#So yeah she's my ride or die for now

[uselessbiscuitsoul]

i don't have access to therapy but I do have access to video calling my ride-or-die to study together which devolves into singing random songs knowing only half the lyrics

[lesmiserablol]

finished season one of the punisher. holy shit.

[lit-in-thy-heart]

brb sobbing over a book written nearly two hundred years ago

[sharlsworld]

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆ opposites attract — 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏 ❁

( 𝗈𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂 𝗑 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ）

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗒 𝗈𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗄，𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋

✫ my first oscar smau in honor of the australian gp 🥹

🝮

yn

liked by pierregasly and 1,845,556 others

yn me when the waiter said they don’t offer shirley temples

francolapinto i like shirley temples too…i can make you a shirley temple

⤷ yn i think i’m too young for you

⤷ francolapinto aren’t you 21?

⤷ yn yeah i thought you liked 31 year olds??

⤷ francolapinto OH umm….

⤷ alex_albon Damn she clocked you

⤷ francolapinto OH WHO IS YOU 😒

arthur_leclerc biggie

⤷ charles_leclerc Don’t be rude Arthur

⤷ yn yeah arthur ur just mad i didn’t bring any food back for you fattie

⤷ arthur_leclerc oh so i get growled at for calling her biggie but she doesn’t for calling me fattie?

⤷ charles_leclerc No you’re older you should know better

⤷ arthur_leclerc i can never win 💔

alexandrasaintmleux my favorite date 🥰🥰

⤷ yn my favorite sugar mama 🙂‍↕️

lilymhe How does one look so pretty whilst doing the most normal things?

leclerc_pascale My beautiful baby girl 😍🥰🥰

⤷ yn love u maman 🩷🩷

lando when are you gonna stop stealing your brothers girlfriend and get your own boyfriend?

⤷ yn whenever i want butt muncher. not like anyone lives up to my standards anyways

⤷ lando i might know someone

⤷ carlossainz55 No

⤷ yn and who would that be

⤷ charles_leclerc stop trying to get my little baby sister to date your gross friends lando

alex_albon why are your last 7 posts pictures of you eating

⤷ yn what is it a crime to enjoy good food now or what??? GOSH JUST SAY YOU HATE ME AND YOU THINK IM UGLY AND WANT ME TO DIE

oscarpiastri I love shirley temples

⤷ arthur_leclerc 🤨 whaddomeanbythat

⤷ oscarpiastri What is it a crime to express my love for shirley temples now or what?

⤷ nicolepiastri I’ve never seen you drink a shirley temple in your entire life

⤷ oscarpiastri Mommmmmmm

⤷ georgerussell63 Shhhhhh little Oscar is finally shooting his shot

⤷ alex_albon With his step auntie?

⤷ georgerussell63 Not now Alex go have Lily read to you or something

🝮

yn

liked by oscarpiastri and 1,717,426 others

yn went to milan for pasta, and to support charles ig, mostly lewis…but not really…i miss carlos. sorry not sorry CHARLOS4LIFE

georgerussell63 Ooh girl you’re radiating black cat energy

⤷ alex_albon I was bouta say

alexandrasaintmleux My babyyy 🥰🥰❤️

⤷ yn my sissy 🥹🩷

carlossainz55 My ride or die 🤞🏽🤞🏽

⤷ yn they could never make me hate you carlos sainz 💙💙 i’m williams’ number 1 fan now

⤷ williamsracing @scuderiaferrari got your girl 🤣

⤷ scuderiaferrari awh HELL NAHH

oscarpiastri Did you get your shirley temple this time?

⤷ yn indeed i did

⤷ oscarpiastri And how was it

⤷ yn i guess it was alright, it could be better

⤷ oscarpiastri I could make you a better one next week in Australia if you like

⤷ charles_leclerc Wait a damn minute

nicolepiastri You beautiful girl

⤷ yn thank you mama piastri 🥰🥰

⤷ pierregasly YOO IS BUG FINALLY GONNA GET HER FIRST BOYFRIEND???

⤷ yn ho did you just…

⤷ pierregasly I apologize but this is so exciting

francisca.cgomes Ooh lala 😍😍😍

lilymhe I miss you queen I’ve actually been having conversations with Alex to pass by time 💔

⤷ alex_albon Oh thats great to hear 🥲

danielricciardo I just know you fcked some pasta UPPPP

⤷ yn yardy know it dan

lewishamilton Thank you?

⤷ yn you’re welcome dafuq

hattiepiastri face card is insane

⤷ yn oh stop it you 🤭

⤷ pierregasly YOOO BUG GOT THE WHOLE FAMILY HYPING HER UP

⤷ yn pierre…

⤷ pierregasly Once again, I apologize I’m just so invested in this I actually can’t help it

charles_leclerc I’m kinda hurt Leo got to go but I had to stay at the hotel…

⤷ yn i didn’t want to turn into the third wheel

⤷ charles_leclerc yeah right i turn into the third wheel whenever you and alex are together

arthur_leclerc the B in bug stands for biggie

⤷ yn i just watched you pound back 5 chocolate croissants in 3 minutes fattass 🤣🤣🤣 try eating a salad for once double wide

⤷ alex_albon DAMNNN SHE CLOCKED YOU TOO

⤷ oscarpiastri No one humbles you like your own sister

⤷ arthur_leclerc oh who is you 😒

⤷ yn shut up porky go scarf down a hamburger or something butterball

⤷ alex_albon clockedddd

⤷ pierregasly Defending Oscar????? Omg I love this so much please please please never stop 🙏🏽

🝮

yn

liked by kendalljenner and 1,063,782 others

yn i’m here australia

pierregasly Everyone shut up my show is on

maxverstappen1 This early? 👀

⤷ yn boi why you stirring the pot 🤨

mclaren papaya on top 🧡

⤷ yn fosho 🧡

arthur_leclerc Put the food away lil bro

⤷ yn eating all this food AND not working out AND i’m STILL skinner than you 🤣🤣 try harder you fuckin loser 🤕

⤷ alex_albon DAMNNNM ik arthur HATES to see bug coming ⏰😭

mercedesamgf1 Pretty gal 🤩🤩🖤

⤷ yn 🖤🙂‍↕️

alexandrasaintmleux And who took this picture cause I know it wasn’t me 🫣

⤷ yn you’re supposed to be on my side

williamsracing 😍😍

⤷ yn 😘😘���

charles_leclerc Hey why are you there before me??? What are you up to 🤨🤨

charles_leclerc I better not see any pictures or videos of you with a certain aussie on tik tok

lando i spy papaya. and who drives a papaya car? oscar piastri. and where is oscar piastri from? australia. and where are you? australia. THEY’RE DATING GUYS I CRACKED THE CODE!!

⤷ yn onto something or on something??

scuderiaferrari OUR girl 🥰😍😍

⤷ yn 🫣❤️❤️

oscarpiastri Care to join me for a shirley temple later tonight?? :)

⤷ yn sounds lovely ;)

⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOOOO :’)

⤷ charles_leclerc WOAH WOAH WOAH OSCAR THAT IS YOUR AUNTIE YOU SICKO

⤷ alex_albon HELL YEAH OSCAR SHOOT YOUR SHOT BRO

⤷ danielricciardo Oscar gettin rizzyyyyy

⤷ lando that’s my boy 🥲 they grow up so fast

f1 collecting f1 teams like infinity stones

🝮

yn

liked by haileybieber and 2,819,164 others

yn what a view

pierregasly YOOOOOOOOOOOOO

arthur_leclerc who dis r

leclerc_pascale So cute mon amour 🥰

⤷ nicolepiastri It was so nice meeting your daughter Pascale! She’s just a ray of sunshine, I’ve never seen Oscar smile so much 😂

⤷ leclerc_pascale Thank you Nicole! Your son is the sweetest he’s been treating y/n so well while she’s been in Australia she’s loving it so much over there it’s gonna be hard to get her back home 😂😂 we’ll have to meet up soon!

⤷ nicolepiastri Yes we’ll have to go to lunch with the kids so we can embarrass them with their childhood stories and pictures LOL! 😂

⤷ pierregasly No one knows what this means to me fr

⤷ charles_leclerc YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS MAMAN???? YOU KEPT THIS FROM ME??

⤷ leclerc_pascale Let your sister be happy Charles and be glad she’s talking to a kind man who treats her well instead of one who is mean to her.

⤷ charles_leclerc Wait you lowk right

⤷ charles_leclerc Wait sorry I forgot I was talking to my mother

pierregasly kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ francisca.gomes kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ carmenmmundt kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ georgerussell63 kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ alex_albon kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ lilymhe kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ charlotte2304 kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ lorenzotl kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ charles_leclerc what the hell it’s not like i can keep you from dating any longer. kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ lando KISS DAMN IT

⤷ oscarpiastri Okay

⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOO BRUHH I DID THAT

🝮

yn

liked by lewishamilton and 3,371,405 others

yn i love you australia

pierregasly YOOOOOO CALL ME RN OMGGG

⤷ yn pierre…

⤷ pierregasly CALL ME BUG

⤷ yn ok damn

⤷ francisca.cgomes maybe it is a good thing that f1 is back this week…

charles_leclerc ❤️

⤷ pierregasly YOOOO HE GOT THE APPROVAL

nicolepiastri Australia loves you too ;)

⤷ pierregasly yooo 😏🤨

lorenzotl “Australia” sure

⤷ yn 🤫

⤷ pierregasly YOOO

arthur_leclerc at least you’re eating fruit

⤷ yn yeah you should try it once in while fuckin pot belly pig

⤷ alex_albon CLOCKEDDD

⤷ arthur_leclerc Do you really have nothing else better to do?? 😒

⤷ yn DO YOU HAVING NOTHING BETTER TO DO YOU FUCKING LOSER

⤷ alex_albon ⏰⏰⏰

oscarpiastri I love you Monaco

⤷ leclerc_pascale Monaco loves you too ;)

⤷ pierregasly YOOO THIS IS CRAAAZY

⤷ oscarpiastri Do you just constantly refresh instagram to see new comments?

⤷ pierregasly Durrrr

danielricciardo Okay just out here lookin all radiant and shit

lando oi who’s that handsome bloke in the last slide? 😏😏

⤷ yn 8️⃣1️⃣

⤷ pierregasly YOOO QUIT TRYNA BE ALL SNEAKY AND JUST HARD LAUNCH!!!!!!!!!!

⤷ charles_leclerc Yeah guys it’s pretty obvious you two are already dating

⤷ charles_leclerc I mean you started dating a week after meeting but who cares it’s obvious you guys are never breaking up

⤷ yn wow thanks for outing us thick neck bitch

mclaren Welcome to the papaya family! 🧡

⤷ scuderiaferrari Hey that’s our girl

⤷ mercedesamgf1 Guys…cmon…she’s literally obsessed Toto, she’s ours

⤷ williamsracing You’re all fighting for second, we got Carlos so that means we got y/n

⤷ yn ladies ladies there’s enough of me for everyone 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

🝮

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc and 1,407,583 others

oscarpiastri I’ve been taking up photography lately, what do you guys think?

pierregasly YOOOOO BRUHH YOU GUYS ARE LIKE BASICALLY MARRIED NOW

charles_leclerc No funny business 🤨

francisca.cgomes oscar don’t know what to do with allat

⤷ oscarpiastri Trust me, I do

⤷ pierregasly YOOO GETTING FREAKY ON THE MAIN?? OSCAR PIASTRI???? FREAKY?????

lando So you guys basically have me to thank for this whole relationship 🤷‍♂️

yn get my good side 🙂‍↔️

⤷ francisca.cgomes girl every side of you is good 😘

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux So photogenic it makes me mad 😾

⤷ yn you guys literally look like angels all hours of the day

leclerc_pascale Mon petite fille 🩷🩷

danielricciardo I bet Oscar took this picture just to take it like she didn’t even have to ask like he’s just the type of guy to do that

⤷ maxverstappen1 Oscar is the type of guy to see something his girlfriend would like and buy it on the spot

⤷ alex_albon Oscar is the type of guy to take pictures of cute animals and sunsets to send to his gf and be like “thought of you”

⤷ georgerussell63 Oscar is the type of guy to go to the wake up at 3am and make his girl food because she said she was hungry

⤷ pierregasly Yoo my boy Oscar is the type of guy who would let his girlfriend put her feet on his face and be unbothered

⤷ lando oscar is the type of guy who would be to scared to be rough with his girlfriend in bed

⤷ yn you’d be surprised…i know i was

⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOOOOOO

⤷ lando oscar you dirty boy 😈😈

⤷ maxverstappen1 Where did polite cat Oscar go?? 🤨

⤷ danielricciardo Oscar you naughty naughty boy what have you been up to this week 😈😈

⤷ oscarpiastri I put my phone down to make y/n a grilled cheese and tomato soup and this is what I come back to?

🝮

yn

liked by leahkateb and 1,938,241 others

yn this is my husband guys we eloped 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

pierregasly YOOO ARE YOU FR????

oscarpiastri We didn’t elope guys we literally just started dating last week

⤷ charles_leclerc The talking stage lasted barely 6 days before you asked her out so we wouldn’t be surprised

⤷ leclerc_pascale When you know you know

⤷ nicolepiastri One day he was introducing her to us as his friend a week later he texted the family group chat “we’re dating btw” 😂🩷

oscarpiastri In a few years baby 😂

⤷ pierregasly Yo this got me feeling all giddy and shit 🥹 oh young love

⤷ yn bro’s gonna be 30 next year 😟 old asl you’re gonna get arthritis soon

⤷ georgerussell63 I know Oscar is never bored with bug

⤷ oscarpiastri Definitely keeps me on my toes…don’t be surprised if I start graying in the next few months guys

⤷ leclerc_pascale Mon chou quit giving Oscar such a hard time please

⤷ yn i can’t help it maman it’s just who i am

⤷ oscarpiastri I’ll gladly take worry lines and gray hair as long you’re by my side ❤️

⤷ yn omg stoppp do you like me or something 🙂‍↕️

⤷ oscarpiastri I like you a lot

⤷ oscarpiastri Give her minute she had to step outside to calm down

⤷ yn omg i like you too

⤷ arthur_leclerc they’re commenting all this while sitting by each other btw

charles_leclerc Out of everyone in the world I’m glad you ended up with Oscar because I didn’t think anyone else had the patience to deal with you and your standards other than your own family

⤷ yn ok rude 🖐️ fuck out my face slut

⤷ oscarpiastri Let’s go get some ice cream and take a walk on the beach honey

⤷ yn comingggg 😋😋😋😋

⤷ danielricciardo And they lived happily ever after

pierregasly yo 🥹❤️

[starstruckbich]

getting caught listening in ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

summary: vi knows you've been listening in on her.

tags: 18+ mdni men dni dom!vi, sub! reader, listening in, teasing, fingering, vi eating reader out, reader riding vi's face, soft!vi.

note: as usual, life is absolutely kicking my ass like WHAT THE FUCK uhm anyways im back to writing. im praying for this week to go by fast so i can get a break oh LAWD.

You feel gross. But also extremely good.

At first it was annoying, hearing every scream, every moan through thin paper walls at your shared dorm with Vi. Every time she brought a girl over, you would lose hours of sleep, again and again and again.

It's either the girl Vi is fucking moaning at the top of her lugs or Vi herself whining like a bitch. It left you so angry, but you never confronted her, because who actually has the balls to go to your dorm mate and say "hey would you quit having sex so fucking loud?".

You would rather just put on some headphones and call it a day.

Until that damn week came. That week before your period when you just want to fuck everyone and everything. It's specifically worse for you, for some reason.

So when you go to get a glass of water in the middle of the night and the sounds start once again, your body can't even get annoyed. Especially because this time, Vi didn't close the door all the way, leaving a creak open.

"a-ah! oh! oh fuck~!" looks like Vi was getting fucked that time.

So every single time, from that day. You lean agaisnt her door, touching yourself, listening to her filthy moans. Except one time, you actually moan a tad bit too loud. You don't think anyone noticed, since they didn´t stop.

But Vi knows. And god you can't even imagine how thrilled she is. She does EVERYTHING extra loud, moaning, whining, crying, grunting, begging, cumming. Everything.

But a problem comes up. Her usual hookup girlie hasn't had time for her, ignoring her texts and calls. So she is practically posessed, obviously more pent up. She resorts to just touching herself that night, moaning loudly. But it's just not enough. She needs someone, and right now, the nearest person to her is you.

You were so focused on making yourself feel good, layed down on your stomach and playing with your pretty clit, that you didn't even hear the heavy steps coming towards your bedroom door.

Suddenly your door slams open, causing your eyes to widen and your hand to move away from that sweet spot. oh no. you're totally going to get fucking humiliated, torn to shreds and get called a pervert. your life is over.

"Vi-" Your voice is shaky and ridiculously breathy. it's almost a cry, your mind trying to come up with some sort of excuse.

But before you can, Vi is already pouncing on the bed, turning you over, tongue entertwining with yours in a matter of seconds, muscular, tattooed arms locking your body in a cage as you cry into her mouth, almost as if saying "what the fuck is going on".

One of her hands trails down to your panties, fingers going underneath them and slipping in your pussy so easily that it makes you want to die of embarassment.

You pull away from her mouth, yelling. "fuck!! oh- ah! w-wait, i dont-"

Your heartbeat has skyrocketed in a matter of seconds, feeling Vi's thick fingers heat that sweet, sweet spot you love so much when you listen to her getting fucked. Except this time it's her fingers.

"Vi what is going on?" it's such a cute cry you let out, making her moan in your ear.

"oh just didn't to make you- hah... upset that my hookup didn't show up." she laughs. oh. so she has known huh.

you can't help but feel guilty, despite OBVIOUSLY knowing now that Vi clearly isn't bothered. "im sorry, im really sorry..." you cry out, spreading your legs further for her.

"trust me, don't be." she laughs, huffing into your ear. "yeah thats right just... spread your legs... yeah..." she groans, the pace of her fingers making you squirm and moan so loud that you get why the other girls weren't quiet at all.

your pussy clenches around her fingers, wet noises coming out, your body arching closer to her.

"you're so cute...so pretty, touching yourself because of me. do you like what you hear, hm?" Vi whispers into your ear, earning a frantic nod from you.

She kisses your temple "is it better hearing it up close? feeling it?" Teasing tone. Of course, just the right atittude to make your eyes roll back.

"fuck, please! just a little bit faster! oh-!" great, you're already begging, body twitching in a matter of minutes.

But Vi isn't done with you.

How many minutes has it been. Maybe a half an hour already. Vi's tongue lappig up at your cunt, tongue sliding in and out over and over again. god she gives great head, it makes you want to cum into her mouth right then and there.

you let out those " hm hm hm" sounds, biting your bottom lip so hard, head falling back, a blissed expression on your face.

