#im sorry the squares look weird

[twig-the-edgelord]

The animal experiments

Warning mentions of waste

The animal experiments were conducted to see how Dr. J. Clementine would fare in a non-human host. Given the nature of 963 and the previous experiments it was completely unknown. A few hypotheses have been suggested.

•That he would start changing the appearance of the animal.

•That the hosts would grow certain parts to be able to do human tasks.

•That he would bond completely other than certain anatomy. Specifically cat ears and a cat tail.

[22/05/■■■■]

A stray tabby cat was gathered from a rescue shelter. It was a chubby grey tabby.

After one death a quick reminder to junior researchers that SCP 963 isn’t to be touched without gloves, SCP 963 was fastened onto a collar.

[image taken 22/05/■■■■] 1145

Around 1232 tufts of fur had been spotted around the parts of the facility that Dr. Clementine had been allowed to access. Dr. Clementine had been napping in front of a window, taking in the noon sun. The tufts of fur was shedding from the scar forming.

After calling to him by name he reacted immediately. He was able to recognize his name, as well as Dr. ■■■■■, who he is close to. After a few tests it was determined that Dr. Clementine was able to recognize certain people, places, and a toy slug. Even though the intelligence is heightened, it is still that of a cat.

[23/05/■■■■]

After Dr. Clementine was released from the kennel he was sleeping in, Clementine immediately had back away and hissed at the personal that had released him.

After a ton of scratching he allowed someone to pick him up. Though he was growling the whole trip.

Only placing kibble on the table kept him still long enough to take an x-ray and examination. Both revealed nothing out of the ordinary. No changes in bone, skin or fur. The cat was perfectly healthy.

[25/05/■■■■]

Bonding continued to not occur. The only change that happened was his tooth going missing after he bit Dr. ■■■■ because he didn’t hold him correctly. Which would be like an infant.

He was brought to SCP 529, to see how he would react with another feline. The two greeted each by sniffing. Though Dr. Clementine was weary of Joises lack of a bottom half, the two grew close with an exchange of slow blinks.

When all human entities had left the cell, it had been monitored that the two cats were ‘loafing’ beside each other, with SCP 529 occasionally rubbing her head along Jacks side.

[01/06/■■■■]

SCP 963 was removed from the cat and the body was quickly discarded.

[01/06/■■■■]

The chain of SCP 963 was looped around rope, and tied around the neck of an American Landrace Pig.

[image taken 01/06/■■■■] 1526

[02/06/■■■■]

At 0245 it was discovered where Dr. Clementine had found reasonable to defecate, unfortunately it was in front of the break room with the vending machine with the good snacks. He absolutely refuses to use the bathroom anywhere but that doorway.

It was decided to give Dr. Clementine entertainment to stop him from bothering the researchers. He was given a football and straw tubes.

[03/06/■■■■]

Dr. Clementine was permitted to wander around more of the facility, so D-class could remove the smell from the break room.

He found himself in front of the cell of SCP 321. He plopped himself down in front of the door for 2 hours, every few minutes he would push his ball up to the door as if the anomaly was able to come outside and play with him.

An agent tried to move him away, but Dr. Clementine nudged him with his head. When it didn’t move the agent he bit onto his pants and refused to release them.

Eventually he made his way back to the break room.

[06/06/■■■■]

Multiple puzzles were set in front of Dr. Clementine, which he was able to pass for treats. Including, a maze, opening crates, and matching shapes and colours. However he wasn’t able to do more difficult puzzles, even for snacks and toys.



[09/06/■■■■]

A female African grey parrot was gifted to the foundation and to be Dr. Clementines next host. It was hoped that he would be able to mimic human speech, but it was unsure if he would be able to actually understand it.

[image removed]

Dr. Clementine was permitted to be in most social areas to encourage speech. He is allowed to be in the cafeteria, break rooms, and certain researchers office.

Dr. Clementine struggled to fly for the first few hours but soon was found playing in the rafters.

[10/06/■■■■]

Dr. Clementine went into Dr. Clefs office at 1033, and at 1254 he had learned the words, “piss-fuck” “𝄡” “cocaine” “I’m a silly goose”. It is most likely that Clef is purposely teaching him these things. It should be noted that it was said in Dr. Clementines voice rather than Dr. Clefs.

