from you. “And think that you get to run away with your tail tucked between these pretty legs.” He snarled, leaning so close to you that you could feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“R-Ryu, I-I’m sorry!” You whined as you writhed beneath him, attempting to save yourself from whatever impending hell he was going to put you through.

He cackled deviously, tossing his head back in pure, unadulterated lunacy while he pulled his cock from your dripping folds. “Oh, are you?” He would inquire, a faux pout on his lips as he grabbed that stupid ring you had on his cock and pulled it free with a grunt despite the pain. “Ohh, fuck yeah. Can finally breathe.” He breathed as pre drooled from his tip.

“Y-Yes! I just wanted to have a little fun with yo—”

He interrupted you with a hard smack to your ass, causing you to sob aloud. “Fun? You call that fun, babe?” He snarled, fisting at your tresses and yanking your head back so that your ear was once again against your lips. “I’ll show you fuckin’ fun.”

You squealed as his two large, strong hands seized your hips, forcing you to rest on your knees. Before you could regain your bearings, his hand pressed against the back of your skull and pushed your face harshly into the sheets. Once in position, he pressed his hips against your own, laying his cock over your ass and thrusting languidly against your pillowy cheeks. He took two large handfuls of your rear and began groping and kneading the flesh with his hands, giving you a few heavy smacks here and there until your cheeks were turning red and you were a whimpering mess.

“Such a pretty ass here you have, baby.” As his thrusting grew faster between your cheeks, you felt the blunt head of his tip press against your puckered hole. “Maybe I’ll have fun with you here instead…”

Your breath hitched in your throat, craning your head to the side so that you could see him peering down maliciously at you from over the swell of your ass. You were no stranger to Ryusei's sex escapades, but anal was something the two of you had yet to explore because the thought of all the preparation and pain frightened you to the core. He was aware of this, which is why his grin became more deviant when your eyes met and he noticed the worried gaze.

“Ryu, n-no, I-I can’t, I’m not ready—!”

He tossed his head back with malicious laughter once more, clearly enjoying your torment as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against your puckered hole, but he never applied enough force to break the resistance.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that, princess?” One of his hands left your ass to seize your hair in a vice-like grip again, pulling you up so that your back was flush against his chest. His other hand reached for your chin, lanky digits gripping your cheeks and puckering your lips in an adorable manner. It was undeniable how his fuschia hues seemed to glow brighter with desire at the sight of your soft, glossy brims. “Makes me wanna fuck ya up even more . . “

He grumbled, his lips pressing against yours in a passionate liplock. It was clumsy, messy, and full of lewd tongue-to-tongue contact between Ryusei and you. He claimed your brims, ramming his long tongue deeper into your drooling maw as his tongue tangled with your own. He drew it out of your mouth, sharp incisors gnawing teasingly on the soft muscle while greedy brims sucked hungrily on your flesh, eager for more of your taste. It was hard to breathe. He was suffocating you, and yet you were enjoying every minute of it.

When he finally pulled away, several thin strings of drool connected your lips to his own, to which he would grin and place another sloppy smooch on your lips again. Keeping your lips puckered, he would apply more pressure to your cheeks until your pliant jaw fell slack. He pursed his own lips, drawing up saliva in his mouth, before his long tongue saliciously lulled out of his mouth, globs of drool rolling from his maw and into your own, which you would obediently swallow, having performed this action for him plenty of times before.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, placing two firm smacks against your round cheeks, making you keen and flinch. “Such an obedient little slut, f’me.”

The hand in your hair jerked you around again, forcing you back into the sheets before you could protest as he pressed his full weight against you, hips flush against yours—the ideal position for a prone bone. Keeping you pinned beneath him, he raised his hips so that he could line himself up with your entrance before slowly, tantalizingly sinking the entirety of his length into you. The position, combined with the delectable curve of Ryusei's cock, had you gasping with delight as you felt his cock caressing the deepest parts of you.

“Hah, shit~.” He drawled into your ear as his hips suddenly slammed forward with a single, savage thrust. His glans slammed into your cervix in a single smooth thrust, digging into the squishy entrance to your womb as if trying to pry you open, his cock's curves perfectly hugged by the pleats and folds of your pussy. His pace was sloppy and uncoordinated at first—each roll of his hips was frenzied and rough, as if the only thing on his mind was punishing your poor little pussy for the torment you had inflicted on him only moments before.

Your cries and wails of pleasure echoed off your walls, and you made a mental note to make amends to your neighbors later in the week. However, you were too preoccupied with Ryusei's cock bullying into your pussy to think about anything else.

The hand that forced your head into the sheets was snaking itself around your neck, the crease of his forearm and elbow resting snugly against your windpipe as he began to squeeze. To add to his brutality, he balled the fist of the arm that held you taught and used his other crease to pull it back, effectively locking you into an unforgiving headlock that made your toes curl and your moans catch in your throat. You couldn’t breathe, but damn did it feel good.

“What was it that you called me, babe?” He snarled beneath a mix of heavy grunts and growls, his teeth scraping against the shell of your ear. “A ‘mutt’ was it? Hm?” He inquired, applying more pressure to your throat as he continued to rut relentlessly against your ass, audible claps sounding with each pound. “Well, woof, woof, bitch.”

His words made you whimper as your cheeks burned with shame. You felt a tinge of regret, but it was quickly overshadowed by the immense pleasure you felt. As his grip tightened on you, your nails bit into his forearms, scratching against his bronzed flesh. You clenched around him, your lips forming a perfect 'o' shape as black spots darted across your vision—the asphyxiation only added to your pleasure.

“S-So fuckin’ tight now.” He groaned blissfully, loosening his grip so that you wouldn’t pass out when he noticed you beginning to go limp. With your newly acquired oxygen, you gasped for air and cried out in pleasure, fat tears welling up in your eyes as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. “Gonna milk every last drop out of me, aren’t ya? Greedy slut.”

“Yes, yes! ahn~! R-Ryu, I-I’m gonna cum!!”

He chuckled as he listened to your cries, using the hand that was not around your throat to stuff two digits into the side of your mouth, pulling on your cheek to fish-hook your soft cheeks. “Yeah? Not until you bark for me, you’re not.”

“W-What . . ?”

“You heard me, bitch. Bark. You wanna cum, don’t you? Make a pretty mess of my cock, hm?”

You obviously hesitated, having never done anything like this before, but when you felt his cock angle just right to pummel into that sweet spot deep inside of you, you threw all logic and reasoning out the window. “Arf! A-Ah, fuck . . arf!" You hoped and prayed that it would be enough to please him—that it would be enough to finally let you cum.

Luckily for you, it was. Cackling cruelly, he shook your head back and forth dumbly, your tongue lulling out of your mouth to lap at his fingers. “That's it. That’s a good little pup. Go on, cum for me, doll.”

You did so gratefully; your moans mixed with babbles of useless speech along the lines of “thank you” and “m’sorry”. Your body would twitch and convulse, your mouth dropping open, as your fluids once more started to stick to his pelvis from the way she creamed around his pistoning cock. Your teary eyes could not register their surroundings, nor could your brain register Ryusei slamming his cock's head firmly against your squishy cervix, pumping you full of his seed.

“F-fuck, fuckk~.” He hissed into your ear, his arm tightening around your throat as his orgasm washed over him. “Love the way this pussy squeezes me, creamin’ all around my fat cock . .” He panted, pressing soft yet sloppy kisses against your ear and cheek.

He let you go in an instant, allowing your exhausted body to fall slack on the sheets before you, gradually regaining your bearings as you came down from your high. Ryusei rose from you, kneeling on the backs of your thighs, watching as his cock slid languidly free from your sopping cunt, slapping against your ass once free. A twisted grin spread across his face as he watched his thick cum slide out of you, the steaming milky white substance gliding over your throbbing clit and puffy folds, contrasting with your complexion in a way that was completely addicting to him—enticing even. Your soft whines would bring him back to reality.

“Ryuu . .” Your gentle voice called out to him as you peered over your shoulder. He noticed your glassy eyes and tears running down your cheeks, your puffy lips pouting, and your cute nose sniffling. “. . .You’re heavy.”

“Yeah? Y’didn’t seem ta’ have a problem with it earlier when I was tearing this sweet little ass up, pretty thing.” He remarked, placing a light love tap on your reddened ass.

"That was before the post-nut clarity hit," you said, your brow furrowed with mock irritation, squirming around as you tried to crawl out from under him. “Now get upp~! I wanna take a bath.”

“Oh?” There was something chilling behind his tone, something that stopped you in your efforts. Ryusei towered over you once more, placing both of his palms next to your head as his powerful forearms encircled you. Something heavy—phallic—pressed against you. It was undeniable. He was hard again.

“And who said I was done with you, Angel?”

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

[abbeym28]

Clarisse x Reader - Once More to See You

Clarisse x gn! reader, any cabin

An- sorry this took so long to get out! Anyways, thank you guys so much for liking my other Clarisse fics! This is my fourth one, so I hope that they get better with the more I write, but pls let me know if this is bad! Idk where my mind was when I wrote this lol. 3.3k words! Let me know if I messed anything up, and tell me what you guys thought of the last pjo ep! Dior looked as beautiful as always!!!!

Warnings!- nightmares, kissing, affection, mentions of training and weapons, pet names, pls let me know if something was missed!

The sun was almost to much to bear.

Beating down on Clarisse, it was almost melting. But she continued to swing her spear at the training dummy, hitting as hard as she could while making sure to be acutely aware of where she was landing the hits.

She was also very aware of the eyes that followed her every move. 

She knew that it was you, the only person at camp she allowed to get close to her. For some reason.

“Do you want to train with me?” She paused to yell and to look over at you.

“I’ll pass.” You were standing on the sidelines holding Clarisse's water bottle and her towel. She looked back at the dummy once before relaxing a bit and walking over to you. She grabbed the water and jugged it.

“How's day goin’ for you, angel?” You rolled your eyes just a bit and smiled at her nickname for you. She has called you that ever since you two really became friends, and almost gone is the flustered feeling it used to give you.

Almost.

“Really good actually, pretty girl.” Clarisse then took that chance to roll her eyes back at you, but the sun was definitely getting hotter because there was definitely no other reason why Clarisse’s face was feeling so warm all of the sudden, even after her intake of cool water.

“Oh yeah? What have you been doing?” She took the towel that you had extended to her and sat down on the closest bench. She nodded along as you recounted your day and how you spent the most of it doing crafts and training with the younger campers. She sat and listened until it was time for dinner, where the two of you sat side by side at the Ares table, even though it wasn’t technically allowed.

A few of her siblings teased the two of you, but it was a common occurrence, so they all knew that this was normal and would continue to be so. But they also couldn't just let it slide.

Clarisse made sure you were close by the rest of the night, completing both of your nightly routines that have over time molded together to make sure that they could fit like a puzzle piece.

She walked you to your cabin, and just like on any other night, there was a slight itch in her hand and the thought in her brain that she should be holding on to you in some way.

Linked hands, her arm around your shoulder, her hand guiding you whilst being placed on the small of your back. All feel like they could be the most natural thing in the world, if only your relationship could be just a little different.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?” Your question broke her from her thoughts and she just nodded.

“Yeah. Sleep tight, got it?” You smiled and hesitated before pulling her in for a quick hug. She tried to get over her surprise fastly, but you were quicker to end the hug then she was able to melt into you.

“So, um… goodnight.” You turned and walked into your cabin, Clarisse and one of your siblings who had witnessed the event watching with wide eyes. She made eye contact with them, and her shock dropped from her face. “Scram.” Your sibling nodded and wordlessly walked past her, going to some place she could care less about.

She stood there for another minute or so, her hand covering the bottom off her face as she sighed. The sun was gone now, but for some reason, her face felt all too hot right now.

She was beginning to think that the reason and cause had to do something with you.

Clarisse woke with a start the minute the creak of a floor board was heard across the cabin. She had practically trained herself to be awake at any moment, though she could mostly thank her fathers genes for that convenient trait.

None of her siblings seemed to have got it though, since none of them had even stirred.

She squinted her eyes to try to see through the darkness. “Hello?” she whispered out. The outline of a person stuck standing near the doorway visibly let some tension out of their shoulders as they began to move towards her, seemingly uncaring of the other little creaks that the old wood would let out.

“Clarisse?” Clarisse also then let out a breath, as well as a lot of the tension she was also holding.

“Angel? What are you doing here?” She sat up a bit more properly and scooted more to the side of her bed that was touching the wall, patting the now empty wedge, the sheets still wrinkled from the few hours of tossing and turning and sleep she had got.

You moved into that space next to her, bringing your knees up to your chin and  your arms wrapped around your legs.

Uh oh. Clarisse thought. The fetal position was never a good sign.

She hesitated before reaching her own arm around your shoulders, pulling you a bit closer to her, hoping that you could soak in some of the warmth Ares kids were notorious to have.

But she was still an Ares kid.

Comfort was not something she was really familiar with.