"hmm... hmf... who does this pussy belong to, mmh...?" vi says, voice breathy and ugh every time she speaks your body feels like it's about to fall apart.

"yours vi, it's yours..." you say, rocking your hips. you pray that girl never answers her texts again. you'd rather have her tongue on you instead.

"good girl, fuck, you taste so sweet..." she spreads your legs further if thats even possible, kissing at your needy bundle of nerds as your hips chase her tongue. "you could have just asked me for this, you know..."

you wish you could answer, but your mouth just elts out repeated whines, moans or whatever you're screaming. next time you want her to fucking rail you, and you would let her if it wasn't so late. there is one thing you have the courage to ask though.

"can i ride your face- mh-please?" and how can she say no when you ask so nicely?

Now you're sat on her face, hips rolling agaisnt her mouth, letting out sweet sounds, not so animalistic anymore, not because you're not turned on, but because she handles you so good that you're getting tired. you feel heat pooling up even more below your belly, seeing Vi just eat the fuck out of you. literally.

her hands grip your hips, eyes opening ocasionally to look at you eye to eye and kiss your pussy sweetly. you let out one final, strangled moan, hips twitching, white liquid dripping into her tongue as your head lolls to the side.

she sucks your sweet nectar up, seeing you hold onto the bed frame, smiling at how cute you look when you're tired.

she caresses your ass, kissing your clit a few times before making you hop off her face and lay down on top of her.

"satisfied, pretty girl?"

"yes...."

[mwahbabe]

reverse cowgirl tribbing with vi <3

pairing: vi x fem!reader

mdni, smut, tribbing, TRIBBING!!, reverse cowgirl, top!reader sub!vi, little sprinkle of ass stimulation(r!recieving)

a/n: this position feels so good fuck.

your pussy was dribbling onto vis, a string of arousal connected to her as you moved you hips up and down, back and forth, your ass and pussy on perfect display, back arched perfectly.

you looked back at her, and what you saw made you throb and your cunt flow more wetness. her lips were parted, her eyes pouty as she stared at you, fixated on your form, one of her hands on your ass as you moved, the other one behind her head, she was completely naked, her breasts moving rhythmically as you moved, her abdomen muscles flexing beautifully. she was so gorgeous.

“nngh.. fuck yeah baby.. just like that..” her voice was strained, her breathing laboured. “yeah, right on my clit, right- there.” she had to suck in a breath mid sentence as you backed it up on her clit creating the perfect friction. you took pride in the fact that you reduced someone so strong and someone who had taken down men twice, three times her size, and now she was reduced to a mess under you, her pussy slick and her clit throbbing against yours. your cunt gliding across hers, god you two were so wet both of your juices was dribbling down her ass onto the sheets.

“ah yeah..” you breathed as you kept your eyes on her, moving your hips, vis hand traveled up your spine and back down again, half guiding you.

“so fuckin perfect, love you like this..” she said thorough gritted teeth. “c’mon.. just a little more princess.”

with that, you began to sped up, now bouncing on her clit, making sure to get the perfect angle, vi gave a louder shaky moan at the change in pace, her hand stayed on your ass, her thumb slyly circling your asshole. the added stimulation was welcomed, you moved your hand to grip her calf muscle, your moans getting more higher in octave and more frequent. “fuu-uck ye-es..” her moans broken as you moved faster, “m’gonna fuckin cum.. ” “uh huh…” you coaxed “agh!” her head whipped back, her eyes squeezed shut, before she looked back up, trying her best to keep her eyes on you. “fuck.. fuck.. ah shit–!” with that final cry, vis cunt clenched around nothing, her walls pulsing and white creamy fluid leaking from her hole.

her orgasming made you follow straight after, both of your pretty moans filling the room as you came hard on her pussy, still bouncing on her chasing that high. “yes yes … fuck..” you babbled, after your moans die down and the intensity wears off you ride it out to the end, still rolling your hips drawing more moans from her.

“mmmh..” you hum, before wiping the sweat from your forehead and turning your body around, your legs a bit unsteady. you admired the mess you two had made. both your pussys shiny and slick with cum and arousal. vi finally got her bearings, flinching a little from sensitivity as you crawl on her, your knee bumping into her clit softly.

“shit princess… ” her hand came up to caress your back as you lay on her upwards now. “good job baby. you did so fuckin good.” you smile at the praise, feeling all warm inside. partly from your cum still leaking from your pussy.

as you snuggled, your leg was draped over her hip, you two enjoying the afterglow before getting cleaned up, vis sneaky hand moved down your back and then past your lower back and settled between your asscheeks, her fingers rubbed at your pussy, “mm.. round two?” you giggle. “and three.” she murmured against your ear, “and four.” you moaned between giggles as her fingers trace around your hole, “c’mere princess. can’t get enough of this perfect fuckin pussy.”

[meenaxskz]

when the bed gave up on life (maknae line)

ot8 reactions | bf!skz x reader au genre: crack | light smut warnings: language | suggestive content hyung line | ✧ maknae line

han

He had you face down, ass up, back arched perfectly. You’re screaming. He’s moaning. The mattress is fighting for its life. “Fuckfuck-you’re so good,” he gasps, hair sticking to his forehead. He grabs your hips and snaps his hips forward. “You feel like-like-ugh, fuck, baby-” CREAACKK. SNAP. THUD. The entire bottom half of the bed collapses. Your stomach hits the mattress, knees slide off the edge, and Jisung goes down dramatically. Silence. Then: “…BABE?!” You gasp “DID WE JUST-” He flails from behind you. “OH MY GOD I THINK WE BROKE THE FUCKING BED!" "YOU THINK ?!" He scrambles off you, tripping over a pillow "are you okay?! Did I kill your knee?! Did I paralyze you?!" You rub your bruised hip but also you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe. “I think my spine just spoke Latin.” He sighs and sits up dramatically, sheets tangled around his waist looking like a depressed roman emperor. “THIS BED HAS JEALOUSY ENERGY. SHE COULDN’T HANDLE OUR LOVE.” “...I can’t believe we just broke a bed mid sex.” “I can. We were too powerful. It was me. I did that. With dick.” "Please shut up forever" --- You crawl off the wreckage. He flops back down like he’s in mourning. “You good?” you ask “I just need to lie here. Think about what I had. What I lost. What I could’ve finished.” “Babe. We’re naked on a diagonal mattress.” “I’M A CASUALTY OF PASSION”

felix

You’re on top, hips rolling slow, breath warm against his neck. Felix is gripping your waist, voice already wrecked. “Just like that, angel... fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes, lips brushing your collarbone. You moan softly, head spinning, thighs starting to shake. He pants, “You’re making me crazy... keep going, don’t stop-” CREEEAAKK. CRACK. SNAP. The mattress tilts. You both slide—fully connected—into the corner of the bed frame. Felix lets out the most Australian panic gasp of his life “OH-OH MY GOD” “WHAT JUST-” The bed’s gone. It’s gone. The leg’s bent inward like it lost a fight. A screw rolls past your hand like an insult. Felix blinks up at you, still pinned underneath. Wide eyed. Dazed. “…Did we just... break the bed?” You nod slowly, dazed. “Yeah. Yeah we did.” He covers his face with both hands. “I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE ROMANTIC.” You laugh. “We were LITERALLY just grinding. How did we collapse it?!” “I DON’T KNOW BABY, I’M SMALL. I DIDN’T THINK I HAD THAT IN ME.” He sits up carefully, looking around at the wreckage.. Then he immediately cups your face. “Are you okay?? Did I squish you?? Do you need ice?? Or a hug?? Or like… a new mattress??” You’re cry laughing. “Felix your face-” “I THOUGHT I WAS BEING SOFT.” “You were being something.” He buries his face in your chest. “I’m going to cry.” --- Later, you’re lying on the now-floor mattress, still tangled. He looks at you, blushing “Do we… tell the others?” “No. We lie.” Felix sighs. “Okay. But if they find screws, I’m blaming your thighs.” You raise a brow. “My thighs?!” “YES. You were squeezing. You were strong. I was just an innocent man in love.”

seungmin

“You’re moving too much.” “I’m literally on top of you.” “I know. You’re riding me like I owe you rent and this bed was made in 2018.” You roll your eyes and grind harder. Seungmin groans, arms behind his head, jaw clenched. “Shit—okay—fine—do what you want—just don’t blame me when we die.” The mattress creaks. Wobbles. You’re bouncing now, thighs burning, hair clinging to your forehead. Seungmin’s watching you with that look... half-lidded, breathless, deeply unimpressed by how much he's enjoying this. “God you’re insane” he mutters. “You’re gonna send me to church.” “Shut up and tak—” CREEAAKK SNAP. FULL. BED. COLLAPSE. The right side caves in like karma. The mattress slants violently. You fall forward. He slides sideways. He grunts. You shriek. THUD. Silence. Then Seungmin blinks up at the ceiling, deadpan “…Did we just break the bed?” You groan into his chest. “Technically, the bed broke itself...” “Oh my god. Oh my god. I told you!” You roll off of him, breathless and “You’re fine.” “I told you it was weak.” “You were also moaning like I reinvented sex” He points at you, still half-buried in the sheets. “I can multitask.” Later, you’re both lying on the sideways mattress like it’s a sinking ship. Seungmin sips water, glaring at the broken frame. “This is why we can’t have nice things.” You grin. “You mean why you can’t handle this ass.” He snorts. “This ass took us to home depot levels of damage.”

I.N

He’s beneath you, cheeks flushed, biting his lip as he moans under his breath. “Shit you’re gonna make me black out—” You’re riding him like it’s your life’s mission. Hands on his chest, pace unforgiving. “Don’t be dramatic” you pant. “I’m seeing the edge of the universe. That’s not dramatic. That’s spiritual!” You lean back, bouncing harder. He whimpers. “Okay-okay-you’re doing too much-!” “You like it.” “I like living, too.” CREAK. SNAP. CRASH. You drop like a ragdoll. He slides down with you, legs flailing, head smacking the headboard lightly as the bed frame gives the fuck up. You land on top of him in a pile of limbs and sin. He gasps, completely stunned. “…Did you just break the bed?” You blink. “ME?! I was literally doing what you begged for.” “I said slower. Like three times. You were riding like we had a time limit!” You sit up, scandalized. “You were moaning!” “Because I was terrified. You were ruthless. I thought I was being punished!” You shove his shoulder. “You were gripping my hips like handlebars!” He covers his chest dramatically. “I was hanging on for dear life! You were galloping!” --- Ten minutes later, you glance at the crooked frame. “The bed’s dead.” He sighs, stroking your thigh he’s comforting you through your mess. “I mean… it had a good life. But yeah. You finished it off.” “Stop gaslighting me!” He smirks. “I’m just a poor innocent boy. You, on the other hand... thighs of destruction.”

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

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Cheat Code

ITZY Yuna x Male Reader | 5k words Part 1 out of ? Tags: PWP, Blowjob, Size Kink, Cock Worship, Mutual Horny Chaos, 2nd Person POV, Yuna Is Down Catastrophic

She said glasses and earrings were a cheat code—so you tested it. No big deal. Just an experiment. But the second Yuna opens the door, she short-circuits, and next thing you know, she’s on her knees. I guess it works?

The car is parked in your usual spot, tucked away from the main road where the streetlights don’t quite reach. It’s summer.

The air outside warm enough that the windows are cracked just enough to let the night breeze slip through. Chill R&B hums from the speakers, blending into the comfortable silence between you and Yuna.

Yuna’s lounged back, slides kicked off, feet propped up on the dashboard like she owns the place. Her phone screen flashes in quick bursts as she scrolls TikTok, fingers moving lazily while she sips from her boba. Cropped pink tank, low-rise jeans that hang just right, a couple of delicate rings on her fingers—casual but calculated, effortless, she knows she’s hot and she owns it.

You’re half-watching, half-zoned out, fingers drumming absently against your drink. Not thinking about how good she looks. Or trying not to.

Then she speaks, totally unprompted.

“Glasses and earrings are such a fucking cheat code for guys.”

You blink, slow to process. “…Huh?”

She doesn’t even look up from her phone. “Like, if a dude who’s my type pulls up with that? Whip it out already, I’m on my knees.”

You choke on your boba. Cough, nearly die, and have to thump your own chest to recover. “You’re a slut”

Yuna finally spares you a glance, completely serious. “I’m sooo serious. Glasses? Hot. Earrings? Hot. Together? Killy me now. Instant buff.”

You recover, rubbing your throat. “Any guy?”

She scoffs. “Obviously he has to be cute, I’m not gonna suck off some rando that's ugly and gross.”

You stare at her, a mix of disbelief and amusement creeping in.

Yuna shifts, folding a leg under her and turning fully towards you, sitting up. Her tank top rides up just slightly, exposing a sliver of skin, but you don’t look for too long. She leans in like she’s about to tell you the secrets of the universe. “Like, okay, hear me out.”

You sigh, playing along. “K, I’m listening.”

“The glasses just make the guy look smart, but like, not too smart. Unless he’s a nerd, but you get my point.”

“Suuure.”

“The earrings? Hot. Earrings are just hot. Like, I wear earrings. I’m hot.”

You stare at her, unimpressed. “I don’t get it.”

She waves a hand, exasperated. “Like, hot but not too hot, smart but not too smart. ya get me?.”

You squint. “But what if the guy’s ugly?”

She pauses, then scoffs. “See, that’s where it’s tough, ‘cause the buff only works if you’re already cute, ya know? Or like… almost hot.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You saying some guys are almost hot?”

“Yeah, bro, like some guys just need to hit the gym, dress better, get some earrings.”

You just give her a look, telling her you don’t really get it.

Silence lingers for a beat. Then she shrugs, says it so offhandedly you almost don’t catch it. “Like, you’d actually be hot if you tried.”

Your brain stalls. “…What?”

She doesn’t look up, just sips her boba. “You heard me.”

You’re still blinking. “No, repeat that.”

A slow, shit-eating grin spreads across her face. “Nope.”

“That felt personal.”

“It wasn’t. But if you feel attacked…”

You scoff, sitting up slightly. “I literally gym, and you gotta admit I dress nice.”

She finally looks at you, eyes dragging over your plain black tee and gray sweats, unimpressed.

You gesture vaguely. “When I go out.”

She snorts, shaking her head but doesn't disagree. “Yeah, aight.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re basically saying I would be hot if I wasn’t ugly.”

Another shrug. “That’s not what I’m saying, but if that’s what you’re hearing…”

You laugh it off, shake your head, shift the conversation elsewhere. But Yuna? She sits with it, lets the words settle.

The idea is planted.

She doesn’t bring it up again, but it lingers. Her gaze flickers to you when you’re not looking, her teeth pressing lightly into her bottom lip like she’s trying not to think too hard about it. Then, just as quickly, she shakes it off, scrolling her phone with a little too much focus.

A week later…

The drive to Yuna’s place feels normal—same streets, same turn signals, same playlist humming low through your speakers. But today? Today’s different. Today, you’re running a test.

You grip the wheel with one hand, glancing at yourself in the rearview mirror. Glasses on. You always needed them, just never wore them. Now? Gentle Monster frames, clean, sharp. A flex, but a subtle one.

Earrings? Left ear—a small silver star stud. Right ear—a tiny dagger earring. A balance of soft and sharp. Like you weren’t thinking about it, but also? You were.

Your fit? Casual but intentional.

Black compression shirt, snug and sculpting but not obnoxious. Grey wide-leg sweats, laid-back and effortless. Fresh kicks, spotless with no creases.

It’s intentional, but not try-hard. Like you just threw shit on, but somehow, everything fell into place.

You exhale, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel.

Let’s see if she notices.

You knock. A shuffle of footsteps inside. The door swings open.

Yuna stands there, the striped pajama set hugging her tiny waist, sitting snug on her hips, showing just enough skin to be lethal. The fabric stretches over her curves, hinting at the toned stomach underneath, the kind of body that looks soft but still tight in all the right places.

Her red hair falls in messy waves, catching hallway light like she planned the whole damn lighting setup. Even "just hanging at home," her skin glows with that I-woke-up-like-this perfection you know for a fact takes at least three serums to achieve. Light makeup—because of course she wouldn't be completely bare-faced—just enough to make her eyes wider, her lips fuller, slightly glossed and parted in what starts as a greeting but dies somewhere in her throat.

She was expecting movie night. Takeout containers. Stupid debates about whether pineapple belongs on pizza. The usual safe routine.

Instead, she gets you. Version 2.0.

Her entire body freezes. Processing.

Her eyes make a deliberate journey: glasses, earrings—that small hesitation when she notices they're mismatched—down to how your shirt remembers every gym session you've been putting in, lingering just a beat too long where your sweats hang low, then back up to your face with the slow-dawning realization that you've weaponized her own words against her.

She straight-up blue-screens.

Her weight shifts subtly, thighs pressing together like she's trying to create pressure where she suddenly needs it. Her fingers flex at her sides, curling then uncurling like she's physically restraining herself. The sharp inhale is audible—chest rising, lips parting before she catches herself. A full system restart happening in real time.

"What. The. Fuck." It comes out flat, almost accusatory, like you've committed a personal offense.

You can't help the smirk. "What?"

Yuna's eyes narrow, flicking to your earrings again with something dangerously close to hatred—not for the accessories, but for how effectively you've played her. Her jaw works, tension visible as she grinds her teeth. The mental battle is written across her face: pride versus want, restraint versus impulse.

"You're a fucking bitch," she mutters, the words carrying more heat than venom.

Your grin widens, victory sweet on your tongue. "Hmm? Didn't catch that."

No verbal response. Just the sudden, almost violent way her fingers hook into your shirt, yanking you inside before kicking the door shut with enough force to rattle the frame.

Her grip on your wrist is tight—too tight to be casual, not tight enough to hurt. She pulls you down the familiar hallway, the same path you've walked a hundred times before, except now your heart hammers against your ribs like it's trying to escape. This isn't movie-night Yuna leading you to her bedroom to argue about Netflix choices. This is something else entirely.

The words barely form in your mouth before your back hits her mattress, the air rushing from your lungs in a soft "oof." Suddenly everything is different. Same room—same fairy lights strung across her headboard, same pile of clothes heaped on her desk chair, same vague scent of vanilla and something distinctly her—but the air feels electrically charged, dense with potential.

She climbs onto you with feline precision, one knee planted on either side of your thighs, lowering herself with a deliberate slowness that borders on torture. The weight of her settles against you—warm, solid, undeniable. The smirk playing at her lips is both challenge and promise, a silent I told you so mixed with you're going to regret this in the best way possible.

And just like that, the tables turn.

Your earlier confidence dissolves under her gaze. Your breath catches as she studies you like a meal she's about to devour, eyes dragging from your face to your throat, lingering on the pulse point there before traveling lower to where your shirt has ridden up to expose a strip of skin.