[12/06/■■■■]

Dr. Clementine had a much better grasp on the English language. He was able to label things in his surroundings, flying to them and saying what they are. Examples would be

•if someone knocked on a desk, he would knock on it with his beak and say “wood”

Or

•going to the rafters and saying “metal”

He is much faster at learning speech and better at pronouncing words than what was expected.

[15/06/■■■■]

When Dr. Clementines handler passed his office, Dr. Clementine flew over and hovered around the door repeatedly saying “Haold” and “cikly”or other variants.

[15/06/■■■■]

The corn snake that had nearly finished shedding its skin was brought in.

Attaching SCP 963 on to such a tiny animal was over looked until now. SCP 963 being attached to a harness with the amulet on a wagon. The Dr. Clementine gain consciousness he began to freak out. This included wrapping around Dr.■■■■ wrist and biting him. Thrashing violently, he calmed down when a camera was brought out. He began flicking his tongue at it.

[15/06/■■■■] 0924

After being placed in a glass enclosure it was evident that Dr. Clementine wasn’t able to climb anything due to the weight of SCP 963.

[19/06/■■■■]

Dr. Clementines eyes had finally turned green after the eye caps came off, and his scales had much more of an orange tint.

[20/06/■■■■]

Dr. Clementine had started attacking SCP 963 in annoyance and flinching away in pain.

[23/06/■■■■]

A doe was found a couple hundred yards away from site 19. It was brought in.

SCP 963 was put back on its original chain and hung around the deers neck.

Image removed

Dr. Clementine struggled to walk, and his front legs kept repeatedly buckling over. He was followed as he explored to ensure that he wouldn’t injure himself.

[25/06/■■■■]

Dr. Clef was permitted to bring Dr. Clementine to SCP 166s temporary contaminant cell. SCP 166 and Dr. Clementine allegedly were timid of each other at first, but did warm up after a few minutes. Once Dr. Clementine recognized who SCP 166 was he began to lick the top of her head.

SCP 166 had made a flower crown made from the yellow roses that were loose in her antlers. Dr. Clementine responded with a behaviour that wasn’t common with deer, by wagging his tail and stomping the floor repeatedly. A very human reaction to excitement.

[27/06/■■■■]

A few staff members have brung Dr. Clementine apples, and other fruits/veggies. Though most chased him away from them still angry about the break room.

At 1644 Dr. Clementine had been found halfway out of a window. He would try to kick any presences he could feel behind him.

The second his limbs hit the floor he bolted around randomly, trying to get away from staff.

He wound up at a dead end, crashing against the wall and was unable to get back up. He kicked at nothing with his back hoof repeatedly in a pattern. It was matched with flinching and uneasy breathing.

An apple was offered to Dr. Clementine. He instantly shoved his nose against it as if it would rot at any second. He attempted to get the apple back to his safety wall, but couldn’t because of his leg.



The now wilting rose crown was slid over to him. He placed the apple inside of the flower ring. He kneeled in front of it and watched staff intently.

By this time most who gathered around had left due to lack of interest.

[29/06/■■■■]

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■. A stray greyhound with a cut in his ear. ■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■. ■■■■■■■■.

Image removed

[01/07/■■■■]

Dr. Clementine was very friendly with staff. A bit too friendly. If not actively being held back he would run up to them and happily yap, while wagging his tail. He’d tries to sit his entire body on people’s feet.

[02/07/■■■■]

At 1752 Dr. Clementine was found trying to bite the wall, growling viciously. His mouth unable to wrap the smooth surface.

Dr. Clementine was snatched up by the back of the collar, and yanked away from the wall. Dr. Clementine lashed out, YAP YAP YAP! He just wanted to get back to his tasty wall.

[05/07/■■■■]

Dr. Clementine was sat in front of a window, barking at everything that moved, taking in the sun rays. Upon hearing a whistle, Dr. Clementine swerved his head around, tongue sticking out. He walked up to the source of the noise. Little feet paddling and tail wagging.

The researcher brought him to his next host.

[06/07/■■■■]

A wild Guinea pig sat on the metal table. Given the size of the critter, it was decided to just tie it around their back.

[07/07/■■■■]

The moment Dr. Clementine saw SCP 590s cell he began weeking. Loud peeps emanated from the small carrying cage.

Once staff entered they were greeted by SCP 590, who was excited to see the rodent. “That is Dr. Clementine.” Was said as the cage was placed onto the desk near his bed.