“What happened?” Her mind began to wander a bit, thinking that you must have gotten hurt. But who would hurt you knowing they would have to face her wrath? Her hands shook a little as she went through a list in her mind of potential people. It must have been one of your siblings, probably the one who-

“I had a nightmare.” Your voice was barely audible, but just the sound almost instantly calmed Clarisse down.

“Yeah? Do you want to talk about it? Or….” you shook your head no. “Do you want to stay the night here?”

You shifted a bit to look at her, and she noticed your eyes were a bit red and puffy. She wondered a bit about what could have happened in your dream if it made you have this strong of a reaction. All demigods got nightmares, you and Clarisse being no exception.

But this was the first time you had ever sought the other out like this.

“Can I?” You whispered.

“Any time.” She gently coaxed you out of your position so that way the two of you could lay flat on your backs, her arm still protectively holding you. “You know that I’m super strong, right? Whatever was scary in your dream was definitely no match against me.” You giggled, and Clarisse smiled.

She then spent some time talking about how she could protect you against anything, right until you fell asleep. She watched you for a moment, the peaceful look and the rise and fall of your chest bringing her comfort. She gently pushed a bit of hair away from your face and refused the urge in which was telling to place a kiss on your forehead.

She settled beside you, and sleep came easier for her then it had ever been since she had found out she was the daughter of war.

Sunlight streamed a bit too harshly through the windows making Clarisse try to close her eyes tighter. She groaned when she realized it was useless.

Someone cuddled in closer to her, their arms getting stronger around her waist. She tensed up a bit before remembering last night. The both of you were laying on your sides facing each other, all of your limbs seemed to be entangled with hers. She leaned into you more and began to close her eyes again.

That was before she heard the giggles of her siblings.

Her eyes shot open, and there were some of her brothers and sisters, standing above her bed, two of them with cameras. “What the fu- get away! Get!” She whisper- yelled, trying her best to not be close to your ear while making sure you didn't move much. Her siblings just laughed, took a picture, and then ran out of the cabin, their heavy steps making her flinch.

“What time is it?” Your voice distracted her from glaring at the still left open door. Her eyes flickered to her alarm clock. “It’s almost nine.” You hummed and burrowed your face into her neck.

She tried to ignore that.

Clarisse was always an early riser. Sleeping in any time after seven made her moody, and naps were completely out of the question and annoying to her.

So how was she able to sleep till nine, breaking her 5:30 wake up and missing both of her alarms? And why did she feel so… rejuvenated? Were you numbing her senses?

“We should get up.” You looked up at her, your eyes all sleepy and a small frown on your face.

“You don’t want to stay with me?”

Oh.

The room felt a bit hotter all of the sudden.

“Don’t you have classes to teach? The kids can't learn how to craft all by themselves.” She smirked as you blinked at her. You groaned and sat up, cutting off the skin contact and effectively making Clarisse feel colder and as if she was missing something.

“You’re lucky that I like what I do. I’ll see you at lunch, ‘kay?” You smiled at her and got up, stretching as you left her cabin to walk to yours.

All Clarisse could think about was; "is she actually lucky?"

The rest of the day seemed to go like normal, with you and Clarisse doing your separate duty’s while still finding times and places where the two of you could meet.

She was able to track and threaten her siblings, the ones who had taken the pictures of you two sleeping. She confiscated the camera, but when no one else was looking she pocketed one of the photos.

For safekeeping. She justified to herself.

To make sure that no one else would see it.

That night when you said your good nights, you hugged her again. This time it was a hug she was able to lean into, one that she was able to savor.

She was about to offer you to stay with her again, just another night. But the words got stuck in her throat as you pulled away.

“Stay safe, promise?'' Your words made her curious, but she wasn’t going to question you. It clicked that this was probably because of your dream.

“Have you even met me?” She laughed a bit, and you smiled at her softly.

It made her falter a bit. If any enemies were just a smidge like her, then that smile alone would stop an army.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I promised the kids that we would teach the sword class together.” She sounded a bit breathless, and she hoped that it was only in her mind. You hesitated, but nodded.

“See you tomorrow.”

Clarisse has been on edge ever since the clock turned to twelve. It was around this time that you had come to her yesterday, and even though it was a one time event, (or so she figured it would be), it felt like there was a pit in her stomach, and she couldn't help but feel like you were in some sort of danger.

She was almost ready to jump off her bed and speed walk to your cabin.

“Clarisse, can you stop?” One of her siblings whispered from some other bunk and she sighed. She realized that she was tossing and turning louder than she thought.

“I’m taking a walk.” She flipped the sheets off of her and walked out the door, making her way silently to your cabin. There were only a handful of times that she has been in here, but she knew where your bed was.

You were tossing and turning worse then how she was, sweat dripping down your chin to your neck. She gently touched your shoulder, something she knew she probably shouldn't have done, but it was enough to wake you from your sleep.

You sat up fast, your chest moving rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. You gulped.

“Clarisse? What… why are you here?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at her, still breathing hard.

“I felt that you weren't okay. Another nightmare?” You nodded as she continued to stand above you.

“Well, if you're okay, I'm gonna- I’ll… leave.” She turned around, but your hand caught her wrist with a tight grip before she was able to get far.

“Can you… can you stay?'' You were looking at her with those eyes again, and her breath was gone as well.

“Yeah. I can.” Her voice was too soft, a soft that would make her father distaste her even more. But she climbed into your bed, and for another night she slept with you in her arms.

The two of you occupied each other's beds for the next month, but neither of you spoke of the tension that riddled the space between you.

Nightmares didn't plague you any more, and Clarisse was getting better sleep then she had ever gotten before. That was until Chiron called her to his office.

“A quest?” Chiron nodded.

“Yes, one that was provided by one of the gods themselves, Hera. She asked for an Ares kid to complete this for her. You’ll think about it, won’t you?”

Clarisse nodded slowly.

“Perfect. Now, get back to your activities.”

Clarisse left his office like that. Her mind was clouded, and she didn't really know what to do.

Of course she had to take it, this was another great opportunity to show how great she was to her dad, and how far her training has come.

But she couldn't help thinking: what about you? How would you be if she had left? Quests could take up any amount of time, and what if something happened to her? Or you while she was away?

“What was that about?” Luke appeared next to her, catching her by surprise. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“A quest. They specifically want me.” Luke nodded, and he had that weird thoughtful look on his face that made Clarisse’s nose wrinkle.

The two of them hardly got along well, but as cabin counselors they had to be civil. She looked around at the trees as they walked together towards the training ground, that is until Luke spoke your name.

“Do they know?” He asked. She shook her head.

“No other campers but you knows.” He just nodded his head again. He smirked and looked at her.

“Can't wait to see how that goes.” And then he turned and walked the other way, leaving Clarisse standing there in slight shock. What was that about? Did he know something she didn’t?

She shook it off the best that she could before walking to where you were.

There was a smile on your face as you helped an eight year old boy from the Hermes cabin hold his sword properly. She watched as you stepped back and let him swing it at the target, clapping your hands and laughing a bit once he finally got it right. He ran to give you a hug, and you hugged him back, and she could tell from where she was that you were praising his abilities. Clarisses heart felt so full, and all though she thought it was impossible, she could swear she was falling for you even more.

Maybe Silena was right, and she is a stickler for domesticy. Maybe a quest wasn't what would make her truly happy. Maybe it was a life with you.

“Clarisse!” You were running towards her and she caught you in a hug.

“Hey. I was actually hoping that we could talk for a bit.” The smile stayed on your face while confusion clouded your eyes and your eyebrows furrowed.

“Sure, okay.”

The two of you walked into the forest together, stopping in a clearing which happened to be Clarisse’s favorite place at camp. Other than wherever you were. You took her hand in yours in a way that she assumed you thought would bring her comfort, but it just made her heart beat faster.

“The gods want me to go on a quest.” She blurted out. Your face and mood fell and you took your hand out of her grip gently.

“And what did you say?”

“Well, I'm technically still thinking about it, but I think that this could be good for me. Hera wants this thing done for her, and you know that I have trained for this, and it would be nice if my father would recognize me at least once. But I also- Angel? Are you okay?”

You looked as if you were about to cry, one hand hovering over where your heart is and the other almost covering your mouth. You were shaking like a leaf in the wind, and Clarisse didn’t like it one bit.

She moved towards you, placing her hands on either side of your shoulders and helping you sit on the ground. She put your face in between her collarbone and neck, stroking your hair softly as you sniffled.

“What’s wrong?” She was unsure that you would answer, but you shifted your head a bit back.

“This is just like my nightmare.”

It all kind of made sense now.

“I had them, for like, a week before I first went to your cabin. It’s always the same some how, with you accepting a quest from Hera and never returning, or you go missing and I have to be the one to find your body, or I go with you and I can’t do anything about that stupid monster you fight, and I just-” You were crying, Clarisse could practically feel them burn into her skin.

“I don’t want to lose you Clarisse. Not on a dumb quest or ever. I don’t know what to do without you.” Clarisse nodded a bit and fiddled with a piece of your hair.

“I chased away the dreams though, right?” She had no clue if you would appreciate any type of small joke she made, and she figured she was dead when you pulled away from her a little and looked into her eyes, your lips slightly parted in what she could only guess was surprise.

Then you leaned in and kissed her on the mouth.

She was surprised, just like how she was when you had first hugged her. You pulled away quicker this time, fear evading finding your eyes for the split second before Clarisse pulled you back in, returning the kiss you first started with as much passion as she could possibly convey. You were both breathless the next moment once you realized that you had to get air.

“I don’t know what to do about the quest.” Clarisse whispered. She didn’t know why she did, but she felt like something could break if she didn’t.

“I don’t know either.” You responded, your voice as low as hers.

“I-... I think I like you.” Clarisse confessed.

Although they weren't exactly the words she wanted to say, (She knew for a fact that she was in love with you), but it still felt as if a slight weight was lifted off of her. You leaned back into her, so close that she could practically feel the smile that grew on your face on her lips.

“I think I like you too, pretty girl.” And she smiled too.

“Why do you call me that?” She tilted her head as you leaned back and laughed.

“Because you're pretty.”

The way you said it with so much certainty, as if you knew she could rival Aphrodite herself, made Clarisse feel bubbly, and she wasn’t someone who would ever really feel like that.

She didn't know what she would do about the quest.

She didn’t know what you would do if you found out if she ever accepted, or what punishment she would face if she were to turn it down.

But Clarisse La Rue was in love with you, and she would protect you from those nightmares for as long as you let her.

[adventuringblind]

AUS24 (3k words)

Oscar Piastri x Liam Lawson x Reader x Logan Sargeant

Genre: Angst, fluff, spice, A/B/O AU

Summary: James Vowels takes things a step further when covering his ass in the media. Logan and his mate pay the price but Oscar and Liam are there to help.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, heat/rut cycles, James Vowels is the bad guy in this one, Alex being a king, Thigh riding, other alluded to sexual things but not specific so IDK what else to put

Notes: This one was a lot and I hope I filled the request okay! I struggled... Therefore y'all should feed my praise kink in order to motivate me. Jk...... unless?

Side Note: My ABO dynamics and how I write it is different so be forewarned ig. Also, NSFW under the cut. MINORS AVERT YOUR EYES!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Oscar didn’t think much of it when he jumped out of the car and didn't see Logan. He figured he’d rushed off to make sure Alex was okay after that nasty crash and see if the team was going to be able to fix the beta’s car. 

Practice had gone pretty decent. He should probably meet up with Lando to talk about how he’d felt in the car. All things considered, he’s mildly optimistic. 

The itch in his neck leaves him wondering which of his three mates could possibly be annoyed. Oscar usually assumes Liam, given the nature of the omega. Oscar had to learn to pick his battles early on. He understands that in entirely alpha or omega families, dynamics have to be flexible. Liam is more alpha coded then he is omega. Unfortunately for the mess of things that is the paddock, people give him shit for it and Oscar has had to haul the kiwi away before he killed somebody. 

Oscar, because he’d prefer not to spend his home race weekend bailing Liam out of jail, speeds off towards the RB garage. He doesn’t have to go far since Liam is also sprinting in his direction. “Oscar! Are you alright? I thought maybe something happened when you got out of the car since I feel all prickly.” The blonde smells both annoyed and concerned. 

Oscar shakes his head. “I thought you might be trying to take the head off Helmut again…” He shakes his head and continues his walk down to the Williams garage with Liam on his heels. “Have you seen the other two at all?” 

“Her and Logan walked down to the William's garage together. That was about twenty minutes ago.” 

On their trek to the end of the paddock, They end up running into George. The second British Omega on the grid. He’s pacing outside of the garage and Oscar has to bite back a gag at how distressed he smells. “George?”

“Oscar! They won’t let me in.” He’s raking fingers through his and getting increasingly more distressed the longer they are stuck outside. “He sent me a text saying something happened, but didn’t elaborate. I can feel his anger.” 

Oscar, because he has no idea what to do in this scenario, sends Liam with George to find Lewis, or Carlos, or Max, or Lando, or anyone else who might know what to do right now because he has no idea. He just needs to see the other half of his mates or he’s going to lose it. 