Pure instinct drives your hands to her hips, fingers just grazing the warm skin exposed between her top and pajama bottoms—but before you can get a proper grip, she's caught your wrists. One fluid motion and your arms are pinned against the wall above your head, chest exposed, completely at her mercy. Her nails dig just enough into your skin to send a shiver racing down your spine, a silent warning that makes your pulse spike.

"Yuna—" Her name escapes as a whine, embarrassingly breathless.

"Did I say you could touch?" The edge in her voice is new—commanding in a way that makes heat pool low in your stomach.

She leans in close again and you flinch slightly, turning your head, caught off-balance by this sudden shift in dynamic. The predatory smile that spreads across her face tells you exactly what you need to know:

You might have started this game, but she's the one who's going to finish it.

Her grip tightens. "What? You getting nervous?"

And you are. Because you don’t know what she’s gonna do next. Because your hands are pinned down, because she’s taking her time, because she’s in complete control.

"Too late." Her voice is soft as her fingers catch your jaw before you can answer—firm, controlling. She lets it hang there, the weight of her words sinking in before she tilts your face up like she’s testing the weight of you in her hands, deciding whether she wants to break you apart or take her time savoring it.

She doesn’t kiss you yet. Just hovers. Close enough that you can feel her breath—warm, teasing, curling over your lips. Close enough that you can smell her—sweet, like strawberries, something feminine and bright, but dark underneath. Something heady. Something that lingers.

"What..." It slips out soft, almost breathless, escaping before you even realize. You're already leaning in—just slightly, just enough to chase the warmth of her mouth, the phantom touch of lips that still haven’t pressed against yours.

She grins. Pulls back just enough to make you ache for it. Watching, waiting. Letting the moment stretch, letting you need.

Then she finally kisses you—hungry, consuming, impossible to escape. Her lips move like she’s starving, like she’s been waiting for this, for you.

Her hands roam without hesitation, clawing at your shirt, nails scratching lightly before pressing harder, groping, gripping, taking. She grinds down, pressing herself closer, hot, desperate, soaked through.

Her tongue slides against yours, deep, messy, filthy. She tastes like strawberries and something warmer, something intoxicating. She bites your bottom lip, sucking it between her teeth before letting go, leaving you breathless, dizzy.

You manage to get half a word out—something cocky, something desperate—but she just presses her thumb over your lips, silencing you effortlessly. "Shh."

Her smirk is wicked, teasing. "Did I tell you to talk?"

One last kiss—hard, bruising—claiming—before she finally pulls back, pupils blown wide, breath heavy, hot against your lips. Still teasing, still in control.

Her eyes flicker, dark and sharp. She lets the silence stretch, lets you squirm just a little before tilting her head, smirking. And then, finally—

“Whip it out when I tell you to.”

She shifts back, slow and deliberate, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. Legs crossed, arms folded, head tilted slightly—waiting.

“Shirt off.”

You hesitate. Her expression doesn’t change. Just one perfectly raised eyebrow.

You exhale, dragging the fabric over your head, the fabric peeling away from your skin, leaving a fleeting chill before the heat of the room settles over you. The shift makes your muscles tense briefly, instinctively flexing, your lean frame now fully exposed. She doesn’t say anything at first—just watches. Eyes dragging down, slower than usual. She’s seen you shirtless before—at the beach, when you work out together—but this feels... different. More deliberate. More assessing. Like she’s realizing something she hadn’t let herself think about before.

Her fingertips trail over your chest, nails scraping lightly as they move down. Her breathing shifts. Not a full pause, but a subtle inhale, like she’s registering something new.

She barely skims your waistband before stopping. Lips part, but no words come out. Just a beat of silence, her fingers still resting against your skin.

Then, just as quickly, she shakes it off. Moves like she never hesitated. “Pants too.”

You move to pull them down, and her hand shoots out, gripping the fabric at your waist. Stopping you. Holding you there.

She tilts her head. Smirks. “Hmm, one sec.”

She leans down, lips trailing from your chest to your abdomen, slow and deliberate, each press of her mouth sending heat curling low in your stomach. Lower. Lower. Until she’s hovering over your bulge, her breath warm against the fabric, her smirk returning as she glances up at you—waiting, teasing.

“Whip it out.”

You follow her command, fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweats and boxers at the same time. You push them down in one slow motion, the fabric dragging over your hips, your thighs, until they pool around your ankles. The cool air hits first, sending a shiver down your spine, your skin prickling in contrast to the heat of her stare. You kick them off, tossing them aside without a second thought.

Your cock, already stiff, springs free, swaying slightly before settling upright.

You expect some kind of reaction, a smirk, a comment, something. But she just sits there. Silent. Taking you in. Making you wait.

Then, the shift.

Her jaw tightens. Barely. Just enough to notice. Her fingers twitch, like she’s resisting the instinct to reach for you. A single exhale slips out—soft, sharp, involuntary.

“...Hah.”

Her thighs press together.

She blinks once, slow, expression still unreadable before she scoffs, voice flat. "You're joking."

It’s not a question. Not disbelief. It’s irritation. Like she’s pissed off that she’s this affected.

Then, before she even registers it, her hand is on you.

Her fingers wrap around the base, testing the weight. Thumb pressing into the ridge, sliding down, measuring. Her grip is firm, not teasing, not soft. Calculating. Then, she swipes her thumb over the tip, smearing the bead of precum across the sensitive skin.

The slick warmth sends a sharp jolt through you, your stomach clenching at the sudden stimulation. A shudder rolls down your spine, hips jerking just slightly—instinctual, involuntary. She hums at the reaction, amused, dragging her thumb back over the head, slower this time, watching you twitch beneath her touch.

"...You’ve been walking around with this the whole time?"

One slow stroke. Deliberate. Frustrated. Her breath hitches for half a second before she exhales through her nose, sharp and controlled. She’s working through something.

Then she moves.

Slow, deliberate, sinking down until her face is level with your cock. She spreads her knees wider, arching her back instinctively, ass lifting behind her as she dips her head down. The motion is fluid, effortless, like she’s done this a hundred times before—but not with you.

Her breath fans over the head, warm, teasing, and fuck, she’s gorgeous. But the way she’s looking at you? The way her lashes flutter as she drags her gaze from the base to the tip, the way her lips part slightly like she’s thinking about something she shouldn’t? Filthy.

Your fingers twitch against the sheets, aching to touch her. To run through her hair, trace over her cheek, press against the plush curve of her lips. But you don’t. You know better.

She tilts her head, lining it up. Comparing.

Her fingers tighten around the base, giving an experimental squeeze, jaw tensing slightly like she’s still processing the math of it all.

She hums, amused. Like she just confirmed something. Her eyes drag from your cock to your frame, mapping out the proportions. She’s smaller, you’re lean, cut where it matters. Her fingers tighten around your thigh—just slightly.

She exhales slow, shaking her head. Testing her own reaction.

“It’s almost annoying.”

A sharp squeeze at the base, like she’s making peace with it.

"You're just big enough to be fucking perfect."

She looks up at you, doesn’t blink. Holds your gaze like she’s daring you to move.

"Look at me."

You do. Try to. But the intensity of her gaze is too much, hungry, piercing, hot. Like she’s devouring every inch of you without even touching. Your body reacts before you can stop it. It’s overwhelming. Too much. You instinctively try to escape it, tilting your head back, but she doesn’t let you.

Her other hand catches your chin, dragging you back down to her. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

Your breath shudders. You swallow hard. She notices. Smirks.

Then—she stops.

She knows exactly what she’s about to do. And she wants you to watch.

Lifting her arms, she gathers up all her hair, twisting it tight, securing it with practiced ease. It’s a ritual, a performance, because she knows you’re looking. And she likes it.

The movement stretches her out, making you take in everything—the pull of her arms, the soft dip of her waist, the sleek curve of her long torso. Cinched. Compact. Fucking perfect. Her neck, her collarbones, the bare skin of her armpits exposed for a fleeting second, all of it framed just for you.

"Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking hot." Your voice slips past you.

She pauses, just for a second. A slow, knowing smirk on her lips as she glances at you.

"I know."

Your fingers twitch, instinct taking over—you reach down, wanting to stroke yourself to the sight of her.

Sharp slap.

Your hand jerks away, stinging. Her eyes flicker up, challenging. Smirking.

"I already told you—keep your hands to yourself."

Then—she leans back down, the same position, same arch. She dips her head low. Her lips purse, and before you can register it, a thick glob of warm saliva drips from her mouth, landing perfectly against the tip. She watches it spread, her thumb smearing it across the sensitive skin, coating you in wet heat before she strokes again—long, slow, deliberate.

She looks up, eyes locking onto yours, smirking like she already knows she's won. "Now sit back and let me enjoy myself."

Then—she sinks lower.

Her red hair spills over your stomach, strands brushing against your skin as she angles herself just right. The dim light catches on the messy waves, glowing warm, wild, untamed. She looks up at you through thick lashes, half-lidded, pupils blown wide, mouth parted just enough to tease you with the heat of her breath.

She’s so fucking close.

But this isn’t about you.

Her fingers wrap around the base, a slow, possessive squeeze, more for herself than for you. She exhales, lips barely parted, watching, taking you in. Her tongue swipes over her own bottom lip as if contemplating a meal she’s about to devour.

Then—she goes for it.

Heat. Wet. The first slide past her lips is tight, hot, an impossible contrast of softness and pressure. Her mouth stretches, lips plush and slick, sealing around you with a perfect, obscene suction. The wet heat of her tongue presses firm against the underside, dragging against every ridge, every pulsing inch, like she’s mapping you out with her mouth. The pressure of her cheeks hollowing pulls a groan straight from your chest before you can bite it back.

It's not careful, not teasing—hungry.

Her nails dig into your thigh as she sinks deeper, her own body reacting, thighs pressing together, chasing the heat curling in her own gut.

She doesn’t slow. Doesn’t drag it out like a game. She’s working herself up with every motion, letting herself indulge.

Another moan, this one softer, needier, and fuck, she’s enjoying this. Her tongue presses against the underside, massaging every inch she swallows. She pulls back, spit slick and glistening, gasping softly before diving back in, sucking harder, deeper.

She flicks her gaze up—not to check on you, but to see how much more she can take.

The wet pop when she pulls off is obscene, spit stretching between her lips and your cock before snapping apart. But she doesn’t wipe it away—you can tell, she likes the mess.

She tilts her head, gaze flicking up to yours, breathless, her lips curling into something between a smirk and frustration.

"Fuck, you taste so good." She mutters, voice wrecked, annoyed at how much she’s into this.

You start to smirk, breath hitching as you mutter, "Damn, you really know how to—"

But you don't get the chance.

She takes you deep mid-word, zero hesitation, lips stretching, throat tightening as she swallows you down in one sudden, slick motion. The shock rips a strangled sound from your throat, something between a gasp and a groan, because fuck, that was unexpected.

It's warm, so fucking tight, her throat flexing around you as she forces herself deeper, nose pressing flush against your groin. The wet grip of her throat clenching around the tip sends heat jolting up your spine, and when she pulls back—slow, torturous—a thick string of spit clings between her lips and your cock, stretching, breaking, dripping down onto her own chin. She watches you, gaze locked, eyes dark, sharp, daring you.

"You talk too much. And I haven't told you to open your mouth."

Her voice is wrecked, breathless, but smug as hell. She grips the base, firm, controlling, and slaps the head against her lips, wet and filthy, smearing spit and precum across them before taking you back in without hesitation—deeper, tighter, longer.

Your thighs tense. Your breath stutters. Toes curl, heat pooling low in your stomach, a wildfire spreading through your limbs. Your hands clench into the sheets because if you touch her now, you're done for.

She hums around you, low, vibrating, because she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

Then she pulls back, spit-slick and glistening, pausing just long enough for you to feel the absence, to make you ache for it.

You think she’s about to go back in, your breath catches—but she lingers, gaze flicking up, owning the moment, letting the tension coil tighter. Then, slowly, she slaps your cock against her lips once more, her own breath shuddering like she’s just as caught up in this as you are. But this isn’t for you—it’s for her.

She dips lower, tongue dragging down your length, lips wrapping around one ball, sucking slow, wet, indulgent. She pauses for a second, breathing heavy, swallowing like she’s processing how good it tastes, how much she’s enjoying it.

Then she makes a sound—a frustrated groan, muffled, needy, like she’s annoyed by just how good you are in her mouth. Her hand never stops moving, stroking you in time with every pull of her mouth. Then the next, her tongue rolling over the sensitive skin, a soft moan escaping her, sending a jolt straight through your core.

She licks a line back up your shaft, slow, messy, like she’s savoring the weight of you on her tongue.

Your hands twitch against the sheets, fists clenched tight, every muscle in your body strung too fucking tight, resisting the urge to grab her. She notices. She loves it.

She pulls off completely, spit pooling down her chin, tilts her head up at you, lips parted, swollen, smirking.

"Hold my hair up."

Your breath shakes as you comply, fingers threading into her red waves, feeling the silkiness as they slide between your knuckles. You gather them slowly, watching the way they shine under the dim light, then bunch them up tight, pulling them together like a ponytail, holding firm.

She exhales slow, eyes flickering shut for half a second like she’s steeling herself. Then, she looks up at you—hungry, determined.

"Good. Now don’t let go."

The moment you tighten your grip, she moans, low and wrecked, like it’s fueling her. Like she’s been waiting for this.

She takes you back in. 

In one go.

There’s no hesitation now. No more teasing. Just her fucking her mouth on you, using your cock like a toy for her own oral fixation.

She goes messy, abrupt, taking you deep with zero breaks, her hands working in sync—one stroking your shaft, the other massaging your balls, slick with spit, wet, filthy, relentless.

She gags. Chokes. Sputters saliva down her chin, but she doesn’t stop—she loves this.

Each time she sinks down, she stays longer, testing her limits, forcing herself deeper, moaning around you, the vibrations traveling straight through your spine. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

She pulls off with a wet, deep, gasp, sucking in air, but her hands never stop moving—stroking, twisting, milking you even as she gasps for breath.

“Shit,” she pants, her voice wrecked, her lips swollen, glistening with spit.

Her grip tightens, both hands now working together, slick and dripping, saliva coating every inch. She strokes faster, twisting her wrists, making a fucking mess of you, her mouth hovering just inches away, lips parted, panting.

Your whole body is tight, legs folding in slightly, toes curling, arms flexing involuntarily around the grip in her hair. The pleasure is too much, too fucking good, overwhelming, and if she wasn’t in complete control, you’d be thrusting up into her mouth, chasing the heat, the pressure. But she’s already forcing herself deep, hitting the back of her throat for you. No, for herself, taking what she wants.

Your grip on her hair loosens.

She notices.

She fucking notices.

Her lashes flutter up, eyes glazed, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed—completely cock-drunk—and she lets out the softest, filthiest little whine, like she doesn’t want you to stop her. Like she needs this. More of this.

Your fingers clench, regaining control, and you hold her still.

Her moan shatters through you.

It’s wrecked, vibrating along your length as she hollows her cheeks again and sucks. Hard.

And then—she goes feral.

She spits again, a thick glob dripping onto the head, smearing it in with her tongue before slapping your cock against her lips, her cheek, the curve of her jaw. Then she leans in, sucking and slurping her own saliva back up from your cock and groin, her tongue dragging slow and deliberate—only to sputter it back down again, wetter, filthier.

The slick warmth trickles lower, dripping under your balls, pooling there as her fingers smear it across your skin like she never wants to waste a single drop. She’s moaning the entire time, whimpering under her breath, her own body tensing, thighs pressing together, like she’s getting off on the sheer act of ruining herself.

Her tongue flicks out, lapping at the sensitive tip before flattening against it, rubbing it against her slick, spit-drenched muscle like she wants to taste every inch.

Her hand never stops moving—stroking, twisting, pumping, both hands working together now, slick and dripping, her fingers sliding with ease from how fucking wet everything is.

She’s not thinking anymore.

She’s just moving, sucking, licking, moaning, lost in it. She’s devouring you.

She sinks back down, deeper, until she’s gagging again, nose flush, throat spasming. She pulls off just to spit again, rubs her own mess into your shaft with both hands before swallowing you back down like she missed it.

She stays down longer each time.

Testing her limits. Pushing past them. Letting them break.

She pulls off with a wrecked gasp, drool dripping off her chin, her hands still stroking you frantically, like she can’t stop. Like she won’t stop.

“Fuck—” Her voice is raw, strained, needy. Her lips glisten, her cheeks are damp with spit, ruined.

Next, she slaps your cock against her tongue again, holding it there, eyes locked on yours, lips parted, panting.

Waiting.

Wanting.

She flicks her tongue once. Then again.

Your whole body tenses, a choked moan ripping out of your throat before you can swallow it down. She notices instantly, smirking, lips flushed and glistening.

"Gonna cum for me?" Her voice is low, wrecked, teasing. "Gonna fill up my mouth?"

She doesn’t give you a chance to answer. She’s back down, and you know it wont be long.

She sinks down, deeper than before—deeper than you thought she could go.

Her throat tightens, a hot, slick vice around you, lips stretched wide, nose flush against your skin. She stays there, like she’s proving something, forcing herself to take it all.

Your body shakes. A helpless, broken noise tears from your throat, your fingers twisting tighter in her hair. Your entire body is locked up, muscles taut, overwhelmed, unable to do anything but take what she’s giving you.

She swallows around you—tight, pulsing—milking you. The suction drives you insane, your mind foggy with nothing but her heat, her wetness, the way she’s owning you with her mouth. Your stomach clenches, your toes curl, thighs shaking. The heat in your gut is unbearable, climbing too fast, too much—

And then—she pulls off.

Not all the way. Just enough to drag her lips, tongue, teeth back up, slow, deliberate, before sinking back down just as deep.

She does it again.

Slow. Controlled. Absolutely ruining you.

Her hands are still working—one stroking your length, the other massaging your balls, her slick fingers pressing, squeezing, keeping you so fucking close but not letting you fall.

This time, she pulls off completely.

Your cock twitches in the open air, aching, drenched in her spit, glistening under the dim light. The sudden absence is unbearable, like she just took the world’s best heat away from you.

And then—she stops everything.

Her grip loosens. Her mouth lingers inches away.

Nothing.

You make a noise—desperate, strained. Your fingers clench, stomach tight, chest rising too fast.

She tilts her head, mocking, daring, teasing. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

"Say it."

Your breath stutters. She’s watching you unravel, watching you need.

You hesitate.

Her fingers go completely still.

The absence is unbearable. The loss of heat, friction, her—everything.

She waits. Just waits.

Eyes locked on you, lips parted, not moving until she hears what she wants.

“You wanna cum or not?”

Her voice is wrecked, low, filthy—and so fucking amused. Like she already knows.