SCP 590 leapt over to the cage. SCP 590 tried to pick up Dr. Clementine with his bare hand. Which made Dr. Clementine jolt to the other side of the cage. When SCP 590 picked up Dr. Clementine with his prosthetic hand, Dr. Clementine allowed him. He tucked his hands and feet under his body and laid flat.

[08/07/■■■■]

Dr. Clementine was removed when SCP 590 was still sleeping.

Throughout the day Dr.Clementine seemed to be depressed.

[11/07/■■■■]

Dr. Clementine was found tearing at his scar. Not to the point where he was causing damage but he seemed to be trying to rip it off of his body.

Dr. Clementine would squeal angrily, only to calm whenever SCP 590 spoke, even if he didn’t understand what he was saying.

[13/07/■■■■]

A yellow moray eel squirmed as it was hung above the tank. A tempered glass collar was slid around her neck, with SCP 963 inside of it.

The eel was dropped back into the cage. Though it took a couple of moments for Dr. Clementine to figure out how to swim. He eventually noodled around, snapping his jaw.

[14/07/■■■■]

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK HE GOT OUT HOLY FUCK HOW JUESUS FUCK ME UNTIL I DIE THEN KEEP GOING HOLY SHIT FUCK FUCKING HOW!?!?!?!?!!?

[03/08/■■■■]

Dr. Clementine somehow was in the Gulf of Mexico. He was drifting happily through a small crevasse in a ledge. He got several new scars swirling his body. In order to safely get him out pets and treats were offered.

Ending notes:

•Dr. Clementine has no memories being in a non-human host

•being in non-human hosts changed his psyche, he sometimes acts like an animal (ex:loafing, whistling, playing in the rafters, barking, crawling on all fours, ect.)

•Dr. Clementine has no idea he acts like an animal

[autistic-katara]

i’ll be like “i’m being so normal about them” then i’ll blink and it’s half 2am and i just made an intraship chart of my ot4 with bad drawings and added headcanons

(the lukanette one is a mix of dating and exes but friends bcz idk which idea i like more)

[ratatatastic]

on the robe saga, fors told viaplay "it was our captain's idea actually" so he was team sasha btw. which could mean nothing

(they also said "smells fresh, so you've not sauna'd in this one?" and he laughed and said he didn't he saved this one for that day)

its so personally funny to me that literally everyone is team sasha (ie. maffhew, roddy) except sasha himself its "today? barky" "barky hes the best" "matthew tkachuk and you guys know why..." "id wanna be barky in tappara!" "its gotta be barky" "probably go cap!" "id say barky!" all over again like sasha youre bias is showing here please 😭😭😭

oh! now that you bring up forsy saying he saved the robes for gameday! (can we also talk about how cute his smile is as he says it because he looks so proud of himself that he listened to his captain when he told him to save the virginity of his bathrobes for the game)

it does makes sense why forsy was missing from the pic lundy posted on his stories (not that particularly means much considering ekky aj driedges spence adam jesper swaggy gadjo and kuli are missing) but in the sense that all the boys in the pic have their robes on or have them bundled in their laps sans lundy who takes tourguide duties very seriously! but even then forsy couldn't help but join in because he has them on as an extra layer during lunchtime so the cold mustve gotten to him somehow but to know even then he didn't go into the sauna with it... mmm... your restraint is admirable...

so really knowing all this the timeline gets so funny because this idea has been bouncing around probably since bzito gave them the robes in helsinki (whether that was when they landed oct 29 or the day after oct 30 when lundy played tourguide for them) and maffhew mustve quipped "man it would be so funny if we walked in with em huh?" to sasha and promptly forgot about it because he yaps unconsciously and anything out of his mouth comes out in a fugue state and also in a very "i say shit and i dont really expect to be taken seriously" kind of way, sasha made a personal note of it in the maffhew index he keeps in his head, told the team in a very sasha esque way aka "don't dirty robes too much we're gonna wear them for the game :]" and no one took him particularly seriously because its sasha he always jokes like this haha hes not really gonna- (reminds them day of probably via text) and go oh well i guess its a prank but i'll still wear them because it's sasha (shrugs) i don't mind being the butt of the joke if it's for sasha to which they're delightfully surprised when everyone shows up in robes and it slowly starts to dawn on them none of it was a joke at all

sans forsy who takes everything his captain says very seriously and diligently follows his every word and saved the sanctity of the robes for gameday merely because sasha told him to... which could mean nothing... of course...

dear god help us all...

