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fangirl-dot-com · 5 months

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Fernando Alonso - I Love My Grandpa

Wow it feels like this series is flying! After this chapter, we only have two more to go. Like – that’s crazy to me, never would have thought that one simple story idea would lead to something like a multichapter work with spin offs and extras! This one might be a little bit shorter so I apologize! I’m honestly just trying to get back onto the next chapters!

All of you readers have helped me get to where we are with this entire work and I promise to be a good author!

[TAG LIST IS CLOSED]

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Much love <3

You sighed as you walked around the paddock. Bored out of your ever-loving mind. Max was off in some meeting, Charles was hidden in the Ferrari garage (one you hadn’t found out how to infiltrate, the Italians are menaces to societies), Lando and Oscar are late, Alex decided to go off with Lily and NOT invite you, and Logan was sleeping. Which, in hindsight, was probably what you needed to be doing, but you were restless.

You’d been out of the car for one of the small breaks and were just itching to get back into driver. But no.

You were stuck in the paddock.

Alone.

You thought about bothering Mitch, but like most adults, she was working for the race this coming weekend. Boo-hoo. You knew that Christian could give you something to do, but that would mean an old lady job like filing. Or honestly, it wouldn’t but you didn’t want to give Christian any ideas.

Now, you were stuck, scrolling through one of your multiple social media apps, on the hospitality roof. Your headphones were on, blocking out the world. You swiped out of Instagram and clicked on TikTok.

Maybe you should have bothered the social media personnel. They seemed to always look for drivers to make new videos. You quickly stood up. If they wouldn’t find you, you would do it yourself. Glancing over the railing, your eyes danced along the grid. Who could you approach and force to make a TikTok with?

Your eyes widened at the sight of the emerald green that flashed below. A smirk grew on your face as you quickly left the roof to go down to the pitlane. Once out in the sun, you made your way over the garage.

You knew better than Max to wear the Red Bull clothing on days that it was not needed. So you blended in, kind of. You glanced around for the one driver that you knew would make a video with you. He wasn’t named “public figure of the year” for nothing. Even though it was only for Spain, it still counted.

You walked up to a group of mechanics, suddenly feeling confident.

“Do you know where I could find Fernando?” your voice echoed through the empty garage. They suddenly stopped what they were doing and looked at you. You felt small under their gaze, but held eye contact.

One of them sweetly smiled and said that Fernando should be watering plants around the pit. You quickly thanked him and left the garage, a tight grip on your phone. You would get this video and be TikTok famous.

Your only goal in life.

You snorted at your thought. That was definitely not your goal in life, but it was one of them. Looking for the Spaniard was harder than you thought. You thought you had gone to every single garage on the planet, and he was nowhere to be found.

At one point, you ran into several of the other drivers. And when you say ran into, it was quite literally. It wasn’t your fault that Max decided to step in front of you when you were speed walking past Red Bull.

The impact was more than you thought, as you found yourself on the hot asphalt. You gazed up at the Dutchman, sun getting into your eyes. You pulled yourself up and stood next to him. Max still looked as though he was recovering from your hit.

Before he could say anything though, you blurted out, “Have you seen Fernando?”

Max had a bewildered look on his face. Why would you be looking for Fernando? From behind you, Charles suddenly appeared, eating what you think were some sort of chips.

Right, Max never went anywhere without Charles and Charles never went anywhere without Max. Maybe for secret Santa, you’d get them one of those giant shirts for them to wear.

Through his bites, Charles managed to get out, “I saw him earlier at hospitality.”

You clapped him on the shoulders. “Good man. Thank you.” You quickly reached into his bag of snack, grabbed whatever your fingers could feel, and dashed away, stuffing your face.

The Monégasque and Dutchman just stared as you bolted from the both of them.

“What was that?” Max asked, as Charles looked down at his bag with whine.

“She took the last of my snack.”

Max shook his head. “Come on. We’ll get you more snacks. Red Bull doesn’t go over cost cap on catering for nothing!”

The two drivers disappeared, leaving the various employees questioning what they just witnessed.

As for you, you were still on your journey. You climbed the stairs once again, putting yourself right back where you started. And low and behold.

There he was. In all his glory.

Watering the plants?

He must have sensed your presences, or heard you gasping for air since you took the stairs. But you wouldn’t talk about that.

He sent you a welcoming smile and beckoned you over. You gingerly stepped closer to the plant that he was showering. You cocked your head, not knowing what else you were supposed to do. Your eyes were wide as you looked at the nice flowers that had bloomed. You decided to talk first.

“Do you water all of the plants?”

A deep chuckle escaped Fernando’s lips. He had watched you look with a puzzled face.

“Not all of them. Just the ones that look like they need something extra,” he gave you a wink before turning back to his task. You took this moment to look around. At the opposite edge of the roof, there was a smaller plant that looked as if it had seen better days.

You grabbed one of the water bottles that Fernando had near him and opened it as you cracked the seal. You carefully poured the water over the small plant. Watching, you noticed how the dirt seemed to just drink it up.

This was actually pretty nice: having to share a quiet space with someone. You made your way over to a few more plants before walking back over. It seemed as though Fernando was done as well.

You went to speak, but was interrupted with a growl from your stomach. Quickly looking at your phone, the time shocked you as it was already past lunch. Fernando quietly laughed.

“Lunch?”

You grinned widely at the suggestion. The two of you made your way down to the hospitality cafeteria. It was pretty empty, since the lunch hour had passed for multiple people. You walked up to the line, ordered, grabbed your food, and found a nice table near the back by a window. It reminded you of the first lunch you had with Mitch.

Fernando sat across from you. You liked his energy.

“So,” he spoke first, “I heard from one of my mechanics that you were looking for me?” He raised his eyebrow.

Your cheeks flushed as you bit into your sandwich. You quickly swallowed to answer. “Uh, I was bored and I wanted to make a TikTok. But everyone was busy, so I thought I’d try to find you.” Your shoulders raised in a shrug.

You found yourself doing that quite a bit.

The Spaniard looked at you. “You couldn’t find someone younger? I’m just wondering why you’d come to me first?”

“Well, uh, there were some mechanics not working, but I really judge people of how I feel around them. They kind of gave off a busy vibe that I didn’t like. But you have more of a calm, grandpa kind of vibe.” You sipped your water. “I mean, if you thought that your career in Formula 1 being longer than Oscar has been alive, it’s worse with me. You’re 24 years older than me.”

Fernando looked like his body took a screen shot.

You quickly put out your arms, trying to console the driver. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s nice to have someone who’s older. I really looked up to you as a kid, and I still do.” You twisted your fingers nervously and Fernando could see that.

“It’s not an issue niña. I’m honored to have someone like you that looks up to me. But let’s maybe not talk about the ages.” You giggled quietly as his scrunched face.

“It’s kind of hard not to think about it when everyone calls me kid,” your face also scrunched, same as Fernando. “I’m glad that Oscar and Logan don’t do that, but even Lando has started.” You pretended to cry. “He’s only 3 years older.” Your head hit the table.

He kind of just watched you go through the five stages of grief. If there was one thing he knew about kids, it was to just let them go through the motions. Your head quickly shot up as you took inhaled. “Can we make a TikTok now?”

A small laugh left his lips. “Sure, we can. Did you have an idea?”

Your hands reached for your phone, unlocking it quickly. “Uh, I had a couple of ideas, but, I think one would be really funny. I’ve been seeing some comments about how you act like our grandpa sometimes, so this audio would be funny, even if it says dad.”

You played the video, the voice filling the space around you. “I get it you’re all fatherless…I’m not, I love my dad.” Fernando let out a chuckle as your eyes lit up at the funny sound.

You continued, “I’d just put words over it so that it would say ‘grandfatherless’ instead.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

The two of you left the cafeteria to film the segments of the video. Because of time change and wherever you were in the world, it got a bit dark while you were eating. You carefully filmed your part a couple of times before it was deemed acceptable. You guessed that Fernando had done a lot of these because he was basically a pro.

You captioned it “Honorary Gramps” and posted it with Fernando’s approval.

Before you knew it, Max had come to get you.

You went to leave, before turning around and jumping to give Fernando a hug. “Thanks Grandpa-Nando.”

You stepped back to walk away with Max, who had a smirk on his face. He called back to the older man.

“Does this mean we get to call you that?” Max bit back a laugh.

Fernando shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

You whacked Max on the shoulder, “Hey, that’s only reserved for Red Bull’s golden child.”

Max had a weird look on his face. “I thought that was me?”

You shook your head before walking past him. “You have so much to learn Maxy. Let’s go find Christian.”

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog

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zepskies · 6 months

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Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

AN: So I didn’t think I’d ever write for this character, but it was prompted by a lovely anon and encouraged by my friend @thatonewriter15! I hope you enjoy. ❤️

Song Inspo: “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. “I’ve found a love…”

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, suggestiveness, mega fluff

He was in the zone.

Four six-inch double buffalo chicken clubs with banana peppers on whole wheat bread (gross, but he wasn’t the one eating ‘em), two spicy Italians, and a tuna on rye.

Priestly wrapped them up with practiced precision and slid them down the line to Piper, Mission Impossible-style. She smiled at his antics and took them and brought them over to Tish at the register.

Priestly had another turkey and provolone on his docket, hold the mayo, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Today he actually did have pockets. As in, he was wearing joggers, boots, and a graphic tee that said: NO TEQUILA, NO ENTRY.

He swiveled his phone in his hand like a drummer with a drumstick. He smiled when he saw your name flashing across the screen, and he answered it.

“Hey, Beautiful. What’s up?” he asked.

“Boaz, I need you,” you said. To his ears, your voice was sultry, and a bit strained.

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

“What’s holding up the turkey and cheese?” Piper asked.

Boaz held up a finger to the blonde and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands busied themselves with the next sandwich order, but he was all too attentive to your every word.

“Oh yeah?” he replied to you. His smile deepened. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I’m craving some of you, baby.”

You gave a breathy chuckle. “Normally I’d take you up on that, but no. I need you. As in, I really need you to do something for me.”

Priestly arched a brow. His brain was already filling up with ideas of how he could best help you. He mentally took an inventory of the “tools” in your nightstand drawer, and which ones he could best use to his advantage when he—

“Uhh, well, I got about one more hour in my shift,” he said, lowering his voice, even as it deepened a notch. “But if Jen covers me, I can be outta here in half the time.”

“Oh my God, good,” you gasped. “I’m in so much fucking pain, you have no idea.”

Priestly blinked, and any thoughts of kinky fun times came to a screeching halt. Concern took over when he realized that the strain in your voice wasn’t from the sexy kind of need.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“I’m out of Midol, my uterus is rioting like it’s a Vietnam War protest, and…oh yeah, I need more tampons too,” you said. “But I legitimately cannot move from this couch.”

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Ech, I hear ya. Are we in a Code Green, Code Yellow, or Code Red situation?”

Jen glanced over at him from where she was mopping the floor, and she gave him a questioning look.

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

“Code Red, definitely,” you answered with a sigh.

Priestly grimaced in sympathy. He mouthed back to Jen, Code Red.

She nodded in female understanding, and raised a hand that said, Say no more.

“Okay, yeah,” Priestly replied to you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You released a sigh of relief. “And if you want to throw in a Snickers, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He chuckled at that one.

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be home in T minus an hour, give or take.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just steal a DeLorean or something?”

“You know, I could, but that would mean I’d be going back further into the past before you even needed to call me, and I’d still probably be making sandwiches since I’ve been working here since damn near 2000 B.C. But you know what, they should really call that movie Back to the Present, since they don’t actually go to the future until—”

“Okay,” you had to laugh, even though it was edged with discomfort. “I’ll see you later.”

At the supermarket, after his shift at Beach City Grill, Priestly had most of the supplies he needed for a successful mission. All he was missing was his old enemy on Aisle 2.

Once again, he faced a wall of tampons. All bright colored boxes and numbers and sizes…

Okay, not Code Green, so not the slender ones that might as well be match sticks. Not Yellow, so no to Regular…ah! Here we are. Super Plus.

AKA: Code Red. Complete with leak guard, no latex. He grabbed the blue box and threw it into his basket of essentials, including no less than three assorted chocolate bars and a pint of Ben & Jerrys. He knew his girl, and you liked your Half-Baked ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie pieces.

He brought over his haul to the checkout line. Sure enough, Gerry, one of the locals, was finally old enough to buy a case of beer by himself. He glanced at the blue box Priestly was taking out onto the conveyor belt and smirked.

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

Priestly’s smile was tight. “No, Gerald. Slenders are for pussies.”

“Literally,” the blonde beanpole snorted. “What, your girlfriend got a heavy flow this month?”

Priestly rolled his eyes, and his mouth pressed in a line. The word flow still kind of grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, but what irked him more was this guy imagining any part of your intimate parts.

“All right, my girl’s flow is none of your business,” he said. “Once you hit puberty and grow your first pubes, you’ll understand.”

Gerry floundered while Priestly continued on to make his purchases. Even the cashier was smiling, trying not to laugh as he silently gave Priestly his props for a burn well made. Priestly shot the guy a nod and a smile before he left with his spoils.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Priestly sing-songed.

He stepped through the door with his keys still jangling in his hand. He was trying to balance the big bag of groceries while closing the door to the apartment he shared with you.

Your head perked up from the living room couch, and your hand slowly curled up, beckoning him over. Priestly obliged you. He peered over the side of the couch and smiled at the way you were all curled up under a throw blanket, already in your pajamas, while FRIENDS reruns played on the TV.

“Finally,” you said with a tired smile. But not the kind of finally that just meant you were impatient for the goods he carried. The kind of finally that also meant you were happy to see him.

He laid a comforting hand on your head, leaned down, and pressed a kiss above your brow. You held him there by the collar of his shirt, prompting him to kiss you for real. Your hand moved up his tattooed neck and your nails gave the back of his head a little scratch, careful not to disrupt the blue mohawk.

He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, just enough to try and gauge how you were feeling.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

“Like a beach umbrella in a hurricane,” you replied wryly. “You got the stuff?”

Priestly held the grocery bag tucked under his arm like it was a drug deal.

“Oh, I got the stuff, if you got the money,” he said.

You nodded, and your small smile turned mischievous. “I got your money, Big Man.”

With your hand delicately hooked behind his neck and the other gliding up his arm, he didn’t realize he was falling into a trap.

You tugged his arm hard enough to try and get him to fall over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he yelped. Yet he also laughed while you tried your best to pull him overboard.

He had to toss the bag of groceries to the floor next to you, but he managed to get over and onto the couch without crushing you. He probably smelled like old sandwich and mayonnaise, but you didn’t seem to care.