Your jaw locks, but your body betrays you.

“Yuna, please—I'm so close” It rips out of you, barely a whisper, shaky, ruined.

Her eyes spark. She grins.

She giggles. It’s horny, evil, delighted.

And with that, she dives back in.

Messy. Unforgiving.

Her mouth works you over, fast, relentless, sucking hard like she’s dragging the orgasm out of you. Her cheeks hollow, tongue pressing firm, head bobbing fast, sloppy, wrecking you.

Her hands won’t stop moving—both of them now, stroking, twisting, pumping, slick and filthy, drenched in her spit.

She pulls off just to spit directly onto your tip, spreading it with her tongue, letting the mess drip down your shaft, pooling at your base.

She goes back down, faster, tongue swirling, throat flexing, each motion more desperate, more demanding. The sounds she’s making—filthy, obscene, completely unashamed.

You can’t stop it.

Your hips jerk, thighs flex, toes curl, fingers pull tight in her hair.

And then—your whole body locks up.

It hits like lightning, brutal, full-body, overwhelming.

You moan—loud, wrecked, shaking.

She pulls off at the last second, her tongue stretched out, eyes locked on you, stroking you fast as you cum hard all over her tongue and inside her mouth.

Spurts of thick white streak across her tongue, her lips, pooling where she wants it.

She stays there, mouth open, holding it, letting you see it.

Then—she closes her mouth and swallows.

A loud, filthy gulp.

Like she was made for this.

She stays between your legs a moment longer, tongue flicking slow, deliberate, dragging over every inch of sensitive skin as she cleans you up, savoring it. Her lips press one last time to the tip, a lazy, lingering kiss, before she finally—finally—pulls away, her breath still hot and damp against your stomach.

She doesn’t hurry.

She stretches, rolling her shoulders like she just wrapped up a workout, sighing like she’s completely satisfied, her fingers pressing briefly into your thighs as she pushes herself up. She moves like she owns the space, like she just conquered something.

Without another word, she crawls up towards you. One hand grabs your chin, tilting your face up, making sure you’re looking at her.

She’s still wrecked, ruined—her lips glossy, chin damp, pupils dark and dripping with smug satisfaction.

"You're never taking those glasses off again."

Her other hand moves, fingers slipping up to the bridge of your glasses, pushing them back into place with the laziest, most condescending adjustment.

Like she just did fucking community service.

You’re still panting, your limbs heavy, your chest still rising too fast. And yet—a realization grips you.

You just unleashed something.

Something feral. Something dangerous.

She grins, tilting her head like she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

And then—she giggles.

That same horny, delighted, evil little giggle from before.

Like she’s already thinking about the next time she ruins you.

End.

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

AN: Finally got through this one and can check it off. I'm currently starting a new piece, one of my longer ones so it might be a while until its posted. Ill try my best to fill the next few days with more shorter moments like this one, but I really wanna focus on my longer fics with more depth. As always, room for part 2 with this.

[thedreamingdevil]

Incest smut with Jeon Somi please! 🙏😭 Write whatever with her, I don't mind! She lacks smut around here 🥲

Don't Get Drunk

Jeon Somi × Male Reader (6,082 words)

Author's note: Sorry for being MIA! The new year has been a bit wild. I got a little too greedy and wanted to write all my ideas at once, but then I ended up not finishing anything. Lesson learned, right? I’m aiming to post one smut piece every two weeks from now on, so wish me luck! Also, my first non-Dreamcatcher smut, woo!

The dim glow of your television paints the walls of your living room in shifting shades of blue as you lose yourself in the hardcore porn playing loudly on screen. Your hand traces the thick veins throbbing beneath the skin of your cock. Each stroke sends a pleasurable jolt through you as you watch the bodies writhe and moan.

Boxers are all you bother with tonight, the cool air raising goosebumps on your bare chest, a stark contrast to the heat building in your groin. You're completely engrossed, riding the edge of release, when a jarring buzz cuts through the porn’s soundtrack. Annoyance flares instantly, a tight knot in your stomach pulling you from the brink of pleasure.

You glance at your phone screen, the bright numbers mocking you: 12:37 AM. Who the hell is ringing your doorbell at this ungodly hour? It’s Saturday night, for fuck’s sake, people are supposed to be out partying, not bothering you in your sanctuary of solitude and self-love.

Before you can fully register your irritation, the doorbell bleats again, a longer, more insistent sound this time, as if the person on the other side is determined to get your attention. With a frustrated click of your tongue, you reluctantly pull your boxers up, the soft fabric momentarily trapping your still-hard dick.

The buzz resonates again, now bordering on aggressive. Fine, you think, you'll answer it and send whoever it is packing. You stomp to the door, adrenaline mixed with residual horniness making your movements jerky. You yank the door open with more force than necessary, ready to unleash a volley of irritated questions, but the words die on your tongue.

Standing on your doorstep are two women. One, a vibrant shock of pink hair, is supporting the other, who is practically draped over her shoulder. And you recognize them instantly. It's your older sister, Somi, completely plastered, and her eternally bubbly, pink-haired friend, Giselle.

Heat floods your face, a flush of embarrassment. You hadn’t expected visitors, especially not now, especially not in this state, shirtless and still smelling faintly of your own musk. You try to subtly tug your boxers higher, hoping they conceal enough. Giselle, however, just beams at you, her smile wide and bright even in the dim hallway light.

“Hey!” she chirps, her voice slightly breathless from the effort of holding up your taller sister. “Sorry to bother you so late, but well, Somi insisted on coming here.” Giselle’s eyes flick towards you, her smile softening into an apologetic curve. “I offered to let her crash at my place, but she was really set on seeing you.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair and pushing down the lingering mortification. Somi is a mess. Her blonde hair, usually meticulously styled, hangs in tangled clumps around her face. Her white blouse is askew, twisted so far to the side that the lacy edge of her bra is clearly visible, and the swell of her tits threatens to spill out of the neckline with every unsteady breath she takes.

She looks up at you, her eyes unfocused and glassy, and a wide, goofy grin spreads across her face. She slurs your name, her voice thick with alcohol. “You’re the best! Thank you for letting me stay!” She doesn’t even wait for you to agree, just assumes she’s welcome, as always.

Giselle’s voice cuts through Somi’s drunken ramblings, bringing you back to the awkward reality of the situation. “Yeah, sorry about this,” she repeats, her pronunciation softening the words. “I really tried to get her to come to my place, but… yeah, you see how that worked out.” She gestures helplessly at Somi, who is now attempting to hug Giselle's arm, giggling nonsensically.

You manage a small smile. "It's fine," resignation coloring your tone. "I know how stubborn she can be when she's like this." It’s an understatement. Somi sober is headstrong; Somi drunk is a force of nature. With a sigh, you reach out and disentangle Somi from Giselle, taking your sister’s weight onto yourself.

Her soft body pressed against yours, her chest bumping against your bare arm. “Thanks for bringing this blondie here,” you say to Giselle, nodding your head in gratitude. “Want to come in for a bit?”

The offer is half-hearted, because the blaring porn audio suddenly registers in your mind, a pulsing rhythm vibrating through the thinly insulated walls.

Luckily, Giselle shakes her head, her pink hair swaying. “Oh, no, it’s really late,” she says, her smile still warm but tinged with tiredness. “I should probably head home. Just make sure she drinks some water, okay?”

You nod, a silent thank you. You can’t quite tell if Giselle heard the muffled throbbing bass from your apartment, but she’s smiling as usual, so maybe she’s either oblivious or just incredibly polite.

“Goodnight!” she calls out, waving as she turns to walk away, her pink hair bobbing in the dim light. “Goodnight, Somi!”

You close the door, the click echoing in the sudden quiet. Then, you turn your attention to the drunken blonde lump in your arms. Somi instantly latches onto you, clinging like a koala, her arms wrapping around your neck, her soft chest pressing firmly against your arm.

You notice then that her short skirt has ridden even higher throughout the evening’s drunken escapades, now barely covering her thighs. You grunt slightly at her unexpected weight, and half-drag, half-carry her towards the living room, her body limp and pliant against yours.

You dump her unceremoniously onto the stool of the kitchen countertop first, her breathing heavy and shallow. You stare down at her semi-conscious form, a jumble of irritation and something else stirring within you.

From as far back as you can remember, Somi has been a constant source of trouble. Always needing rescuing, always making messes, always relying on you to clean up after her.

You’d foolishly hoped that adulthood would bring some semblance of responsibility, some maturity, but tonight proves that she’s only gotten worse. And it’s always you who has to deal with it.

You’re barely an adult yourself, just out of high school, juggling odd jobs to make ends meet. You can barely afford to feed yourself, let alone constantly bail out your trainwreck of a sister.

But as you look at her now, drunk and vulnerable, a different kind of thought surfaces. Maybe, just maybe, Somi’s perpetual negligence, her constant state of disarray, maybe it could be useful to you in some way.

Your gaze roams over her curvy body, lingering on her glossy parted lips, slightly swollen and wet-looking. It drifts lower, to the generous mound of her breasts, straining against the fabric of her blouse, the nipples hardening against the thin material in the cool air.

Finally, your eyes settle on her exposed thighs, bare and pale beneath the hiked-up skirt. Your own cock, still semi-hard from earlier, stirs inside your boxers, tightening with renewed insistence.

The images from the porn movie on the screen flicker in your peripheral vision, blurring with the real, tempting flesh before you; you older sister. A dangerous, thrilling idea begins to take root in your mind.

Somi slurs her words, leaning heavily against the countertop. "Hey... sorry about all the trouble," she says, her voice low and deep. "But you don't mind, right? Cause we're siblings, after all." She lets out a giggle, a wet, bubbly sound that ends in a snort.

She stumbles further into your apartment, clumsily making her way to the couch like she expects you to scoop her up and carry her, like she is some fat, lazy crocodile ready to be provided endless comfort.

Her breasts, unrestrained by a bra, bounce with each unsteady step, quivering under her thin top as she collapses onto the couch, where she sprawls out, limbs akimbo, like she owns the damn place.

You watch her, a low chuckle rumbling in your chest, the predatory feeling already starting to stir. "Of course, sis," you say, your voice smooth, almost too gentle. "I will take care of my sister."

She grins drunkenly, eyes unfocused and glazed over. "Knew I could count on you," she mumbles, already drifting off, her words blurring together.

You watch her for a moment, the image of her sprawled out on your couch igniting a heat in your groin. Quietly, you push your boxers down, the sound amplified in the still room. You reach inside, your fingers closing around the thick shaft already straining against the fabric.

With a swift motion, you pull them down, freeing your rock-hard cock. It springs out, heavy and throbbing, pulsing with anticipation as you approach the couch, your footsteps silent on the carpet.

Lowering yourself, you position yourself directly in front of her face, your cock level with her slightly parted lips. Without a word, you guide the head of your cock to her mouth, the tip nudging against her wet lips.

Then, with a firm push, you slide your cock inside, the warmth and moisture of her mouth enveloping you. You hiss in pleasure, the sensation electric. Somi moans, a confused sound escaping her throat. Instinctively, she tries to pull her face away, a weak resistance against your forceful advance.

But you're ready. Your hand shoots out, gripping the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in her hair, holding her head firmly in place. You push deeper, inch after inch, forcing more of your length into her mouth. Her tongue, surprisingly, wraps around your shaft, massaging you, a primal, instinctive response even in her drunken stupor.

Somi’s voice is muffled, a garbled protest against your intrusive cock. "Mmmph… no…" she manages to moan against your flesh, her hand weakly pushing against your thigh, a pathetic attempt to dislodge you. Her eyes flutter half-open, unfocused and confused.

But you’re lost in the sensation, the friction of her mouth, the growing pleasure tightening your balls. You hiss again, a sharp intake of breath, as you slide in and out, slowly at first, savoring the feel. Her moans of unconscious protest only fuel your excitement.

You lean closer, "Come on, sis," you whisper, the word dripping with a sick intimacy. "I know you’re a good cocksucker." You shift your grip on her nape, tightening it possessively. "Just suck my cock every day, and then you can stay here as long as you want. You don’t have to hear Dad’s nagging at home anymore."

The proposition hangs in the air, a twisted bargain made in the heat of the lustful moment. Somi's head bobs rhythmically, almost unconsciously. Despite her mumbled protests, her mouth tightens around your cock, her body seemingly overriding her conscious mind.

Her back arches slightly off the couch, a subtle shift in posture that reveals a buried desire. Her legs clamp together, rubbing against each other, a telltale sign of her own arousal, even in this forced encounter.

It's as if her body knows, deep down, that she’s a slut at the core, always ready to submit to pleasure. She starts humming unconsciously, a low vibration against your shaft, and more saliva coats your cock, making each thrust slicker, smoother.

You slide in and out of her mouth, her soft lips wrapping tight, almost pleasurably so, around your girth. Her drunken unconsciousness seems to be turning into something else, something more primal and accepting.

Emboldened by her lack of real resistance and her body's involuntary responses, you become rougher, fucking her face deeper, your thrusts becoming faster and more forceful. Somi gags, a choked sound escaping her throat, her eyes watering slightly.

Her free hand, no longer weakly pushing, now clutches at your balls, a tighter grip, a more desperate attempt to push you away, but even then, she's still sucking, her mouth still working against your cock at the same time.

You feel a surge of dominance. "Fuck," you breathe out, your hand tightening on her neck, ignoring her attempts to push you away. "If my sister treats me like this, I don't even need a girlfriend." The thought, crude and selfish, reinforces your actions, justifying your violation in your own twisted mind.

After a few more slow, deliberate thrusts, you feel yourself reaching the edge. Your pace quickens, your groans growing louder, more animalistic. Then, you explode, cumming right inside her mouth, a thick, hot stream of ejaculate erupting from your cock, flooding her mouth.

It just keeps coming, a long, intense orgasm that lasts for nearly a minute. Somi gulps it all down, her throat working reflexively, despite choking and sputtering for air. Finally, you pull out, your cock slick with her saliva and your cum. Somi coughs, a wet, hacking sound, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, her eyes still hazy and unfocused.

"What the fuck was that?" she slurs, her voice raw and thick. You know she’s still not really sober, her awareness only just starting to flicker back.

You answer with a smirk, your voice light, almost joking, hiding the darkness of your actions. "Giselle said make sure I give you water, sis," you say, watching her confused flushed expression. "But I'm not sure it's quite enough."

The flickering images on the television screen cast an erratic light across the living room, but your attention is far from the movie. It’s fixed on Somi, your sister, sprawled haphazardly on the couch. You’d expected a slurry, indignant argument – the usual performance when she’s this deep into her cups.

Instead, she simply rolled, a slow, ungainly tumble, and landed with a soft thud onto the floor. A light snore rattles from her lips. You scoff, a dry, humorless sound. It's pathetic, really. You try to refocus on the screen, but the vibrant colors and action feel hollow, meaningless against the backdrop of this tableau.

The remote clicks in your hand, plunging the room into near darkness, save for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the window. The silence is thick, broken only by Somi’s shallow breaths. Your gaze drifts back to her prone form. A different kind of heat begins to prickle under your skin. You let your eyes trace the curves of her body, the way her shirt rides up slightly, exposing a sliver of pale skin above her skirt.

Suddenly, the images that flood your mind are no longer scenes from the abandoned porn movie. They are scenarios starring Somi, her body pliant and yielding beneath your touch. The forbidden nature of the fantasy ignites a thrill, a dangerous spark that flares in your gut. You feel your cock stir once again, hardening stubbornly.

It’s a slow, insistent rise, fueled by a cocktail of curiosity and a dark, unsettling desire.

A short, mirthless laugh escapes your lips, echoing in the quiet room. "This is fucked up," you murmur to yourself, the words barely a whisper. And it is. Completely, utterly fucked up. Yet, the thought of stopping, of pulling back from the precipice of this madness, feels…unappealing.

A strange inertia holds you captive. No guilt washes over you, no immediate sense of revulsion. Instead, there's a chilling detachment, a sensation of watching yourself from a distance as you stand and, with a grunt, scoop your sister up from the floor. Her limbs are heavy, limp. You carry her back to the couch, the scent of cheap alcohol and something faintly floral clinging to her.

You lay her on her back, her head lolling to the side. Straddling her waist, you plant one knee deliberately between her thighs, feeling the soft give of her panties. Leaning close, your face inches from her slack-jawed, heaving face, you take a shallow breath, inhaling the boozy air she exhales.

Your hand, almost of its own volition, reaches out and closes over her breast, through the thin cotton of her shirt. You squeeze, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh. They’re soft. Softer than you assume. You knead, fondling the yielding mound, and Somi lets out a small, involuntary moan, a pathetic, muffled sound that vibrates against your fingertips.

Encouraged, or perhaps driven by something darker, you grip the hem of her shirt and tug it upwards, over her head. It’s a clumsy, quick motion, revealing her chest. Her breasts are already spilling over the lace edges of her bra, full and ripe. Without hesitation, you reach behind her and unhook the clasp, the plastic clicking open with a sharp sound in the quiet. The bra falls away, and her breasts, pale and heavy, are fully exposed.

A primal urge takes hold. You begin to play with them, your hands roaming over the smooth skin, groping and pulling, your thumbs circling her nipples, teasing them into hard buds. You repeat the circular motion, again and again, a hypnotic rhythm that feeds the growing tension in your groin.

"Fuck it," you breathe, another dry laugh rasping in your throat. "I can’t believe I’m actually doing this." The absurdity of the situation crashes into you for a fleeting moment.

Memories flicker in your mind – images of childhood games in the backyard, of late-night arguments over shared snacks, of sharing secrets whispered under the covers. Somi, your sister, the girl who used to play with your hair for fun and steal your candy. The contrast is jarring, sickening even. But your body, your treacherous body, has a different agenda.

Ignoring the ghost of shared history, you lean down, your mouth hovering over her smooth skin. With an act of transgression, you latch onto her brown nipple. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. You can’t stop now, not even if you wanted to.

You suck on Somi’s nipple, pulling and teasing, the sensation electrifying, forbidden. You taste her skin, a flavor you can’t quite place, something unfamiliar yet intimately connected to her. It’s salty, definitely salty, probably from sweat and the lingering remnants of her drink. But there’s also a sweetness, a subtle sugary note that plays on your tongue. Or maybe you’re just imagining it, your senses heightened by the illicit nature of this act.

It doesn't matter. Lost in the sensation, you keep sucking, alternating between her left and right breast, your hands massaging and kneading the soft flesh, milking them almost, as if trying to extract every last drop of sensation.

Suddenly, Somi’s hands are on your head. At first, they’re tentative, fluttering weakly against your scalp. But then, her fingers clench, digging into your hair, pulling with a surprising strength. She moans again, louder this time, a drawn-out sound that vibrates in your very bones. Her body begins to writhe beneath you, a subtle shift at first, then more pronounced.