He tries to flag down anyone in the vicinity, only to be ignored. He’s about ready to come unhinged until he gets the attention of James. The alpha team principal keeps his distance - the invisible boundary line the only thing keeping Oscar from shaking the information out of him. Only, James doesn’t just smell like James. No - he smells like Oscar’s other two omegas. Both of which must be in heat. 

He tries to breathe; reign himself in so he doesn’t lose it and end his entire career (though he will if it comes down to it). “Where are they?” If there is a growl laced within the question, he can’t be bothered to care.”

James looks like he might jump into an explanation of some kind, but gets foiled by Alex. The beta looks pissed. The kind of anger that shows in every movement. 

“JAMES!” While Oscar flinches at the olders tone, James remains calm. It's aggravating in a way. “Tell Oscar what you did or I will.”

James sighs and motions for the Australian to follow him. Alex can't growl, but the way he's seething tells Oscar that he would if he could. It's ironic to think that between the three of them, Alex is the most angry compared to the two alphas trudging through the garage.  

James gestures for him to go inside. The scent leaking through the cracks in the door is terribly seductive and Oscar has to dig his nails into the palm of his hands to ground himself. “Neither of them were supposed to be in heat this early. All four of us are synced and just went through this a month ago.” he stares down the older alpha for an explanation. 

He takes an inventory of his own body. His own reaction to his mates in heat is more… intense. Like he can't keep himself off them. Currently he feels more protective than anything. 

“since James won't tell you, I will-”

“It's team business!” 

“Not when the safety of others is concerned!” 

James makes a lunge for Logan but Oscar matches his speed and steps in front of him. He wants to retch at how awful James smells at the moment. 

Four pairs of footsteps from the direction they had come from. Liam and George have managed to find them and dragged Carlos and Lando as well. It's terribly comforting to have more people around. 

“what's going on?” Lando whines at the door the closer he gets. “Is Logan in heat? But didn't he just have one?” 

Alex is much taller than Oscar, but the beta appreciates the gesture given the nature of how betas usually are towards anyone else. “Oscar, why don't you, me, George and James speak about this in his office. Carlos can come too, if you'd like.” 

“yeah - yeah okay. I need to know what happened.” He looks around for Liam and pulls him away from James. “Sorry - I don't know what's happening. I didn't mean too-” 

Liam attaches himself to the alpha and noses at his neck. “I'll take care of them while you're gone. Lando is going to stay also.” 

Oscar nods, kisses his head, and drags himself away. He doesn't want to go anywhere but inside that room. Be it biology or his own mind, clearly something is wrong and he would desperately like to be there for the people he loves. Still, Liam is here and that makes things better. They aren't alone. 

They settle into chairs in James’ office. Carlos opts to stay by the door watching everything going on outside. “Why are they taking apart Logan's car?” 

Oscar blinks at him. They're what?” 

“I crashed the car and broke the chassis. James decided to punish Logan for it. But that's not even the worst part!” Alex looks expectantly to his team principal. A silent urge for him to tell his own story. He gestures for Alex to come continue on and the beta rolls his eyes. “Logan and y/n walked here together. James summoned them into the office together. He told Logan he was going to give me his car. Obviously, I said no and…” 

George shuffles his way over to Alex. The physical contact between the two seems to lessen Alex's rising emotions. “It was probably my fault, since I kept saying no.” Alex throws a packet of heat inducers on the table. “I was restrained. James didn't show he had a whole package - just dissolved way over the recommended amount into a cup and commanded Logan to drink it. She got to it first so he didn't have to drink it, and downed the entire thing in seconds.” 

“That doesn't explain Logan’s-”

“He had more and just repeated it. Then he used that fucking voice to get them to not tell anybody and lock themselves away.” Alex looks like he's on the brink of tears. “I'm sorry, Oscar.” 

Oh - the rage that's building beneath his skin. He moves to throw himself at James, but is foiled by Carlos. “You can't help from jail.” 

Which, the Spaniard isn't wrong, so Oscar goes limp in his hold. He takes a few ragged breaths to force himself to calm down. “It's not your fault Alex, at all. Sounds to me like it's a move to cover his own ass.” 

“Alex is out best chance-” 

“Bullshit! I just murdered my car!” 

The door to the office is thrown open and Oscar has no time to react to the fact Max and Daniel, his pack alpha and omega - respectively, got word of this. 

“Did we need to alert the entire grid, Alex?” 

Max openly, and without hesitation, growls at the team principal in question. Daniel hits him upside the head to get him to stop. “Where’s Logan at?”

“My driver doesn’t need anymore assistance, Daniel-” 

All of them (aside from Alex) Descend into a fit of threatening noises. “Really? Because heat inducers can fuck up anyone’s body on a normal dose. Trust me James, I’ve been in this scenario with my own team.”

Briefly, Oscar recalls Lando talking about McLaren trying to induce Daniel’s heat without his knowledge. Andrea is a much better team principal and He can vividly recall Lando near sobbing when they were assured that would never happen. 

“In Logan’s room.” 

“Great! Here’s what we’re going to do then.” 

George has to drag Alex away from the Office and back up to his room. The British Omega throws a middle finger at James before he’s out of sight completely. Max is staying with James until things get sorted out. Which - unfortunately since the laws are so unfair - will mean James gets away scot free. Daniel says he’s going to be subjected to a lecture first. The rest of them head back to Logan’s room with the intent on getting out of the building. 

“Should I call Andrea and Zak?” Oscar looks desperately at Daniel for instructions. He’s never had to leave so suddenly and has no clue if there is a protocol for these things or not. 

“No worries, I took care of it. We just need to get them out of the paddock.” the older Aussie pats his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m assuming the four of you aren’t prepared at all?” 

Oscar shakes his head. “We all synched just last month.” 

“Anything you need then? I can send George and Alex on errands. Actually, I’m hoping for that seeing as Alex is desperate to help.” 

“I hope he sees that this isn’t his fault.”

“He’ll come around, I hope you know it’s not your fault either.” 

And here Oscar thought he was hiding it so well. He tries to shake it off, play his own insecurities down. “I’m-”

“Relax mate, Max felt guilty for weeks.”

“But it’s my job to protect them-” The voice crack was unnecessary and completely screwed him over in terms of hiding whatever feeling he had buried.

Daniel turns to face him right outside the door. “You can’t change the past, Oscar. You were never going to be able to stop this from happening. What you can do is help them now because they need you.” 

Oscar nods with newfound determination, and opens the door.

She certainly wouldn’t say it was her greatest decision, definitely one of the easier ones in the moment. She’d downed the drink without a hesitation. 

They’d attempted a nest. Tried to make the room comfortable. The amount of drugs in their systems was not making it easy. Instead opting to throw everything on the floor and try to sleep before they can’t. 

They’d stripped down to undergarments within the last few minutes. The heat steadily building and becoming too much. Still, she lays plastered against Logans body; his scent intoxicating. 

“You didn’t have to do that for me.” He noses at her neck, teeth nipping at the three scars lining her collar bone. 

“Wanted to help, Lo.” She feels like crying. The odd lack of connection bombarded her after James used his stupid voice. “Wanted you to race.” 

The door squeaks open sometime later. After a nap and the first round of what will probably be many. She peaks her head out from around Logan who’s gone defensive from the new intrusion. Only - Liam peaks his head inside and Lando follows before shutting the door again. She whimpers and tries to claw her way to Liam, but is pushed back gently by Lando. 

“He’s grabbing a few things.” She can see him trying to smile gently at her. 

Liam ends up between them, his own shirt off and one of Oscar’s sweatshirts in hand. She makes herself as small as possible to curl up into his side. “Do you two need anything specific right now.” 

“Where’s Osc?” Logan beats her to the question. 

“Talking with James, I believe.” 

The whines are involuntary. That part of her brain still fighting for its life wants to know why he’s not here right now. The overthinking side is claiming it’s because she’s undesirable now. “Does he still want us?” 

Liam coos at her, as does Logan and Lando. “You'll never not be undesirable.” 

“But what about James?”

“What do you mean?” She can feel Liams muscles tense underneath her. She shrinks in an attempt to hide from the new angry scent permeating the room. 

Thankfully, Logan takes over for her. “He used his voice on us. He wanted to give me inducers…” 

She, despite the struggle, rolls herself over Liam and into Logan's lap. “Not your fault.”

“I know-” his desperate whine nearly kills her. And Liam - by the looks of it. He's restraining himself if the way his jaw is tensing is any indicator. 

“Lando, would you mind possibly grabbing mine and Oscar's stuff so we don't have to leave here again if possible?” It's not fair really, that Liam can be bossy and she finds it attractive.  Oscar is also bossy, but he’s the gentle bossy and Logan isn’t bossy at all. Wow - her stupid hormones have her drooling over this and she doesn’t even know what this is. 

Liam makes up a list for Lando and the Brit runs off to collect the items. She wonders how long Oscar is going to be and if the ache in between her legs will let up until they can leave. 

It’s the only thing on her mind. It’s also now all over her thighs. An unfortunate circumstance where there are no towels on the ground. At this rate she might die if she can’t do something about these feelings and the longer she waits the more desperate she becomes. 

“Do you need something, darling?” Her hazy mind decides that now is a great time to register that she’s grinding into Liam's leg. She doesn’t stop though. If anything - she can’t, because he has a hand on her hip urging her to continue. “Only one of me at the moment, is this okay for now?” She makes a weak sound and makes a mess of herself and Liam’s poor thigh. Not like Logan is doing any better. They both smell good like this. 

She has no idea how much time passes, the endless amount of work she’s having to do finally wears her out enough to relax for the time being. 

“I guess I should’ve stripped all the way, huh?” She’s too tired to be embarrassed about Liam’s teasing comments. She barely even notices Liam attempting to clean her up. Her mind is too far gone. Enough that her and Logan are both ready to go again after a few measly minutes.

They don't get very far, instead scrambling under whatever is available as the door swings open. Liam is hissing at the intruder, only to see Oscar and Lando poke their heads inside. 

“Hey Daniel, I think maybe we’ll stay here for the time being and then when the traffic of the paddock dies down we can try and leave.” 

Daniel also slips into their space. She makes a lunge for either of the two Australians. Oscar is quick to react to her movements and get her to stay put underneath the little amount of covering she has. 

Lando drops the bags of stuff he was holding and tries to smile at them before he leaves. Unfortunately, his sad scent gives away his true feelings. She wonders if he knows the full story now since Oscar definitely does. 

It’s just her, her mates, and Daniel now. The pack Omega is hovering by the door and is clearly ready to leave them to their own devices. “Keep in mind that reactions to heat inducers are unpredictable but fast. You’ll only be in “heat” for about a day. Then you’ll just be sick, but we’ll take it as it comes.” 

Daniel reminds Oscar to text him if they need anything and then leaves them alone. Which - she likes Daniel, but being able to jump the bones of her mates sounds all too appealing. 

“James?” Logan looks pleadingly at Oscars for some kind of reassurance. 

“Is going to get an earful from Max and Daniel. Aside from that, he will probably get a slap on the wrist. Alex is ready to kill him though, if that’s what you wanted.”

The three of them find humor despite the nature of the situation. It’s why she loves them so much. The way she can feel safe and taken care of, but still be herself and laugh and give into her own desires. 

Oscar loses his own clothes. The fireproofs he was wearing around his waist come off in record time. 

“You're still going to race, right Osc?”

“We’ll see-” Oscar nearly jumps when the three of them whine and pout in unison. “I take it that you want me to race?” 

“We’ll make do without you.” 

“Hey!-”

“Liam is good for something after all!” Logan wheezes in laughter. Only for Liam to grumble and decide enough is enough. He takes Logan by the hips and slams right into him. 

She looks between the two of them and Oscar. She leans up to his ear, fully intent on whispering to him but gets a little distracted by his scent while shifting around.

“Need something?” 

Finally, she surrenders herself to the haze knowing she has all her mates with her. “Just you three.” 

[buckyhad]

Sweet

Pairing: Dark!teammate!Max Verstappen x reader

Tw: NC, purity ring, smut, reader is 18, Max is 25, idk what else

Based on this request!

Max just couldn't understand how someone as nice, caring and dumb like you got into one of the most dangerous sport. After getting tired of racing in NASCAR, and almost retiring from motosport, Christian Horner saw the opportunity and got you a seat as their reserve driver.

Nobody thought it would go well, racing in such a different category and skipping all the previous steps to F1, it was just failure in plain sight. But when Daniel Ricciardo, their second driver broke one of his bones and you got in the seat, it was amazing. You loved Danny, he was so funny and such and amazing coworker who loved to tease you.

"What's that ring you got there?" He asked wiggling his brows, making the blood rush to your cheeks, you weren't ashamed of anything, it was a part of your identity, but something about him asking that in front of Max, who you knew would make fun of you, made you blush.

"Mmm, it's a purity ring" you stared at the floor.

"Oh, that's cool" he said smiling.