You just helped him settle in behind you, with your back to his chest. This was the only way you’d find comfort for your lower back. It had been aching since you woke up this morning.

You grabbed his closest hand and guided it under your overlarge sleep shirt, then under the waistband of your panties. You laid his warm hand flat against your cramping lower belly.

Priestly pressed a kiss behind your ear and tucked his arm underneath your head. He felt the rise and fall of your sigh as you leaned back against him, and his smile softened.

“You’re gonna fall asleep without digging into your treasure trove,” he teased. “I even got your favorite ice cream.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

“Yep, for extra brownie points. Eh? See what I did there?”

Your body shook with a quiet laugh. You reached your hand back to touch his bearded cheek this time. Your fingers toyed with his many earrings.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite human?” you said. “Like, ever?”

He smiled against your neck. “Could’a sworn I was your third favorite, behind Ben and Jerry.”

“Nope, just you,” you said, snuggling back further into his warmth. “Thank you, baby.”

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

He’d really, honest to God found the life he didn’t think he’d get, with a woman who didn’t want him to change; who just wanted him to be here.

Though he smirked when you reached for the bag and dug out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

AN: Priestly was such a fun character lol. I rewatched 10 Inch Hero this past week and this was the first thing I thought to write! If you liked this, let me know! (And if you want more Priestly.) 😘

Read the Prequel!

If you liked Code Red, read the start of their story:

▶️ The Miracle Man

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

(Lovelies from my "Everything" tag list. If you want to be tagged on Priestly stuff specifically, check out the Tag List link in my bio.)

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

#Code Red #10 Inch Hero #Boaz Priestly #Boaz Priestly x reader #Boaz Priestly x female reader #Boaz Priestly x you #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Priestly x reader #Priestly x you #Priestly #Priestly x female reader #zepskies writes

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sluttywoozi · 1 year

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What Should We Become?

Title from Turbulence by Ateez

For: @sluttywonwoo my bestie and birthday queen

Rating: M (18+) | WC: 9.0k | Pairing: Yeosang x f!reader x San

You and San have been dating for years, you're well aware of his penchant for doing anything for anyone he loves. You just didn't know that extended to asking you to fuck his best friend, not that you mind.

Tags: est. relationship, boyfriend!san, bestfriend!yeosang, threesome, fluff, smut

Notes: boyfriend!san, you live together, pov lowkey all over the place bc i wanted to know what everyone was thinking soz

Warnings: so many feelings i did NOT plan for, food/alc mention, mention of past toxic relationship (yeo's), jealous san, mentions of san being possessive but specifically not in a gross way, nipple play, biting, oral (f and m rec.), fingering, squirting, they both have big dicks, protected piv, unprotected piv, spitroasting (hate that term so sorry), san cums inside, bc not discussed but they’re safe, open ending

Reader Notes: a bit more specific than usual bc this is for the bestie, ‘girlfriend’ used many times, she/her pronouns used, has breasts and a vagina, mention of marks showing on her skin, WAP

You fumble with the wrapping on the popcorn, cursing under your breath and trying to tear the plastic as Temi weaves in and out of your feet. San’s hand hovers just out of reach, ready and waiting to do it for you, but you pretend not to see it. He loves doing things for you and you love that about him, both because it means he’s considerate and also because it means you have to do less things, but sometimes you want to do them on your own. You know popcorn isn’t exactly the most impactful opportunity to make a stand, but it’s all about baby steps.

The bag is finally turning in the microwave when his fingers catch at your shirt and he starts tugging you into his orbit. He’s big, broad, but still lean enough that you think you could lift him, probably, not that you’ve ever tried. You’re musing about how many piggyback rides he’s given you and how little you’ve given him when he asks the question.

“Baby, how would you feel about sleeping with Yeosang?” He sounds nervous, his voice full of trepidation and the fabric of your top clenched in his hand.

“Like a sleepover? That’s fine with me, I can take the couch if you guys want to share the bed, I know you like your snuggle time. Just know I'm taking Temi with me,” you respond mildly, unsure as to why he’s so on edge.

You can see the pain enter his eyes when he realizes he’ll need to explain further.

“No, I mean, like- Ugh! This is so hard!” He sucks in a deep breath before expelling it along with the words, “I want you to have sex with Yeosang!”

“Ohhhh. Yeah, alright,” you shrug, like he asked if you’d eat Italian for dinner, not have sex with another man. A man who isn’t your boyfriend. A man who happens to be your boyfriend’s best friend. A man who happens to be your friend. A man you happen to find incredibly attractive.

“You agreed to that way too easily,” San pouts, pulling you closer with his arms wrapped around your waist. His fingers dig in possessively, as if to remind you who you really want, who you really love. Like you could ever forget.

You met San and Yeosang at the same time and spent some time with both of them as friends before San confessed his feelings for you. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about Yeosang at all in those few weeks, about Yeosang and San, and just how their dynamic would translate to sex.

But no matter how curious you were, and how prim and polished and perfect Yeosang is (and how much you want to wreck that perfection), San will always be the only man for you.

How could you be with anyone else when San is the only one who knows you? When he not only gives you his pickles but orders an extra side of them, just for you. When he started wearing socks to bed because you hate other peoples’ feet touching yours. When he always makes sure you have your favorite lunch to eat with your favorite show, and always buys those star pimple patches you like, and brought home a soaking wet, shivering, brown ball of fur that you promptly wrapped up in a fresh-from-the-dryer towel and named Temi.

San can read all of your moods, knows when you need extra attention or when you need solitude, knows when you want him all over you and when you can’t stand to be touched, knows how to calm you down and how to ramp you up, knows everything there is to know about you.

He even knows the less cute parts, the ones you try to keep hidden away from everyone else. The jealousy, the insecurity, the fear of inadequacy, he knows it all.

And he loves you. He loves you so much it shines out of every pore, so much it fills in every crack in your facade, so much he makes you glow with it. There’s no ‘but’, no ‘despite’, he loves every single thing about you because they’re about you.

The best part is, you’re not even special.

Sure, you’re special to him, but you’re not the only one he loves like this. He loves all of his friends with such intensity, knows them all better than he knows himself, would do anything for them. Even ask his girlfriend to have sex with them, apparently.

Making the decision to ask must have been beyond difficult for him. San is made up of a myriad of lovely qualities, but one of the less lovely ones is his possessiveness. It never crosses the bridge into toxicity, never scares you, but he does get a certain look on his face when his friends get too touchy with you. Or when a guy asks to buy you a drink at the bar after he goes to the bathroom. Or when your ex texts you or your male study buddy invites you out for dinner or, or, or.

But… you like it, if you’re being honest. You like when his eyes get heavy and warm on you and his grip gets tight and his body gets even bigger, somehow. Maybe you shouldn’t enjoy his posturing, but you just can’t help it when you consider what often follows.

(San blowing your back out.)

(That’s what follows.)

The discussion of details comes later, when your popcorn has cooled enough to eat and San has gotten over his petty jealousy at the thought of you being touched by someone else. He’d gotten petulant about it after like he hadn’t considered that part of the equation, but he seems to have grown accustomed to it. There will be rules, of course, such as, “He can’t cum inside of you. That’s just for me.”

And, “No marks, either.”

“And he has to wear a condom.”

“And-”

“San, we don’t even know if Yeo wants to fuck me yet. Why don’t we get that squared away before we lay out all of the boundaries, okay?”

“Of course he wants to fuck you,” San almost sounds offended at the idea that he wouldn’t, “But, yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he concedes.

“What brought this on, anyway? Is this… something you’re into?” You ask, not expecting a yes but also not expecting the answer you get.

“No, definitely not. You know I’m not a good sharer. It’s just that Yeo kind of wants to get back into dating but he’s a bit… unsteady after his last experience. I want him to have a good one before he puts himself out there again, for a confidence boost. And I know I can trust him with you, and you with him.”

It’s… well, shockingly isn’t the right word, because San is kind to a fault, sometimes, but it’s an unexpectedly altruistic reason, and you’re all the more glad you agreed. You would have been fine with it if he just wanted to watch another man fuck you because you think that’s hot, but to know that he really just wants to take care of his best friend makes you even more sure of your decision.

It helps that Yeosang looks like a prince and acts like one, too. You’ve wondered what he’s like in bed, if he’s the same or if he’s less refined, less quiet, less polite. He’s so strong, you wonder if he’ll throw you around or hold you down, or if he’ll handle you gently and hold your hand. You wouldn’t mind either, if you’re being honest.

The weight of San’s suspicious gaze tears you from your thoughts. You send him an innocent smile and lean in, batting your eyelashes and puckering up for a kiss. He obliges, of course, deepening it before you can even think to pull away, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip and working its way inside. You love how he kisses you, so thoroughly, so passionately, like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be doing than you.

By the time he pulls away, you’re breathless and brainless, all thoughts of anyone but San wiped from your mind.

San decides to invite Yeosang over when you’re at one of your The Gals nights to pop the question. He literally feels like he’s about to propose as he paces the apartment, doing some last minute tidying and nervously smoothing his shirt every three minutes. It’s not like Yeosang’s never come over before - he’s nearly a regular fixture at this point. You and San had even considered giving him a key.

This is different though, he’s about to ask his best friend if he wants to have sex with his girlfriend. He still can’t believe he even thought of the idea, let alone pitched it to you, but here he is, rehearsing different ways of broaching the topic as he anxiously awaits Yeosang’s arrival.

He can’t be too direct or he’ll scare Yeosang away - he can be a bit skittish sometimes - but he also can’t dance around it too much or Yeo won’t figure out what he’s talking about. The guy is smart as hell but kind of slow on the uptake on occasion, a trait San is beyond fond of, though it makes it difficult to be subtle about things like this.

‘Things like this,’ as if he’s ever done anything of this nature before, he thinks with a wry laugh and shakes his head. Sharing you was never even a concept in his mind until Yeosang had confided in him that he was scared to get back out there after his ex. He’d brainstormed a few ways to help but kept going back to how much you’d helped him through sex when you first got together. He’d been completely inexperienced and insanely nervous until you started guiding him, and everything flowed from there. He wished you could help Yeosang the same way, and then realized the only thing stopping you from doing just that was him. It would have been selfish not to at least ask if you’d be interested, and though he was a little surprised (and annoyed) that you agreed with no hesitation, he still believes this is the right thing to do.

So when two timid knocks sound on the door, San’s nerves settle to a low simmer and he’s able to greet his best friend as normally as possible.

The normalcy only lasts for so long, his anxiety ticking back up the longer he makes awkward small talk with Yeosang. He knows Yeo can sense that something is off but he also knows he'll never say anything about it, will just sit here and watch TV and talk about nothing until San is ready to tell him. It’s a wonderful quality of Yeosang’s, the fact that he can read him so well and knows not to dig, but today San wishes he would. He’s not sure he can find it in himself to ask Yeosang if he’d like to fuck you, and a good lead in might be the only way he can bring it up.

Hours pass and San’s shoulders start to ache with tension. He still hasn’t said anything about the actual reason he invited Yeosang over today, and he’s starting to feel like he could vibrate out of his skin. He really didn’t think it would be this hard, definitely thought it would be more difficult to ask you rather than Yeosang, but here he is. It’s nearing bedtime and you’ll likely return home soon, and then what's San supposed to do? Ask Yeosang if he wants to have sex with you while you’re right here?

Wait.

Wait, that might be a good idea. You hadn’t discussed when exactly this would happen but from your texts tonight, San already knows you’re turned on, and Yeosang is here, so…

So... he stalls until your key starts turning in the lock and Temi starts screeching in reaction, knowing exactly what that sound means. He’s sure Yeosang noticed his change in demeanor but he doesn’t bother explaining, knowing that Yeo is going to be very confused for however long it takes to go through everything.

He doesn’t want to just spring his plan on you so he leaps up and jogs over from the couch to greet you at the door, shouting, “One sec!” at the living room before pulling you into the farthest corner of the kitchen. You follow with a huff, yelling, “Hi Yeosang!” and turning to San only when Yeo responds, "Hiii."

“Babe, hear me out,” San begs with his hands on your shoulders as he watches the confusion spread on your face.

“You haven’t said anything to hear out yet,” you remind him, arching a brow at him in expectation. “You just dragged me in here and you didn’t even let me say hi to Yeosang.”

“You did say hi to Yeosang, just now-,”

“That doesn’t count and you know it.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right, but I have to tell you something!”

“Okay, so tell me! I’m not tipsy anymore and I either want to shower or fuck so-,”

“That’s good because I want to ask Yeo right now if he wants to fuck you tonight. What are your thoughts?”

He hadn’t planned on sounding so frustrated when he told you but when the words start to spill out, he lets them. It doesn’t help that you’re really hot when you’re annoyed and he’s a bit upset that he’ll have to let Yeo have you first if everything goes well.

“Um.”

The third voice startles him, makes his fingers clench your shoulders a bit too hard and at the breath hissed through your teeth, he lets go. He pets at the sore spots, whispering, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” until you grab his hands and tell him, “Sannie, it’s okay. Let’s focus on Yeo.”

He turns cautiously, unsure of what he’ll find as he shifts his attention to the statue that was his best friend. Yeosang stands perfectly still, his eyes alarmed and his mouth half open. San can’t tell if he’s scared or grossed out or offended or all three, and this suddenly feels like the worst idea he’s ever had. Not just the telling him part but the whole thing. Regret settles heavily in his stomach, mortification closing up his throat as he tries to find the right words to say. He’s about to start with the most teary apology of his life when Yeosang starts to speak.

“Um, I do want to- I would. Like that. I would like to do that,” Yeosang says firmly, if a bit clumsily. He nods emphatically as he speaks, seriously, like this is an honor that’s been bestowed upon him, and San supposes it is. You haven’t fucked many people other than San and San has fucked nobody other than you, so to let someone into that aspect of your relationship is a sign of just how much you both trust Yeosang and each other.

“Oh,” You and San exhale in unison, “Well, that makes things easier,” San continues.

Shifting to lean back against the counter, San crosses his arms and looks directly into Yeosang’s eyes, “We have some rules.” You roll yours, pulling San’s arms away from his chest enough to slide between them and rest your back against him to break the rising tension.

“I like rules,” Yeosang assures you both excitedly, looking more relaxed now that he knows there are restrictions.

“One: you’re wearing a condom. I got a few different sizes, just in case. Two: you’re not cumming inside of her, even with the condom. Three: no marking-,”

“But you can bite!” You interject helpfully, making San nod and repeat, “Yes, biting is okay, just don’t leave any marks.”