Her legs come up, clamping around your waist, her thighs tightening, a silent, involuntary embrace. Her feet kick against the couch cushions, a restless energy fluttering through her limbs. Noticing the reaction, a flicker of something – triumph, perhaps, or a twisted kind of validation – sparks within you.

"Do you like this, Somi?" you murmur against her breast. "Do you want more?" Her eyelids flutter open, revealing unfocused, glazed eyes. She looks at you, a hint of confusion in her gaze, and then, instead of words, a soft whimper escapes her lips. It’s not a protest, not exactly. It’s something else.

Somi’s scent, a heady mix of alcohol and something uniquely her, urges you onward. You lift your head from her breast and trail kisses down her neck, nibbling and sucking at the soft flesh, feeling the pulse jump beneath your lips. Your hands roam lower, across her soft, slightly rounded tummy, towards her waist. You lift her hips slightly, your fingers finding the curve of her ass beneath her skirt.

The fabric is thin, offering little resistance as you squeeze her firm buttocks, feeling the heat radiate from her skin. This time, the whimper is replaced by something sharper, louder. "Wait, fuck…" she curses, her voice thick with sleep and confusion. "What the… what are you doing?" her voice is laced with a growing alarm.

You ignore Somi’s mumbled question, her words slurring slightly, and your hands tighten their grip on her bare breasts. “What…?” she starts to ask again, but you cut her off, your mouth descending to her stomach. You press kisses across her warm skin, the taste of her faintly sweet, before your tongue dips into her navel.

As you swirl your tongue around its depths, Somi’s back arches off the couch with a sharp groan. “Ahh…!” she protests weakly, a confused sound in her voice.

But beneath the protest, you feel the tremor in her body, the involuntary ripple of her muscles as she writhes against the weird, wet slide of your tongue. Her hands come up to your shoulders, gripping them, not pushing you away, but holding on as her body reacts in ways her words don't seem to understand.

Driven by a mounting excitement, you move your kisses lower, the line of her pelvis coming into focus. "Wait," Somi murmurs, but it’s barely audible. You’re already working on the button of her skirt, fingers fumbling with the clasp in your eagerness. With a snap, it gives way, and you roughly yank the fabric down, bunching it around her thighs, then off her legs completely.

You straighten up, her skirt now discarded on the floor, and you place her legs over your shoulders, spreading them wide. Her breath hitches, and a louder grunt escapes her lips as she instinctively tries to clamp her thighs shut. Her hands, still clumsy, reach down, attempting to shield her clothed pussy. “Stop, just… stop,” she mumbles, but her words are weak, unconvincing.

You slap her hands away from between her legs, the sound echoing in the quiet room, leaving her exposed. “Shhh,” you hush her, your voice low. “Don’t be shy, sis. We’re siblings, remember?” You gesture to the darkening stain spreading across the crotch of her panties. “Besides, you’re drunk. It’s okay. You want this, I know you do.”

You become rougher, your fingers hooking into the elastic waistband of her panties. There’s a sharp ripping sound as you tear the fabric apart, the thin material giving way easily. You pluck away the remaining tattered pieces, tossing them aside, leaving her completely bare. “See?” you say, your voice laced with a predatory satisfaction. “Nothing to hide.”

The scent of Somi’s arousal hits you full force, a heady musk that’s intoxicating, like a potent drug. It compels you, driving you to plunge your face directly into her exposed vulva. Her pussy is slick with her own juices, and the aroma is even stronger up close. You lick from the base of her swollen folds all the way up to her hard, throbbing clitoris, savoring every inch of her.

With each slow, deliberate lap of your tongue, you gulp in her flavor, the salty-sweet tang of her arousal filling your mouth. Somi gasps, her eyes fluttering open, wide and unfocused. A moan escapes her lips, soft at first, then growing louder, more desperate. “Please…” she whispers, her voice breaking, repeating the word again, “Please… please…”

Ignoring her plea, you continue to feast on her, your tongue relentlessly working her clit. You suck on the sensitive bud, drawing it deep into your mouth, slurping up every drop of juice she unknowingly produces. Her erratic moans and groans are music to your ears, confirming you’re doing exactly what her drunk body craves.

Holding her hips firmly in place with one hand, you suck her clit harder, then slide two fingers deep inside her wet pussy, curling them upwards against the sensitive walls. Somi’s back arches even higher, her ass lifting entirely off the couch as if she’s trying to grind herself against your mouth and thrusting fingers.

Her moaning intensifies, becoming higher-pitched, more needy, almost frantic. One hand presses against her stomach, flexing and unflexing, while the other hand clenches the edge of the couch, her knuckles white. Her breathing is ragged pants now, each inhale and exhale shuddering through her.

Lost in the intoxicating taste and feel of her, you barely register the shift until it’s undeniable. Somi grunts, her body tensing, and then a choked-off swear word bursts from her lips. A moment later, her orgasm explodes, her nectar suddenly flooding your mouth in a rush of warm, thick liquid.

You greedily drink as much as you can, slurping up the rest as her body shudders violently, then gradually stills. Her breathing remains heavy, ragged, but the tension slowly drains away. Her eyes are still half-lidded, blinking slowly at the ceiling, unfocused and glazed over.

You sit upright between her legs, pulling her closer until her thighs straddle your waist. Your own cock is throbbingly hard and it twitches insistently right in front of her wet, pink entrance. You chuckle, a low, satisfied sound. “Wow, look at you,” you say, gesturing to the slickness between her legs. “You came hard. Guess you had your fun, huh? Now it’s my turn.”

She slowly looks down at you, her expression still hazy, but then, surprisingly, a giggle bubbles up from her throat. She reaches down and her fingers close around her own breasts, giving them a soft, distracted rub, her eyes still drifting.

You watch as, with a languid movement, she cups her breasts, fingers kneading and teasing, her thumbs circling and flicking over her taut nipples, bringing them to hard peaks. A low moan escaped her lips, mixing with your faint breathing. Then, a shift in posture. She hooks her hands beneath her knees, pulling them abruptly upwards, her thighs parting wide, an unapologetic display. Her legs frame the thin triangle at her core, slick and glistening even presented to you like a forbidden offering.

A laugh bubbles up from your chest. "Holy shit, sis," you manage, your voice a little breathless, a mix of shock. "Are you...are you actually into this right now?" Your older sister’s eyes, heavy-lidded with drink, meet yours, a flicker of something mischievous dancing within their depths. She bites down on her lower lip, a playful tug that accentuates its fullness, and a giggle, soft and throaty, escapes.

"Mmm," she hums, her gaze drifting down your body before returning to your eyes. "You've got a nice cock, you know that?" Her words are slurred but clear, each syllable deliberately laced with invitation. "And I think," her voice dropping to a whisper, "you totally need to put it inside my pussy."

The blatant filth dripping from your sister’s usually prim lips ignites something. A hot rush floods your groin. Without a second thought, your hand clamps around your already hardening shaft, the throbbing vein beneath your fingers pulsing with anticipation. You take a step closer, the couch looming, and you smack your engorged cock against the wet folds of her vulva. The sound is wet and resonant, echoing in the quiet room.

Somi’s breath hitches, a gasp turning into a drawn-out moan as the contact sends jolts of pleasure through her. Her body arches off the couch cushion, her hips bucking instinctively against your hand. The slick pre-cum and her own juices splatter outwards, glistening on her thighs and the velvet of the couch.

"Okay then, sis. I'm gonna fuck you now." You straddle her legs, parting them further with your knees, positioning yourself above her exposed core. With agonizing slowness, you guide the swollen head of your cock to the entrance of her slick, warm pussy, feeling the velvety soft lips part to receive you. Then, in one controlled motion, you push forward, sinking into her depths.

Her breath catches again, a sharp intake that quickly turns into a sigh of pure sensation as you slide deeper, the tight walls of her sheath gripping you like a hot glove. You grip her hips, anchoring her as you begin to move, driving forward with a slow thrust. Somi’s back arches even further, her breasts lifting towards the ceiling, straining against their own weight.

Her head throws forward as she tries to steal a glimpse of your cock disappearing deep inside her stretched pussy. You pause at the deepest point, holding yourself there for a heartbeat, savoring the fullness, the intimate pressure, the feeling of being buried inside her. Pulling back just until the tip is still nestled inside her, you slam forward again, burying yourself to the hilt.

A groan escapes her lips, her sweaty body rippling with the force of the impact, her muscles clenching around you in response. You repeat the rhythm, each thrust deeper and harder than the last, fucking your older sister with a growing urgency, your hands gripping her waist, pulling her towards you, meeting each of your deep, hard thrusts with an equally frantic upward lift of her hips.

Somi’s breasts bounce wildly, swaying up and down unevenly, the fleshy mounds jiggling with each powerful stroke, the underside of your balls slapping against the soft crack of her ass with a rhythmic thud. The sounds of your bodies colliding fill the room, punctuated by her escalating moans and your own ragged breaths.

"Oh, fuck," Somi mumbles drunkenly, words thick with pleasure, her hands now clutching at your shoulders, digging into your muscle. "It's so deep," she gasps, "fuck me harder, please."

The raw desperation in her voice is intoxicating. Driven by her pleas and the mounting intensity within you, you snap your hips harder, the pace quickening, the friction building. You lean down, burying your face in the curve of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin, hot and flushed and intoxicating, and whisper against her ear, "If I go any harder, sis, I might just cum inside you and get you pregnant."

Of course, Somi was too far gone to grasp the implications of your words. Her mind was lost in the swirling vortex of pleasure. She just kept mumbling incoherently, her only coherent plea being, "fuck me harder… it's so good… I’m… almost… cumming…" Her toes curled inwards, digging into the couch cushion, and her hands clutched at your back, her nails lightly raking against your skin. Her tits were squished against your chest, their soft weight a delicious friction as your nose inhaled the intoxicating scent from the crook of her neck.

Your breathing grew shallow and rapid, your body straining with the effort to prolong this forbidden bliss. But Somi wasn't holding back any longer. Her movements stilled, her body suddenly going rigid beneath you. A silent wave of tension washed over her, replaced in moments by a shuddering release. You didn't need her to say a word; you felt it instantly, a hot, pulsing sensation as her orgasm flooded down around your pistoning cock, her inner muscles clenching and spasming in rhythmic waves.

The realization that you were fucking your own older sister raw, the echo of her voice begging for more, the wet, slick feel of her orgasm enveloping your cock – it all coalesced into an overwhelming wave of sensation. You reached your own precipice, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Separating your face from her neck, you dropped down, latching onto one of her swollen nipples with your mouth, biting down hard just as you slammed your cock deep, deep inside her canal.

Spurt after spurt of scalding semen erupted inside Somi's pussy, filling her with your forbidden seed. She cried out, a muffled sound as she gripped your hair, pressing your face harder into her boob, her fingers tangling in your locks. You huffed against the soft mound of her breast, every muscle in your body clenched tight, riding the peak of your orgasm. Slowly, languidly, you rolled your hips, prolonging the blissful, taboo-laden experience as your cum continued to pulse inside her.

The aftermath of your release hangs heavy in the air, thick with the scent of sex. You pull back from your older sister, the squelch of your dick leaving her wet depths echoing in the sudden silence that descends now that your ragged breaths are slowing. You shift back onto the plush cushions of your worn-out couch, the withdrawal making your cock feel strangely cold against the air.

A thick glob of your cum oozes from her folds, a pearly trail tracing a path downwards, a rivulet heading towards the shadowed cleft of her untouched asshole. Somi is completely still, lost in the deep abyss of drunken slumber. Her head lolls to the side, cheek pressed against the couch fabric, her breathing shallow and even. Naked and vulnerable, she's laid out, a tableau of post-coital abandon.

A question claws at the edge of your consciousness – will she even remember any of this tomorrow? The thought flits through your mind, quickly followed by a surge of guilt and a thrill of illicit excitement. You’re breathing hard, chest heaving, your gaze fixed on her unconscious form. The soft rise and fall of her chest is mesmerizing, the curve of her body smooth and inviting in the dim light filtering through the blinds.

Then, the weight of reality crashes down on you, solid and undeniable. This happened. You actually went there. You fucked your sister. And not just a quick fumble, but a full-blown, unprotected creampie situation in her womb. There's no erasing it, no taking it back.

A low chuckle wheezes up from your throat, tinged with disbelief. "Fucking crazy," you mutter under your breath. You lean closer to Somi, a whisper inches from her ear. "You liked that, didn't you? You enjoyed that as much as I did, right?" Silence is her only reply, her peaceful slumber undisturbed by your whispered question.

Even in the aftermath, even with the dampness cooling on your skin, your cock refuses to fully submit. It throbs with a semi-erection, a persistent reminder of the pleasure you just experienced, and a blatant demand for more. Her nakedness, the lingering scent of her arousal, it’s all too potent. You can't deny the pull, the urge to dive back in.

Carefully, you slide off the couch, your bare feet padding softly on the worn carpet. You reach for Somi, gently looping her arm around your neck, her limp weighing on you. Then, you bend down, slipping your other arm under her knees, scooping her up in a bridal carry. She’s heavier than you expected, loose and pliant in your arms. You carry her through the narrow hallway to the spare room, the one you usually leave empty for nothing in particular it seems, until now. You reach the bed, a simple mattress on a frame, and gently toss her onto it.

A soft groan escapes her lips as she lands, rolling onto her side, facing away from you. You climb onto the bed beside her, the mattress dipping under your weight. With a hand on her hip, you turn her back towards you, then gently lift her up onto her knees, her ass rising invitingly in the air. Her upper body, still heavy with sleep, falls forward onto the mattress, her breasts spilling out, nipples brushing against the sheet.

You kneel behind her, your own cock stirring with renewed vigor, the sight of her presented ass sending a jolt of lust through you. You press yourself against her, rubbing your semi-hard cock against her wet entrance, feeling it thicken and lengthen with each passing second.

“You shouldn’t have gotten so drunk and come here, Somi,” you murmur into her hair, the words more for yourself than her. “You know that, right?” You nip at the nape of her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat. “And you know you liked getting fucked by your brother. Don’t even try to deny it.” Your voice is filled with the need to possess her. “One round isn’t going to cut it, sis. Not after this. I’m going to fuck you until my cock is sore and limp. Until you wake up and realize what we did.”

Consequences be damned. You’ll deal with the fallout, the inevitable chaos, when it comes. Right now, all that matters is this moment, this chance to feast on your older sister, to brand her with your mark until she’s fully sober and forced to confront the reality of what’s happening.

With that thought burning in your mind, you grind yourself against her hips, and thrust forward, penetrating her slick pussy from behind, driving yourself deep, right to the hilt. Somi lets out a muffled gasp, a sound that could be pleasure, could be protest, lost in the moment as you begin to move.

[bunslora]

i'll die anyway ᯓ★ bff.ᐟellie x reader

summary: lesbian yearning..

tags: suggestive , alcohol consumption , men dni .

wc: 618

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"never have i ever—" ellie looks at you, straight faced, fully serious. "oh fuck off, are you twelve?" you shoot back, trying to stifle a giggle. you pass her the shitty bottle of rum the two of you had swiped from joel while downstairs moments before. ellies space patterned bedsheets crinkle beneath her lap as she takes a swig of the liquor. her face scrunches at the harsh taste, and you notice yourself watching in silent endearment, something that is not an uncommon occurrence for you.

"fine—" you look at her intently, barely long enough for it to mean anything. barely long enough for her to notice. at least, thats what you tell yourself. what you've been telling yourself. "never have i ever.." you make an over exaggerated show of pondering as you pretend to think. "never have i ever been caught by my father looking at—you know what, im actually not going to recount it..however i am confident you can fill in the blanks—" ellie rolls her eyes, as you continue whatever monologue you've prepared for her. "while being at a family dinner." you make sure to emphasise each word as you attempt to hold back a laugh that threatens to spill out from your chest.

"yeah, no, its not funny if you're the only one laughing," ellie grumbles, trying to make an effort to look entirely unamused. "also—" she starts, apparently not done, "you can't say things you know i've already done." you catch her gaze, "well—shall i try again?" you tease. "uh, no, dickhead its my go" she says in turn. "okay, so stop whining and get on with it then." you say, stealing the bottle from her grasp.

you drink from the bottle, grimacing as the taste refuses to improve. "never have i ever been a pretentious asshole." ellie says, looking almost proud with her question. you smile at her, amused, and ask, "define pretentious." ellie glares at you, although there is no real malice in the action. "unfortunately, that doesn't answer my question" she retorts, as she leans impossibly closer, you could almost taste the liquor on her breath—a contradiction, given that the two of you were already practically sitting on top of each other.

the bottle, now getting awfully close to being three-quarters empty, rested at the curve of your smile as you bring it closer to your lips for another sip. you lean back, offering a sliver of distance between you both. the motion causes your shirt to ride up, allowing for a glimpse of your laced underwear to peak above the waistband of your jeans. too subtle to be an invitation, yet too deliberate for it to feel unintentional. feigning innocence, you pretend not to notice the way ellies gaze trails down from your face to your torso. her hand wraps around yours, gently loosening the bottle from your grip before bringing it to her lips for a swig of the liquor.

"ellie—" you look at her as you begin to steady yourself, the hum of alcohol becoming more prominent. you move closer, continuing whatever you had begun to say. "you're staring." you announce, like she wasn't already aware. theres a beat of charged silence before she responds—"am i?" she says, attempting to convey ignorance, but the implications are still laid out in front of you both.

you sigh, "you're impossible", and with that ellie looks at you—the atmosphere swims with something inescapable; adoration? love? desire? devotion? whatever it is, ellie smiles regardless, a look that could almost be catagorised as hesitancy before she speaks. "i think you like it" she says. "and i think you're drunk." you say in return. takes one to no one.

inbox ⤿ open

might do a part 2!!

link to moodboard ⋆˙⟡

[cl0udy3]

𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐄

loser!ellie williams x fem!reader mostly smut cw: phone sex, dirty talk, uhmmm some other stuff that is nsfw idk the terms wc: 2030 a/n: honestly just needed to get this out of my system i have so much more to write but im so busy with class i hate everyhting (reader is purple, ellie is pink) requested backstory blurb: ✮

Ellie’s already halfway there. Sweats pushed low, tank top twisted, cheeks flushed, and her free hand tangled in her sheets. Her other one’s still between her legs, slow and desperate, like dragging herself through molasses.

She shouldn’t call. She knows she shouldn’t. But she does.

The phone rings twice before you pick up, cheerful as ever.

“Hey, Els! What's up?”

Ellie exhales hard, squeezing her eyes shut like it’ll help. Your voice alone makes her twitch.

“Nothing’, just… wanted to hear you.” “Aww. That’s cute.”