"A purity ring?" Max scoffed "what time are we in? In the 1800?" He laughed leaving you to deal with the shame in the form of prickling tears in your eyes.

"Not cool mate" Daniel shaked his head.

"Not cool how she's so proud of that thing, like everybody else is worse than her" he shrugged.

You rushed out of the garage, the word shame wasn't enough to describe how you felt right now.

Walking to the McLaren's garage, you saw Lando, changing your path towards the brit.

"Hey sweet" he hugged you sideway.

"Hey Lan" you smiled.

"Want to help me take some pictures?".

"Sure, would love to"

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

Making your way back to your garage to finally get ready to race, starting to feel anxious about facing your teammate again.

You never felt ashamed of your ring, but it was itching in your finger, begging to be taken off and be hidden.

Looking to both sides you decided to take it off and save it on your pocket, finally reaching your side of the garage to start getting ready.

"Good luck sweet" Daniel said, bumping his fist with yours, frowning when he saw your naked finger.

"Thanks Danny, I wish you could be racing in my place" you said hugging him, needing the comfort of your friend.

"Well, I dont, you're going to do great".

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

In fact, it went amazing, taking your first win on the Monza track? A dream come true, except for the part when you had to face Max again, breaking his almost record wasn't in your plans.

Showering and hiding away in your driver's room was the best idea on your mind. Not having to face your furious teammate.

Well it was a good idea, till he opened the door that you didn't lock well.

"Fucking hiding from me? Not even going to apologize for what you did?" Max was towering over you, looking down at you from your place on the sofa.

Starting to tremble a little, not liking how mean he was being "I'm sorry Max, I really didn't mean to" you hugged yourself "But I'm happy I won, it's my first win" you whispered the last part.

"And why should I care? You fucking ruined my record!" You flinched at his raising voice, not being used to be yelled at "You pretend to be so nice and sweet, but then you go and ruin everything for me, and I don't even get a real sorry? You are a bitch" he spat.

"I'm not!" You said standing in front of him "I've been nothing but nice to you, I don't know what you want from me" you saw his face change, frowning and a twisted smile appearing.

"Apologize" he said "You're not a dumb kid that doesn't know how to say sorry, you're fucking 19"

"No, I wasn't wrong, you don't deserve it" you shaked.

"Seat" he demanded.

"Wh-"

"Stop playing dumb, you heard me" he pushed you down "Going to teach you how to say I'm fucking sorry"

You watched in horror how he started to undo his jeans, trying to stand again, failing when he bloked you.

"Be nice" he growled "Open your mouth"

"No, go away Max" you cried.

"Open" he said squeezing your cheeks with his hand, hurting you till you gave in, his fingers pressing down on your tongue, letting you taste your own tears "If you bite me, it would be worse, be nice, like you always are, okay?" When you didn't respond he got his face closer to yours "Okay?" Shaking your head 'yes' to reply his demand.

Finally taking his aching cock out of his tight jeans, proding at your lips "Open" he said once more, smiling when you did as he said "That's it, sweet, so good" you flinched hearing your nickname coming from his mouth.

He started to fuck your mouth at a slow pace, moaning quietly "Fuck, relax, breath through your nose and you would stop choking sweet" he told you with a sigh, keeping his moves going "That's it, much better" he caressed your hair, making you cry even more pushing at his thighs, he pulled out.

"You got what you wanted Max, please go away now" you cried.

"Oh sweet, I just started" he chuckled "Take your pants off" he kissed you cheek "And put the ring back on" watching you fish the ring from your pocket, putting it on and freezing, he sighs "come here" he said pulling you by the loop on your jeans, taking it off himself.

"Max, please, stop" you whispered, trying to cover yourself.

He didn't listen to you, putting his hands on the back of your thighs pulling you on top of him.

"Please, I'm not going to said anything, I swear" you cried.

"Put your hands on my shoulder" he ignored you again, kissing you while moving your panties to the side, thrusting inside you little by little, not letting go of your lips.

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

The next day, arriving to film some content for the team, you went to say hi to Daniel.

"Hey" you hugged him.

"Why the fuck does Max have your ring on a fucking chain?".

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

A/N: Hellooo, more dark content bc is never enough, hope you enjoy it, love yall🤍

[iid-smile]

acne , suo hayato

x gn!reader ! the reader has acne and pimples, you and suo are in an established relationship, reader is kinda lactose intolerant, not proofread

author's note: im not even lactose so idk where milk came from??? but anywayz, uk weather sucks, the economy sucks, my sleep schedule sucks, so i wanted something i could relate to a lil yk?

"go away..." you mumble into your pillow, cuddling it impossibly closer to your body.

"it's concerning how you're not going to school, love. you never skip." suo's had remains on the door handle, but he doesn't make an attempt to open it. "are you that sick? should i get you medicine?"

"'m fine."

well, now he knows you're not. "i'm coming in, okay?" he calls out to you, opening the door at a painfully slow pace so you still have time to object. yet, as he expected, you don't, your figure still on the bed. with a quick glance around your room, he makes his way to the edge of your bed. "talk to me. you trust me, right?"

always such a tease, this guy... "don't say something like that right now."

he chuckles, taking a seat. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry. i thought you'd enjoy the inside joke." it's silent for a while, and a small shift of fabric catches your attention. "can i see your face?"

"no!" your response was instant. "i mean... no, no... i don't– mh..." that small sound leaves your lips as you seem to run out of things to say, wrapping your legs tighter around your pillow.

"why not? is there something wrong?" a gentle hand comes up to touch your hair, but it only ghosts over the strands slightly before pulling away. "bruise, rash, infection? any of those?"

"no..."

suo doesn't like to pry, but he knows that if he wants to get an answer out of you, then he's going to have to work for it. "i don't see why you won't let me look at you. is there something else?"

"yes, there is!"

"but you already said no to what i listed. nothing could possibly be wrong." 'or at least something i'd have to be worried about...' he thought to himself. his voice becomes more audible as he leans closer to you. "right? can i please see you?"

"don't say please like that either!"

"it's only good manners." the feigned innocence in his voice was evident.

"sneaky bastard..." you mutter, sitting up a bit. "fine. but don't be disappointed with what you see."

once you lifted your face from the pillow, suo was half expecting you to look completely different, but you just looked like... you. "huh?"

"it's bad, right?"

"what's bad?"

"do you not see them? i thought the spots are obvious..." you pick up your phone that was beside you and open up the camera. "even the smaller ones."

"oh, those?" so now he's just realising them? the pimples that were literally burning on your skin and were so big you could see them through the screen of your phone when you woke up this morning? "what's wrong with acne? it's natural."

"i don't like them, suo. don't wanna get mad fun of at school..." you poke and prod a bit at your skin, but not too much in fear of irritating it more. "messed up my skin all 'cause i wanted some cereal and hot chocolate at night. and then sat on the toilet for another hour. i seriously hate genetics."

"you still look pretty."

your mind was itching to give him a deadpan expression, but you knew he actually meant what he said. he's only ever honest with you, after all. "you're blinded by love, huh?"

"maybe. but you had me so worried you broke your nose or got a wisdom tooth pulled out." slowly, he places one of his hands over yours that was resting on your lap. "i'm not going to force you to go if you don't want to. but you really don't look any different, believe me."

"i don't know..."

for a while, suo just analyses your expression. furrowed eyebrows, pouted lips, and you're avoiding eye contact, busying yourself with your reflection. as much as you appreciate his kind words, it couldn't really make up for your before and after transformation, and he knew that. "face masks and cucumbers then?"

as he expected, your face immediately lit up. "really?!"

"really." finally, a genuine smile returns to his face, and he stands up. "you stay here until i get back and don't touch your face. we're going to have a full self-care and skincare session together."

he really does get you, even if it's something you'd never thought he'd do with you.

─────────────୨ৎ─────────────

[its-all-papaya]

Can I hear more about your clingy landoscar idea pls 🧡

Yes!! Bonus snippet!! RICHES!! (I couldn’t decide which to write so I picked both). this is like... not necessarily the same tone as the first thing at all... but... they fit on the same continuum if you imagine some progression in the middle, idk. like i said. the word doc is calling to me.

read the first part

After Monaco, after Oscar’s moved to Monaco, Lando finally convinces him to come out for a night. Oscar has drinks, of course, but he stays on the conservative side of sloppy. Mostly because the way Lando’s handling him is not something he wants to risk forgetting even a second of. 

Oscar knew Lando was tactile, but it’s ratcheted up a notch when he’s drunk. It’s much different, much more overwhelming, when Lando is everywhere, demanding every one of Oscar’s senses, instead of confined to only a voice and only sometimes a face on a phone screen. He starts out with a hand on Oscar’s back to keep him near in the flow of the crowd, but that evolves into an arm around Oscar’s waist after the first round of shots. Soon it’s fingers around Oscar’s hips while Lando waits behind him at the bar, then a leg tossed over Oscar’s when they’re squished into a booth with Charles and Max. After midnight, it’s Lando’s head tipped back on Oscar’s shoulder, throat exposed obscenely so Oscar’s got no choice but to watch his adam’s apple bob as he drains the last of whatever Charles had ordered for the table. Not long after, it’s Lando in Oscar’s lap (“just making room, not a problem, right, Osc?”) and Lando’s arm hooked around his neck, curls tickling Oscar’s chin, fingers brushing back and forth where his sleeve meets his bicep. Oscar can’t tell if Lando’s doing it on purpose, or just sensory seeking in his half-dazed, half-coherent drunk state. He can’t tell if any of it’s on purpose, truthfully, even when Lando’s mouth is against his ear, asking “d’you ever dance? would you wanna? with me?” and his teeth catch a little on the lobe on the last few words.

Oscar doesn’t dance, but what he does do is almost anything Lando asks him to, so it’s in the middle of a crush of sweaty bodies where he first notices something a little different in the direction of Lando’s touch. He’d been dragged by the wrist to the center of the mess, and he’s still planning to stay mostly sober, but he wishes he’d saved one of his drinks for now to help dull the itch of discomfort in his brain and his limbs. Lando’s plastered to his front, his own fresh drink in one hand, the back of Oscar’s shirt scrunched up in the other. Oscar’s seen Lando on the dance floor before, has seen Lando on the dance floor with men before (if some of it was through shitty watermarked fan videos on twitter, that was for him alone to feel any kind of way about), so he can tell the tension in Lando’s back isn’t an all-the-time thing. His grip on Oscar is just north of casual, even when he releases the shirt and goes back to Oscar’s hip, pinky dipping under the hem to rest warm against Oscar’s side.

“Dancing,” he says, like Oscar might have forgotten why they’re here.

Oscar hedges. “Think I’m too sober for that, mate.”

Lando grimaces briefly, but then he’s lifting his own drink up between their chests and backing up just enough to leave space for it there, an offering. When Oscar moves to take it, though, Lando shakes his head and draws him back in, knocking the rim of the glass against Oscar’s chin. He’s smirking like it’s a joke, but Oscar’s missing the punchline as Lando nudges the glass closer again, straw bumping up under Oscar’s cheekbone.

“What,” Oscar says.

“Drink,” Lando says. Like it’s obvious. His pinky dips lower, tracing the top of Oscar’s jeans.

Every part of Oscar feels too warm, sticky with sweat. There’s a reason he doesn’t do clubs. But there’s a reason he’d said yes tonight, and it comes back to him when Lando abandons pretenses and sneaks his whole hand under Oscar’s shirt. It’s too hot, Oscar’s blinking sweat out of his eyes every other time his eyes close.

The ice clinks impossibly loudly against the sides of the glass when Oscar’s fingers close around Lando’s wrist. Condensation is dripping steadily, sliding down the meat of Lando’s hand and pooling where Oscar’s fingers meet his skin. Their eyes stay locked as Oscar guides Lando’s hand back up. They stay locked even as his lips close around the straw and Lando’s part around nothing. His cheeks hollow as he drinks. Lando’s pupils are blown wide, and Oscar spares a second to consider whether Lando’s been out of his sight long enough to have taken anything without him noticing.

“Thanks,” he says when he’s had his fill. The glass is mostly empty and the liquor burns pleasantly all the way down, adding to the fire already smoldering in his stomach.

“Whatever helps.” Lando’s tone is different than Oscar’s ever heard it, but he doesn’t have time to figure that out, because then Lando’s turning around, pressing his back to Oscar’s front, and reaching back to catch Oscar’s hand in his free one - the one that had been on the bare skin of his side a second ago. Everything is still hot and close and overwhelming, but the space under his ribs feels cool with the memory of Lando’s palm.

It’s a blur for awhile. Half of Lando’s drink isn’t really enough to move the needle for Oscar, but he feels drunk instead on the feel of Lando’s abdomen under his palm, the subtle shift of muscle as Lando moves. His head spins with the press of Lando’s hips back into his own, thoughts nebulous in the blue-green light. He catches the eye of a girl across the floor at one point, and her smile sharpens when she sees him looking. He’s not even, really; it’s neither here nor there to him when she starts moving across the floor. Lando’s been like an extension of Oscar’s own body for a bit already, tuned half out for his own sanity, but everything barrels back into focus when Lando’s head tips back again. Oscar recalls his adam’s apple, Charles’ neon shots. A lifetime ago.