[vestaldestroyer]

There's this silly imitation of a garden right where I walk to the store. since it's gravel instead of grass and in the way, people step on it, even after the flowers had already been planted. yet, they still bloomed.

there's a metaphor somewhere in there I know it

[wooahaes]

svt - with a shy partner

pairing: non-idol!svt x gn!reader

prompt: svt with a partner who is shy(/kinda anxious).

genre: mostly fluff. established relationship in all.

warnings: reader getting anxious. some food mentions throughout. alcohol/clubbing mentions in soonyoung's (reader has a shitty time) + mentions of reader having shitty friends in soonyoung's. seungkwan yelling at someone being a dick in his. vernon fakes sick. usage of 'dude' as a term of endearment in vernon's. minghao being affectionately evil. chan being a lovable menace for a moment to distract them (teasing + tickling reader). intentional lowercase, no proofreading.

daisy’s notes: sorry some of these are longer than the others, i just wanted to write mostly affectionate sweet established relationships. also this is probs veering into anxiety territory at some points im sure.

choi seungcheol

seungcheol knew that you loved him softly. this would never be an issue with him: some people simply weren't loud when it came to loving others, and he was never going to turn away your subtle touches and loving words. being outgoing was hard for you even now in life, where seungcheol had learned to manage it well. therefore, he knew how to take care of you in social situations. he would lead conversations when you were faltering, and he always stayed close to you just to give you someone to latch onto when things were getting to be too much. shy as you were, you still tried sometimes.

and now he was on his way to save you from yet another conversation with the only two friends of his you allowed to tease you.

joshua was snickering at whatever jeonghan had said to you to make you shrink into your sweater (the one that matched seungcheol's, with the heart patches on the elbows), and you looked as though you might drown yourself in the soft fabric if jeonghan didn't stop. but seungcheol knew as well as you did that all it would take is you saying a firm 'quit it' for both men to back off. they were harmless, through and through. but the moment seungcheol was close enough, you already sought refuge at his side, burying your face into his sweater. he could feel your face burning hot.

"what are you saying to them now?" seungcheol rolled his eyes, arm wrapped around you. "are you trying to kill them?"

"all i did was point out that you two are matching again," jeonghan hummed. "it's not my fault they get embarrassed when i point it out."

joshua rolled his eyes. "cheollie to the rescue again."

"shua!" you peeked back at him, lips pressed into a very cute pout. "cheollie, they're bullying me again..."

seungcheol fought back a laugh. that was always how these things played out. jeonghan and joshua, two of your longtime friends, would tease you a little, and then you would pout at your cheollie while he protected you. hell, the latter half was usually how seungcheol saved you from other silly things. he'd been the "excuse me, they asked for no pickles" kind of boyfriend to you time and time again... mainly because he knew you'd hold your tongue otherwise, trying not to bother people. but with these two? you were comfortable playing this little game.

so seungcheol squared up a little. "are they?"

jeonghan rolled his eyes. "here they go again." and he grabbed joshua by his elbow, leading him away with an excuse. if seungcheol hadn't been matching you, maybe they would have played... but something about matching anything gave seungcheol this weird boost of strength.

seungcheol rolled his eyes in turn, wrapping his arms around you as he turned his attention away from them. "i'm glad you're okay with them, you know." he let out a blissful sigh. "it's cute to see you embarrassed."

"cheollie..." you pouted again, eyes meeting his own. you glanced around the room, suddenly acutely aware of how you'd been holding onto him. no doubt your face was burning hot with embarrassment again. "can we go home now?"

he chuckled, leaning to kissing the top of your head. "we can," he promised. "let's go."

yoon jeonghan

if there was one thing that endeared jeonghan to you, it was the cute flustered expression you had whenever he started flirting with you. no matter how long the two of you had been dating, all he had to do was call you adorable to see your eyebrows shoot up, lips agape as you made some comment about how the two of you were 'past that' now. his favorite moments, however, were these: you were trapped on one end of the couch, legs draped over his lap, and he was toying with you idly. sometimes it'd be admiring your hands, or complimenting your hair, or pointing out how much he admired you sense of style...

today? he'd been pinching your cheeks with that wicked giggle you loved (even if you refused to admit it sometimes). "you're just so cute," he snickered. "i'm so lucky..."