Your voice is warm, light. You don’t suspect a thing. She doesn’t deserve you. She also doesn’t care, not right now at least.

“So anyway—I had the weirdest dream last night. You were in it actually.”

Ellie bites down on her knuckle to keep from groaning aloud.

“We were in, like, this giant-ass mall that turned into a water park halfway through. You  were riding this inflatable duck down a slide, but then you were like, “we have to go steal F1 cars,” and we broke into this underground showroom and—are you laughing?”

Ellie is laughing. Sort of. More like exhaling sharply through clenched teeth while her fingers circle her clit, slow and hot.

“No–uh—I’m just… listening.”

“Anyways. When I woke up I was like, ‘why would Ellie be on a duck floatie?’ Like, you’re so serious all the time. It was funny.”

She swears she’s gonna lose it.

“Keep going,” she mumbles, voice low and strained. “Okay! So, I also went to the mall today—I got a couple new bras and some underwear. They had those lace ones again, you know? Like the ones I wore last week that I told you—about the ones that ride up a little? Yeah, I got those in… I think yellow, red, pink, black, white, and navy if I remember correctly.”

Ellie’s hips twitch. She actually whimpers.

“Ellie? You good?” “Mhm. Perfect. Just… keep talking.” “So then I found these pajamas that are like—so soft, you have no idea. They’re like buttery or something. I wish you could feel them. I might wear them tomorrow, or maybe the new tank I got—oh! It’s like, super cropped. Kinda short, shows off my belly a bit. Might be too cold for it though…”

She’s gonna die. She’s gonna die on the phone to the sound of your voice, talking about stupid pajamas and bras and Ellie is soaking through her boxers like a goddamn teenager.

Ellie is gripping the phone like a lifeline, thighs twitching, stomach tensing, barely holding back the pathetic little noises threatening to slip out. Her fingers move slow, teasing herself, dragging out the ache because she wants this to last—wants to keep hearing you talk like you aren’t killing her.

You keep talking, your voice bright and animated, and Ellie can hear the click of your nails on the phone and the rustle of your bed as you shift under the covers. She imagines you twirling the cord around your finger as you continue, completely unaware of what you’re doing to her.

“Ellie?”

Her breath stutters. Too loud. That one was too loud.

“You good? You sound kinda—out of breath?”

She clenches her jaw, forcing herself to breath normal, but it’s so fucking hard when you’re still going—still talking—filling her ear with your voice, saying the stupidest things but somehow making it sound filthy.

“M’fine,” she rasps, swallowing thick. “Just—keep talking.”

She hears you huff a little laugh, clueless, completely unaware that Ellie’s got two fingers deep inside herself, biting her lip so hard it hurts.

“Okay, okay! Bossy much?”

Ellie’s eyes flutter shut.

“So anyways—I also got these new jeans. They fit so good, like all snug on my ass, but I don’t know if I wanna wear them yet because they’re kinda stuff, y’know? Maybe I should break them in first. Oh! And I also found this old band tee in a thrift shop, but it’s kinda thin so my bra shows through. Is that cute or is it too much?”

Ellie barely hears the question. She’s too busy pressing her palm down, fingers curling, breath hitching hard.

She lets out a sharp, uncontrolled sigh.

You go quiet.

“Ellie?”

She freezes. 

“Are you okay?”

She almost drops the phone.

Her brain short-circuits. Her body is screaming. She’s too close, too fucking close—she needs to finish but she also needs to not get caught.

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, just—tired.” “You sure?”

Ellie wants to die.

“Mhm.” “...You sound weird.”

She forces out a laugh. Too forced.

“Nah, dude, I’m good. Just—keep going.” “Mmm… I don’t know… Something’s off with you.”

Her stomach twists.

“Are you—” You pause. “...Are you sick?”

Ellie wheezes. 

Jesus Christ.

She’s getting off to the sound of your voice and you’re over there wondering if she’s running a fever.

She’s never been more embarrassed in her life. 

At this point, she was fucked. LIke, really fucked.

Like, halfway to an orgasm and you think she’s got the flu kind of fucked.

“Sick?” Ellie croaks, trying to force herself back to normal, but her voice is wrecked, all strained and breathless and—fuck, fuck, fuck. “Nah, man, I’m—I’m fine.” “Are you sure?”

You sounded genuinely concerned.

Ellie could throw herself into a wall.

She’s got two fingers deep inside herself, hand shaking, stomach tight, so fucking close, and here you are, probably pouting, thinking she’s got a sore throat or something.

“Mhm,” she grits out, forcing her voice even. “Totally fine. Just—keep talking.”

There’s a pause.

A long one.

Ellie’s heart fucking stops.

“...Ellie.”

Oh, god.

“Are you—” You stop. Then, slowly: “...What are you doing?”

Her whole body seizes.

Her fingers go still.

Heat crawls up her neck, floods her face, sets her whole fucking body on fire.

She should hang up. Throw her phone across the room. Lie and say she fell asleep. Something. Anything.

But she doesn’t.

Because she’s a fucking idiot.

“N—Nothing,” she stammers. Too fast. Too guilty.

And you? You know. She can hear it in your silence.

“Ellie,” you say again, softer this time.

She squeezes her eyes shut. Curls in on herself. Feels her stomach tighten because fuck, even just hearing you say her name like that—

“Are you—” You exhale, slow. “Are you touching yourself?”

Ellie chokes. Actually fucking chokes. 

Her hand jerks away so fast she nearly pulls something.

“What? No—no, dude, I—” She cuts herself off, dragging a hand down her face.

Her body is screaming. Her thighs are still shaking. Her fingers are soaked.

She’s so screwed.

“Ellie.”

Your voice is different now. Not teasing. Not laughing. Just—curious. Maybe even interested.

Ellie swallows hard.

“Keep going.”

Her brain stalls and for a moment she thinks she might’ve imagined it.

“What?” “I–I said… keep going.”

Silence.

Not from you—you’re breathing shallow and steady, like you’re waiting for her to say something. But Ellie’s mind goes blank. Everything in her short-circuiting. She’s half-sure she died and this is purgatory—somewhere between heaven and hell, wrapped in your voice.

Her heart stutters.

“You—” She swallows, throat bone-dry. “You’re serious?” “I mean…” You hesitate. A breath. “You already started, right?”

Ellie exhales hard through her nose, dragging her palm across her mouth. She’s stunned. Embarrassed. But also? Incredibly turned on.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she mutters, the ghost of a grin tugging at her lips. “Not if I get there first.”

The line goes quiet again.

Ellie’s fingers drift back down, slower this time, like testing the waters again. She’s still soaked. Still aching. And now she knows you’re there with her, listening.

“Okay,” she says, voice low. “But if I die, it’s on you.” “Deal.”

Her hand slips under the waistband of her boxers, breath hitching as she touches herself again—slow and deliberate now, no longer hiding. The sound of your breathing crackling through the line only pushes her further.

“Still wearing those stupid pajamas?” she asks, voice rough around the edges. “Mhm. The soft ones.”

Ellie’s eyes flutter shut. She bites her lip.

“And nothing underneath?” “...Wouldn’t you like to know.” “C’mon.” Her voice dips slightly lower. “Humor me.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh, and the way it curls through the phone makes Ellie clench around her fingers.

“Fine,” you say. “Just the top. No bra. No panties.”

Ellie groans. She can’t help it this time. It spills out of her like a secret, ragged and real.

“Fuck. You’re evil.” “You started it.”

She pumps her fingers slowly, building the pressure again, letting your voice carry her right to the edge.

“You’re gonna tell me exactly what you’re doing, Els.”

Ellie shivers.

“Yeah?” she murmurs. “You wanna hear all of it?” “Every single second.”

Her breath shakes as her hips roll forward, chasing the friction.

“Okay,” she says, teeth sinking into her lip. “I’m… on my back. Legs spread. Fingering myself to your voice. Thinking about those lace panties. The yellow ones. How they’d look on you.”

You inhale sharply on the other end. 

“Ellie—” “Yeah?” “I’m—” You falter for a second. “I’m touching myself too.”

Ellie’s whole body jolts, like you flipped a switch in her spine.

“Jesus christ,” she whispers.

Her pace picks up—slippery, hot, the pressure unbearable now. She imagines your hand between her legs, the rise and fall of your chest, your lips parted just barely as you bite back the same kind of sounds she’s making.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” she gasps. “You,” you say instantly. “Your mouth. Your hands. The way you talk when you’re all worked up.”

Ellie moans into the receiver, low and shaky.

You hesitate—but only for a second. Your breath hitches, just loud enough for Ellie to hear it.

“The way you’d take your time with me,” you murmur. “Like I’m something to savor.”

Ellie’s eyes flutter shut. Her fingers move faster, wetter now, her other hand fisting the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered.

“Fuck,” she groans, jaw tight. “Keep talking. Please.” “I think about your hands on my thighs,” you whisper. “How rough they’d feel, how careful you’d be at first—until you’re not. Until you can’t help yourself.”

Ellie whimpers—actually whimpers—like the image is too much, like it sinks right into her chest and burns through her ribs.

“I’d be so wet for you,” you go on, voice shaking now. “Like I am right now. I’d let you taste me, let you take your time, until I’m begging—until I can’t even remember my name.”

Ellie’s breathing stutters. She’s so close her vision’s going white around the edges.

“You sound so good,” she rasps. “Wish I could hear you in person—wish I could see you.”

You moan, soft and desperate.

“I’m close, Els.” “Me too,” she chokes. “Fuck, keep going—please—don’t stop.” “Want you inside me,” you whisper, needy and ruined. “Want you to fuck me until I can’t think straight—want your fingers, your mouth, anything—everything—I’d take it all.”

Ellie comes hard.

Her whole body locks up, pleasure slicing through her like a live wire. Her legs tremble, her back arches, and she cries out your name into the phone, breathless and broken and absolutely gone.

And then she hears you—your own orgasm chasing hers, your voice all soft gasps and hitched breaths and her name falling from your lips like a prayer.

It’s silent after.

Just the sound of your breathing. Hers. The static warmth of the phone line connecting you both like some fragile, invisible thread.

Ellie laughs quietly, hoarse and giddy.

“That was…” she starts, then lets it trail off, too dazed to even finish the thought. “Yeah,” you say, just as breathless. “That was.”

A pause.

“Hey, Els?” “Yeah?” “Next time you call me like that…” A smile in your voice. “Don’t wait so long to tell me what you want.”

Ellie grins, cheeks still flushed, heart still racing.

“Next time,” she promises. “You’re picking up in person.”

lalala pls enjoy i love all of you

[roosterforme]

In the Navy Now | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: When Bradley and Jake catch their wives in the midst of a lie, Bradley wonders what made you think you couldn't be honest with him. He soon realizes you have a trick up your sleeve, one that makes his work day a lot more exciting. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, adult language, math as foreplay

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

"You know what really sucks?" Bradley mused as he sat at a table for two in the cafeteria on base.

"What's that?" Jake asked in response, digging his fork into a bowl of pasta.

Bradley looked around the room at everyone else and sighed. "You and I are forced to socialize all the time now, because our wives are best friends."

He saw Jake on Saturday, and also last night at the bar, and again every damn day at work.

Jake shrugged as he took a bite of his lunch. "It's not that bad."

"Speak for yourself. I literally can't understand what Jessica sees in you."

As soon as he heard Jake's laugh, Bradley knew what was coming. "You're literally the last person who should be making comments like that. Your wife is so hot, it's absolutely unbelievable she is with you willingly. She had ten years to come to her senses."

Bradley smiled as he thought about you. "She missed me."

Jake was shaking his head. "She must have been with some seriously ugly guys or something in those ten years."

Bradley was laughing now as he said, "I'm telling you, she missed me as much as I missed her."

"Riiiight. I'm about to text her and ask for verification on that one."

Bradley poked at his salad and murmured, "Don't even bother. She's in some sort of math seminar with Dean Walters all day. Told me not to try reaching her unless it's an emergency."

"Are you sure?" Jake asked, giving him a funny look. "Jess said she had a department meeting with the dean today. For the science department."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "Yeah, of course I'm sure. I even packed her an extra snack. Unlike you, I actually listen to my wife when she talks. I'm sure you're wrong."

But Jake was already digging in the pocket of his flight suit for his phone, and when he unlocked it and slid it across the table, Bradley picked it up. He skimmed a text that Jessica sent just a few hours ago.

I love you! Don't forget, I'll be unreachable most of the day. Physics meeting with Dean Walters. 

Bradley frowned. If this was true, then you lied to him. You never lied to him. He tried his best to let you know that you never had to do that. But now he remembered that you even went so far as to tell him you didn't need a ride home from campus today, and that actually seemed suspicious, too.

"Why do they want us to think they're busy all day?"

"It doesn't really make any sense," Jake said as he set his fork down. "Damn. Jess knows she can talk to me about anything."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, "I don't like this shit." The uneasy feeling seemed to spread through his entire body as he stood. "We need to get going. Special class today, remember?"

"Fuck," Jake muttered under his breath, clearly as excited about the guest lecturer as Bradley was. Sitting in the classroom for a few hours was usually always tedious compared to flying, but the lectures that Cyclone had been adding to their schedules randomly over the past few months were worse than the most boring class Bradley ever took at the University of Virginia.

"Let's get this over with," he said, dropping his tray off and fighting the urge to text you just to see what you'd have to say. Now he was going to have to figure out a way to call you out about lying later. But it was still puzzling him as to why you and Jessica would both tell the same exact lie. What was the point of that? If you didn't want Bradley to bother you at work, that was all you needed to say. But it wasn't like he was annoying like Jake was; he could understand Jessica needing a break from her husband, but did you need one too?

He was still trying to figure out if there was something going wrong with his marriage when he walked into the classroom. Cyclone was standing at the front, hands on his hips, glaring at Bradley and Jake as they walked inside with two minutes to spare. The only seats left were both up in the front row, and Bradley groaned as he dropped down into one of them. The last guest speaker they had spit the entire time he talked, and the one before that spoke at full volume like she was teaching a room full of hundreds of people rather than the twenty four that were gathered.

"I regret not getting here early," Jake murmured, and Bradley nodded as he shifted in his seat and messed with the cuffs of the sleeves of his flight suit. He was really hung up on what you could possibly be doing today, and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to pay attention to this lecture topic at all. And that's when he noticed what was written on the white board behind Cyclone.

THE PHYSICS OF PROPULSION AND MATHEMATICAL FORMULATIONS IN SINGLE SEAT F/A-18 JETS

He groaned, because even the word mathematical made him think about you. This was about to be a long afternoon. Then Admiral Simpson cleared his throat, and Bradley forced his attention to the man in front of him.

"Welcome. Today's lecture topic is of the utmost importance regarding updates that will be made to your aircrafts this year. We will take a look at jet propulsion and the calculations specific to your F/A-18s before the new NATOPS is even released. We have two guest speakers who are professors from San Diego State University's math and physics departments, and they have graciously agreed to spend some time on this topic with us."

"No way," Bradley whispered, convinced it had to be you. He swiveled around in his seat so fast, he thought he might have broken it as he hung over the arm into the aisle when the classroom door opened. He could hear her high heels on the floor before he realized he was looking at Jessica enter the room, but then his heart skipped around in his chest just like the first time he saw you over ten years ago at his fraternity house. You looked fucking hot as sin, strolling in behind Jake's wife with a folder in your hand and a smirk on your red lips. Your eyes found his immediately as he sat there gaping at you while you made your way to the front of the room, but other than a little nod in his direction, you gave him nothing.

"Holy shit," Jake hissed next to him as Bradley nodded in agreement, his eyes glued on your body as he heard Cyclone introduce you and Dr. Jessica Reed by name. You gave the room at large a little wave, but your eyes flicked him, and Bradley let out the breath he had apparently been holding as he relaxed into his seat. So this must have been why you tried to make it seem like you were extremely busy today. Maybe you and Jessica didn't want him and Jake to catch on to the fact that you'd be presenting their class.

As Jessica started talking, he took in every inch of your appearance. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, and you were doing it very well. Bradley was proficient at calculus, having attended many of your college level math lectures. Sometimes he surprised you, but sometimes you knew ahead of time that he planned on being there. It didn't hurt that the lectures he attended usually ended with sex or a blowjob for him. Somehow math had turned into a form of foreplay for the two of you, and Bradley couldn't get enough. You'd praise him when he was able to solve a difficult problem, and the rewards were always sexy.

He was used to seeing you like this when he visited San Diego State University, but getting to witness your brilliance on the Naval base was already so exciting. Right now, he was already having a difficult time sitting still as he grew hard at the sound of your voice.

"The calculations related to your Super Hornets are so precise, we'll just take a look at a handful of examples to give you an idea of what we mean," you said, opening up your folder on the table as Bradley ran his sweaty palms on his flight suit. You were only a few feet away from him. He could smell your shampoo. He could count the little silver buttons on the side of your skirt. He had to bite his lip as you turned toward the white board and uncapped a marker as you said, "Please, let me know if I'm going too fast."

He could pick your writing out easily, but there was something about the way you always chose the letter B for your variables when he was watching. Your smooth penmanship started to fill the board as you talked your way through the problem, but Bradley could barely take his eyes off your ass. He turned around briefly to make sure nobody else had the same idea he did, but it was hard to tell. The younger guys looked a lot more enthusiastic than they usually did, and he might have to pound some sense into them later. Didn't they know you were his fucking wife?

But maybe they didn't. You kept your name the same when you got married. So did Jessica for that matter. Now Bradley sat a little taller in his seat as he realized he was married to one of the two extremely hot PhDs who all the other men in the room were drooling over.

"Does that make sense?" you asked, turning back to face them with a satisfied look on your face. "Dr. Reed can take over explaining the actual physics of the aircraft propulsion, and then I'll jump back in with the next calculation."

Bradley smiled at you while Jessica started talking again, and he could tell you were trying not to look at him as your lips curled into a grin. God, you were just fucking perfect. Smart and silly and sexy. And the two of you had so much history together, he could practically read the thoughts on your face.

"Did they dress like this on purpose?" Jake croaked softly.

"I know mine did," Bradley whispered. Your little tweed skirt and loafers screamed east coast academic. It looked as good on you as his tie dye shirt always did. It was just as sexy as lingerie. It was almost pornographic to him at this point. But today you had them paired with a blazer and a bodysuit. A bodysuit. He loved those things with the little snaps that held them closed as they hugged your curves. He was almost certain you'd skipped a bra. He couldn't wait to find out for sure.

Jessica was still talking about jet propulsion. Bradley would ask you to explain it to him later if it was actually important. Right now, you were slowly buttoning and then unbuttoning your blazer over and over again while you alternated between consulting your notes and stealing glances at Bradley. He was too warm as he watched your fingers work, and your eyes caught his as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Hey, Sugar," he mouthed, and your gaze dropped back to your folder as you bit your lip and smiled. He was ready to go home. Take you to bed. Or maybe get a private lecture in your home office. Or maybe drive all the way to the college and visit one of the library study rooms. You made everything so exciting, he wanted all of it.