“Having fun?” Lando mumbles. His mouth brushes Oscar’s skin. Oscar’s half-convinced it’s an accident, but when he tips his head down to read the words off Lando’s lips, they press more firmly to his jaw. They’re wet and cooler than the ambient air, like he’s just drained the ice from the bottom of his glass. Oscar’s eyes flick back up to clock the woman’s progress, but she’s paused steps away. Oscar feels caught out and guilty even though he hasn’t done anything at all.

“Always, with you,” is what he says. It must be the correct answer, because Lando’s head turns in even further and his lips brush Oscar’s neck in little closed-mouth passes.

When Lando speaks again, Oscar can feel the words spelled out against his skin, drawing goosebumps: “Wanna get out of here?”

Oscar does. Has since the minute he walked in, really. His arm around Lando tightens, drawing him in closer for a final moment, bidding farewell for now to this version of them on the dance floor.

Lando turns back around in his arms, then, not a centimeter further away than he’d started.

“Walk me home?” he asks into Oscar’s cheek.

And Oscar does.

[elliereject]

ifhy .2

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, ellie beats someone up, angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* HELLLLLOOOO!? oh my god 100 likes on part 1 and over 100 followers??? ty? so much?? <3 the next parts almost done so I gotta tweak some things but I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I meant to post this like 2 days ago but I fell asleep editing…

* mdni

* wc ~ smth like 1.8k

pt .1 here ★ pt .3 coming soon

“Are you seriously wearing that?” You sighed, flopping back on Ellie’s twin bed.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Ellie asked, eyeing her worn skinny jeans and a black oversized hoodie.

“First, there’s a hole in the side of your hood. Second, you wore that 3 times this week already.”

“No, I didn’t. These are different jeans!”

You groaned, “Ellie it’s a party, live a little.”

She let out a small laugh, “Says you, you were literally on the verge of throwing up like 5 minutes ago. Did whatshisname text you?”

She crossed her fingers in hope that he hadn’t.

You rolled your eyes, “You know his name, and he said he got there about 20 minutes ago and’ll meet me near the living room.”

“Cool, cool.” She said stiffly. “We should probably get going then.”

You jumped up from the bed, practically skipping over to the door. “Finally, you take a surprisingly long time to get ready.”

She didn’t. She was just trying to drag out the amount of time she had before she saw you clinging to your boyfriend and laughing at his stupid jokes.

She was still trying to find a way to show you that he was a dick and she was what you needed but all the ideas she had ended up with him dead and while she was considering it, you probably would have a hard time forgiving her.

The two of you trekked down to the elevator and while your back was turned she couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to slip her hand into yours. How would you react? Would you recoil? Or would you squeeze her palm? Ellie was never really a touchy person yet she made some exceptions when it came to you, however nothing as intimate as hand holding.

And something screamed at her, begging her to try. Her fingers itched by her leg and before she knew it she was stretching out her arm.

Close…so close she could feel the warmth radiating off you.

In a moment you whipped around and she didn’t have enough time to retract her hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tilting your head in a way that made her heart ache.

“You just had a uh– a piece of lint.” She lied easily as she picked nothing off your sleeve.

“Oh, thanks! Easier to get rid of then a hole, huh?” You let out a giggle and stuck your finger through said hole, she forced a laugh.

The rest of the ride down Ellie urged herself not to have any more daring thoughts.

Once down, you cracked jokes about your professor and weirdos in your classes, and Ellie tried her best to laugh along, all the way to the frat where the party was being held. Once you made it, you shoved past the sweaty bodies in the living room to look for your boyfriend whilst Ellie shrunk into the kitchen to confide chat with Jesse who was busy chugging a twisted lemonade.

“Jesse. I want you to thank God you aren’t a lesbian.” Ellie groaned, pulling the drink from his lips and taking a swig herself.

“Shit. What happened now?” He sighed, reaching past Ellie to grab another. Ellie’s been moping about you to Jesse for a while now, although he doesn’t really know it’s you because she doesn’t wanna fuck up the way her friends view your guys’ relationship.

“I was walking behind her earlier before we got into the elevat— classroom. And I was like 5 seconds away from grabbing her hand.”

“And why’s that a bad thing? I thought you liked her.” He asked in between sips.

“Because she has a fucking boyfriend! And that would’ve been so embarrassing I think I would’ve bit off my tongue and killed my self right there.”

Jesse let out a low whistle and Ellie crossed her arms. “Don’t you have any advice for me, or are you just gonna stand there?”

The man shrugged, “You’re not gonna like what I have to tell you. Have you tried talking to Joel about any of this?”

Ellie shook her head with a sigh, “He’s busy with work as is, I don’t wanna bother him with this shit when I barely even get to talk to him.”

“Well then, you should prob—hey! ★ what’s up?”

Their conversation was cut short as you walked into the crowded kitchen. With no luck in the living room, you decided to retreat there to talk with your friends while periodically checking your phone for any missed calls or texts.

Ellie noticed the worried look on your face. “Hey, hey. He’ll call. And if he doesn’t he’s a fucking idiot.”

She urged you to try and live in the moment and reassured you again that’d he’d call soon, even though she hoped and prayed he didn’t.

You gave her a small smile and muttered “I guess.” Before taking the red solo cup she offered you and downing it. Eventually, Dina joined your little trio and you temporarily forgot all about him since you were having so much fun chatting with your friends.

Ellie, still smiling, excused herself to the washroom after announcing she had to piss and thank god she did because the scene she stumbled upon literally made her laugh with joy. She had been looking for a reason to beat the fuck out of your boyfriend and did she find it.

After mistaking one of the bedrooms for the washroom—since every fucking door in that house looked the same—her eyes immediately landed on the familiar lanky figure who was shacking up with some tiny brunette bitch.

“No fucking way!” She guffawed, completely amused.

“Please, it’s not—“ Your boyfriend started, pulling his lips from the girl and straightening out his shirt.

“I’ve been looking for a reason to beat your sorry ass! This is just perfect.” She laughed manically as she stomped into the room, slamming the door behind her and cracking her knuckles.

The girl he was previously with was shaken to her core, and practically sprinted out of there. Before he could get out another word, Ellie’s fist was already crushing his face.

“You dick, God I knew you were an asshole but this is just—wow! Cheating on her when she is most definitely the best you could ever do?” Another punch and he was on the ground.

Blood was leaking from his nose and his lip was split. Suddenly she was on top of him, her fists flying. His glasses were broken and tears ran down his face pathetically.

She’d bottled up her emotions for so long; her love for you, her jealousy towards him, her anger at the entire situation, that it all muddled together and bursted the bottle, sending shards everywhere.

Ellie has always been an innately intense person, but this, pummelling something that deserved it, someone that she’d been fantasizing about beating the shit out of ever since she’d met them. It felt good.

“Pl-please stop.” He begged, and she halted her fists, but only for a moment.

She scoffed. “Stop? Stop. Man, I should rip your tongue out. Maybe that’ll finally shut you up.”

His eyes widened as he scanned her eyes for any sign of sympathy, of mercy, but all he found was icy green.

“You’re fucking crazy!” He shouted, trying and failing to shimmy her off him.

She shrugged, “Maybe.”

She was about to throw another fist but she heard frantic footsteps speeding toward the room.

“Shit..” She tapped the side of the guy’s face harshly as he was beginning to black out. “Listen, you’re going to get up. Hop out the window and take your ass home, if someone asks what happened say you got jumped. You’re not going to look at ★ again, text her, call, or even breathe near her. Transfer out of her classes and if I even get the idea that you’re thinking of contacting her again, I will find you. And I will rip your tongue out, got it?”

He nodded wildly and she finally got off of him. She watched as he scurried toward the window and hopped out, it was only a few feet, he’d live.

Ellie wiped her stained hands on the inside of her sweater and opened the door just as the brunette from before was about to, she was standing next to one of the frat guys.

“What’s going on?” Ellie said easily, putting a charming smile on her face and hiding her hands in her pocket.

“Where is he?” The brunette asked worriedly.

“Who? It’s just me in here.” Ellie said looking around confused.

The frat boy looked behind Ellie and them at the girl before sighing and turning back around, “Don’t bother me again. Just enjoy the party.”

“B-but—“ She immediately shut up when Ellie shot her a malicious glare.

She strolled out of the room and back toward the main floor to see you sulking on the couch, checking your phone.

“What happened?” She asked, sliding next to you and resting her arm behind you on the cushions.

“He still hasn’t answered.” You pouted.

And for the first time in months she shot you a genuine smile, despite the fact you were talking about him. “I wouldn’t worry about it, don’t think you’ll hear from him anytime soon.”

You smiled at her and she shot you a weird look, “What?” she asked.

“Nothing..you just seem a little happier than usual.” You said, leaning into her arm.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

tagz ଳ (send me a message to be added!)

@bready101

[deblklesb]

Lights, Camera, Action! — Abby × Reader × Ellie Oneshot

[established relationship (abby x reader), ellie is their friend, MDNI]

cw: name calling, mentions/descriptions of sex tapes and its contents, kinda pervy characters (?? i guess, idk), beginning of threesome, ellie centered

word count: 3.2k | not proof read

a/n: so this was..... something. i decided to leave it there, i couldn't write anything more due to the amount of college demands but i sure had fun while i could write it!! hope y'all enjoy it, like and reblog! (p.s.: I'm posting it in a rush i should be sleeping by now bc i have to wake up in some hours but i absolutely will answer the asks you've sent me!! i love them, thank y'all for being so nice and sweet! please take care!)

This was a very tricky situation, and Ellie kept thinking to herself how the fuck did she got stuck into it. If you asked her she would be able to answer that, actually, but thinking back, it wasn't a good idea. Not when she felt so massively attracted to both you and Abby. 

Now the full video rolling in front of her, on her computer, made a hard blush possess her freckled face. Hands shaking a little bit, stomach twirling, sweat dripping down her back as she heard your moans for the millionth time that night and saw Abby's tongue lapping your wet pussy over and over. She didn't know if she wanted to be you or her, both scenarios seemed too good to be true. The way her heart beat so hard together with her own cunt pulsing. 

See, Ellie took some cinema introduction classes. Theory and a bit of practice too. And her friends, who were dating for more than a year now, asked her to film them a sex tape. 

"W-what?!", the brunette almost choked with her sandwich, coffing furiously to escape that question. 

You handed her the juice box, waiting patiently for her reaction to double down. When her green eyes laid on you with astonishment still, you got into how you and Abby wanted to record some sort of sex tape, to keep it to yourselves anyway. 

"And why are you asking me?!"

"Because you're the most qualified for this job", you shrugged like it was nothing. Like you didn't just ask Ellie to watch her two friends having sex, fueled by the fact that someone was recording it. "Besides, we trust you!" 

"... This is crazy, d'you know that?" 

"We'll handle it. Don't kinkshame" She gulped after Abby's words and the way you eyed her. 

Kinkshame you? Little did you know that she was doing it to herself. 

During the filming, she nearly fainted. It took her a lot of strength to keep the camera steady and her hard breaths contained so it didn't come into the recording. Although a microphone stood next to the bed, the device on her hands still captured sound. 

Sweating and working hard to ignore the growing wetness inside her pants, she didn't want to seem like some kind of pervert. You both trusted her for this, and so looking like some aroused observer wasn't right. Needing to keep professional - was that the word you used? - and not in the slightest horny as fuck. 

She saw how Abby ate you out, and wanted to be there. Saw how you humped your girlfriend's thigh, and wanted to be there. Her hand itched to touch your flesh as you were sitting on Abby's face, and to grab Abby's hair while she moaned due to your tongue on her pussy. It was pure madness.

She walked away from that apartment with legs so weak she was surprised she didn't fall. And to her embarrassment, she touched herself and came so hard on her bed, imagining you both together. Feeling bad afterwards, but not enough to stop thinking about all the things she saw. 

And now, two days later, here she was. Editing the recording in order to make this an incredible sex tape, the best to ever exist. She used a mobile camera, but also two others from different angles, so there was a lot of material to organize and synchronize, crop and assemble. 

She needed to take some time to calm herself, but before she could actually do it there was a knock on her door. Her hand flew to the notebook faster than ever, putting the screen down almost entirely while her door opened to show her friend and roommate. 

"Hey, me and Jess are going to order pizza. Want some?", Dina asked, resting on the door. 

"Uh- yeah, sure" Ellie nodded, gulping and looking around like she was caught in the middle of something forbidden. 

"Why do you look like you're doing some shit?" Her face warmed when your moan sounded on her headphone again. 

At this point she already knew what was happening on the video: Abby had you legs open on the bed, rubbing her pussy against yours. The image was sinful, but oh so beautiful. 

"I'm doing nothing", the freckled girl closed the computer, now interrupting the video. "Or something. I-I mean, anything could be some shit. What are you talking about?"

"Ellie" her friend's smile was slick, Dina knew just how to make the woman want to disappear from the Earth. "Were you watching porn?"