"hannie..." you whined, eyes still pinned to the tv screen. "you're missing it."

your face was burning hot underneath his touch, though. a little win in his book. "i'm trying to appreciate you right now," he teased. his gaze flickered back to the tv, where the male lead was (finally) confessing his love. "what does he have that i don't?"

"jeonghan, i--'

"do you like him more than me?" he teased you further, leaning in. "i could be him. he couldn't be me, though."

your gaze met jeonghan's as you pouted a little, yet never pulled away from his touch. "jeonghan..."

"i'll re-do my confession to you," he dropped one hand to rest on the outside of your thigh, leaning in. that jovial expression dropped for a moment as he became completely serious for a moment, playing it up all too well, "i'm in love with you. do you... could you be in love with me, too?" he traced your bottom lip with his thumb. "i know you once loved joshua, but--"

and that was your breaking point as you pushed his hand away, already snorting. "jeonghan!"

before you could try to dive away from him, jeonghan had wrapped his arms around you, that airy laugh punctuating his break in character. he pulled you back in, head resting on your shoulder. "you're too easy to mess with," he giggled. "you should have never told me you had a crush on joshua, by the way."

you rolled your eyes, snuggling in. "noted."

joshua hong

joshua knew how to calm you down when your shyness was getting the better of you. he wordlessly wrapped his own stretchy, bead bracelets around your wrist, and ran his thumb across the beads. you told him once that it helped you for some reason (you'd never figured out the cause), and that had been enough for joshua to always keep at least one bracelet on him. even in a formal event like this. you had made the sacrifice of coming to his work event with him, the lead he could do was ensure you were taken care of.

one of the higher-ups had struck up conversation with you, and joshua knew that it made you far more nervous. you'd answered their questions as best as you could about your own work, your college, your life... and the occasional stammer was enough to give you away to him. joshua knew you were terrified of slipping up, of saying the wrong thing. he'd been the one who spoke for you in several other situations, but he knew what other people would think if he kept doing it. he shouldn't speak for you. or, even worse, that you were rude for not speaking for yourself. he could stand people thinking badly of him, but of you?

he'd silently rolled the bracelet off his own wrist while no one was looking, and pulling it over your own when pretending to inspect your watch. it looked out of place at this formal event, but it was fine. he kept a hold on your hand, thumb running across the beads. for a moment, you looked at joshua, and then gave him the subtlest of smiles before resuming your space.

when he brought it up, you already had an answer. "it's because you're there with me," you told him later that night while sitting outside of a burger place. you'd been stealing his fries, but he didn't care. he was out of that place, and so were you. you could take everything if you wanted. you'd already taken his heart, what else did he have left that wasn't yours already?

"but you know that." he said. his tie was loose around his neck, the top few buttons undone. his jacket had been left in the car he left parked down the street. the two of you needed a real meal after the appetizers (or the 'horse divorce' as you had whispered to him to get him to laugh) were barely enough to feed either of you. "i'm never gonna leave you alone in situations like this."

"i know." you averted your gaze when you said it, ever the bashful one when it came to acknowledging his affections. "i just... i like it when i know you're there. and i like wearing the bracelets you make. it just makes me feel more connected to you, if that's okay."

he leaned over, lips pressing against your cheek. "that's always okay," he said, voice softer. "we're a team. i've got you, alright?"

you smiled again that same sweet smile he'd kiss goodnight forever if you'd let him. "alright." and then you snagged another fry from his meal, eyes flickering up to meet him. "thanks for being on my team, shua."

for you? he'd be anything you needed. teammate, cheerleader, manager... just say the word.

wen junhui

"you forgot them."

jun wasn't afraid to speak up for you. seungkwan had been getting a head count of the group since he'd been the unlucky volunteer to go back inside the vacation home to get drinks, and he paused immediately at jun's casual statement. his gaze flickered over to where you were sitting next to jun, visibly flustered, and everyone else had suddenly shut up.

"huh?"

jun waved it off casually. "you forgot to count them," he said, arm curling around you. "just don't forget to get their drink."

"it's okay," you squeezed his hip gently. "i could have gotten my own drink--"

"seungkwan lost the game, so it's his job," jeonghan called out from his spot on the other side of the fire. he was always so mindful of you and how you got timid when around the full group. "don't be sorry about it."