Yeosang smiles primly, nodding along as well. The look in his eye tells San he’s going over the rules in his head and he has to push down the wave of fondness in order to maintain his stern facade. As well as he knows Yeo would never do anything to hurt you, San still feels like he needs to protect you in a situation like this, and the rules make him feel better about entrusting you to someone else. (San also knows you’re a fully grown person and can make your own decisions, but you’re his girlfriend too and he loves you, deal with it.)

“And if at any point any of us wants to stop, all we have to do is say so,” San declares, making sure you and Yeosang understand that the situation is under your full control. He’s planning on just being a spectator, but if you’re up for it after Yeosang…

You and Yeo agree, exchanging nervous smiles and glancing toward the bedroom. It’s clear you’re both becoming antsy, but San has one last thing to say.

“Okay, I just want us to remember that we’re all friends here. Well, babe, we’re more than that, obviously, and Yeo, you know you’re my man, but what I’m trying to say is that there’s no reason to be nervous because it’s all love here, right?”

“Right,” you parrot with a squeeze to his forearm as Yeosang smiles and twists his fingers together. He’s clearly still nervous but you seem perfectly at ease and San is reminded once again why this is a good idea. You’re just what Yeo needs to find his confidence again and San hopes that tonight is the first step to him finding his own you, too.

Things are awkward once you all reach the bedroom. Temi is asleep on the bed so you have to take her to her favorite blanket in the living room. She stays asleep, the sweet little log she is, but you leave out a plate of food just in case she wakes up. It strikes you that you haven’t really gotten to prepare at all and though you’re used to just going at it with San, you need some time to get ready for Yeosang. You feel a bit disheveled after Gals’ Night so you continue straight into the bathroom to strip your dirty clothes and start the shower.

Peeking your head out from behind the door, you tell the boys, “Just gimme five! Why don’t you get the condoms out, babe?”

San does so, presenting Yeosang with a grocery bag of four boxes, sizes small to extra-large. He really did cover all of his bases (there were two possibilities that, as his best friend and also someone who’s seen him in wet swim trunks, San knew he could ignore). Yeo avoids his eyes and dips a hand into the bag, grabbing the extra-large box and clumsily pawing at the packaging. He finally rips it open, a roll of 36 condoms spilling out onto the bed, much to his obvious consternation.

“There weren’t smaller boxes?” Yeosang asks, eyeing the multicolored packages splayed on the sheets.

“Better safe than sorry,” San responds with a shrug, sweeping all but one condom back into the box before tossing the bag into the closet.

Yeosang can’t help but agree, stepping back to sit carefully on the bed next to the condom, his hands folded neatly in his lap and his gaze anywhere but on San. He can hear the shower, hear the muted smack of water on tile, knows you’re naked in there. Can almost imagine the drops rolling their way down your body, slipping over the curves that he definitely has not been very well aware of since he met you.

This feels insane, this whole situation, but Yeosang would rather die than leave right now. It’s not like he’s been lying in wait to steal you from San, but he did have a little bit of a crush on you that he never told him about. He’d known that San had fallen for you practically at first sight, and he could never put himself above his best friend like that. That said, this opportunity is one he’s planning on taking full advantage of. He’s still not sure why San wants him to have sex with you but he’s scared to ask, scared to jeopardize this arrangement and leave here without ever knowing you like this.

Unfortunately, it’s something he needs to know before he can go any further.

“San, why do you want to let me do this? You’re not the best at sharing,” Yeosang asks quietly, as if the lower his volume the less likely it is that San will change his mind.

“Well,” San sighs, looking around the room to avoid his eyes, though Yeosang suspects that’s more for him than anything. “Your last relationship was shitty. She wasn’t nice to you and she was always ragging on you or telling you you weren’t good enough. You mentioned a few weeks ago you were thinking of joining some dating apps, so I wanted to figure out how to boost your confidence when it comes to stuff like this. But all I could think was that I wished you had someone like Y/N to help you through it like I did. And it occurred to me that you do, if I let you.”

The room is silent besides the low rush of the shower and Yeosang’s brain is anything but. Any other guy would just take him to a bar and play wingman, but here San is, offering to let him fuck his girlfriend if it means he’ll get some of his self-esteem back. He’s not sure it’s something he could bear to do, and he’s shocked San is willing to even try with how territorial he can get. Yeosang knows he can trust him though, and that he can trust you. So when San looks at him head on, his expression open and honest, there’s nothing else for Yeosang to do but thank him.

“You’re a really good friend, San. The best.”

You get a bit distracted in the shower and it takes much longer than five minutes, but you can’t say you regret it. You feel so refreshed, so dewy, and you know you smell good as fuck so now is the prime time to reenter the absurd circumstances you’ve created with your boyfriend. You’re a little nervous now, the small amount of time you’d been out of the dynamic leaving you feeling off-kilter and unsure. You know San is waiting for you out there though, Yeosang too, and that’s enough to give you the courage you need to push open the door. Steam escapes around you, framing you in what you hope is a flattering haze, and both boys’ eyes snap to you immediately. You freeze in place, your eyes wide and your fingers gripping tightly at the towel wrapped around your body as they take you in. San’s already half hard, likely a Pavlovian response to what happens whenever you’re at least semi-naked in his vicinity (you getting bent over or pushed up against the closest surface). Yeosang’s body is turned away from you so you can’t tell if he’s similarly affected but the expression on his face is that of someone who’s just seen an angel, which bolsters your confidence enough to let the towel slip down a bit further.

You can feel San’s eyes on you as you tease Yeosang, know he’s smiling a smile far too sweet for this context, and you just can’t resist the urge to turn and look at him.

You were right, his face is lit up with a grin that could rival the sun, but his eyes are steamy, heavy, possessive. You can tell he’s trying his best to step back and let you and Yeo get to know each other like this, can tell how hard it is for him to even share you at this level of undress, and you vow to yourself that every day this week, you’ll be swallowing his dick. He deserves it, to be taken care of and pampered and spoiled, and you know there’s no one better for the job than you.

Stepping further into the room, you move to San first, pressing a kiss to his lips and attempting to move on. It gets out of hand quickly, his fingers digging into your hips and pulling the towel tight across your ass. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, nibbling on the tip and letting his own glide against yours before shifting one hand to your stomach and physically pushing you away. You break apart at the last possible second, your head angled forward even as your body is forced to move backward, wanting to kiss him for as long as you can.

Yeosang waits patiently on the bed, standing when San pushes you in his direction and letting you fix the towel before taking your hands in his.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, wanting to check in at every step and also desperately wishing he could read your mind, if only to know what you think of him.

“Good! I’m good. A little nervous. How are you feeling?”

“I’m nervous too,” he whispers, like he doesn’t want San to hear after you’d agreed there was no reason to be, “But excited.”

“Me too,” you smile indulgently at him, wondering why you suddenly have the conversation skills of an incel when you’re just talking to Yeosang.

Obviously, you know why. But you wish it wasn’t so, wish you didn’t feel so stilted, wish you could summon that easy rapport you always share with him. He seems to sense this, pursing his lips in that small smile you love before offering, “Maybe if I take my shirt off?”

“Oh. Oh, um, yeah, I think that could help. Maybe,” you breathe, forcing yourself not to blink as his fingers pull the fabric higher and higher, revealing rows of pale abs two by two. You think you count eight before you hear a throat clear behind you and turn to find San shirtless as well. Cooing at his rising jealousy, you blow him a kiss and rotate back to Yeosang, only to find a smirk on his face and his hands on his belt.

When did he get all confident? You wonder, realizing that the switch happened at the same time San made his green eyes known, and suddenly, his change in demeanor makes perfect sense. San and Yeosang get into a little rivalry every now and then, just some friendly competition, and it seems this is going to be one of those times. Does that make you the prize? You’re not sure but it definitely feels like you’re the winner here, getting to experience Yeosang while knowing that San will be waiting for you when it’s all over. You try to remember you’re doing this for Yeo, not for yourself, but it’s difficult when you’ve got two of the hottest men you’ve ever seen wanting you.

“Go ahead then,” You challenge Yeosang, just because you’re curious what he’ll do, and he reacts exactly as you expected. He blanches, one hand moving to run through his hair and the other reaching up to cover what he can of his chest, which isn’t much. It’s cute, adorable, really, the way he dropped the cockiness as soon as he was forced to commit.

You can tell he’s going to need some guidance from here, frozen as he is, so you gently take the hand hiding his pecs and pull him down to sit with you on the bed. San drops into the chair in the corner of the room but stays silent, letting you and Yeosang work it out. You’re grateful for it, for him, for his quiet strength steadying the both of you.

“Why don’t we just start with a kiss and go from there? Do you want to kiss me, Yeosang?” You whisper, shuffling closer to him while keeping your grip on your towel.

“Yes. I do, please,” he answers immediately, scooting over a few inches with his knees pressed tightly together.

Leaning in slowly, you brush your lips over his. You can feel his cupid’s bow, feel his breath, feel the minute trembling of his bottom lip as he waits for you to kiss him properly. You will, of course you will, but first you want to make him just a little bit crazy. You let your mouth graze his, sink your teeth ever so slightly into that bottom lip, giving the teeniest tiniest sucks every so often. Yeosang shivers against you, his body taut like a bowstring, his fingers gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles go white. He’s trying so hard to restrain himself that you decide to give him more, slipping your tongue into his mouth to glide against his and sighing into him when he tentatively nudges back.

He tastes like coke and popcorn, the flawless combination of sweet and salty tasting even better on his tongue, making you suck at it in pulses and making Yeosang let out a quiet moan. The sound sends zaps of electricity through you, one of your hands leaving your towel to cup his face and kiss him harder. He’s addictive, his sweet little noises and his sharp jawline, and you force yourself to pull back before you can get too carried away. You can’t just kiss him all night, you’re- Well… No! You cannot just kiss him all night!

Even if you want to.

He tries to follow but you still him with your free hand on his chest while you virtually gasp for air, your mind racing as you try to figure out where to go from here. You’re feeling a bit scrambled, slightly out of sorts, so you seek out the person who always knows where you are even when you don’t.

San’s already looking at you, his eyes soft even as his hands grip the armrests, and he raises a brow when you lock eyes. Instantly, he knows your predicament and helps you out of it.

“Babe, being on the bed might be more comfy, hm?” He sounds slightly amused and you narrow your eyes at him in a playful glare as you and Yeosang get situated on the duvet. You’re glad his teasing is directed at you though, you have a feeling it wouldn’t be well received by Yeosang at this particular point in time.

You wish you’d put underwear on under the towel - you’re not quite ready to be buck ass naked in front of your boyfriend’s best friend - but you hadn’t brought any into the bathroom and it didn’t feel right in the moment to go to the dresser, so here you are. One layer from said state, and a flimsy layer at that. However, you were born to persevere, laying down and tugging at the towel until it lays flat over you. Yeosang was busy taking off his pants, thankfully, and when you’re both finished fussing, you take each other in.

Your eyes rove over him as he sits on his knees, his gray boxer briefs stretched tight over his thighs and his posture immaculate. You can see the outline of his cock, see it straining against the fabric, a couple spots of pre-cum darkened fabric dotted at the head. You can also see the XL condom next to him, and thank God you’re laying down because your knees just went weak at the thought of even seeing his dick. Let alone touching it. Let alone having it inside of you. You want all of those things, but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your brain that reminds you, Yeosang isn’t San.

Yeosang isn’t San and he isn’t yours either, so you tell yourself not to get too comfortable with him tonight. You can get a little comfortable though, enough to reach for his hand and pull him closer, enough to ask him, “Do you want me to take this off?”

“God yes,” he answers nearly before you even finished talking, his words more like a sigh as he straddles your legs and drops to hover above you. Your fingers play with the edge of the towel, less so to tease him and more so to give yourself more time before he sees you naked. You’re not shy about your body but you feel shy with him for some reason, so you push it down slowly, baring your breasts to him inch by inch.

He sucks in a sharp gasp through his teeth as you reveal yourself. His eyes go heavy-lidded and hot on you and he doesn’t look away, his gaze laser-focused and his hands clenched into fists next to your head. He stares, saying and doing nothing long enough that you start to squirm under his attention.

“You can touch her,” San reminds him. He says it loudly enough that Yeosang turns to level a look at him, making San mime zipping his mouth shut and locking it with a key. He even tosses the key at Yeosang, who catches and offers it to you.

“Why thank you, been looking for this thing for ages,” you beam, sliding the imaginary key under the part of the towel still covering you, much to San’s obvious displeasure.

The little moment between the three of you breaks up the tension, allowing Yeosang to feel comfortable enough to shift his weight onto one hand and bring the other up to cover your breast. He keeps it light, squeezes just enough to feel the weight of you in his palm, but he’s already thinking about getting his mouth on you, getting his teeth on you. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you shiver, your flesh rippling under his hand in the most entrancing way.

He didn’t expect to like teasing you but he does, likes moving to the other side just when you’re starting to settle down, likes grazing his nails over your sensitive skin and making you shiver, likes pulling and rolling and twisting your nipples until you’re moaning and arching into his touch. It isn’t long before his hands aren’t enough, and he’s barely able to ask if he can use his mouth before you’re whining, “Yes, yes, yes!” and sinking your fingers into his hair.

You taste so good, so fresh and clean after your shower, Yeosang can’t get enough. He sucks, nibbles, licks his way from side to side, never settling on one spot for too long. His teeth don’t ever sink in enough to leave a lasting bruise; he wishes he could mark you but rules are rules, and Yeosang loves rules, so this isn’t one he’ll break. He’s content enough to cover every square inch of your chest in kisses, trailing them down your stomach and over your hip bones.

“Can I eat you out? Please?” Yeosang nearly begs, hoping you and San will say yes but unsure as this hadn’t been covered in the pre-sex negotiations.

You’re already nodding, but it must occur to you to ask San too as your eyes find his. He giggles at the look on your face, your lips pouted and trembling and your eyebrows screwed up as you silently plead with San.

“Yes, okay, fine!” San exclaims, throwing his hands up as if he can no longer stand to look at your puppy dog eyes.

But Yeosang doesn’t want to overstep any bounds, won’t risk this friendship just for some oral (even if he really wants to go down on you, like A Lot), so he says, “San, if you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t.”

“No, it’s just,” he sighs, “It’s really nice and I’m scared you’ll like it too much.”

He likes oral, but he's never liked it too much.

It’s a little nerve wracking to watch you push the rest of the towel away, fully baring yourself to him. He’s sure you’re the more nervous one here, but this still feels like an important moment in your friendship and Yeosang can’t help but lean down and kiss you, just a simple, gentle kiss in thanks. For your vulnerability, for your candor, for your careful way of handling him. He’s just thankful to you.