"N-no!", yes. Yes she was. That was definitely some filthy porn. Not because it had extreme content, but just the fact that it was her friends and crushes there, made her feel a hundred percent more aroused. "Shut up, Dina!" 

"Don't have to be so defensive about it", she laughed with hands in the air, watching as Ellie got up from the bed.

"Whatever, let's go eat, get out of my room"

Jesse heard the two of them arguing whilst coming from the bedroom, Ellie with her face so red it could almost be confused by a sunburn and Dina clacking. 

"Ellie was watching porn!"

"I was not! What are you, fucking six?!" 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Hands sweating and head full of conflictual thoughts, the brunette walked into the cafeteria holding her backpack so tight it seemed like she was carrying something illegal. She had an itch on the nape, an impression that everyone there knew exactly what she did.

Pretty sure that ginger girl knew Ellie got off on the memories of that day and the video, on the vision of Abby biting her lips as you pressed her swollen clit-

"Ellie!", she snapped out of trance with your voice, looking aerial in front of you and Abby. "Is everything okay?" 

"You look like there's somebody stalking you", Abby frowned, eyeing the surroundings. 

"No, it's fine, I'm just… Tired", well, that wasn't a lie since she had to stay awake to finish the editing after the college assignments. 

"Did we bother you? I told you there was no need to rush, we could wait", you rested a hand on hers across the table after she sat, and all she could think was how your palms were soft and comfortably warm. 

"Nah, it's cool. I just left things to the last minute so I hurried as much as I could"

And after all she wouldn't survive editing the video for one more night; might as well explode. 

The vision of Abby's fingers loosely resting on your shoulder made her remember the way they invaded your pussy, fitting so perfectly there, enough to make you moan and call her name. 

Ellie took the pen-drive from the inside pocket of her backpack and put it on the table in front of the couple, letting go like touching it made her skin burn. 

"All edited, boss", she smiled as best as she could, hiding the desire to beg you both for something very explicit. "Enjoy the watch"

"Thanks, Els!", you smiled back with a lot of excitement, so beautifully, picking up the small object. "We would invite you to watch, but I guess you haven't forgotten, since you were there and had to see it again to edit."

Ellie froze. 

What did you just say? 

Her mind went blank after the mere possibility of sitting on your couch next to the both of you, just fucking watching a video of the most attractive couple having shameless, passionate sex. 

She couldn't even say anything back, which caused Abby to chuckle slightly. Just like if she knew you were doing something devious. 

"W-what-... I- I mean, I had to watch it again but I don't think I remember that clearly-", she stumbled on her words, trying to revert whatever impressions she may have passed. Shit, did you know? 

"Damn, was it that bad?" Abby snorted out, an eyebrow going up. 

"No! No-, it was great, it was amazing, I just don't think I, like, remember every single detail or something like that." That was a lie, she absolutely remembered. 

"Huh. So would you want to come over to watch it with us? I mean, we need to give you feedback for your hard work, right?", you rested the chin on a hand, eyeing her with so much glee in your orbs that Ellie couldn't tell what the fuck did that mean. 

"Sure, right! Yeah, feedback would be nice. To see if my work was good and all, guess I could use that", she couldn't care less about feedback. 

"Unless you're already tired of seeing it, it would be comprehensible. Or if it's awkward somehow…", the blonde gestured softly, her voice sounding so good. Ellie was so distracted by the anxiety and the accumulated tension that she didn't even notice how you both were satisfied with her answers, guiding her through a sinuous path into a trap. 

"No! I will definitely be there, absolutely cool. Nice. Good shit", she kept nodding back, taking a laugh from you now. 

"Okay! Seven?" 

"Lucky number!" Her smile was weak and she made finger guns. Fucking finger guns?, she asked herself.

"Yeah, I hope we have some luck for sure", Abby said, smiling. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Dina, I will fucking die!" Ellie was almost screaming in the middle of the street, phone against her ear whilst she walked to the building you and Abby lived in. 

"Could you chill a little bit?! It's just a movie! I know you're like head over four heels for them, but you've done this before. You'll get in, watch it, laugh, eat something, hang out. And then you'll come home"

"But it's not just a regular movie, it's-", she sighed and stopped on her tracks. Hiding was tiring as fuck, but she didn't know if she could tell someone, that was intimate. "Fuck, I need to breathe"

"That's what I'm saying" 

"Right. Thanks, guess I'll just hang out, watch something, whatever you just said" 

"Just be yourself, honey! You will do great! Jesse, tell Ellie she will do great" 

"You got this, Els. Whatever happens, we'll have pizza when you come back" 

"Yeah… Thanks, guys", the brunette smiled even though they couldn't see it, getting closer to the building. "I have to go, just got here" 

"If you kiss them, message me right away!"

"I won't stop kissing them just to tell you"

"You'll definitely stop it to jump around and do a victory dance, might as well message me" 

"Shut up", she chuckled and said goodbye before turning off. 

With a last sigh, Ellie pressed the button to your apartment and waited for you to pick up after the buzz. Instead, the gate just unlocked with a loud noise, neither of you needed to answer the buzz to know it was her. The brunette entered the building, heart pounding. 

"Hey, Ells!", you greeted her with that sweet smile of yours, hugging her briefly. All she could think about was how good you smelled, and how that pijama shorts left little to imagination - well, she knew what was underneath it, after all. Still… "Come on, Abs was just setting up the TV"

"Oh-, alredy?", you pulled her by the hand and closed the door, leading the way to the living room she already knew so well after hanging out there so many times. 

"We're excited to see the effects of your amazing classes", Abby smirked, winking at Ellie with those beautiful eyes. She was wearing a simple shirt and sweatshorts, exposing those strong legs. It looked so sexy in an inexplicable way. 

The three of you sat on the couch, you in between. Your legs rested on the blonde's thighs, large shirt covering the small pijama shorts. Contrasting, Ellie had pants and a flanel on. 

The filming was very good, technically speaking. But even the most layman could notice how the mobile camera had not only an open view, but also focused on intimate aspects of the situation. 

A long shot of you and Abby kissing passionately. Strong hands caressing your body and bringing back close memories of her touch. Abby bit your chin, and Ellie made sure to record closely her trail of kisses on your exposed neck. 

There was also a close shot of your bodies approaching more and more, legs tangling, Abby's strong thigh between yours as you started to move and rub your core there with a tortuous rhythm. 

Ellie's face started to warm again, she gripped the arm of the couch when you moan reverberated, as Abby palmed your breast and bit your neck slightly. 

The minutes passed and you felt yourself getting hotter. Your girlfriends fingers resting on your leg made you squirm. 

"I like the way you focused on the closeness", Abby said, getting a hum from the brunette next to you. "It almost feels like you're trying to connect with the moment."

Ellie gulped, a wetness distinctble on her pants. 

As the film goes on, the Miller girl tried her best not to move, thinking that it would hide her aroused situation but only making more obvious for you how she felt. The small biting of her lip also caught your attention, as her emerald eyes locked on the screen, where you had legs open with Abby's hand making circling moves on your clit, while you both kissed. 

Fuck, you felt the way your nipples were hardening right now, just thinking about how Ellie could've felt while editing that. 

Abby tried her best not to fuck you right then and there, knowing just how Ellie felt about the view. 

It was definitely a maddening situation for the three of you. 

When you were moving your hips with euphoria, looking for that righ, moaning against your girlfriend's delicious lips on film, Ellie finally got up suddenly. 

"I-... Have to go to the bathroom", as all she could say, before almost running into said place. 

You and Abby hear the door closing, and finally you could let go a deep breath and hold tightly on the shirt Abby wore. 

"I don't know if I can wait much more", you murmured. Her fingers trailed up to the middle of your thighs, you separating them a bit to welcome her there. The film was still on, and it made everything more intense. 

"Wanna get going?", the way she smiled had you weak, squirming while she pressed your cunt.

Inside the bathroom, Ellie rested her hands on the sink and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. She could swear she saw you by the peripheral view, smiling while looking at her. Like everything since the first night after filming, she had to convince herself it was just paranoia. 

"It's okay, Ellie. They didn't notice. You can do this", she murmured. 

Washing her face and breathing deeply again, she finally got out after drying herself and doing nothing about the wetness between her legs. 

Turning off the bathroom lights, she thought a small moan she heard was kinda different, but the confirmation only came when she reached the living room again and saw you on top of Abby - not on the TV, though. 

You were literally sitting on her lap, the shorts on the ground and a strong hand pressing your cunt above the pantie's fabric. Muffled moanings came between the kiss you both shared, just like the ones Ellie heard. 

"Uh- I think I'mma get going, I don't want to-", her face was so hot and she probably was trembling. Her body urged not to go, but the rational part of her brain was judging her for standing there even though she just said she would go. 

"Ellie-", you called her. 

You moaned her name. 

Her core clenched around nothing, pleading for her to go and touch the both of you. 

Abby looked over your shoulder and used the free hand to slap your ass, bringing a louder moan followed by the - literally - pornographic sounds on TV. 

That had to be a fucking dream, right? You couldn't possibly be asking for her to do something, right? 

Right? 

"I guess we scared her, princess", the blonde said, smirking. 

"I thought you liked seeing us, Els", you declared while moving the hips on Abby's hand. 

And then it hit her. 

It was all a fucking trap. 

You knew exactly what she thought. Asking her to film you both having sex was no coincidence, not an occasional situation that so happened to have Ellie included, it was deliberated. Fuck, you were exhibiting yourselves to her and she fell like a moth hipnotized by the beautiful flame. 

"Fuck, since when you've been planning this?", the brunette murmured, walking slowly towards the couch again. On the TV, Abby slapped your pussy as you came hard and drenched. 

You felt a chill running down your spine as Ellie's slender fingers touched your shoulder, going up to your neck. Abby watched in awe as you had the hair being pulled slightly to look up, Ellie was testing the waters. 

"This shit has been planned since the beginning?"

"Did you touch yourself looking at us later?", you asked, riding harder. Abby kissed your exposed neck, grabbing your ass while the other hand rubbed your pussy intensively. Green eyes filled with lust analized your features. 

"Did you fuck yourselves thinking about me?" 

Your smile was slick and you wanted to come so bad. The sounds from the video made you even hornier, needing to surrender completely. 

Ellie did something she wanted to do for a long time: she kissed you. And it was intoxicating. Consuming her being from head to toes, oh, it lit a fire inside. It was messy and urgent, and when you both separated her lips were moisty. Then, she pulled Abby by the braid and did the same, their kiss being a bit more slow but not less intense; the gasoline that made the fire grow. 

"Please, Els…", your voice came out whiney. 

"She's been desperate for you", Abby chuckled with disdain, caressing your ass still partially clothed by the panties. "Almost begged me to fuck her in front of you today" 

"Really?", the question wasn't for you, but you nodded. "I thought she was less of a whore"

After the video, she knew how you liked to be treated. And to be pretty honest, it matched what she loved herself. 

"I'm gonna taste you, sweetie. Can I?", her fingers caressed your face, contrasting with the way you were humping hard Abby's hand. Nodding again, you started to feel more and more excited with the sounds from the TV. 

"Shit, baby, your pretty cunt looks so good", Abby's voice filled the room from the video, you knew that was the part she made you sit on her face. 

Ellie kneeled behind you, between Abby's spread legs. The blonde had a blushed face and breath hard, still touching you and having a hard time deciding where to look. She was wet, incredibly wet, and her pussy was aching. 

"After that, I wanna taste you, Abs", Ellie's voice made her squirm and slap your ass again. 

It was all so mind blowing. Her touches snake on your back, under the shirt, feeling your skin while she kisses your ass and hips. You stopped the movements, receiving Abby's lips on yours again as Ellie worshiped you. She grabbed your tits and bit your ass, causing you to sigh and smirk between the kiss. The temperature of the room rose. 

"Get up and take these", she was referring to your panties, which she pulled just so it could snap back on your ass. 

"And then sit back on my lap and watch the tape with me while Ellie tastes your cunt", Abby completed, grimacing with the wetness growing between her legs. 

[dividers by @luvchaewon and @froopis]

[ivymarquis]

Garnish

Pairing| Alex Keller x F!Reader Rating| M Content/Warnings| Free use smut (pre-negotiated terms), dirty talk, a brief sprinkle of dummification

For @glitterypirateduck's Alex Keller Challenge!!! lmao idk why I was so intimidated writing this. I haven't really been the biggest Keller girlie so I had no idea where to go with his voice. Obviously the best way to try and get a handle on it was to write a filthy PWP :) "I bet the neighbors know my name"

Alex would know those earrings anywhere.

They are, without question, his favorite pair of hers. And while a part of him has hoped she would decide to don them after his return home, until this morning the jewelry’d remained sitting in her jewelry box. 

Of course they are his favorite for a very specific reason.

The idea of roleplaying a free use housewife fantasy just scratches a deep seated itch inside the both of them. He's already got plans- one day in the very near future- for how he wants to put a ring on that pretty finger. Take the 'house wife' part out of the fantasy by entrenching it firmly in reality where it belongs.