"seungkwan should be sorry," chan said without missing a beat. "he's the one that forgot them."

mingyu caught seungkwan by the back of his shirt before he could step towards chan, instead pulling him back into his arms with a lighthearted laugh. "i'll help you," he said. "come on. let's get everyone their drinks."

you watched the two wander off, fingers already curling around the edge of jun's shirt. all you had to do was give it the slightest tug to earn his attention. "you didn't have to do that," you said softly.

his brows raised a little. "hm?" he looked toward where the pair had left. "did you want to get your own drink?"

"no, i..." you pursed your lips. how did you say 'i'm used to being forgotten' without it sounding bad? you were typically the quieter one in a group. if you weren't with your close friends, then people seemed to overlook you by accident--just as seungkwan had done. "it's normal for me, that's all."

"it's his job, though," jun said, as casual as he could be about it. "if you wanted to get your own drink, that's fine--but it shouldn't be because he miscounted."

if it wouldn't net him a little teasing, you would kiss him here. even a chaste kiss on the cheek earned teasing with all his friends present. so you just snuggled in, knee pressing against his, and gave him a quick squeeze around the middle. it was subtle enough no one would comment on it.

"thank you, jun," you said softly. "i..." get nervous with large groups. but he already knew that.

even if it earned him a little teasing, he leaned in to press a kiss into your hair. "i've got you," he promised. "don't worry. i'll always remember you."

kwon soonyoung

all of this fucking sucked and there was no place you wanted to be more than home. but you were always a bit of a pushover, always the person who said no to going out, to going to clubs, to doing things in highly busy places when you could barely move... and yet here you were, completely miserable. why did your friends even invite you to places like this now? you'd compromised with them in the past (clubs that were a little less packed than the one you were in, or going to karaoke to drink and sing so they could get loud if they wanted), but it felt like those days were slipping away now. you hugged yourself tight, trying to make yourself smaller as you kept to a side table while they danced their hearts out with strangers. it was too loud and too cramped, and your drinks tasted disgusting, and you'd swallowed your struggles for the past few hours. when was the last time your friends did something you wanted to do...?

then your phone lit up. tap tap?

you responded in kind: tap tap.

be there in ten!

soonyoung had established this system with you forever ago. he'd gone off talking about his experience in martial arts and that tapping out was basically the way to get out of it all. you'd expressed a little confusion over the subject: wasn't the point of martial arts to, you know, to fight? but he'd played with your fingers idly, humming to himself as he considered the way to explain it simplest.

"everyone has different limits," was what he had settled on, looking up to meet your eyes that day. "so if you meet your limit... just text that to me and we can leave. no one has to know what it means."

you gathered your things as silently as you could, just to ensure you still had your belongings at this point. you danced with your friends earlier, only to tap out of that when you wanted another drink. someone had said something raunchy to you, and been kind-of a dick when you tried to innocently mention you had a boyfriend (then why are you even here?). thus you sentenced yourself to the sidelines. out of sight, out of mind, out of trouble.

soonyoung didn't seem to care that he was in his sweats. no doubt he sweet-talked the bouncer into letting him in to find you quickly and leave, because he'd already taken your hand the moment he made his way to you. he guided you out of the place, waved to the guy, and made off with your hand in his.

"i don't like these friends," he said outright once you were far away enough and your hearing was starting to return. your head still felt slightly fuzzy from it all. "why do you let them treat you like this?"

you'd been friends with this group since college. they went out clubbing then, too, but they had never pressured you to go with them then--and they still made an effort to do fun things they liked that you also liked. when did that start changing? you counted back the time. longer than six months ago? a year? what changed--

you looked at soonyoung. oh. that's what changed. soonyoung came into your life and gave you a safe place to be yourself. and around then, that's when your friends had begun making comments about how you were always so 'safe' and too timid for things. pushing boundaries was good, right?

soonyoung took your hands in his. "you shouldn't let them force you into this so often," he said, voice gentle. "i know it's hard for you to say no, but... you look miserable still."

you shook your head. not tonight. please not tonight. and soonyoung nodded in kind, squeezing your hands.