He’s even more thankful when he shoulders your thighs apart and licks into you for the first time. You taste… exquisite? Divine? Like all of the heavens concentrated into one being? Now he gets why San was so worried, because he’s already addicted. You’re wet, so fucking wet, that all he needs to do is glide his tongue through your folds to smear it all over. He likes it messy, contrary to his reserved nature, so he lets himself lose a bit of technique to get as much of you in, on, and around his mouth as he can.

“She likes when you go inside,” San offers, but Yeosang wants to find his own way, so he grunts in acknowledgement and continues to devour you as he pleases. You’d both said this is for him, he can afford to be a bit selfish.

You don’t seem to mind, if the way you’re writhing and whining says anything. To Yeosang, it says everything, though he’ll need to hold your hips down if he wants to keep going. Eventually, he does decide to slide his tongue inside you, just because you were starting to sound like you might cry, and when he does it’s mind blowing. The taste of you is so much more rich here and there’s so much of your slick seeping out that he can just drink you right down. It’s glorious, you’re glorious, and he’s desperate to make you cum.

He fucks you with his tongue, pushes it in and out of your entrance and shifts a thumb down from your hip to rub circles over your clit. He experiments until he finds the pressure and motion you like and from there, it’s easy. Easy to let his groans vibrate into you, to reach up and put one of your hands back in his hair, to let you guide him. Easy to slip one, then two fingers in alongside his tongue. Easy to curl them up, hook them inside, spread you open and get right at your g-spot.

“Can you squirt?” He slurs, his heart in his throat and his voice reflecting it. He almost doesn’t sound like himself, his voice so deep it rumbles in his chest and his words flowing together. His fingers are still pistoning in and out of you so you can’t answer, but San does, thankfully.

“Yeah, she can. If you just-,”

“Perfect.”

Yeosang doubles his efforts, sinks another finger inside and moves his tongue up to your clit, pushing at it in pulses as he wraps his lips around it and sucks. He gets a bit rougher and faster with his fingers, fucking you like he means it, and your whines get higher and higher and higher until you’re keening, bucking up against the arm laid over your hips. It won’t be long now, he knows, until you’re flooding him with your wetness and (hopefully) crying your way through an orgasm.

They don’t always happen together, but he wants to make them happen together for you, so he makes sure to focus on your clit even as he fingerfucks you into oblivion. You like it, he thinks, love it maybe, and soon enough, your pussy is clamping down on his fingers and holding them inside, so insanely tight that he thinks he’ll die when he gets his dick inside of you. You cry out, broken and pleasure-soaked, when you cum. Your clit beats like a tiny little heart and your walls undulate around his fingers as slick gushes out of you in spurts. It’s perfect, you’re perfect, and he’s already mourning the fact that he’ll never get to do this again.

Once his neck and chest are covered in you, he finishes helping you through your orgasm and lets up. He would push for another but he doesn’t want to be greedy, so he gently places your legs back down on the bed and shakily sits up. You’re still panting, your lashes wet and your mouth open, and fuck if you aren’t the prettiest thing Yeosang has ever seen. The haze in your eyes clears up, your gaze finds his, and it’s two seconds of silence before you’re both giggling your hearts out. There’s something funny about making one of your best friends squirt, and it’s even funnier when it’s your best friend’s girlfriend too.

“Have fun?” San’s voice breaks up your laughter, his jealousy evident though his restraint is too. Yeosang imagines this must be incredibly difficult for him, and once again he’s struck with the desire to thank you both. Who else can say they have friends like this? Friends who let him into their bed, who share themselves with him, who take care of him. Yeosang is so lucky, so insanely lucky, to have you two.

“I love you guys,” Yeosang sighs, and it seems San can’t hold onto his annoyance in the face of his affection because his frown becomes a grin that dimples his cheeks and brightens his eyes. You’re looking similarly fond, your smile sweet and your hands gentle when they pull him to you so you can place a kiss on his cheek.

“Love you too, Yeo,” You and San repeat in unison, on the same page in this as in almost everything.

Yeosang doesn’t know what will happen after tonight but he’s secure in the knowledge that this won’t do anything but bring the three of you closer. He thinks.

He doesn’t have long to linger on the thoughts, your hands coming to rest on his stomach and your nails dragging down to catch at his boxers. He’s ridiculously hard, doesn’t need any of the preparation you’re offering, might even cum if you touch him, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get your hands on him tonight. He nods when you ask if you can take his boxers off, tries to quiet the racing of his heart as you slowly pull them down. His dick bounces up and against his stomach, smearing precum on his abs before it bobs down heavily. He’s big, he knows, and the three fingers he’d given you should be enough, but he’s considering offering a fourth when he takes notice of the look in your eyes.

You look like you’re not scared at all, like this is a walk in the park or a day at the beach, and it’s so fucking sexy that Yeosang just knows he can’t let you touch him too much or he’ll blow. You can touch him a little though, he decides, taking your hand when you hesitate and bringing it to rest on his cock. Your hand is smaller than his, warmer and softer too, and it feels miles better than his own. You definitely know what you’re doing, starting to stroke him and running your thumb up and down the frenulum and over the head, a combination that already has Yeosang seeing stars. He wishes he could let you keep going but he’ll cum if he doesn’t stop you, is even a bit nervous that he’ll cum the second he slides inside of you, but that’s a risk he’s dying to take.

His hand covers yours, squeezing down hard at the base to stave off the orgasm, as he whispers, “Stop, stop, stop, I’ll cum.”

You smile proudly, wiggling your hand out from under his to grab the condom at his side and hold it out. For some reason, opening the wrapper and rolling it on feels momentous, like this is the point of no return. Which is ridiculous because you’ve already done all sorts of things friends don’t do, and because he knows he could stop anytime he wants. The problem is that he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t ever want to stop, but as he folds your legs up and glides the covered head of his cock over your clit, he decides that’s a problem for future Yeosang.

Present Yeosang is preoccupied, mesmerized by how his dick covers the whole of your pussy. He could stare for days, months, years, but you wriggle beneath him in impatience so he lines himself up and starts to slowly push in. Your cunt sucks him in, your walls contracting over and over until he bottoms out with a strangled moan.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” He can hear San say somewhere in the background, but his head is swimming at the pressure of you around him and he can’t summon the words to respond. You are perfect, though, your cunt is perfect, and welcoming, and wet as all fuck, and he wishes he could make a home here inside of you but he knows he can’t, so he pulls back and pumps into you again. He starts slow, doesn’t go as rough as he usually likes to but you get impatient fast, wrapping your arms around his neck whispering, “Harder, harder, please,” until he decides to give you what you want.

He pounds into you, slamming in and out and groaning as he feels your pussy get tighter and tighter around him. He thinks you might already be close, knows that as soon as you cum, he will too and this will all be over, so he breathlessly asks, “Will you ride me? I wanna see you,” pulling out and clumsily switching places with you when your eyes grow bright and you happily sigh, “Yes!”

His view as you climb on top of him is immaculate, your body all stretched out over his and your tits sitting perfectly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, watching the bashful grin rise on your face and catching San’s nod in his peripheral vision. He’s also got his lips pursed and his knees bouncing, and Yeosang feels a little bad that he’s taking such advantage of the situation. San gets you all the time though, practically whenever he wants, so Yeosang feels he’s allowed to be a bit selfish just this once.

He holds his dick up as you lower yourself onto him, swallowing him again in your blinding heat and making his head spin. You resume the quick pace, slamming yourself down on him over and over, and all Yeosang can do is lay there and take it. Well, he could grab your hips and fuck up into you but he’s enjoying being fucked too much to change anything about this. He’s always been the one doing the work in sex and it’s so unbelievably wonderful to just let you take him.

You like it too, might even love it, he thinks. You’re making the sweetest sounds, your moans and whimpers and sighs intoxicating to him. You feel so much tighter around him like this, too, and he feels like he’s even deeper than he was before, your ass smacking against his balls with every thrust. He’s getting close, he’s getting so fucking close, and he knows he can’t cum inside you but he doesn’t want to cum in the condom either, but you hadn’t discussed where he could cum if not in the condom, and suddenly Yeosang is right there on the edge with no idea what to do.

“San, I’m gonna cum. What do I-,”

“In my mouth, Yeo. Cum in my mouth,” you interject, climbing off of him and stopping his orgasm in its tracks. He grips the base of his cock and peels off the condom as San takes you by the ankles, flips you onto your stomach, and drags you to lay horizontally on the bed.

“Want me now or want me to wait, baby?” San asks you, one hand on your back and one on his dick.

“Now, Sannie, I want you now,” you respond, your voice shot and your eyes teary as you turn to watch him line himself up and slide home. You whine his name and the sound soothes him, settles the simmering jealousy in his stomach and replaces it with heat, which only grows as he feels you adjust to him. He must be a bit bigger than Yeosang and that calms him a little bit more, even though he knows it shouldn’t.

Poor Yeosang still hasn’t cum so San beckons him forward, ignoring how weird it feels to be interacting with his best friend while he’s fucking his girlfriend. Yeosang shuffles closer to you on unsteady feet, his eyes dark as he watches his dick disappear in your mouth. You’re so fucking good at sucking dick he’s almost jealous it’s not him in your throat right now, but he knows he’s got the better end of the deal, getting to fuck you raw and cum inside you. Getting to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up with you every morning. Getting to go grocery shopping with you and brush his teeth next to you and take you on dates. Getting to love you. Nothing could be better than his life with you, and thinking about it has him on the verge of tears and on the edge of cumming.

He normally lasts longer but he’s had to watch you get pleasured for an hour while having nothing to do with it, he thinks he can cut himself a little slack. It would be kind of beautiful and poetic if you could all cum together, so he slips one hand between your thighs and strums your clit in the way that makes you go fucking crazy, and fucking crazy you go. Your cunt seizes up around him, your back arching further and your thighs shaking. You’d be shouting if you didn’t have Yeosang’s dick in your mouth and though he misses your noises, he’s happy that Yeosang is having such a good time.

It’s obvious he’s close again, his eyes screwed shut and his breathing labored, and thank fuck he is because San is cumming, fuck, he’s cumming, and you are too. Your pussy clenches around him in pulses, milking his cock and sucking his cum in deeper and deeper until he has nothing left to give. His head swims and through the haze, he can hear Yeosang swearing and groaning, hear your name leaving his lips, and San would be lying if he said it didn’t make him cum just a little bit harder.

When your cunt has squeezed the last of his cum out of his dick, San drapes himself over your back, pressing kisses across your shoulders and snaking his arms around your stomach. He always feels so cuddly after sex and he knows the comfort is good for you too, so he stays as he is even as Yeosang pulls out and drops to his knees to press a kiss to your lips. That’s something San always does after you suck him off and he’s happy it seems to be an instinct for his best friend as well.

San wants to let you and Yeosang have your time so he peels himself off your back and stands, lumbering over to the bathroom to get a warm, damp washcloth to clean you up. You may want a shower later and he knows you’ll want to brush your teeth, but this will do for now.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Yeosang is laying on his back with you snuggled up against his shoulder. You’re talking quietly with each other, giggling like friends do at a sleepover, and San feels his heart grow five times bigger. He squeezes Yeosang’s free shoulder before he climbs onto the bed and settles in next to you. His hand touches Yeosang’s side when he wraps his arm around you but neither flinch away. They've just been closer to each other than they ever have and ever will be again, a little touching is nothing to them now.

“So… Did it work?” San asks, propping himself up on an elbow and resting his cheek on your arm so he can look at Yeosang.

“Did what work?” Yeosang responds with confusion, having not even a clue what San is talking about.

“We did this so you could work on your confidence, remember? So you can start dating again?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure, for sure,” Yeosang agrees absentmindedly, his eyes locked on the ceiling.

“Good, we just want you to be happy,” you whisper drowsily.

Yeosang doesn’t have the heart to tell either of you that he’s happier now than he’s ever been. And that he’s not sure he really needs to start dating again after all.

"Babe, do you think you could go sleep on the couch? You know I like my snuggle time, and Temi's already there," San whispers in the dark. Yeosang jerks awake, and, affronted, scream-whispers, "I will go home right now if you make her sleep on the couch, you animal."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" San jerks against you, trying to defend himself from Yeosang's swatting arm. All that does is jostle the three of you closer and somewhere, somehow, in the midst of it all, you fall into blissful, sore slumber.

AN: thank you for being born bestie ily more than life itself! i hope this is everything we dreamed of and more 💖 and thank you @petrichor-mingi for beta reading!!!

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yoisami · 6 months

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tags. nanami kento x gn!reader, fluff, 0.6k wc, the nanami brainrot is so real, mentions of food (tiramisu), established relationship, reader is bad at baking lmfao, not proofread, nanami i miss you :(

“i think the tiramisu’s good to eat now.”

nanami’s gaze travels to where you are in the apartment—you’re rinsing dinner plates and bowls under a running faucet, with sleeves rolled up to your elbows and yellow rubber gloves that reached the middle of your forearm. it’s wednesday, and today, you’re on dishwashing duty.

“how many hours has it been?” closing his laptop gently, nanami rises from his chair as he walks over to your side of the kitchen. your head twists to read the analogue clock that is hung on the other side of the room before you make your estimate.

“probably seven? i put it in the fridge at two,” you hum, clearing the sink of any bubbles. nanami nods his head at you as he opens the fridge, but instead of taking the tiramisu out like you assumed he would, his head inclines slightly to the side, staring inside the refrigerator for a good minute before taking the dessert out. your brows furrow at his reaction.

“what?” you ask—no, you demand. the tone of your voice shifts the mood the ambience in the kitchen, and you sound oddly defensive—as if you’re trying to justify your wrongdoing, or more like, you know that your tiramisu failed to mimic the one in the online recipe.

“why does it look so...” nanami pauses, scrambling to find a word to describe the tiramisu that would save him from your indignant glare. “...unique?”

“kento, you know that the word ‘unique’ does not have a positive connotation to it,” you huff, tossing the gloves to the side as you wash your hands. “do you think it’s that ugly?”

perhaps the most fitting word for your tiramisu is wonky. ideally, according to the photo of the tiramisu in the recipe, the dessert should resemble the flatness of concrete pavement—yours is more like the paths you’d encounter on a mountain hike.

“it’s not ugly. just... unattractive,” he admits. however, he looks at you with such a comforting smile that it almost alleviates the weight of his honesty. you sigh.

“doesn’t that basically mean the same thing?”

“not necessarily. but it looks like it’ll taste good.”

“it better,” you mumbled, watching him insert a spoon into the dessert. what nanami has on his spoon could be described as a preview of what your attempt at the italian dessert would taste like—it’s a thin cut taken from the edge of the glass container, and he nearly looks hesitant to put the dessert into his mouth.

you punch his arm—he obviously doesn’t budge.