When Jessica handed the lecture back over to you, Bradley squirmed in his seat as you wrote another calculation on the board. Jake was really no better in the seat next to him, and he realized the two of them must look like idiots at the moment. But you were making a subtle math joke that he understood, and when you glanced over your shoulder, your engagement ring sparkled under the fluorescent light.

"Now this is how the updates will actually make your aircrafts more fuel efficient," you said as you easily worked through a calculation that looked so complicated, Isaac Newton wouldn't have been able to solve it. Bradley's cock was still half hard, and he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to be able to stand up after this. But then you really threw him for a loop when you casually added the equation from your tattoo into the middle of the mess of mathematics on the white board. Now the only thing he could think about was your tits. Or rather, him running his lips along your math titty tattoo.

Bradley wasn't going to be able to sit still for much longer, but you turned around and asked, "Does anyone have any questions?"

He had to sit there and listen to several of the other guys ask you the most idiotic questions just so they could have your attention. Then Bradley raised his hand and waited until you pointed at him and said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw?" with an amused look on your face. "You have a question?"

"Yeah," he said, voice raspy. "I do, professor. If the variable B is directly related to propulsion, then how is that going to affect my thrust?"

He kept a straight face while you fought to do the same. You cleared your throat, took a step in his direction, and said, "You're going to need to have some additional thrust, Lieutenant."

Bradley nodded and gave you a thoughtful look. "Hmmm, that's what I thought. And it looks like a very complicated calculation."

You stood there in front of everyone in your little tweed skirt and the diamond ring he gave you and said, "If you'd like a more thorough explanation, I wouldn't mind spending a few minutes with you afterwards, Lieutenant."

As he leaned back in his seat, he told you, "I look forward to it."

So Bradley listened to Jessica while you occasionally interjected, and he kept his eyes on your face as his excitement started to build even more. When the afternoon lecture was finally over, he and Jake both stayed in their seats while Cyclone shook hands with the two of you.

"How long do you think they've been planning this?" Jake whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Not sure," Bradley replied as you collected your notes into your folder. "But I intend to find out." He was impressed as hell that you managed to pull this off without him noticing, but his skin was tingling with need. He desperately wanted to get his hands on you after you worked him up with all of the intellectual teasing. 

As soon as Cyclone dismissed everyone, Jake was on his feet, dragging Jessica out of the classroom, but Bradley didn't move an inch in his seat. His cock was hard, and you were running your hand along your tweed covered hip as you smiled at him. But then he had to endure one of the younger aviators who was new to Top Gun trying to chat you up when he should have just left the classroom with the others. When you turned to face him instead, annoyance washed through Bradley's veins.

"Uh, hi, uh I actually studied mathematics at the Naval Academy, and I graduated three years ago, and uh, I was just wondering if you would want to get a drink with me sometime and talk more about, um, some of the topics you covered about propulsion and thrust-"

"Fuck off, man," Bradley barked. "She's wearing goddamn wedding rings. And she's not interested."

Your hand slipped over your lips as you laughed silently while the younger man looked at Bradley in shock. "Oh. Right. Okay," he muttered before hightailing it from the now nearly empty classroom.

"That wasn't very nice," you said, fighting against a smile. "He seemed really sweet. I was going to let him shoot his shot."

Bradley stood with a soft groan, his erection pressing against the zipper of his flight suit. "I was promised a private tutorial session, Dr. Sugar. I'm not about to let a twenty-something year old take up any of my time."

Without hesitation, you walked over to him and started to slowly unzip his flight suit. "Hate to break it to you, Beer Boy, but you were a twenty-something year old when I fell in love with you." 

You ran your fingers along his undershirt, and Bradley glanced at the open classroom door as he whispered, "I hope you know you're not leaving this room until you're full of my cum."

"Lieutenant Bradshaw!" you gasped, eyes wide and surprised. But your hand was dipping lower to his abs, and he could tell you were as turned on as he was. "This is a tutoring session!"

Bradley wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently led you toward the door which he immediately closed. "I want to know how the hell you managed to pull this off. I had no idea you and Jessica were going to be teaching a class for the Navy."

"We've been working on our lesson plan for weeks," you said with a smirk as Bradley placed both of your palms on the door and flipped the light switch off. In the dimly lit room, you whispered, "We wanted it to be a surprise."

Bradley stood behind you, facing the door and kissed your neck above your unbuttoned blazer. "And here I thought you lied to me about your plans because you needed a break from me."

You moaned softly as his nose traced the shell of your ear. "Oh, please. It's not like you're annoying like Jake. I don't need a break from you, Beer Boy."

"Hmm, then what do you need from me?" he asked softly, letting one hand slide up your bodysuit while he confirmed that you were not wearing a bra. Your nipples were tight peaks as he stroked them through the fabric with one big hand, and you bumped your ass back against his erection.

"I need you to tell me what you know about thrust, Lieutenant," you stated in your teacher voice which made him grind against you.

"I know you like it when I give you a little thrust," he grunted, guiding your tweed skirt up your thighs as you gasped.

"Is this a good idea?" you asked, still pressing your body back against his. "Should we wait until we get home?"

"Can't," he growled, yanking your skirt up over your ass and wrapping his hands around your hips as he looked down at the perfect view. "You got me too worked up. You know what your lectures do to me. And this time it was on my home turf."

Your hands were still planted on the door as you glanced at him over your shoulder. "Almost like I'm in the Navy now. Lieutenant Sugar? Should I get a uniform?"

"Oh, fuck. You know I couldn't handle that. Besides, I'm really partial to your tweed." He was running his knuckles down your rear end as he whispered, "Please, let me fuck you. I'll be quick, Baby."

His fingers were already at the snaps on your bodysuit that hid your pussy from his touch when you said, "Do it."

With a flick of his wrist, the snaps sprung free, and he ran his finger along your slit. Your back arched as he carefully pulled his cock free from his unzipped flight suit and underwear, and then he was guiding you to your tiptoes as he slipped himself inside you.

Bradley wrapped one hand around your waist and braced the door closed with the other as he buried himself deep inside you. Your soft gasp sounded beautiful as he sucked on your neck and gave you a few deep strokes. When he started to go faster, your fingers curled against the door as you whined his name, and he asked, "How's my thrust?"

Your head tipped back against his shoulder as you whispered, "You're just about there. Maybe a little harder."

Always wanting to be your top student, he did exactly as you told him and picked up the pace, letting himself slam against your ass. Your tight pussy felt so fucking good, and normally he'd draw this out as long as possible, but not today. He let your grip on him take over all of his senses, and soon he was grunting next to your ear, lips parted as he fucked you up against the door in a classroom at Top Gun.

"This is filthy as hell," he muttered, jerking his hips in an uneven rhythm. "Fucking my perfect wife on base. During work hours." 

"Beer Boy," you gasped when he slammed deep and held himself there. He did it again, loving the sound of his body meeting yours so intimately. A third time, and the pull along his spine as you moaned was too much. You had complete control over him.

Bradley gave it to you hard until he was panting. He let himself come as you turned and looked back at him, licking those sinful lips. "Jesus, fuck, holy shit," he groaned before kissing your lips softly as he gave you a few more thrusts before pulling himself free.

He was still a little hard as he tucked himself back into his flight suit and zipped it up again. When he went to fix your bodysuit, he ended up with his fingers coated in your arousal mixed with his cum as he did the snaps once again.

"Good as new," he murmured as you tugged your skirt down and turned to face him. He kissed you again before he said, "We should get out of here."

You nodded and collected your folder before pulling the door open and strolling casually out into the hallway like you didn't have his sticky cum rubbing against your inner thighs. "Now that you're all squared away with your thrust variable," you told him as he licked his fingers clean, enjoying the way the two of you tasted together, "you'll be even faster, Lieutenant."

Bradley snickered as you and he rounded the corner. "I hope you mean in the air. Quickies aren't really my thing, unless we're in a library study room or apparently an empty Naval classroom."

"There you are, professor." Cyclone was trying to flag you down, and Bradley watched you stumble as you headed off in his direction. He wasn't even sure if Admiral Simpson knew you and he were married, but the other man looked overjoyed as he said, "I've already been getting wonderful feedback about you and Dr. Reed, and I'm hoping you'll both agree to come back next month for another lecture on a different topic."

Bradley groaned and just kept walking. He would wait for you in the parking lot where he'd have a moment to himself to collect his thoughts. More sexy tweed and his hot wife in the classroom? Another lecture topic? Hours of mathematical foreplay that nobody else seemed to pick up on? Quickies were about to become his thing.

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

I missed Beer Boy and Sugar SO MUCH! She's such a queen, she literally just has to exist to make him lose his mind. But she knows what she did here. She knows. Thanks for reading!

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[cherrylibby]

Only You

You weren’t the jealous type. Not usually. Not when it came to him.

Bradley Bradshaw was your best friend. Your ride or die. The person who knew your coffee order, your favorite movies, your most embarrassing middle school stories, and the exact way you liked your burgers. You’d known him for years now, and despite the way he looked at you sometimes—like you hung the stars—you told yourself it was nothing. He was flirty with everyone. He was Bradley.

But tonight, something was different.

The Hard Deck was packed, music humming low under the buzz of conversation and laughter. You were sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand and a quiet ache in your chest. Across the room, Bradley was laughing—really laughing—with a pretty blonde who kept touching his arm and twirling her hair.

You shouldn’t have been staring. You shouldn’t have cared.

But the sight of him leaning in close, his smile warm and easy, made something twist inside you. Something insecure and ugly. You could feel it bubbling up even as you looked away, heart sinking.

You weren't her. Not effortlessly flirty or smooth or shiny. You were his best friend. The girl who wore sweatpants to movie night and cried at commercials. The one he called “dude” and “trouble” with a grin and a wink. Not the girl who got that look.

“Y/N?” Natasha’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah, just tired. I think I’m gonna head out.”

She looked like she didn’t believe you, but let you go with a quiet, “Text me when you get home.”

You slipped out the back, the warm California air brushing your skin as you walked toward your car, heart heavy and eyes burning.

You didn’t see Bradley’s eyes darting across the bar looking for you. You didn’t see the way his smile dropped the second he realized you were gone. He excused himself mid-conversation, didn’t even notice the girl’s disappointed sigh as he beelined out the door.

“Y/N!”

You froze. He was jogging after you, chest rising and falling, brow furrowed with worry. “Where are you going?”

You gave him a small shrug. “Just tired.”

He stared at you for a second too long, eyes scanning your face like he could see every unspoken word, every thought in your head. “Did I do something?”

“No,” you said quickly, then softer, “No, you didn’t.”

His brows drew tighter. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

“I am looking at you,” you said, your voice wobbling even as you tried to play it cool. “Go back inside, Bradley. She’s probably waiting.”

He blinked. “She who?”

“The girl you were talking to. The one who looked like she was ready to climb you like a tree.” You meant it as a joke, but it cracked as it left your mouth.

Bradley was quiet for a second. Then he took a slow step forward.

“You think I wanted her?” His voice was soft. Barely above a whisper.

You looked down. “Didn’t look like you didn’t.”

He exhaled like it physically hurt, running a hand through his curls. “Jesus, Y/N.”

When you didn’t say anything, he took another step until he was right in front of you. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You swallowed. “Get what?”

“That I don’t see anyone else. That it’s always you.” His voice cracked. “I’m in love with you.”

Your breath caught.

Bradley took your face in his hands, eyes locked onto yours with the kind of softness that made your knees weak. “You’re it for me. Have been for a long time. Every time you laugh, every time you say my name, every time you wear that stupid hoodie you stole from me—I fall harder. You’re the only one I want.”

Your eyes welled with tears. “Then why were you—?”

“I was being polite,” he said, smiling like it hurt. “I was trying to not stare at you across the bar like I always do.”

Your voice was small. “You stare at me?”

“All the damn time.” He laughed, forehead leaning against yours. “You just never notice because you’re too busy not noticing how perfect you are.”

Your heart flipped so hard it felt like it stalled in midair.

“Bradley,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you too.”

His smile bloomed so wide and soft it made your whole chest ache. And then he kissed you. Slow and sure, like he had all the time in the world to show you just how much he meant it.

And when he pulled back, he didn’t stop looking at you.

Not once.

[vigilante-3073]

Daddy's Credit Card

Cullen Family x Female Vampire Reader (Platonic)

PART 10

Summary: Bella endures her transition to a Vampire while Y/N's condition continues to worsen.

TW: Mentions of death/injury/illness, lack of regard for the feelings of others, medical testing, needles, blood.

The Cullen family was left unscathed after Jacob imprinted on Renesmee. The Wolves were forced to abandon their quest to kill the child, but tensions were still high. Y/N had been released from her quarantine and had finally been allowed to move about the house freely.

She took full advantage of her newfound freedom, but there were some things that Carlisle still wouldn't allow. Y/N was not to step foot outside the house unless someone was with her. She became quickly exhausted after any kind of physical activity and her heart beat would become irregular. Carlisle was strict about her having a companion in case something were to happen.

Y/N walked along the road with Jacob Black by her side. He had been focused on Renesmee since he had imprinted, Bella was still in transition and he felt responsible for the baby girl. Jacob had been incredibly tense as he watched over Renesmee and Carlisle encouraged him to take a moment away. Jacob went reluctantly and the pair walked in silence until he looked over at her.

"Why exactly do you need a babysitter?" Jacob asked.

"I'm dying," Y/N stated simply.

"What? I thought that Vampires couldn't die unless they're torn apart," Jacob said.

"Apparently they can... I bleed, I cry, I eat and my body is falling apart for no apparent reason," Y/N said.

"That sucks," Jacob said.

Y/N huffed a laugh, "Yeah, it does," She replied.

"Still doesn't really explain why I'm following you around though," Jacob said.

"Carlisle said that my heart beat is irregular. He's worried that something could happen to me while I'm alone," Y/N stated.

"Have you left your house at all since you started becoming human?" Jacob asked.

She glared at him, "I am not a human," She corrected quickly.

"Well, whatever you are then," He amended.

"No, you and your wolf friends had my house surrounded. Remember?" Y/N questioned.

"So, you're pretty new to not being a bloodsucker then, huh?" He asked.

"I guess you could say that," She replied.

"Do you want to go into town for a bit? Maybe we can get some actual food," He offered.

"I would do anything to leave that place right now. Since Bella died, Carlisle has devoted the entirety of his time to testing me for anything he can possibly think of. Then I have to sit there and watch Edward stay by his wife as she magically comes back from the dead. Don't even get me started on that rapidly growing demon that they produced... It's like my own personal hell," Y/N said.

Jacob laughed and Y/N shot him a serious look, "I didn't realize that I said something funny," Y/N said.

"It may not be funny, but it is ironic because I was in love with Bella and I was ready to kill Edward when she died. Then I went to get the baby to hand over to the pack and in some ridiculous twist of fate, I actually imprinted on her. Now I practically live in the house with the guy I hate, the girl I used to love and their daughter," Jacob said.

"If I weren't going to die horrifically, I might actually say that you have it worse," Y/N replied.

"We're just two of the luckiest people around, huh?" He questioned, she nodded.

"Where are you taking me then?" Y/N asked.

"A diner. I'm going to get you the biggest and most greasy burger they offer along with fries and a milkshake," Jacob listed.

"All of that sounds absolutely repulsive, but I'm excited to try it," She said.

"Good," Jacob nodded.

The pair returned to the house and Y/N went up to tell Carlisle that she was leaving. She returned after a few minutes with a pair of car keys dangling from her finger.

"He said no to the motorcycle," She stated.

"Maybe another day," Jacob replied, holding out his hand.

Y/N placed the keys into his palm, "I'm definitely riding on a motorcycle before I die. I'm trusting you to make that happen," She said.

"I can definitely do that for you," Jacob assured.

They made their way down to the garage and got into one of the cars. Jacob started the car and opened the garage before driving out onto the road.

Y/N settled back into her seat as she looked out the window, "Just for my own curiosity, how long does it usually take for someone to come back from the dead?" Jacob questioned.

"Usually takes about three days. The morphine that Bella had in her system could definitely have an effect on it though," Y/N stated.

"Three days of waiting," Jacob huffed.

"At least she's not awake and screaming like the rest of us were," Y/N said.

"It hurt that badly?" Jacob asked, glancing over at her.

"The worst pain I've ever felt. It was like every nerve being scorched and having your skin peeled from your body. It was misery," She said.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," He said.

"It gave me a lifetime of pain and loneliness like I have never known before. I would have chosen death a thousand times over," Y/N replied.

"Who was it?" Jacob asked.

"I don't know what you mean," Y/N said, looking over at him.

"Who was it that broke your heart?" Jacob clarified.

Y/N hesitated, "Carlisle first and Edward second," She answered.

Jacob scoffed, "Well, with that information, you definitely earned the title of having the worst situation possible," Jacob said.

"I've always been an overachiever," She deadpanned with a smirk.

Jacob smiled as he pulled into the parking lot of the diner, "Ready to eat?" He asked.

"I'm absolutely ravenous," She replied.

The pair got out of the car and made their way into the restaurant, they were sat in a booth and given a moment to look over the menu.

Y/N stared at the laminated sheet with wide eyes, finding herself overwhelmed by the options as she slowly opened the menu.

"Wow, this is a lot of stuff," She mumbled.

"Do you want me to just order for you?" Jacob questioned.

"That would be lovely," Y/N replied.

"Do you have any preference on milkshake flavor?" He asked.

"The last meal that I had as a living person was probably boiled cabbage and stale bread. You can pick whatever you want and I'm sure it will be better than anything I've ever eaten," She replied, closing the menu and sliding it to the edge of the table.

"Point taken," He nodded.

The waitress returned to their table with her notepad and pen in hand, "What can I get for you two today?" She questioned.

"For drinks, we'd like one chocolate and one vanilla milkshake. And for food, we'll get two of the bacon cheeseburgers with fries," Jacob listed.

"Perfect, I'll get that going for you," The waitress nodded, collecting the menus and moving off to the kitchen.

"Why did you get two different flavor drinks?" Y/N asked.

"So you can try both and keep whichever one you like best," Jacob shrugged.

"That's very kind of you," She said.

"It's no big deal," He replied.

"It is to me," Y/N stated.

The drinks came out quickly and the food followed shortly after. Jacob put two plastic straws into the milkshakes and slid them across the table to her.

Y/N leaned forward, taking a sip of the vanilla milkshake before moving over to the chocolate and taking another sip.

"What's the verdict?" He questioned.

"I like the lighter one more," She said, tapping a finger against the side of the first glass.