But right now his thoughts are focused less on the engagement band and more on the pair of earrings dangling with every tilt and move of her head. She's taunting him.

The "rules'' are pretty simple. If she's wearing the earrings, Alex has full rein to treat her to like a personal fuck doll whenever and wherever the mood strikes him and she'll go along with it. When she's done playing, the earrings go back in the jewelry box and their sex life is the same as any other couples.

The second he sees her- having walked from the mutual bedroom to their kitchen where he found her upon waking up- he decides that today will be a lot more fun if he takes a slightly different approach to start.

He gives zero acknowledgement of the dangly jewelry despite the fact that he knows she knows there's no way he didn't see them. Just gives a half-sleepy smile and presses an affectionate peck to her temple while murmuring "Good morning, pumpkin." and it takes everything in him to not crack a grin at the indignant look on her face.

No doubt she expects him to jump the moment she gives the go ahead. To pin her down against the cabinets with one arm, lift her skirt with the other and have his wicked wicked way with her.

Oh no, dear heart.

They sit and have a perfectly normal breakfast. Or at least Alex does. His pumpkin looks wild eyed and a little suspicious at his newfound self control. Clearly not expecting it and doesn't know what to do with herself about it.

"Did you sleep alright last night?" he poses the perfectly innocent question. He's being an asshole- he knows it, but he's having too much fun. He knows damn well she slept fine last night because he wore her ass out. Could barely keep her awake long enough to clean everything up.

"Yes, did you?"

"Like a baby. You seem a little jumpy though this morning- might want to watch the caffeine."

Oh she's watching something but it sure as shit wasn't the coffee.

After collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink, Alex whistled to himself while getting ready for the day. Nothing too exciting- just a few 'Honey Do's, after he put his poor girl out of her misery.

She's finding any reason she can to be in the same room as him and it's adorable. Looking for this, needing to place that- she flits in and around like she's worried he'll forget she's there if not in his line of sight.

Eventually an actual task takes her attention off of Alex and that's when he strikes.

She's bent over in front of the dryer, no doubt fishing some far-flung sock that refused to come along quietly with the rest of the laundry.

Well fuck, he can't refuse a sight like that.

He knows her well enough that as one heavy hand lands to grab her wrist, the other fists the back of her hair with enough force to keep her from banging her head against the dryer in case she startles- which she does.

Huh. He'd of thought for sure that maybe a part of her was playing up the whole 'being bent in half in front of the dryer' thing, but from that reaction he's starting to think she was actually just focused on the laundry for a split second.

He doesn't miss the way she relaxes against his hold now that his little game is up. "What a desperate little thing you are. I haven't even done anything and you're ready to roll on your back for me." 

Now that he knows she's not going to split her head open on the edge of the dryer he releases her hair, his newly freed hand now reaching down to flip her skirt up. 

The sight that greets him is enough to draw a low whistle from the man. "No panties? Naughty girl. Almost like you were expecting to get fucked today." he teases, chuckling to himself as she nods and presses her hips against the stiffening bulge in his pants. "And here I was being a mean, mean man and making my poor girl wait. Surprised you didn't have to clean up your seat after breakfast this morning."

"I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to actually do anything today," she can't help herself but to lightly grouse at him.

"That's the fun of me being in charge of when you get fucked today, pumpkin. I might bend you over every singular solid surface that can hold your weight, or I might make you wait. Choice is all mine."

Well, until she says otherwise. Or if she outright safewords. But that is a given.

His pretty girl is getting spoiled though if she's got time to be grumpy about not being bent over to her satisfaction. 

One hand trails over her hip, teasing the exposed skin as he revels in how twitchy she is. 

It takes prep- always does, always will. But they'd been at it for a good amount yesterday and with her presently about to melt into a puddle of desire and neglect after this morning, Alex is mindful but not too apprehensive as he opens his pretty girlfriend up on his fingers.

First one, just to confirm his suspicions- she's primed and wants to go, pressing back against him in anticipation as one becomes two. He knows that two of his is something akin to three of her own, and that finally seems to settle her down as his fingers stroke that spot inside of her that has her grabbing at the dryer for leverage and pushing back against it to press further into him.

"That's it, baby. Nice and fucking wet for me. You know what your job is, hm?" he purrs behind her. 

"Yes," she pants quietly. "Alex, please-"

"You're spoiled, you know that?" he still ends up pressing an affectionate peck to her temple again, pulling out of her warm body to work on freeing himself one handed.

She's all too eager to help get things rolling- standing on her tip toes and arching her back. It makes it easy to slide into her, taking a few shallow, rolling thrusts to work himself all the way inside.

Rewarded with the sound of her pleased moans, Alex is quick to settle into a pace that he knows will get the pair of them rolling their eyes in no time. At this point he knows how to get her going as certainly as he does to get himself off.

"Oh my God- right there," she moans, her own hands scrambling for purchase against the dryer to brace. Alex bands one arm across her waist while the other continues to knead her hip, keeping her close to him as he thrusts.

'Yeah? That's the spot right there pumpkin?" he asks despite knowing the answer. He just likes watching how she'll go from a smart, capable woman to a dumb little cocksleave desperate for his cum with the right kind of prompting.

"Ye-ye-yeah," she confirms as he stays steadfast in his tempo. 

"Fuck,” he groans at the wet heat of her clinging to him like she never wants him to leave her.

Letting go of her hip with one hand but keeping his other banded across her waist, Alex is all too happy to grope at her chest. Fingers plucking at her pebbled nipples- rolling and pinching one before switching to pay attention to the other. Those hitching breaths work in time to his ministrations as he works her up just to pull his hand away from her bust in favor of her clit.

Now that got her attention, each thrust of his hips and slow stroke of his fingers being rewarded with his name a constant chant in her mouth- Alex Alex Alex Alex-

“That good, pumpkin? You gonna- fuck-  make a mess for me? Come on, honey, ask me for it,” he goads.

She’s sputtering and scrambling to get her brain in working order- trying to be a good girl. Fucking adorable.

“Alex- fuck,- hgn- Alex- please! Let me- let me,” her brain struggling to play catch up.

“All ya gotta do is ask, honey. You can do that, can’t you?” Pressing another chase kiss to her temple, the dichotomy is not lost on him paired with the absolute filthy noises coming from where they’re joined. She’s gagging for it- literally can’t get the words out of her mouth in the right order. “Must be fucking you good if you can’t even talk properly,” he teases, a grin escaping him when she shoots him a glare over her shoulder. “I bet the neighbors know my name,” the uppity ones who seem to think they’re above socializing with any of the other tenants in the building- brushing off anyone who tries to get to know them.

God they must fucking hate Alex when he’s home after being sent out on mission.

“Alex please! Let me cum, please!”

His fingers kept up that maddening pace until his ears finally register that she did, in fact, use her words.

And Alex is nothing if not a man of his word.

He knows exactly how to change the quiet strumming of his stroking fingertips from the teasing touches meant to ramp her up, and the ones meant to drag her across the finish line.

Those pretty thighs are trembling as Alex plays her like a fiddle. She cums with a cry, seemingly caught off guard by how intense it is.

It doesn’t take much more to get Alex chasing his own end.

He finishes without much fanfare Pulls out, tucks himself away, pulls her skirt down and kisses her temple again before leaving a shaking mess left to sort out the laundry.

Much like breaking the seal on a night out of drinking- now that he’s given into the temptation he just cannot stop the rest of the day. The second his refractory period is up and he feels ready to go another round, he’s seeking her out within the house and can’t wait to climb on top of her.

He may or may not be the reason that lunch burns that day a few hours later. It’s a worthy reason though, and he happily orders takeout as an apology.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[emagios]

"We've told you before, right?" "Not everybody likes arcanists, Sonetto. They are dangerous. And because they are dangerous they are feared. They are not human. And those that are not human are different, and those that are different are hated. And you, Sonetto, are an arcanist. You will not find friends outside nor would they want to be. But we're not like them. That is why you are here. If not for us, you would have gotten yourself into worse situations. Maybe you would never have been in any situation except dead and forgotten. We don't want that for you, and that is why we protect you. Keeping you here in this house is for your protection. Here you can use your abilities as much as you like. As free as you like. All we ask of you is to stay, and in turn you use your abilities into good use. Like helping us." [AU in which Sonetto was never founded by the SPDM, rather gets adopted by a family instead. However, her abilities are manifested early. Seeing the potential in what exactly her magic does, her foster parents do not persecute her, instead using her ability of creation to compose works of art and sell it. ] I'm not much of a lore buff so idk how the magic system works. So I'm just assuming that when arcanists start showing signs of magic, it first starts off as "wild" magic. Random bursts of shazam and all that. As they grow up, then it starts to become something distinct. The game makes it seem that arcanists can cast "spells" or just regular magic (Like with Sonetto and Matilda having similar moves) and at the same time they have a magic that is unique to them. Matilda with her divinity, TF with her healing. Sonneto's case is maybe similar to Blonney in that it involves creating something from their imagination. Furthermore is that Sonneto's ability require intention? or at least a form of emotion and passion (which imo is so cool character-wise because the irony is so so good Sonneto, who strives to be the Foundations perfect soldier. Who strives to follow in its ideal of order before opinion. Before emotion, yet even her own magic contests that. Or maybe I got the details wrong and I'm being delusional LOL but I digress) So yeah, that's what I have in mind so far. I'm glad I finally got around to drawing it out, because the idea has been itching at me since Christmas lmao. Also! I'm also thinking of planting her to be somewhere maybe around the late 19th to early 20th century? Like the rest of the suitcase squad, Vertin will eventually encounter her as part of her being assigned in locating "unregistered/rogue" arcanists in hopes of recruiting them to the Foundation. Yes this idea was mainly made with vernetto / tk14 in mind lol But there's also some schneider mention for the verschneider angst ofc

[sergle]

I'm sure this is something you're already planning on doing, but I'd be super interested in seeing before and after pictures of you wearing the same clothing. And not necessarily only things that didnt fit before!

I think it'd be genuinely cool to see how differently stuff fits you now. Like how long shirts are, or where seams fall on your shoulders. Or if necklines gap now or fit comfortably.

Idk if that's weird?? That I'm thinking about it from like an artistic standpoint and how fabric drapes differently on different forms and it's just so NEAT!!!! To see how much one dimension (the boob dimension) changes the fit of your clothes since the rest of you is Same as Always Sergle

I'm not joking when I say I am fucking ITCHING TO DO THIS, I've got so many pictures/outfits that I wanna recreate to see how it looks with the reduced tits. As soon as I get more arm mobility back I'm gonna be trying on My Entire Wardrobe

[slightlyunconventional]

its 2am and op needs sleep (2.1k)

hi d/abihawks nation here is your food for the day (more to come in the foreseeable) aaand yeah. this is from an ask i got that i didn’t answer with this because it had three parts to it and i wanted to actually do all three ?? idk. anyway if youre the anon who asked for d/abi inducing with his piercings then this is for you :)

The fuck kind of time to wake up is this? Dabi thought, squinting at the digital alarm clock beside the bed. 4:16AM, it reads. Still dazed, he rolled over with a huff and got ready to go the fuck back to sleep - until it hit him.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” he hissed, as an itch that felt like wildfire crashed into his sinuses like a freight train, rendering him unable to form a coherent thought for a good few seconds. He sat up. The motion somehow made the burn triple in intensity. He scrunched up his nose forcefully, waiting for it to succumb, for the itch to peak, but it didn’t. It felt like it was taking over his entire face, an incessant buzzing that wouldn’t back down, half-closing his eyes and forcing him to keep his nose held in a permanently-crinkled position. Dabi dared to rub at it, knuckles pushing back and forth rather aggressively, and instantly regretted what he’d done. The contact seemed to set alight a million different nerve endings, and he decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck me,” Dabi managed to breathe out. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, the whole way squinting against the inferno plaguing his nose. The burn was near unbearable now, like flames licking at the tender inner walls of his nostrils, yet still nothing came of it. Even switching on the horrendously bright bathroom light in Hawks’ apartment, which usually managed to tease a sneeze or two from him, had no effect. Christ, he just wanted to go back to sleep. Eyes narrowing further due to the harsh transition from dark to light, Dabi moved to the sink and turned on the faucet. With a deep breath in, he splashed the cold water on his face a few times, and gave his full face a rather aggressive scrub with both hands for good measure. He stood up to find it had done absolutely nothing, and now he just had a wet face. Awesome. Why, for the love of fuck, was this happening? he thought in frustration. Could it have picked a more inconvenient time?