“good,” nanami mutters, nodding his head in approval. there’s a subtle look of relief on his face, because if the tiramisu had tasted differently, he knew that there would be a temporary frown on your lips, and it’d refuse to leave until he kisses you breathless.

“really?” your husband nods again as he scoops more of the dessert, gesturing you to open your mouth. your lips part, and you accept his spoon. the tiramisu doesn’t taste bad—in fact, you think it’s really good.

“this was a good recipe,” nanami smiles, feeding you some more as he watches your lips curve upward at the sweet taste. “save it, then you can make it again.”

“i will. help me make it next time—i feel like you’d be able to make it look prettier.”

“maybe,” he shrugs his shoulders, closing the space between the two of you with a gentle peck on your lips. “but it’s perfectly fine like this too.”

the liebestraum playing in the background becomes nothing but a tune that your thoughts are swaying to, and with nanami enclosing distance between you and him again, you reckon the tiramisu tastes better on his lips.

#૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — ୨୧ by saki #this is not the end of my nanami brainrot #i legit have one more piece i wanna write for him #never been a nanami girl until two week ago tf 💔#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #kento nanami

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burntheedges · 25 days

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caught in the rain

Marcus Pike x gn!reader | gen | ao3 word count: 1.1k

summary: you get caught in the rain with a handsome stranger. a/n: this is for @undercoverpena's April Showers Challenge! It's been pouring all day so I couldn't resist posting. tags/warnings: flirting, rain, touching, fluff, no use of y/n, reader has no description, reader walks quickly, not beta-ed

...

Boom.

You were digging through your bag for your map when a thunderclap seemed to shake the air around you. Foolishly, the first thing you did was tilt your head back to take a look.

That was when the skies opened up.

The downpour obligingly hit your face first on its way to drenching you before you could so much as get your bearings.

“Shit,” you cursed as you looked around desperately. The people around you started moving more quickly in whatever direction they were heading and umbrellas started popping up around you. You heard more than one low, irritated grumble in italian. The tall stone buildings to either side of the narrow road you’d been walking down didn’t have much in the way of awnings or overhangs, it seemed. You spun around and looked behind you, and–

There!

Back the way you’d come, about 50 feet behind you, was a recessed doorway. It looked like it was just big enough for one or two people to step into to hide from the rain.

You walked quickly back towards it, dodging around people and umbrellas.You barely looked at them, keeping your eyes locked on your goal.

It wasn’t until you were just a few steps away that you realized someone else had had the same idea, but you were moving too fast to stop.

The two of you stepped under the shelter of the doorway at the exact same time.

“Oof.” You couldn’t help but make a noise as your shoulders knocked into each other, crowding into the small space.

“Shit,” the other person said, and you finally lifted your gaze to look at his face. You froze, but he frowned softly and continued, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you coming.” His distinctly American voice was deep and warm and extremely apologetic.

You felt your mouth drop open slightly as you took in the extremely attractive face that was connected to the broad, sturdy shoulders you’d just become acquainted with. He was gorgeous. Dark brown eyes, scruffy beard, hair that curled a bit at the ends from the rain. His regret was painted all over his expressive face, which was just as wet with rain as yours. You watched a raindrop slip down his temple and onto his cheek and blinked. His hand had come up to steady you by the elbow and you belatedly noticed that you could feel its warmth around the soaked sleeve of your coat.

You realized you’d been quiet for too long when his face started to fall. “Oh! I’m– I mean, no, it’s ok.” You felt your cheeks heat at how flustered you sounded. “Er, no problem. We fit. Um, here, I mean.”

He cleared his throat and his frown started to turn into something more like a smile. “Great. I realized the moment it started raining that I’d forgotten my umbrella.” He winced.

You shrugged. “Me too. Not sure what I was thinking. Probably wasn’t, I was too excited this morning.” You smiled, sheepish.

He smiled, too. It was extremely attractive. You tried not to watch the way his mouth moved when he smiled. “Well, rain buddy, since we’re stuck here for the moment, I should probably introduce myself.” His hand fell away from your elbow as he leaned back into one of the pair of wooden doors and you briefly mourned its loss. “Marcus. Nice to meet you.”

You leaned against the other door and smiled at him again as you introduced yourself.

Marcus eyed you for a moment before leaning in a bit. You tried to look normal about the way you could feel the warmth of his body in the narrow space of the doorway.

“So, what were you so excited about that made you leave your umbrella?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

You felt your cheeks heat again and looked out at the rain. “Oh, well, I’m going to the Uffizi today. I’ve been wanting to go for years and today is finally the day, and there are so many things I want to see, so many I’ve been dying to see in person, and I was just–” You cut yourself off abruptly, aware you were starting to ramble. You darted a quick glance back at Marcus to see if he looked bored, but you were surprised to find that he was staring at you, absolutely rapt with interest.

When you didn’t continue, he prompted, eyes locked on yours, “you were just what?”

“Oh! Um,” you started, turning your body slightly towards his. “I was going to say, I was just thinking about all of the pieces I know they have and trying to decide where to start. That’s all.” You weren’t sure how else to explain it without starting to list every piece of art you were excited to see in person.

You watched as a grin took over his face and your breath caught.

“That’s what happened to me, too,” he murmured.

“What?” You weren’t sure what he meant.

“I was also in a rush, thinking about how excited I am to go to the Uffizi today.” He reached into his back pocket and produced his phone and quickly pulled up his ticket to show you. “Paid extra for the 11am entry.”

Your eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Seriously? I mean, me too! 11am.” You patted your bag where you knew your phone was safe and dry.

Marcus blinked, clearly surprised at the coincidence. “Well, rain buddy, that feels like fate. What do you think about waiting for the rain to clear a bit and then seeing if we make good museum buddies, too?” He winked at you and you grinned.

“I think I’d like that, Marcus.” He reached out to squeeze your elbow again and you wondered if getting caught in the rain might turn out to be something good after all.

…

Two years later, Marcus tugged you along that same street through more rain, hands laced together tightly this time. You were breathless, laughing at his eagerness to get somewhere, smiling as the rain poured down around you.

When he stopped suddenly and pulled you into that exact same doorway where you’d first met, you felt the swell of warm emotions inside of you that you associated with Marcus Pike and grinned.

And just a moment later, when he dropped to one knee and told you how he’d thought you were so beautiful and wonderful and interesting from that very first moment, right there in the doorway, drenched from the rain, and that you’d swept him off his feet with your smile, well.

You knew exactly what you were going to say, when he asked.

...

tag list (and some Marcus Pike enthusiasts I know): @harriedandharassed @jeewrites @katareyoudrilling @islacharlotte @maggiemayhemnj @fluffygoffpanda @secretelephanttattoo

#marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x gn!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #x reader #april showers challenge

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wannaeatramyeon · 10 months

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Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

Good manners cost nothing.

Certaining when you barely had a few wons to your name, that was all you could afford. And your pride.

So just because your neighbour essentially said ‘leave me alone, have a nice life’, he still did you a favour.

That you owe him for.

Love thy neighbour and all that.

Gun Park’s home is not homely by any stretch of the imagination.

All black and white and grey, nearly industrial in taste with wooden accents. Straight lines and sharp edges softened by nature’s hues.

Very few furnishings adorn his apartment, minimal and just shy of clinical. Anything that has a place is the best of the best, luxurious and with an exorbitant price tag to match.

Handcrafted bed from Sweden, which apart from Gun’s, has not experienced the same body twice.

Imported italian coffee machine, used only with beans from Kenya. Drink of choice: 2 shots of espresso, taken as is.

Never-used cooking appliances, still brand new and silver and top of the range.

L-shaped sectional sofa from one of the hottest designers in South Korea, selected and praised by HNH’s own Interior Designer with words that held no interest to Gun.

An obscenely huge bathtub in the corner of a spacious bathroom and facing a breathtaking view. A shower with a rainfall head amongst other sprays and nozzles. Both having washed away a lifetime (and then some)of dirt and grime and blood.

Enough space for a personal home gym in one room (even if the building does include a gym and pool for communal use), and a walk-in wardrobe the size of most other pads in Gangnam.

He’s not much for sentiment, just a couple of more meaningful trinkets here or there. Reminders of Japan and souvenirs from his victims.

Most surprising of all, in a lone forgotten corner, outlined against the impressive, sprawling cityscape and where the best sun spot should be, sits a plant.

Given to him by Goo Kim as a joke for housewarming, “Let’s see how well you can keep something alive”.

Gun’s first urge was to throw it back in his face. Though. The idea of keeping something living intrigued him. A little challenge.

Healthy and vibrant and green with long spiky leaves when it was thrusted into Gun’s hands.

It didn’t hold his attention for long.

Kept alive in the early days by the cleaner, before Gun realised he hated the idea of someone touching his things and being in his space.

Now a sad, neglected eyesore. Shrivelled and brown and hanging on for dear life. Lucky to get a few squirts of water once a month; momentary rejuvenation until it is left to wither again.

And lastly.

Hidden in the cabinet below the huge TV, regularly rotated out for the latest model, lives a few gaming consoles.

...Because Gun is still a young bachelor after all. He isn’t completely immune from the psychological thrills of video games.

Minimal as it is, and busy as Gun is - it’s still his home.

A sanctuary full of things he has collated and deemed worthy enough to be in his life that he makes sure to regularly return to.

Today, he’s ready for a weekend of nothing. No doubt his leg will bounce and get twitchy after a few hours, but the last few weeks of being on the go with the Four Crews has taken a toll.

Not to mention the hijinks with his neighbour yesterday. Someone that looks like they don’t belong in this district, nevermind in the building.

Yet you knocked on his door.

On Shiro Oni’s door.

Exuding a quiet confidence even as your body betrayed your nerves. Even as two spots of pink appeared on your cheeks once you took in the full view of Gun Park.

Most fascinating of all is that you saw his eyes, treated it as an everyday occurrence, and did not hesitate or flinch.

Huh.

You ring the doorbell again.

At first, you thought this was an excellent idea.

But now, as you wait (seriously, what is Gun doing in there), you’re feeling more and more foolish.

Tupperwares of homemade kimchi stew, and kimchi sits in the crook of your elbow.

Because when someone has enough money to drown in, and obviously someone living in this building should have, then there’s nothing like a homemade touch.

Here he comes.

The footsteps don’t sound irritable today. Thank the heavens. Maybe antsy, a little too quick footed to be relaxed.

The door is flung open, and your neighbour greets you.

Ok, his footsteps didn’t sound irritable but his face certainly is.

And how does this guy have this effect on you?

Your throat dries up as you notice his hair flopping over one eye, no longer messy after a full day of what must be work, instead likely just leftover from his bedhead.

(Bed. Head. your horrid nasty brain repeats as you think about his BED.)

The linen shirt and pants. Chest bared, pretty collar bones on show and teasing the outline of hard pecs.

Relaxed mode, weekend mode.

Sleeves again rolled up and highlighting the tattoos and faint veins protruding on his forearms.

Seriously, did this guy choose the tattoo placement just to highlight his muscular forearms? Fuck him, it absolutely works.

Gun crosses them, leaning against his open door and observing you. His face, previously not bothering to hide his annoyance at being interrupted by you once again, only shows amusement. Amused to see how hard you are ogling him. It’s not new, though many don’t make it this blatantly obvious.

“Morning,” You hear your voice cracking and clear your throat. “Here.”

You hold out your tupperware boxes.

No hands receive them. They just hang there, in the air between you both.

Gun doesn’t move, continuing to look at you with a hint of a smile and an arched brow.

“It’s thanks. For yesterday.” You give the boxes a little shake. Why the hell can’t this guy just take it.

“No.” is all he gives, retreating back and closing the door.

Your foot darts out, jamming itself into the gap just before it shuts.

“Just take it,” you try to shoulder your way in a little, "it’s for you.”

“I’ve broken people’s necks for less. Move your foot.”

“Just take it,” you repeat again, “then I don’t owe you anything. We’re even.”

Gun considers this.

He didn’t think you owed him anything for yesterday, but you obviously did. It was a quick job in exchange for a peaceful evening, not out of the goodness of his heart.

If this right now is what it takes to get you out of his hair-

“I promise I’ll leave you alone,” comes your voice.

And out of his life forever. Fine.

Gun relents, stepping back as you stagger forward and into his domain.

You hold out the boxes, avoiding his gaze, face bright red at how much of an idiot you feel and what a fuss this has turned out to be.

He finally takes them, once again fingers grazing yours. “Thanks.”

Your eyes meet his as that singular word catches you off balance. You didn’t think it existed in his vocabulary.

“Now get out.”

Ah, that’s more like it.

#lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #lookism fanfic #lookism fics #gun park #park jonggun #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 19 days

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Hello my maggots (especially the tumblr maggots whom I haven't seen on Discord recently), I've missed you so much and I'm sorry I haven't been posting the past few days.

It appears I used up all my XP in being a Funny Little Guy and left none for health (I'm not a gamer. I don't know why I tried that joke. The most experience I have with XP is learning Italian on Duolingo).

And I'll probably be taking a break for a few days more. Why?

Well, no, unfortunately, not love.

It's that stupid motherfucker, Tommy the Haematoma of my ankle.

But Asmi, you ask, didn't you fall down the stairs more than a month ago?

Why yes, yes I did. And out of that, two weeks were spent in bedrest/floorrest/whatever you call not being allowed to walk at all.

But thanks to the wonders of our Lord and Saviour Bildaddy, I am now resigned to two more weeks of bedrest.

WELL FUCK YOU TOO, BILDADDY. TO THINK I USED TO HAVE FAITH IN YOU.

But yes. A bloody fracture would have healed sooner than this. But no no no not Tommy and his buddies called weakened and swollen ligaments and heightened nerve sensation (not as catchy as Tommy, are they?) who are here to overstay their welcome like a couple of Indian aunties dropping in during festival time to gossip.

Now, I'm not someone who exercises, okay. Au contraire. I'm more sedentary than the coins that Crowley superglues to pavements.

But I did like being able to at least walk around my room to pick up my art supplies. Or go to the kitchen for a snack without maneuvering a cane (Kaz Brekker era coming up for realsies) (but less sexy and more legless chicken style). I also now can't really go outside unless I'm staying in the car. The car hurts, too. So I have only attempted that once. All hail.

So that is how I have come to be resigned to spending two more weeks (after already spending two) in bedrest and pain during the month before my birthday in the year 2024 of our Lord and Saviour Bastard and Damner Bildaddy.