Jacob slid the chocolate milkshake back over to his side of the table, "Good choice. The vanilla one is my personal favorite," He said, taking a sip from the same straw.

"You can have it if you like it more," Y/N said, moving to slide it over to him.

"You're the one who's new to human food. You get to keep the milkshake that you like best," Jacob said, resting his hand over hers and pushing it back over to her side of the table.

They ate and chatted about their lives before reluctantly returning to the Cullen house.

"I had fun tonight. You're pretty cool for an ex-bloodsucker," Jacob said.

"I had fun too and I suppose I should say thank you," Y/N replied.

"It was definitely meant as a compliment," Jacob assured, "And you can feel free to come find me whenever you want to go on another nature walk or do something ridiculously stupid just to cross it off your bucket list," He continued.

"I will definitely take you up on that," Y/N nodded.

"I'll see you tomorrow... Sleep well," He said.

"You too," Y/N replied, making her way up the stairs to her bedroom.

...

Y/N stood in the shower, lathering the shampoo into her hair before stepping under the water. She washed the soap from her scalp, allowing the warm water to run over her skin. Y/N lowered her arms as her heart began to race in her chest, she let out a shaky exhale and leaned into the wall.

Y/N suddenly felt lightheaded and exhausted, breathing heavily as she slid down the wall weakly. Her arms fell in front of her body limply as she leaned into the wall, eyelids fluttering as she struggled to remain conscious.

"Carlisle," She called softly, her voice was barely audible over the sound of the water.

The shower curtain was pulled back suddenly before Carlisle reached in and turned off the water. He stepped away, grabbing her robe before kneeling down next to the bathtub.

Carlisle maneuvered her body around easily, slipping her arms through the sleeves and wrapping the robe around her body. He tied the belt at her waist before slipping his arms underneath her and lifting her into his arms.

Y/N's head rested on his shoulder as she closed her eyes, head pounding as her heart raced in her chest. He carried her into her bedroom before carefully setting her down on her bed.

Carlisle brought over the vitals machine, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around her arm and placing the probe on her finger. Y/N grimaced as the cuff began to inflate, but she was far too exhausted to say anything.

"Your blood pressure is incredibly low," Carlisle stated, reaching over and resting his hand on the side of her neck.

His fingers found her pulse point easily, feeling the rapid pulsation of her heart against his fingertips.

"I don't feel good," She mumbled shakily.

"I'll get you on fluids and we'll see if that helps," Carlisle said.

Y/N closed her eyes, unable to do anything besides breathe as her body began to shiver. Carlisle returned with a bag of fluids and a primed line, hanging it up on the pole beside her bed.

"Are you cold?" He questioned, noticing the way her body trembled.

She nodded silently and Carlisle stepped into her closet, he returned with a long sleeved shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants.

"Not mine," Y/N mumbled.

"Alice thought that you should have something comfortable and warm to wear," Carlisle said, setting the items on the edge of her bed.

He helped her dry off and get dressed before getting her settled in the bed. Carlisle sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, tying the tourniquet around her arm and flexing her wrist as his eyes scanned her skin.

Carlisle cleaned her skin with an alcohol wipe before opening his needle and removing the cap. Y/N turned her head away as he pushed the needle into her vein, he held the cannula in place as he retracted the needle. He connected the tubing to the cannula quickly before laying a clear dressing on top of it.

Carlisle pressed the edges against her skin carefully before reaching up to grab his IV tubing and connecting it to her. Y/N looked over as he stood up, programming the machine and opening the roller clamps.

The fluid slowly began to drip as the infusion started, "You should try and get some rest. I'll be back to check on you in a bit," Carlisle said, she nodded.

Y/N drifted off into a dreamless sleep before Carlisle had even stepped foot into the hallway. She slept for hours, body shivering silently as she struggled to retain her warmth. Carlisle added a few more blankets on top of her, but nothing seemed to help with the icy chill that had come over her.

Carlisle slowly made his way into the living room where the family was sitting. Esme held Renesmee in her arms while Rosalie watched them with a fond smile.

"Jacob, could I borrow you for a moment?" Carlisle asked.

"Sure," He nodded, standing up from his seat and following Carlisle down the hallway.

"I have a bit of an odd request and you can refuse if it makes you uncomfortable," Carlisle said.

"What is it?" Jacob asked.

"Y/N had a bit of a medical episode tonight," Carlisle started.

"Is she okay?" Jacob questioned.

"She's fine, but she's incredibly cold and I can't seem to get her temperature up," Carlisle said.

"I can definitely help with that," Jacob nodded.

"Thank you," Carlisle replied, leading Jacob down the hallway to her bedroom.

He opened the door and stepped inside, allowing Jacob to make his way into the room before closing the door gently.

"Jeez, how many blankets do you have her buried under?" Jacob asked with a smile.

"Five, I believe," Carlisle stated.

Jacob moved around to the other side of the bed, stepping out of his boots before lifting the blankets and laying down beside her.

Jacob shifted closer to her and she turned towards him in her sleep, immediately drawn in by the heat he gave off. Jacob wrapped his arms around her and guided her body into his side.

Y/N let out a soft breath, her head resting on his chest as she soaked up his warmth, "She's freezing," Jacob muttered, rubbing his hand over her back gently.

"I'm not much help in that department, unfortunately," Carlisle said.

"Well, I got it from here," Jacob assured.

"Just be conscious of the IV and call for me if something happens," Carlisle said, Jacob nodded.

Carlisle made his way out of the bedroom, closing the door behind himself carefully. Jacob settled back into the pillows, brushing his hand over her back until he eventually drifted off to sleep beside her.

Jacob awoke when the sky was dark, he turned his head to see Carlisle standing at the bedside. He hung a new bag of fluids on the IV pole before connecting it and pressing a few buttons on the machine to restart the infusion.

Y/N stirred slightly in his arms as Carlisle programmed the pump, eyes fluttering open slowly. Her brows furrowed as she pulled away from him slightly.

"What's going on?" She mumbled.

"You were cold," Jacob replied.

"How are you feeling?" Carlisle questioned.

"I'm fine," Y/N replied, laying back down on her back beside Jacob.

"I can go if you want," Jacob offered.

"No, it's too cold in this place," She huffed, lifting the blankets up higher over her body as her teeth chattered slightly.

"Here," Jacob smiled, reaching out and pulling her closer to his side.

He wrapped his arm around her and she leaned her head back against his shoulder as his hand settled on her arm, "Better?" He questioned, she nodded and closed her eyes. Carlisle smiled softly to himself, quietly exiting the room and closing the door.

"I know you're not here for me, but I still appreciate it," Y/N said softly.

"You're probably one of the best living people in this house right now. Us humans need to stick together," Jacob said.

"Still not human," Y/N mumbled tiredly.

"Whatever you say," Jacob replied, rubbing his hand over her arm gently.

...

Carlisle opened the door to Y/N's bedroom and paused when he realized that the bed was empty. Jacob had stayed with her for a few hours before returning to the living room to be with Renesmee. She had been asleep when he last checked on her and the empty bed made him nervous.

"Y/N," Carlisle called.

"In here," Y/N replied softly.

He stepped over to the bathroom and pushed the door open, finding her sitting on the floor in front of the toilet with her back leaned against the wall. Y/N was incredibly pale with dark bags under her eyes, exhausted and weak as she looked up at him.

"Are you alright?" He questioned.

"I can't stop throwing up," Y/N mumbled.

"How long have you been in here?" Carlisle asked.

"An hour," She replied.

"Why didn't you call for me? I could've given you something to help with the nausea," He said gently.

"Feels like someone shoved a hot branding iron down my throat," She muttered.

"I could get you some water or tea to help," Carlisle offered.

"Just want to sleep," Y/N stated.

"Can you stand?" He questioned, looking down at her.

"No, everything hurts," She grumbled.

Carlisle nodded, kneeling down and sliding his arm underneath her body before lifting her up into his arms. Y/N let out a soft whimper, grimacing in pain and gripping onto him as he picked her up.

Carlisle turned around and set her down on the countertop. He prepared her toothbrush before passing it to her, wetting a cloth under some warm water as she brushed her teeth.

Y/N leaned over and spit into the sink, Carlisle took the toothbrush from her hand and offered her the cloth. Y/N wiped the cloth over her skin, arms falling limply in her lap as she breathed heavily, utterly exhausted from the simple act of wiping her face.

"Are you alright?" Carlisle asked.

"No, I'm not and I wish you'd stop asking me that," She snapped.

Carlisle didn't reply, giving her a moment to rest as he put everything away. He stepped back over to her when her breathing rate had returned to normal.

"Ready?" He asked, she nodded.

Carlisle lifted her into his arms carefully before he carried her into her room and placed her down on her bed. Y/N grimaced as she laid back, closing her eyes as she took a few shaky breaths.

"How bad is the pain?" Carlisle questioned.

"Terrible," She stated, growing irritated with his questions as she struggled to get comfortable.

"I'll get you something for the pain and the nausea," Carlisle said, standing up from the edge of the bed.

"Or you could just snap my neck now and put me out of my misery," Y/N offered.

"That's not an option and you know that," Carlisle replied gently.

"What quality of life do I have, Carlisle? My teeth are falling out, my body aches like I have broken glass flowing through my veins and I can't do simple tasks without feeling completely exhausted. I am miserable and it isn't going to get any better," She stated.

"There are still things we can try, Y/N. You were doing incredibly well a few days ago, we don't have to jump to extremes just yet. Pain medications, sedatives and anti-nausea drugs can drastically improve your comfort level," Carlisle said.

Y/N scoffed, "I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a narcotic haze as my body shuts down," She snapped.

"Dosages can be adjusted. It doesn't have to be that way," Carlisle assured.

"You've done as much as you can for me. It's time to give up," Y/N stated.

"That's not what you really want," He said.

"How would you know what I want? You haven't cared enough to know me for an incredibly long time, Carlisle," She said.

"You're right... I haven't been there for you in the way that you wanted, but I'm here now and I want to help you," Carlisle pressed.

"You can't help me," Y/N stated firmly, "But you can let me go," She continued.

"We can talk about our options tomorrow. You should try and get some rest," Carlisle advised.

Y/N shook her head, looking away as Carlisle made his way out of her bedroom and closed the door.

Edward stood in the hallway, "She wants to die?" He questioned.

"She does," Carlisle replied.

"We can't let that happen," Edward stated.

"I'm going to try and convince her to pursue alternative treatment options, but she doesn't seem optimistic," Carlisle said.

"I'll talk to her," Edward said, Carlisle shook his head.

"Bella could be waking up any moment now, she's going to need you. I can deal with Y/N for the time being," Carlisle assured.

"When Bella wakes up, Y/N is going to need someone with her at all times. The bloodlust could overwhelm Bella and Y/N wouldn't stand a chance," Edward said.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Carlisle replied.

"Agreed," Edward nodded.

[amirasainz]

What about biker Oscar, who takes his girlfriend for a ride and she is like his adorable backpack and he loves riding his bike with her. Thx 😊

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Ride or Die

The rumble of Oscar's bike echoed through the quiet suburban street as he rolled into the driveway. The sleek black motorcycle gleamed under the evening light, its chrome parts catching the golden hues of the setting sun. He parked, pulling off his helmet, running a hand through his slightly messy hair. Oscar loved his bike. The freedom it gave him, the power it commanded—it was all exhilarating. But tonight, something was different. Tonight, it wasn’t just about the ride.

Tonight, Yn would finally ride with him.

As he walked into the house, he found Yn pacing the living room. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her oversized hoodie, her brows furrowed in thought.

“Hey, babe,” Oscar greeted, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “You ready?”

Yn froze, spinning on her heel to face him. “Uh… yeah. I think.”

Oscar chuckled, setting his helmet on the counter. “You think?” He stepped closer, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know. I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Yn said, biting her lip. “It’s just… you drive so fast, Oscar. And what if I fall off? Or what if—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interrupted, tilting her chin up so their eyes met. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then trust that I’d never let anything happen to you,” he said, his voice steady and full of conviction. “You’ve been my girl for three years, Yn. I wouldn’t risk a scratch on you.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Oscar’s grin widened. “That’s my girl.”

---

They stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against Yn’s skin. Oscar handed her a sleek black helmet.

“It’s a little big, but it’ll do for now,” he said, helping her adjust the straps.

She looked at the bike, her stomach twisting with both excitement and apprehension. “So… where do I sit?”

Oscar laughed. “Right behind me. You’ll be my ‘backpack.’”

“Backpack?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’ll wrap your arms around me and hold on tight. Easy.”

She climbed onto the bike, hesitating as she tried to find her balance. Oscar steadied her with a firm hand on her knee.

“Relax,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

Once she was seated, she wrapped her arms tentatively around his waist.

“Tighter,” he instructed.

Yn tightened her grip, and he chuckled. “That’s better. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she mumbled.

Oscar started the engine, and the bike roared to life. Yn squeaked, burying her face against his back.

“Don’t worry, babe,” he called over the sound of the engine. “You’re gonna love this.”

---

At first, the bike’s speed was overwhelming. The wind whipped past Yn’s face, and the vibrations beneath her were unlike anything she’d ever experienced. But as they sped down the open road, something shifted. The fear melted away, replaced by a sense of freedom she hadn’t expected.

The world blurred around her—streetlights streaked into golden lines, and the city buzzed faintly in the background. Yn tightened her arms around Oscar, pressing closer to him.

“You okay back there?” he shouted.

“Yeah!” she called back. “This is amazing!”

“Told you!”

They hit a red light, and Oscar slowed to a stop. He reached down, gently pulling her arms even tighter around his waist. His hand lingered for a moment, caressing her forearm.

“You’re doing great,” he said, glancing back with a soft smile.

Yn’s heart fluttered, and she smiled back. “Thanks.”

When the light turned green, they were off again, this time heading out of the city and toward quieter roads.

---

Oscar finally pulled over at a scenic overlook, the city lights twinkling like stars in the distance. The engine cut off, leaving a peaceful silence.

“How was it?” he asked, turning to look at her.

Yn pulled off her helmet, her hair slightly messy but her smile radiant. “It was incredible. I don’t know why I was so scared.”

Oscar smirked. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

He gestured for her to climb off the bike, then patted the seat in front of him. “Come here.”

She frowned. “What?”

“Sit here,” he said, patting the space again.

Curious, Yn climbed onto the bike, straddling the seat and facing him. Oscar’s hands came up to rest on her hips, pulling her closer.

“This is the best seat in the house,” he said, nodding toward the view.

Yn turned to look, and her breath caught. The sprawling city stretched out before them, glittering under the night sky.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“So are you,” Oscar said, his voice soft.

She turned back to him, her cheeks warming. “Stop it.”

“I mean it,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re my girl, Yn. And I’m glad I finally got to share this with you.”

Yn smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Never,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “You’re my ride or die.”

They stayed like that for a while, Yn sitting in front of him, their arms wrapped around each other as they watched the city lights. The night was quiet, but the moment was electric, filled with the kind of love and trust that only grows stronger with time.

[flippinpancakes64]

How would the cullens (separately) react to a really flirtatious reader. Like where reader makes flirtatious jokes and comments about them all the time and how they would react to the reader doing that in front of other people?

The Cullens with a flirty! Reader

Am I back in my Twilight phase? Who knows. Only time will tell.

Happy Valentines Day everyone!

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He can hear them before you speak

And if he could blush, he would

He’s one of the more traditional people, probably the most stuck in his ways out of all of them

All that to say he goes crazy over an ankle showing

Any comments you make about him have him (mentally) blushing and telling you to stop

Now don’t get me wrong, he can dish it out too

But only in private

The moment he hears you formulating a flirty thought in your brain, his hand is covering your mouth

You rarely ever get the jump on him

He might let you speak your mind in private

But you can already forget about saying anything with others around

Alice:

She would beat you to it every single time

She’s the flirty type

Y’all match each other’s freaks

You two have had compliment wars where you guys just go back and forth flirting

She loves it though

Every compliment, every innuendo, makes her fall deeper in love with you

And if you go out of your way to flirt with her in public, she goes feral

She loves being loved and you are more than happy to do that for her

Also you can’t embarrass her

You’re talking about how sexy she looks in that dress in front of a group of classmates?

She doesn’t care

She’ll retort back about how she can’t wait to get you back home later

When they go low I go lower type beat

Jasper:

Bro is a Casanova

Absolute sweet talker

But only in private

The moment you try to flirt with him outside of the confines of your or his rooms, he’s out of his element

Again, if vampires could blush, his face would be bright red

He always gets mildly annoyed when you say insinuating stuff in public

Not actually annoyed but more of like a

“Come on, really? Now? Here?”

The truth is that he loves the attention

Just maybe not outside of the bedroom

Rosalie:

She can def take it and dish it out

If you two are together, she is your ride or die

And she wants everyone to know

She’s not shy about flirting with you in public

And she never says no to you flirting with her

She welcomes it, actually

She loves the idea of fully being someone’s

Of her partner not being afraid to show her off and publicly admit how much they love her

Some would call it vanity

Or ego

But she calls it love

Emmett:

Oh sweet Emmett

He loves it

No ifs ands or buts

He feels like he’s on cloud nine when you flirt with him

And trust me, whatever you’ve got to say, he has much worse

I think he has a dirty mind

Definitely similar to Alice in the if you go low I go lower department

You’re out with friends and you make a flirty comment?

He’s going to go on a whole rant about how much he loves *insert specific body part of yours*

So yeah he basically has no shame

Say what you want

Just be prepared to be outdone

Esme:

I feel like she’s similar to Edward in this department

She loves the flirty compliments in private

But she gets all flustered in public

Cause wdym you’re at the store with her and now you’re talking about melons??

She’s gonna leave you behind to find your own way back

She gets embarrassed in private too

But it’s not as bad as in public

At least in private yall are left to yourselves

(Save for Edward unwillingly eavesdropping)

Definitely the type to smack you playfully

“Babe are you from tennessee? Cause I’m tryin-to-see them titti-“

*Smack* “Not another word.”

Carlisle:

He thinks it’s funny

He doesn’t really take it too seriously

You like his man boobs?

That’s nice sweetie

Very pacifistic about it

Doesn’t care if you’re in public or private

He loves you and your antics either way

The only time I could really see him caring would be if you came to visit him at work

As long as he’s wearing his coat, he needs to be professional

So that’s where he draws the line

Vampire! Bella:

I get mixed feelings about her

I can’t decide if she would love it or absolutely hate it

On the one hand, she would definitely love the silly jokes and all the attention

She has lower self esteem, and being able to know for sure that your partner finds you desirable is a great thing

On the other hand

Whenever you flirt with her in public she feels like she’s gonna die

She knows it doesn’t really matter

She’s a Cullen now

But she’ll be damned if that little anxious voice in the back of her head isn’t still there