He grabbed a towel and dried off his face, rubbing with particular force at his nose (though still keeping low expectations that it would actually make a damn difference). The itch burned with ferocity, but remained stagnant; Dabi just wished it would either do something or piss off. For a man who normally despised sneezing - everything about it, the feeling, the loss of control, the vulnerability of it all - he seemed pretty desperate to do it now. He was running out of options, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to go wake up Hawks and make him stick a feather up his nose. There was probably a box of tissues in here, somewhere, he was sure, judging by how awful Hawks’ allergies got in the spring… bingo. It didn’t take long to find, just a few moments of staring into the medicine cupboard with one hand knuckling absently at the side of his nose. The dark-haired man pulled a few from the box, irritated, and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. The ever-present itch had his nostrils practically pulsing with need, and a handful of tissues suddenly pushed up to his nose really didn’t help. Hell, it was almost stinging now, and it was torturous.

“Shit,” Dabi breathed, as he began to rub his nose in slow, deliberate circles through the tissues. The sensation was all-consuming - he became completely laser-focused on the way the itch prickled ever so slightly with his movements. It was like the light at the end of a tunnel. He just had to will it to rise in intensity, just enough to make him– “...h-hhuh!” His breath caught, even if only slightly. Fuck, he was close, so damn close. In his mind he was begging for it, for relief, and he daren’t even move, for fear of losing the– damn it. The sting backed down just as quickly as it had come about, forcing Dabi to let out the breath he was holding in a short, irritated sigh. He couldn’t just go back to bed, not while this itch was still wreaking havoc in his face. But, it wasn’t like he had many choices left. The only thing he knew that really set him off was cats, and he was fairly sure bathrooms didn’t come preinstalled with a litter of kittens. Stubborn as ever, he refused to just give up and go sleep again - but what could he really do? Sit and wait it out, hoping it would just go away? Or go back to trying to make himself- hold on. Dabi suddenly remembered the absolute mess he’d been when he first pierced his nose (in this very bathroom, as a matter of fact). The needle had hardly been halfway through the cartilage before his chest was stuttering with rapid hitching breaths that had very quickly turned into fits of desperately itchy (and bloody) sneezes, untameable to the point where he had no input in the, well, output. He’d simply had to sit and let them barrel through him in awful tickly waves. He didn’t know why he’d sat through three rounds of that just for a triple nose piercing. One would have been plenty. 

Dabi pushed himself up from the edge of the bath, binned his tissues, and moved back to the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, running a tired hand over his face and sighing. His hand brushed lightly against the side of his nose, sending jolts up his sinuses, and he decided he couldn’t tolerate another second of such torment. The thought to pierce his nose again flitted briefly through Dabi’s mind, but was quickly dismissed. Imagine how that would go down. “Hey, you’ve got another piercing,” Hawks would say. “Oh, yeah, I had to sneeze really fucking badly last night so I did what any sane person would do - gave myself a fourth nose piercing!” Dabi rolled his eyes at the thought. He went for the next best thing - messing around with his current piercings to try and make something happen.

He leaned in closer to the bathroom mirror, well aware that he looked an absolute sight for sore eyes, red-rimmed nostrils and an oversized t-shirt hanging awkwardly around his frame proving an… interesting combination. Christ, what am I doing, he thought, as he took a silver stud between his fingers and began to twist it - and, hell, the effect was instantaneous. Immediately, the tickle reared its head, intensified tenfold from before, and all but consumed him. There was nothing he could do to stop his jaw from slackening, his eyes from fluttering shut, his nostrils from flaring to nearly twice their size– “Shit, shit, s-shiihh–!”

Breaths rising in his chest, pitchy and desperate, Dabi let out a string of curses and stumbled backward, almost losing his balance as the need to sneeze took over him such that he couldn’t possibly think about anything else. He braced a hand against the edge of the sink to keep upright, drew in an immense gasp, and pitched forward at the waist– “hh’hhahH’DDSHHhhew! Hohhh, God, fuck me…” The sneeze that followed was harsh, scraping, and instantly relieving. But Dabi soon found that he was nowhere near done, and snapped forward with a trio of back-to-back sneezes, equally intense as the first.

“huhH’HDJJSHHh! ‘gGKSHHh’uh! hah’DSHHh’iew!” He straightened up to try and catch his breath, but his nose tingled in a way which meant there was guaranteed to be more sneezing to come. He was about to cast his gaze up to the light fixture on the ceiling to try and coax it out prematurely, until he saw a glimpse of red in his peripheral vision - Hawks. Shit. How long had he been standing there? Dabi looked at him, unsure of what to say. The hero was sure to have a barrage of questions for him, he could already imagine it: Are you getting sick? Allergic to something? Oh my god–is it me? Did I use a new… something? I’m so sorry, are you okay? He was leaning on the doorframe in a loose-fitting shirt that Dabi had sacrificed (cut holes in the back of to accommodate Hawks’ wings) and wearing an expression that was a blend of sympathy and amusement. Dabi opened his mouth to speak.

“Bless you,” Hawks said, with a lopsided smile, before Dabi had the chance to say anything.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean t-to… wake you up,” he replied. Fuck, he still needed to sneeze.

Hawks exhaled a little laugh. “It’s okay. You were sneezing pretty damn loudly, it would have been hard not to.” He took a few steps forward and wrapped his hands around Dabi’s arm, absentmindedly rubbing tiny circles with his thumbs.

“Are you okay?” he asked, more of that sympathy now shining through. As predicted, questions. “Yeah, I– fuck, I-I, hhah– needtosneezeagaiihHGKSHHhew!” He sniffled, then used his free hand to rub his nose, hard. “No idea what it is, just… started.” At least it was partially true. He did have no idea what it was, but he wasn’t about to admit to Hawks that he’d actually been trying to make himself sneeze for the best part of half an hour. Hawks frowned. “Bless you,” he said again. “You aren’t sick? A cold, maybe?” There it was again. “No, dumbass, it’s May.” “Who says you can’t get colds when it’s not winter? I get colds when it’s not winter!” Hawks said indignantly. Dabi huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that’s you though. Your immune system’s shi-sh-hhahH’dDTSHHh’uh! Shit.” “Shut up,” Hawks said, swatting his arm. “Sounds pretty itchy.” Dabi pulled a face at that. “Sounds itchy? How can– how– Jesus, fuck, always when I’m trying to t-talk…” “Bless you-!” Hawks said prematurely, tipping his head to the side. “-hhHRRSHHHhew!” The smile on Hawks’ face widened. God, Dabi had thought this would just be one and done, but now he couldn’t seem to stop. It was as if he’d opened some metaphorical floodgates in his sinuses just by twisting his nose studs a bit, and released sneeze after terribly violent sneeze. It would be infinitely easier to deal with without his overly enthusiastic witness, that was for certain. He couldn’t say it wasn’t at least a little endearing, though, in some bizarre way. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sneeze this much before,” observed Hawks, in such a tone that made the statement sound like it was some earth shattering discovery (It wasn’t. Dabi was eternally thankful that Hawks had never bore witness to the explosive fits he got when cats were part of the equation).

From behind the hand scrubbing at his still-burning nose, Dabi raised an eyebrow. “Right…?” he said slowly, “Is that supposed to h-hah–!” This was getting ridiculous. He pinched his nose tightly, brows furrowed and eyes nearly shut. Absolutely not. “There’s no point holding it in now that I’m awake, you know,” Hawks said, a mildly teasing tone creeping into his voice. “Just wanna get a full f-fucking… hhuh– sentence out-! hh’ehHDSZZHhew! h-hhH’RSCHhh’uh!” “Bless you, bless you,” Hawks moved closer towards Dabi, evidently starting to feel drowsy again after having been out of bed, judging by the way he rubbed lazily at his eyes with one hand. “What were you gonna say?” “What?” “Before you sneezed again. What were you gonna say?” Dabi averted his eyes. “I don’t remember.” Hawks snickered quietly. “S’okay… you gonna come back to bed? I’m getting cold,” he said, his head now resting on Dabi’s arm. “Not your personal heater,” was the response, punctuated with an irritated sniffle. Hawks shook his head. “Whatever.”

“Even so, I don’t think you’d really want, well…” Dabi gestured vaguely at his face. He didn’t particularly want to say it out loud. “I don’t mind,” the hero replied softly, “I just want you to get some sleep. Besides, the pink nose is a cute look on you.” He added the last part with a wink, and it earned him a rather affronted scoff and a flick to the forehead. “Fine, let me just–” Dabi pulled a couple of tissues from the box and blew his nose with some force. It seemed to shift something high in his sinuses, which of course triggered a sneeze. The floodgates really had opened. “hh’hehHDDSHHhiew! Jesus Christ, can’t catch a break…” Hawks hummed. “Bless you,” he mumbled again, before starting to lead Dabi out of the bathroom and back to their bed. He paused, however, halfway to the door, and turned around. With a nod towards the tissue box on the counter, he said, “You’d better bring those with you.”

[daaydreamy]

okay so i just had this idea and i was hoping maybe you could do something with it. you know how when a guy proposes, the woman usually does a sexy boudoir shoot in lingerie as like a wedding gift to him? i feel like the roles would definitely be reversed with sub!h and Y/N, she would propose and then he would surprise her with a boudoir shoot where he’s all done up for her 🫦💅🏻 idk just a thought :) love your work ❤️

photoshoot

summary: harry surprises y/n. 

warnings: nudity (?)

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

•••

“Why didn’t you let me take the pictures?”

Harry’s brows furrowed as he looked at Y/N as she shuffled through the various pictures he surprised her with (along with a few polaroids he had taken himself once he got home). He frowned, “…Because they were supposed to be a surprise?” he shuffled closer and took the pictures from Y/N’s hand, looking through them himself. 

“Do you not like them?”

“Of course I do!” She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck and giving him a big kiss on his cheek? before resting her head against his shoulder. “It’s just… I have my own camera, you know. We could’ve taken them here, on our bed… Could take more of these.” She emphasized, holding up the filthy polaroids Harry had taken himself with Y/N’s polaroid camera and Harry’s cheeks grew warm as he looked at them, taking the polaroids and putting them back down face down, making Y/N laugh as she buried her face in his shoulder. 

“So, what do you say?” She asked and pulled back, smiling. 

“Another photoshoot?”

“Another photoshoot. I’ll make it more fun, I promise.”

Harry snickered, “Fine.”

“Yes!” She exclaimed triumphantly, grabbing Harry’s hand and kissing the ring that was around his ring finger, before leaning in to kiss his lips. 

•••

“You done?” Y/N called out to Harry, who was in the bathroom getting dressed. Or… er, undressing? Y/N was fixing her camera, sitting on the bed as she waited for Harry. He also wanted to wear different sets for the pictures, so there were two more pairs of lingerie sitting over there on the chair in the corner, neatly folded and ready to be worn to adorn Harry’s body. She glanced over at the door once she heard him getting out, getting up from the bed and flashing Harry a bright, excited smile once he finally walked out of the bathroom. 

“Is it alright?”

“‘Course it is.” She reassured, placing her camera down on the bed for a second to walk over to Harry. She wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss. “You look pretty.” She said in a softer tone, making heat rise to his cheeks and smile. 

“So, we’ll take a few pictures of you in this, yeah? Then we’ll do the other set.”

“Just a few? I like this one.” Harry frowned, looking down at himself. That caused Y/N to run her eyes down Harry’s body as well, a soft chuckle leaving her lips. 

“I’ll take plenty.”

•••

“Stop laughing!”

A smile pulled at Harry’s lips and he started laughing again, “I’m sorry!” He exclaimed, placing a hand on his stomach and blowing out deep and slow breaths to get himself to calm down, holding back those smiles that were itching to get on his face. He wasn’t even sure why he kept laughing, all Y/N told him to do was to close his eyes and stay still. 

(The pictures looked better while he was laughing anyway.)

Y/N rolled her eyes, now laughing herself, “Just get changed.”

“Can I see them first?” Harry asked as he was getting up from the bed, watching Y/N flick through the pictures. She turned the camera away from him once he got closer, making him frown. 

“You’ll see when we’re done.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Fine.” He mumbled, grabbing the last set to wear, heading over to the bathroom.

•••

“That one looks kinda weird.” Harry mumbled, staring at one particular picture. They finally finished and Y/N let him see all the pictures. He was toying with his lower lip and he glanced at Y/N, who was now looking at the same picture, brows furrowed. 

“No it doesn’t. You look pretty.”

Harry only hummed and flicked through the rest of the pictures, unable to stop blushing as he looked at them. Y/N would sometimes speak up and tell him he was pretty over and over again, Harry never grew tired of it. 

“How about those polaroids, hm?” Y/N had a sly smile on her face and she grabbed Harry’s left hand, bringing it up to her mouth and kissing over the ring she put around his finger. Harry snorted and placed the camera down, giving her a look that made her brows furrow. 

“What? It’d be a good use of my polaroid…” She shrugged, placing a hand on the back of Harry’s neck to pull him in for a kiss, making a smile rise to his face. 

a/n: sorry it’s kinda short, but here you go!!! this is photographer!y/n, a very very small thing i thought of a while ago so i thought it’d be good to use for this concept!!! hope it was okay, feedback is always appreciated! thank you so much for reading love u 🫂🫂🫂

🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @sadqn1, @judesgfirl, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @phoebebridgersforqueen, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite, @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run, @velvetrylie, @vamprry, @ellie-loveshs