It does tend to lower morale a bit. And I'm kind of active on the Discord server (I need to be, because otherwise my social interaction comes to a grand net total of 0) (just like the number of times Crowley and Aziraphale talked after Season 2) (ahaha sorry).

But being on Tumblr I feel like I should be making posts and I start getting stressy about notes even though I know I shouldn't. And thus my absence the past few days, and probably for a few days more.

C'est la vie. So it is farewell for now (I say dramatically about a few days break).

But don't worry my maggoty loves, I shall return with chaos. As usual. And I'll still be on Discord unless the pain gets really bad. I love love love love love you so much.

At the end of 2023 I wished so bad that I wouldn't be alone anymore and now I'm not. And so neither are any of you. Like that meme said, we're not a fandom, we're a deeply unwell family. Applies both to the Good Omens fandom and to my own. My fans are rather more incestuous, but that's part of our, er, charm.

Sending you all the hugs and forehead kisses and love that you're okay with. I'll see you soon.

Meanwhile, I want you to promise to cause chaos on my behalf. Keep the Good Omens tag trending. Make cursed headcanons. Try not to murder anyone. Byebye, my little maggoty fly larvae.

#good omens #good omens fandom #good omens mascot #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #maggots #crowley #bildaddy #the little fuck #life update #taking a break #fuck you tommy #i love you maggots #why? love.#neil gaiman

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Note

for the numbered smut prompt thing;

39 and 40! ("It's not my fault you keep turning me on" & "you look so good with my hands wrapped around your neck")

w either frank or matt maybe 👀 -🐹

okay nonnie….you…I….I MAKE NO APOLOGIES FOR THIS ONE.

you said frank OR matt and my feral fucking brain said NOPE BOTH and I love the prompts but “you look so good” doesn’t fit with our darling matt murdock exactly sooooooo here we go

absolute FILTH under the cut (threesome, dp, fingering, the whole big show — or most of it at least, i regret NOTHING)

((also - tagging all my matt AND frank babies under the cut, but heed the above and DNI if it’s not your thing - FAIR WARNING))

🔥friday night fever!🔥

How is it possible for something to feel like far too much and not nearly enough, all at once?

You knew what you were getting into, agreeing to this. You’d had days to mull it over, both of them telling you more than once that there was absolutely no pressure, that the decision was completely up to you. The notion was far too appealing to pass up, and you’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind once before, a lavish daydream to indulge in when the man himself wasn’t around to satisfy you.

It had shocked you, in truth, when the idea was first proposed. Matt has always had a bit of a possessive streak in him, so hearing that he was on board with it, that he was willing to share you, just for the night, it sent your pulse racing. Afterwards, after Frank had left and it was just the two of you alone in the apartment, he’d sidled closer to you on the couch, lips close to your ear and hand curling around your thigh.

“Think it over, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing the soft spot beneath your ear, making your thighs clench together, desperate to relieve the pressure you could already feel building. “I can tell what’s it’s doing to you, how excited you are. It’s okay. I don’t mind sharing, letting him pleasure you, too. Just this once.” He smirked against your skin. “This is about you, and Castle…knows what he’s doing. I trust him.” A gentle nip at your pulse. “I trust you.”

And so you had, you thought it over. You thought long and hard about it, what it meant, the boundaries you wanted set, every single thing you would and wouldn’t agree to. Matt knew your limits, had probably discussed them with Frank before they even mentioned this to you, but still, you wanted to be clear. You didn’t want any lines crossed.

Like Matt said, just this once.

Your only worry, is that once wouldn’t be enough. For any of you.

Frank Castle is the polar opposite of Matthew Murdock, in every sense of the word. Brash where Matt is methodical, broody where Matt is amiable, violent where Matt is…less violent. You knew the stories, the details of what Daredevil and the Punisher had gone through, the blood that had been spilled and the revenge that had been sought. You knew tidbits of Frank Castle’s past, enough to make your heart ache for the man, what he’d been through, what he’d seen. Things no person should be made to endure. And he’s friendly, surprisingly so, easy to talk to and easier to joke with, poking fun at Matt as the two of you ate dinner at that Italian place down on 42rd Street, bottles of wine emptying faster than usual, conversation going well into the night, until the waiter had to gently remind you that the kitchen was closing and the dining room would soon follow.

“Quite the lady you have here, Red,” Frank had said, grinning wide at you as you walked out of the restaurant, you tucked under Matt’s arm, the three of you hiding from the rain under the restaurant’s awning. “You’re a lucky man.”

“The luckiest,” Matt had agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It was good to see you, Castle.”

“You too, Red,” Frank replied, reaching for your hand, lifting it to his mouth and kissing your knuckles. He jutted his chin towards Matt. “Take care of this one, will ya, doll? He’s a special guy.”

You watched him walk away, watched the back of Frank disappear into the rainy New York night, and Matt had just chuckled. “He’s good looking, isn’t he?”

“What?” you’d sputtered, the wine and embarrassment making your face heat, turning on your heel and starting in the direction of Matt’s apartment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your heartbeat tells me all I need to know, sweetheart,” he said, catching up to you easily, threading his arm through yours. “It’s okay, honest. Foggy always said I had a knack for attracting pretty girls, maybe it works both ways.”

He hadn’t said anything more, though you’d rethought the conversation for weeks. Weeks of mulling over your interaction with Frank, the gentleness so clearly hidden behind a menacing exterior, the easy way in which he and Matt spoke, the obvious bond between them.

And then, a proposition.

The proposition.

You’re still worried, that once won’t be enough. You said as much, in the same breath that you’d agreed to their idea. Frank’s smile had widened, and Matt had adjusted himself in his seat, throat bobbing as he said, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

There had been a brief conversation about scheduling another night, blocking off a Friday night where you could have dinner again, drink your fill and get comfortable, but something had stopped you. Looking at the two of them, opposites but not, feeling the magnetic pull that dragged you towards both of them, your heart forever belonging to Matt but your body begging, if only this once, to belong to Frank. Your hands gripped the couch cushion furiously, nails biting into the fabric as you stared between them, each sat in a chair, Frank sprawled wide with his arms out, Matt hunched forward, hands folded in front of him.

“What about tonight?”

Frank had looked at Matt, Matt’s brow had raised ever so slowly, and that was that.

You’re not quite sure who decided on the shower, or when the button was pressed that brought them both to life, but it’s overwhelming in the best kind of way. The water is hot, pounding down onto your bodies, steam swirling through the bathroom.

One minute you were standing in the living room, toying with your hands, sure of your devious but unsure where to start, and the next you were in the bathroom, the tiles cold beneath your feet. Matt stood behind you, mouth pressed against your neck, dragging kisses along your skin while Frank stood in front of you, just watching, the muscle in his jaw ticking as Matt slowly undid the zipper on your dress.

Heat rose in your face as Matt pulled at the collar of your dress, nudging it down your front, unhooking your bra at the same time, pushing all the fabric away, towards your hips. Frank was stoic, silent, giving nothing away as he watched. You could feel Matt’s body behind you, the tell-tale hardness prodding at your backside. His hands roved your body as they always did, like no one was watching. There was something in Frank’s gaze, something curious, and you realized he was watching Matt’s hands, watching where he touched and how he did so, cataloguing your body and tracing your outline.

You’d hissed when Matt’s hand cupped your breast, thumb swiping over your nipple and squeezing lightly. At the same time, his hips rolled into your ass, cock straining against his zipper. “Matt.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he crooned in your ear, “it’s not my fault you keep turning me on.” He nipped at your earlobe. “You always do.”

It was more of a blur as both men undressed, the bathroom floor soon more fabric than tile, and while Matt walked you backwards into the shower, the water turned hot and soaking you instantly, Frank moved slower. He prowled towards you, eyes raking over your body. He stepped under the spray with you and Matt, water dripping down his broad chest, running in rivulets down his torso and legs. You were rapt, not sure where to look, your heart skipping at Matt’s attention behind you, his hands still roaming your body, and Frank’s lust-blown stare, dark eyes pinning you in place like a predator stalking it’s prey. You let your eyes drop, the heat in your face almost unbearable.

And here you are.

He closes the distance between you, one hand reaching for yours, threading your fingers together, while the other notches under your chin, lifting your gaze to his face. “Can I kiss ya, princess?” he drawls, his eyes scanning your face, lingering on your lips. Your mouth parts softly, and Frank’s eyes move over your shoulder. “That okay with you, Red?”

“Only if she says yes,” Matt says, punctuating his answer with a sharp spank to your ass, face buried in your neck. “This is about her.”

“We’re on the same page, then,” Frank agrees, and his eyes slide back to you. “Whatta ya say, pretty girl?”

You nod once, your eyes growing heavy-lidded as Matt’s hand slides between your legs from behind, fingers glancing along your inner thighs, pushing your legs a little wider to give him better access to your pussy. Frank leans forward, hand still under your chin, and you gasp into his mouth as he kisses you, Matt’s mouth sucking at your shoulders, fingers sliding into you. The sound of the shower seems thunderous, your ears nearly ringing as Frank kisses you.

It’s jarring, how different it is to kissing Matt. Harsher, in a way, which fits completely, more teeth and tongue, the fingers knocked beneath your chin turning very quickly into his hand around your throat, middle finger and thumb either side of your windpipe. Matt’s fingers brush against that devastating spot inside you, and coupled with Frank squeezing your neck lightly, your legs are shaking. You can feel yourself rushing towards that cliff, nearly dangling off of it, but you don’t want to, not just yet. This can’t be over this fast.

Frank pulls back, eyes on your face again, and the grin on his lips is feral, licking the taste of your mouth off his own. His hand doesn’t move from your throat, fingers twitching against your pulse. “Oh, you like this, don’t you?” he asks, squeezing again until you gasp, nodding sharply in his grasp. “God damn, you look so good with my hand wrapped around your neck.”

You reach behind you, turning your head to the side as Frank leans in again. His mouth drags along your jaw, and you push at Matt’s arm. He leans in to kiss your cheek as Frank’s attention moves to your neck, your collar. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I need your cock, Matt,” you tell him, your voice nearly a whine. Frank’s fingers flex on your throat. “Please.”

“Okay, baby,” he replies, hands running down your sides, grabbing a handful of your ass as he takes his hard cock in hand, positioning himself between your legs from behind. Frank turns your head, putting your eyes on his face again, and you gasp as you feel the tip of Matt’s cock press against your entrance.

Frank’s just watching you, his gaze boring into yours, and you barely have time to react as he reaches for your other hand, pulling it down towards his cock. You let your eyes dip as your fingers wrap around him, sucking in a breath at the sight of his length. He’s got girth, not as long as Matt, but fuck, if that’s not the thickest cock you’ve ever seen. Refusing to shy away from a challenge, you pump him, the movement dragging your bodies closer together as Matt thrusts in all the way, sheathing himself inside you with a low groan.

“How’s she feel, Red?” Frank asks, his eyes still glued to your face. Your mouth drops open as Matt starts to move, hips slapping wetly against your ass, hands gripping your hips like his life depends on it.

“So good, Castle,” Matt replies, his voice high and breathless. You can feel his head pressed against your spine, his hold on your waist tightening. “You have no fucking idea. So wet.” He thrusts hard, the movement jarring you forward, but Frank holds you in place. “God, you’re squeezing me so tight, baby.”

Every breath you take sounds like a moan, and Frank’s feral grin returns, a groan stuttering past his lips as you squeeze him. “Gotta say, it’s quite the view, watching you make her fall apart like this. You know what you’re doing, Red.” You bring your hand up, twisting your wrist and curving your palm over the tip of him. “Fuck, so does she.”

Matt’s head lifts from your back, and he pulls you back onto his cock, your knees nearly buckling as the tip of his cock finds that immaculate spot inside you, the pleasure nearly making your eyes roll back.

“Oh, she liked that, Red,” Frank says. “Do it again.”

Matt does, another wet slap echoing through the bathroom, and the sound that falls out of you is somewhere between a moan and a squeal, your legs going tense as white-hot pleasure shoots down your limbs. Frank crowds closer to you, still gripping your throat, and you’re stuck watching as he brings his free hand to his mouth, pushing two fingers past his lips.

“Eyes on me, princess,” he tells you, hand disappearing from view. “Keep stroking my cock like a good girl, yeah?” You do as he says, curving your palm over his sensitive tip again, lips quirking in a grin when he groans. “Yeah, you’re a good girl.” He moves impossibly closer, just enough room between your bodies for your hand around his cock, and his, moving between your legs, right where you’re split around Matt’s cock. He drags his fingers along your hot skin, and he must touch Matt too, because you hear his harsh gasp behind you, the next thrust he gives you impossibly harder.

“Make her cum, Castle,” Matt rasps out, leaning his forehead on your shoulder, his pace unrelenting. “Rub her clit until she screams.”

Frank grins. “Don’t have to tell me twice, Red.”

You let out a high-pitched gasp as Frank’s thick fingers find your clit, rubbing a harsh circle that has your toes curling against the tile. You try to keep up your strokes, your grip tight on Frank’s cock, but it’s almost impossible to concentrate, your mind hurtling elsewhere as your body tries to comprehend the sensations, the thick press of Matt into your pussy, the targeted pleasure of Frank’s fingers on your clit.

“Hey, I said, eyes on me,” Frank commands, and you hadn’t realized you let them flutter shut, your throat hiccuping in his grip as the pleasure climbs. You reach your free hand back, curling around Matt’s hip, squeezing until your nails dig in. You have to release Frank’s cock, but he doesn’t seem to mind, his own touch growing more and more insistent, the slide of his thick fingers curling down until he’s inside you too, knuckles brushing Matt’s cock while his thumb circles your clit. “C’mon, pretty girl, you gonna cum?” he asks, squeezing your windpipe just enough.

That’s what makes you topple over the edge, the sheer intensity of the feeling, the instant weightlessness that pours over you like a tidal wave. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and you try to keep your eyes on Frank’s, you really do, but it’s no use. The pleasure wracks your body, leaving you twitching and keening in their arms. Matt’s not far behind you, cumming with a shout that’s barely muffled against your shoulder. Frank seems unfazed, keeping his fingers right where they are, and as you return to your body, you don’t miss the way his eyes glance at Matt, still lust-blown and curious.

Matt pulls out first, leaning back against the shower wall, and Frank follows a moment later, but pushes his fingers deeper first, dragging the pads along that same spot Matt had hammered into. When he pulls them from you, his skin is coated with your cum and Matt’s, the milky fluid running between his knuckles.

You grab his wrist, opening your mouth as you push his fingers past your teeth, sucking them clean, flickering your tongue over his skin. Frank just grins. “Fuck. Tell me what you want, pretty girl. You gonna take us both next?” He releases your throat, reaching around and giving your ass a quick slap. “Gonna let me in this tight ass while Red fucks your pussy again? Huh? What do you want?”

You’re heaving breaths as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, and Matt is pressed against your back a moment later, arms twining around your waist, kissing your neck again. “Tell us what you want, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You blink hard, sinking into Matt’s touch, reaching for Frank’s wrist and moving his hand back between your legs.

“More.”

—————

I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form!💕

I will reblog w/ taglists - there’s too many of you!

#friday night fever #my fics #frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #frank castle smut #the punisher #daredevil #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #matt murdock x you #frank castle x you #IDK HOW ELSE TO TAG THIS CUZ I’M GOING TO HELL #😇

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idv-sunsxin3 · 2 months

Text

Pavia, Diggers // Car Ride

Note // Same prompt as the one with Horropedia except is with the other 2 glasses sillies (separately) this time/ lh

Warning// a bit suggestive on Pavia's part??? Maybe.

____

(When he's driving)

Guys, we should make a debate in where Pavia either drives on a Lamborghini or a Ferrari/j

There are times he drives normally for the sake of keeping a low profile at times... and there are time when he is a fast driver, not more said.

Would most likely get a speeding ticket... well, if the officers ever managed to catch him. 😭

Even if he doesn't put seatbelt on himself, he would be the type of lover who would nag you to put them on-

(not like you're complaining as you grip on something as if your life depends on you;;;/ih)

He likes to linger his hand on your thigh and give it a squeeze whenever he drives- crazy.

He would do the same when so much traffic happens, to at least subside his frustration on the road. Italian cursing at how long it's taking;;; definitely the grumpy driver type.

Sometimes, he likes to put bags underneath your legs during the ride, saying that "it's safe if it doesn't shake around"-

But no!!! In reality, he does that just so he can grab one of your legs and spread it open before reaching out, whatever he needs to take out - this man.... 😭

The good side of it is that Pavia's 5 wolves are often tagged along as they sit on the back seat--- Pavia for some reason helps them open the windows sometimes so they can stick their head and stick out their tongues while the car moves- its a very funny sight when it's 5 dogs in both windows of the car;;;;😭🤣

The wolves are at least trained enough to be careful- and they would know when to get their heads back in whenever Pavia warns them that he'll roll up the windows again with the power window switch.

"Hold on tight, baby~ this will be a pretty bumpy ride."😈

If you really appreciate your life a lot, you might as well ask if you both can just take a taxi./lh

Yet i feel like knowing him, he won't take no as an answer;;; <//3

____

(When he's a passenger)

Mmm if he ever is in a car ride with you along with other party members Vertin assigned, he probably wouldn't like the fact how close he is to touch other people during the entire ride---- even if he doesn't show it, I guess the menacing death smirk might give it away(it does).

As long as it's just you beside him, he won't be too salty about it--

He won't give you a break from how clingy he is tho- he wouldn't keep his hands to himself if he's not the one taking the wheel;;;;

Pulling you close, sneaking a hand on your knee, make you cuddle against him, have his chest touch your back as he whispers flirty Comments on your ear- technically trying to make others get third wheeled and calling them single in many different ways;;; 😭

Like Horropedia, he's most likely the "are we there yet" passenger....---- except in a more grumpy impatient vibe as if he doesn't want to stay in this vehicule any longer--- he's not burning it down just because you're here/ih

"Come on, little girl...- How long do we have to stay in this car?"

The Italian grumbles, trying to get his sly hands busy by playing with your hair a bit through his calloused fingers. His arm is resting heavily on your shoulder.

"Soon." That's what the young girl answers with a calm tone, already used to the intimidating energy the older one tends to bring.

Pavia ends up leaning his back into the cushion, sighing as you tiredly pat him by the shoulder. The small gesture of comfort is unknown if it is playful or sincere.

Suddenly, the other seems to have other plans. He catches you off guard by lifting you smoothly with his hands on your waist before placing you between his lap.

He whispers on your ear, a quiet voice with a hint of rasp and longing.

"Stay close to me for now, so I don't have to talk to these poor teammates here...-"

____

(When he's driving)

Diggers driving an old-fashioned volkswagen that has a lot of colorful graffiti paint all over it seems very in character, in my opinion. He even has this colorful van decorated with a lot of stuff in his insight 2-- Which was what most hippies drove before.

Not only is it affordable and durable, but it's also spacious in the back that he can make it as a comfy place to rest.... which is also where you usually nap together or have these quiet cuddling sessions.🥺♥️

He usually keeps the vehicule in a peaceful area where it's not near the city, like a grassfield or in the middle of a forest.

I'm not sure if he'll be a full licensed driver, but I feel like he would drive at a less extreme speed for the sake of stress--- prefers to drive and see how empty the road is and how peaceful the landscape would be- rural areas specifically.

And when he finds the perfect spot to settle, you would stay there for the night or even a couple of days.

Diggers probably like acoustic music or something that gives a "groovy" impression. Yet, he is very flexible enough to let you go crazy with the radio box- pick a song, or music, whatever hat interests you--- whether he knows the tune or not, he might try to sing along and enjoy the different kinds of vibes with you djdbdbdb-

You and Diggers plan to move the van out to another rural field within london- most likely a village your boyfriend seems to have known.

The moment you finished packing what you need at the back of the van, Diggers calls you back from the driver seats window.

"Darling! You're done?" The voice of your boyfriend resembles one of an ecstatic puppy.

"Yeah!"

"Come inside!"

As you were about to hop into the passenger seat- you got surprised by a.... big pile of flowers sitting on your seat???

Oop- some of them fell off the moment you opened the door.

"I- what??? What is this???" You laugh softly, already imagining the jolly grin Diggers might be wearing from the other side of the mountain of flowers.

The pile looks like they're 100 roses.

"Oops--- forgot to give you these. Surprise!" He bubbly says as he leans on the steering wheel lazily.

"...." You pause, sighing out after recovering from the laughter, "Oh g- thanks, baby-- but how can I even see your face like this??? Where do i sit???" 🤣

As if the option of the back seat was out of the window, Diggers responded:

"How about my lap?"

You both now started laughing again like the dorks you are,,,/lh

____

(When he's a passenger)

He's most likely the type to play some tunes on his guitar, entertaining and serenading those who surround him as he sits in the vehicle

Is actually very nice that he gets to go somewhere without worrying about the gasoline cost-- /ih

He'll be fine sitting anywhere- but he'll be more pleased if he gets to sit right next to you- where he believes he should be <33

He'll have an arm behind your neck while chilling, sometimes holding hands just to play with your fingers while talking to someone.

Maybe even spend the entire car ride trying to teach how to play the guitar- having you on his lap as he guides your hands on where to place the strings. 🤭🥰

He would be most likely a tolerable passenger, a pretty peaceful one. He'll even would try and nap the entire ride if he can.

Though, whenever he spots a police car passing by through the window- I can imagine him immediately crouching so he doesn't get spotted, very self-conscious by the fact there are some officers looking after him,,, maybe;;; <//3

He trusts any driver as long as it's anyone that is not Pavia.... Convince me otherwise--- 😭

He would freak out and scream when the speed is too high- even cling on to you.

His grip is firm that you don't even know whether he is trying to hold on to you so he doesn't get thrown off or because he wants to cover you from any incoming crashes---/ih

You'll have to comfort him a bit after that;;

I'll never forget about the drive thru headcanons <333

//Them ordering take out at a McDonald's drive thru with s/o. If you don't eat McDonald's, just imagine it/ih

___

//Pavia//

Arches eyebrow... and wearing this look of "pookie, out of other restaurants, you decide one of the most low-quality ones???"/ih

Also not him having beef by the fact the ice cream in McDonald's sucks- the machine is even broken in almost every restaurant--- sobs;;;

At the end, he brought you there anyways, because you made him/ih

The reason why he would buy you a happy meal is probably because you're baby--- you don't even know if it's sweet or insulting./ih 😭🫠

Whenever you want to order but the cashier cant hear you when he's the one who's in the driver seat- I can imagine you guys with this meme./ih

Pavia is creepily respectful enough to keep this funny straight look while technically facing your butt, it's crazy;;; 2x

Next time, Pavia will drag you to somewhere better now that you finished dragging him to such "monstrosity of creepy clowns, grimace shakes, and broken ice cream machines"/j. More better than Olive Garden even---;;;

___

//Diggers//

"Ehhhh-- what would you like to order, sweetie?" :)

"Anything is alright."

"...."

"....."

*turns back to the window* "1 hamburger, 2 French fries- and a milkshake, please." :)

Most hippies don't seem to like materialism- but food is food, he wouldn't even dare to say no to if you want to order food at places like McDonalds dbbdbdnd;;; Like, most prices there were like less than $1 (plus tax) back in the 1960s...- 🤔🤯

(I feel like you would boss out of this by paying for him at times- like this is probably better than the McDonald's from 2020s/ih)

Man, happy meals were only first introduced in 1979- so they weren't a thing yet for a while in Diggers' timeline. If they ever get premiered, He would buy you one for you whether or not you like it- he just likes how there are chicken nuggets and juice boxes inside colorful boxes that seem to be meant for children-- yet for him, it doesn't matter. You will have it anyway, even if he's broke;;😭🥺

The first boxes when they were first introduced were circus wagons. The first toys were tops, stencils, wallets, puzzles, and erasers. Initially, meals included a hamburger or cheeseburger, fries, a soft drink, and cookies.... yum.

Pampering you with food is one of the wholesome things I can imagine - even eating it while being inside his van at some parking lot. Feeding each other with these silly dorky grins,,,,

#pavia reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 #r1999 diggers #r1999 pavia #r1999 x reader #r1999 #reverse 1999 diggers #diggers x reader #pavia x reader #reverse: 1999 x reader

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wisteriagoesvroom · 15 days

Note

Re: suits, there are hundreds of different types of suits, but the most common cuts are british, american and italian. I could see Lando (aka would love to see) most likely in an italian cut (slim tailoring on trousers and jacket, unstructured shoulders, light cloth (not colour but fabric) also looks very nice with an open collar and no tie...). Typical big brand names here are Zegna, Armani or Attolini, I personally love Kiton and Brioni as well, but just googling itlian cut suits should show some good results.

For Oscar, I would adore a (for once) properly tailored brutish cut suit (higher waistline for the trousers, more structure in the shoulders, tapered waist, thicker fabrics). Maybe even make it a proper three-piece bc ever since the wetsuit pics from Australia, I think we all agree that those curves need to be shown more often. Examples here are Ted Baker, Dunhill and ofc everything Savile row.

Tho if we keep with the Mclaren sponsors, Reiss does some great work as well. There's a double-breasted tuxedo jacket in this year's collection that I would love to see Lando in (then again tuxedos are a whole nother topic ...)

This got very long and is probably not very helpful but I love infodumping about fashion lol <3

i know you were self conscious about writing at length about this but all i have to say is: yes. here is some additional photographic evidence from my POV;

lando in snazzy italian tailoring, but to take the stylised vector a bit further:

exhibit a: asymmetric waistcoat with steampunk details

exhibit b: italian but with a fun pattern

exhibit c: open collar a step further, he could so rock a 70s suit. also just really need him to rock the gucci glasses with some shiny loafers like he’s sooooo got that vibe. im thinking how bruno mars and harry styles wear that kind of suiting sometimes

now to our elusive chanteuse f1 driver oscar jack. i feel like it’s, like what you described, about a classic style but with really fine details. good fabrics, simple cuts, plain colourways. below is pretty stylised but also this is rpf and it’s my playground and if we were claiming realism we should just put the rpf toys down full stop and i am not doing that!!

if taking a costume designer’s perspective too, there could be soooo much you could say with layering and pattern and contrast depending where we are in the story or plot. the idea of fic!oscar in a classic brit cut suit with tiny revealing details like a handkerchief (lando’s) or a button (a nod to a family member or a friend) is very dear to me.

the other option i like is a classic tux jacket with tails and crisp shirt and a a sky blue handkerchief, like idk that image also tickles me for some reason.

anyway so i had been thinking about a tailor AU- *loud scuffling noise as i try to put wayward au ideas back in their box*

p.s. oscar in dunhill... like u were cooking but u especially cooked w that one....

and tagging the people who might be interested in this conversation i invite y’all to weigh in!! @cx-boxbox @kichona-s and @jusst-you-race

#i need to stop thinking #landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #op81 #ln4 #it’s getting bad guys idk how i just see random things now and im like. how do i make this landoscar #wizrambles.txt

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mochinek0 · 1 year

Text

Handy

Lila glared at Marinette as she complained to Alya about something boring; she was sure of it. She could see the frustration radiating off the baker's daughter. Marinette put her head in her hands from something Alya voiced. The daughter of the bakers lifted her hand and shook them in front of her, as she continued to complain.

'How dare she!'

"Are you mocking me?" Lila questioned, walking up towards them.

"Huh?" Marinette asked, confused, turning to Lila.

"You were doing this" the Italian girl lifted her hands, towards her and shook them, "when you talk."

Marinette giggled, "Really? I never noticed."

"You totally do." Alya commented and then winced, "Mostly when you get frustrated and trying to get your point across."

"Marinette, it's really insensitive of you to make fun of me and my heritage." Lila whined.

"What are you-" Mari began.

"It's an Italian thing." the model explained.

Marinette shrugged, "I probably get it from my Nona then."

"Your what?" Lila demanded.

"My Nona." Marinette repeated.

"You're not Italian!" Lila shouted.

Adrien quickly situated himself besides Marinette, "Technically, she's a quarter Italian. We've all met her Nona at her birthday, last year. You'd like her a lot, Lila. You have so many things in common."

Marinette smiled, "My Nona travels all year long. She goes to exotic places and lives with the natives. Usually, she sends me gifts from her travels."

"When is she coming back?" Adrien questioned.

"She's been coming back for my birthdays, now. Last time, she thought I was still three years old and wasn't sure how to deal with me being grown up. Most of the time we just talk on the phone." Mari answered.

"This one time, I went to the Sahara Desert and-"began Lila.

"That's nice, Lila." Adrien interrupted, "Marinette, where did your Nona go this time?"

Marinette chewed her lower lip for a moment, "I think the Amazon. She likes to go there a lot. Surprising, really; she usually has her bike with her."

"I've been to the Amazon Jungle." Lila smiled, "There's plenty of room for bicycles."

"Bike as in motorcycle." Adrien stated, making the liar falter and then turned back to Marinette, "I've seen you on your Nona's. Do you know how to ride a motor-"

"I do!" Lila chimed in.

"No one asked you!" Adrien declared, "I'm trying to talk to Marinette, but you keep interrupting us! This is an A and B conversation. C your way out of it!"

Adrien grabbed Marinette's hand and pulled her out of the classroom. Before Lila could complain, the class began to cheer.

"It was so great of you to pretend to be jealous!"

"You actually made Adrien take Marinette somewhere alone!"

"I never thought you would annoy him in the best way possible!"

"We should have kept them apart sooner!"

"Yeah!"

"Who knew Adrien was the jealous type."

"Great thinking, Lila."

Lila could only smile, as everyone praised her. Meanwhile, she was screaming internally. She had come out looking like a person who was helping Adrien and Marinette get together. That was the last thing she wanted to happen!

TAG LIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus

#mochinek0 #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #sterotypes #adrien agreste #helpful lila #accident #class sugar #adrienette #matchmaker lila

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theambitiouswoman · 1 year

Note

Can you tell a little bit about yourself?

P.s I love your blog

Hi! Thank you very much! ☺️💗 I actually haven’t shared much about myself in a while.

Here are a few things about me:

1. I am in e-commerce. I own 12+ stores, launching a few brands this year (very soon actually).

2. Aries sun, Scorpio moon.

3. I’m very into health and wellness. I work out 5 days a week and starting last year have gotten very into supplements. My diet consists of only grass fed pasture raised meats and organics.

3. I love love love cooking. I would cook all day if I could.

4. I read two books a week on average.

5. I speak English, Spanish, Italian and learning Mandarin currently.

6. I love learning. I love creating. Makes me so happy.

7. I love outdoor activities and going to eat above anything else. Not a party girl and not into crowds.

8. My days are mostly work, tan, workout and repeat lol

9. I’m a nut about my skin and take ALOT of care of myself.

10. I’m almost always in dresses aside from when I’m working out. Always make it a point to dress up.

11. I’ve traveled quite a bit! Waiting for my passport renewal to go overseas for a few months (probably).

12. I’ve sponsored loads of kids from all over the world. I want to do more charity work but the projects I want to get into don’t have the nicest price tags.. so we keep working. But that’s actually something very important to me. I love helping people. I help a lot of people. I mentor alot of people. It makes me happy. I’ve been through absolute hell and wouldn’t want anyone to feel the way I’ve felt.

13. I like nice things. I have nice things… but I don’t like to have alot of things. Not very materialistic in that sense.

14. I bootstrapped my whole entire life. I grew up poor. I am an immigrant. I have never borrowed a dollar from a single man or woman for any business I’ve ever started. (Bootstrapped means when you fund something yourself without investors our outside capital).

15. I live for kids and animals. I’m dying to have children. Hopefully soon by the grace of God. Working very hard on aligning myself with this dream. (This is one of the things that prompted my own shadow work/journaling/healing journey last year).

That should be enough for now 😂💗

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saruman-the-silly · 9 months

Text

Dancing in the rain

I got inspired for this because it was raining so bad today... heh anyway thank you for reading <3 beware of the badly done google translate Italian :D but hey, what's a ghost fic without some google translate Italian anyway?

tags: terzo x gn!reader, FLUFF, idk romance, just something short and sweet <3

word count: 596

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You were so late. Your alarm hadn't gone off and by the time you were fully awake, you realised that 1) You were very late for work and 2) it was raining so bad right now. You groaned, and jumped out of bed, hastily grabbing all of your stuff before running out the door.

Even though you had realised it was raining, you still forgot your umbrella at home. Great. You arrived at work, soaking wet and grumpy but then your phone beeped. You reached into your soaked pocket and looked to see a message from your boyfriend, Terzo. He was currently on tour, which was ending in a few days, but you missed him terribly.

"Cara mia, I cannot wait to hold you in my arms once again." Terzo had texted, and a smile rose to your face. Your work had mostly kept you busy, but returning home to a cold bed wasn't really one of your favourite things. With a sigh, you rolled your sleeves and got to work.

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

The day had gone agonizingly slow. Everyone was just very grumpy due to the bad weather, and you just wanted to go home, curl up in your bed and sleep. With only 30 minutes of your shift left, you decided to head out for a small break. It was still raining, and the cold weather felt soothing when you stood by the door, sheltered from the rain.

"Never thought I'd see you enjoying the rain," you whipped your head around at the voice, only to meet the amused gaze of Terzo. Your mouth was hanging wide open when you tried to stutter out words.

"I- you- when- wha-" Terzo grinned and replied cheekily: "What, this is the response I get for coming home early?" You burst out laughing and jumped to his arms, squeezing tightly. He wrapped his arms tight around you, sighing contentedly and pressing his face to your hair.

After a few minutes, you pulled back to admire his handsome face. Terzo smiled, gently brushing a hair from your face.

"Dance with me?" You looked at the rain, and back at Terzo. "I've got to go back and finish my shif-" He silenced you with a kiss, and grinned while he pulled back.

"Ah but cara mia, do not worry for I already took care of it." He stepped back and offered you his hand.

"Now, will you allow me this dance?" Terzo smirked. You gladly took his hand, and he lead you into a slow waltz, while humming something gently. You smiled, and rested your head on his chest while he twirled you two around effortlessly.

"I really missed you." You whispered. Terzo kissed your forehead and replied: "Not a day went by when I wasn't thinking about you, tesoro."

He stopped swaying and gently lifted your chin, making you meet his loving gaze. "You are my everything, amore. Ti amo tanto, il mio cuore chiama il tuo nome." Both of you were soaked, but too caught up in the moment to notice. You were smiling at him, and he was grinning.

You cupped Terzos cheeks and captured his lips in a sweet kiss. He wrapped his arms tight around you and dipped you while deepening the kiss, making you burst out laughing. He grinned, pulled you up and twirled you around into another kiss, this time gently holding you by the waist. When Terzo broke the kiss, you sneezed.

".....We should probably head home now."

"Yeah." You sneezed again, making him snort and soon you were both laughing while walking home together holding hands.

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

Thanks for reading <3

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runningfrom2am · 1 year

Text

the sea around us; chapter two

In which Rafe Cameron has to choose between his dad and a pogue who's changing his outlook on life more and more every day.

(rafe cameron x f!oc)

(eventual!jj maybank x f!oc)

warnings/tags: violence, drug/alcohol use, smoking, sexual content (if you squint), slowburn, older brother’s best friend, (these tags are obv not exhaustive but regardless it’s pretty PG13)

wc: 1.9k

my masterlist, series masterlist, requests

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

After we drove back to The Cut, John B dropped me off at home. I waved a quick goodbye to everyone as I walked up to my porch, ready to get changed for work. Today I wasn't at Heywards or The Wreck, I was working at a coffee shop over on Figure Eight called Making Waves. One of those niche local places, once again, popular with tourists. Initially with locals, but now the tourists have sort of taken it over. I throw on my work shirt over my tank top and jean shorts, grab my water bottle, shoving it in my bag, and head back out the door. No one was home today to chat with anyways.

I get out of my car and lock it behind me, stepping up over the curb and approaching the entrance of the small shop. "Hey! Snowy!" I hear a familiar voice behind me and turn my head to look. "I'll get an Italian soda, blackberry please." It's Kegs, of course. I rotate my body and walk back towards the door.

"Does it look like I'm ready to take orders yet?" I respond with a smile, noting the friends my brother was with. Rafe and Topper. Kooks, of course. My big brother somehow ended up weaseling his way in with the Kooks after we moved into Kildare, if I'm remembering correctly he out-golfed them when he was working at the course and they asked him to tag along. Not the greatest influence on him, but I'm just glad he has friends here.

I stop just out of the way of the door and watch them approach me. "Juliette?" His friend, Rafe, asks me, raising his eyebrow as he eyes my name tag.

"You didn't know my name? Ouch."

He shrugs. "I've never heard Kegs call you that."

"No one does." My brother adds. "Anyway, you hear about the storm?" He asks, Topper and Rafe beginning to talk quietly to each other. I notice over Keg's shoulder that they're still looking at me, but I try to brush it off as I answer his question.

"Uh, yeah I did but I'll be home before it does any serious work. I've got to help block up the windows tonight before I go- we've got a few more hours." I nod.

Kegs looks skeptical. "You're not taking off with those Pogues after work- you actually have to come home this time. Seriously. Mom needs your help with the twins tonight."

"Those Pogues". As if he doesn't live on the cut with us.

I sigh and drop my head back. "I didn't plan on it, you know. Regardless they'll be fine, they're almost twelve, Kegs." I look back up at him and adjust the bag on my shoulder. The twins were a force to be reckoned with, honestly. They're just a handful, it'll probably be harder to keep them inside.

"Really? Anna and Deck? Fine? Give me your keys." He said, getting frustrated now as he holds out his hand.

"What?" I ask angrily, my voice dropping as Rafe and Topper stop talking to listen to us, so I lower my voice. "I'm not giving you my keys I need to get home, do you want me to walk?" I whisper angrily.

I suppose I should clue you in on my family situation. First, Kegs is short for Keegan. Kegs' ability to outdrink the Kooks, which he picked up back in Canada, gives him his nickname. Almost two years older than me, thinks he's a Kook. His whole thing is sports, back in Canada it was hockey, baseball, rugby, lacrosse, golf, and honestly whatever else he could do to get out of the house. Here he's settled on golf. Believe it or not, he's pretty sensitive. I've seen him after many-a-breakup, and it's not at all pretty. My mom has employed me as his personal therapist, she'll just cry and not say anything to him to try and help. I wonder where we get our emotional insecurities from. She's never like that with me. Anyway, he's always got my back. Like 80% of the time.

Next, the twins. Annabelle and Declan. They're six years younger than me, and I practically raised them. They hardly have a relationship with Kegs, somehow. Anna, older than Deck by eight minutes, refuses to let that go that she's a middle child. This is crazy because one, she gives off seriously only child energy- I'm friends with enough of them to know and two, she's not a middle child. She has a big personality and no filter, unfortunately. Completely obsessed with Pope. I already see she's going to be a nightmare at 16. Deck, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. He minds his business, as much as an eleven-year-old can. He rocks a mullet like Kegs used to, sticking to our Canadian roots, and now he's flipped gears into surfing. He wants JJ to teach him, JJ is all about it- of course. It is hard for me to watch Deck grow up, he's only eleven, yes, but I miss when he was little; he slept in my bed every night for years.

"Rafe said he can pick you up. I don't want you taking off, mom will tear a strip off me if I don't get you home."

What is he even talking about right now? I look back at his friend behind him, who raises his hand at me in acknowledgment, smiling. "Why can't you pick me up?" I whisper, leaning closer to him. "Why does it have to be one of your Kook friends?"

"Snowy-" He sighs, raising his hand to push his hair back out of his face. "I'm busy, okay? I have to go to Erin's to help them storm prep, then I'm gonna crash there. I need to go like right now, I don't even have time for this." Erin, ugh. Not my favorite girlfriend he's ever had, that's for sure. They've been on and off for years, but rumor has it, she's a chronic cheater. I don't want to get into it with him, so I sigh and hand him my keys, turning to walk inside.

"I'll pick you up at eight!" Rafe shouts after me as I walk inside, mumbling to myself in anger.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

I'm just finishing putting plywood up behind the windows as I hear the bell chime, meaning someone has walked in. I wipe my hands on my blue apron and turn to face the customer coming in. "Just prepping for that storm tonight, we're closing in a couple minutes. What can I-" I stop talking and drop my customer service voice as I see who it is. "Hi, Rafe."

"Will you be ready to go soon, Juliette?" He shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts as he smirks at me. I catch myself staring at him for a second. Normally I would correct anyone calling me that, but I just, don't. I look over to where the owner, Megan, is wrapping up everything at the registers. She nods at me.

"Hi, Rafe, how's Rose doing? And your father?" She smiles at him, looking up from her receipts.

"They're well, thank you, ma'am." I have never heard him be this polite to anyone- ever. Not that I have ever talked to him for more than a couple minutes at a time.

"Alright Snowy, I should be totally fine here. You did great putting those up. You get home safe." Megan says to me and I untie my apron.

"Thanks, Megan." I climb down the stepstool I was standing on, and look towards Rafe. "I'll be right out, give me two minutes," I tell him, jogging to the back to grab my bag and hang up my apron.

I walk back out and Rafe is leaning his shoulder against the door, scrolling on his phone. A customer comes to open the door, and he looks up and taps his knuckle on the window under the sign that now reads "closed", I suppose Megan asked him to flip it so we could close a couple of minutes early. The customer rolls their eyes and walks away. I approach him and take my hair out of the bun I had it in, looking back at Megan as she says goodbye.

"You two get home safe alright?" I nod and smile at her.

"You too." Rafe and I both say at the same time, I instantly turn to look at him and my cheeks burn as I see he's acting like he didn't notice. He holds the door for me and we walk out to his car, I'm assuming he borrowed it from his dad.

"My mom used to drive a Range Rover. Back in BC." I say quietly as we drive out towards the Cut.

"Oh yeah?" Rafe replies, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift, despite it not being a manual. He looks over at me. "Were you Canada Kooks? What happened?"

I look back out in front of me. "I guess, kind of, I don't really know what happened." I can see in my peripherals that he's looking at me now, waiting for me to continue.

"We didn't live on The Terrace, but it was decent- mostly property, not a big house. But it wasn't the south side either. I don't know. We had to sell the car before we moved. We all squished into our dad's truck, Deck had to sit on my lap the whole drive. Two weeks." I laugh a little at the memory. Rafe just smiles.

"The Terrace?" He asks quizzically.

"Moose Lake's Figure Eight. It was on a hill overlooking the rest of the city, like a second-story porch. Rich people lived up there." I translate. "I actually was meant to go to school up there, we were at the bottom of the hill, but my parents decided to pull me and put me in a public school closer to home anyways. My mom said it would make me more humble." I honestly think that's when they realized they couldn't afford private school for two kids.

He nods. "Let me guess, Kegs went to the private school?" Rafe asks and I nod my head toward him.

"Yep- how could you tell?" I joke. "In all honesty, private school there was absolutely nothing like Kook academy, don't get it twisted. He was always popular though. Everyone only knew me as his sister, I was hardly ever my own person." I explain- why am I telling him this? No way on earth Rafe could give two shits.

"I mean, you've definitely made a name for yourself here. Literally, apparently." He gestures to my name tag.

"Snow is my middle name." Why do I keep talking? He does look shocked at this though, as he does a double-take between me and the road. "Oh, it's actually real? I thought the pogues made it up because you were Canadian."

I giggle at this. "Nope, just a funny coincidence. Kegs has always called me that, Juliette is a busted name."

"I think it's cute. I mean, fine. It's not as bad as you think." He says quickly, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, his knuckles turning white.

"Thanks."

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