"my housemates are home watching movies," he said. "we can make more popcorn! i washed your spare clothes so you can get all comfy," he beamed at you. "but if you don't want to hang out with them, we can watch something in my room instead. is that better?"

you liked soonyoung's housemates. you shook your head. "can i sit between you and jun?"

he giggled, kissing you gently. "as long as you don't mind him cuddling with you, too."

with soonyoung around... you were more okay with anything.

jeon wonwoo

you had never believed in soulmates before, but if you had to pick one... you were pretty sure wonwoo was it. the two of you had met through a mutual friend (one kim mingyu, who was your loud, loud neighbor at one point--but also the guy who brought over food when you were sick and took care of you when you had no one else to help you), who had turned to you and said he knew someone perfect for you. the two of you met in a bookstore for your date, and the rest was history. wonwoo put you at ease faster than anyone had ever done before, and you were sure that it was because the two of you were alike.

case in point: it was saturday night, and wonwoo was spending it with you. "with" being used loosely: he wasn't talking to you, mostly muttering under his breath to himself, nor were you doing something together. he was curled up on the couch, playing a video game by himself, while you were happily doing a jigsaw puzzle today. saturday was cozy days in this apartment. fridays were when the two of you ventured out. sometimes you went out for dinner, or went to the movies, or went to a mall just to explore for hours. sometimes you were joined by friends, other times it was just the two of you. but that's how things were with you and wonwoo: the weekdays after work could be spend doing whatever the two of you wanted to do. the weekends were for relaxing at home, save for the occasional party (usually birthdays, but you made your fair share of appearances outside of those) the two of you made plans around.

being with wonwoo was easy. his introverted nature seemed to go hand in hand with your shyness. he was okay with speaking for you when you were particularly nervous with people, and he was equally fine holding your hand when you felt okay enough to speak up. he never judged you. being with wonwoo was safe. the most he ever did were the gentle chuckles that sounded from him when he was admiring you, finding tiny bits of your behavior particularly endearing.

"wonwoo?" you called out. he pulled off one set of his headphones, peering back at you for you to continue. "i love you."

his gaze softened. "i love you, too." he didn't turn away yet, though. "are you thinking about something?"

he always seemed to read you easily (you were his favorite book, in his humble opinion). you averted your gaze, already feeling the heat flood into your cheeks. being with wonwoo was easy, yes, but your shyness always seemed to take hold when it came to your feelings past those three words. "i just..." you fiddled with your fingers. "i was thinking about you. and... you're always really kind to me, you know? i don't have to, y'know, worry about messing up with you. i can... i can just be me, timidness and all."

wonwoo just seemed to admire you now, the softest smile on his face. "right... because you accept me as i am. i like this," he gestured a little to the room in general. "we don't have to go out all the time and do things. it's like..." he trailed off for a moment. "you're going to make fun of me."

you waved a hand, "no, no, just say it. i won't, i promise."

"we're cats." he paused when he heard you snort a little in response, but continued. "you've seen them before. some cats just laze around each other, and that's enough because they're spending that time together. we don't have to be doing the same thing... but just knowing we can spend this time together shows me that we love each other." he paused again, waving a hand, "not that i don't love doing things with you! it's just nice to know that we fit together."

"like a puzzle," you said absentmindedly. it earned a soft chuckle from wonwoo in kind.

"yes." he set aside his controller, making his way to you. "like a puzzle." he pulled out the chair across from you. he'd reached out, picking up a piece. "may i?"

"you may," you giggled, watching him carefully put it into place. "wonwoo?" you reached forward, brushing his hair from his eyes. "you're my favorite puzzle piece."

he chuckled warmly, cupping your cheek for a moment. "you're mine, too."

lee jihoon

the relationship you had with jihoon was maybe one of the slower ones anyone had seen. it wasn't for lack of attraction at all--anyone who spoke to you or jihoon knew that the two of you had fallen for each other. but for the longest time, both of you grew flustered when it came to skinship in public. the most either of you could handle was holding hands through busy crowds. the moment one of his friends noticed and called attention to it? you separated. it was why soonyoung, seungcheol, and vernon became jihoon's defense squad: if someone noticed that jihoon was holding your hand or arm or anything... one of the three were there to keep them from commenting on it.

and their jobs were harder now that jihoon had brought you on a trip with them all. he wanted you there, you needed a break from work after saving so much vacation time, and having a group of friends present made things a tad easier and also harder. easier because you didn't have to worry about things being awkward with you and jihoon, and harder because holy fuck, jihoon had a lot of friends. you'd ended up attached to vernon out of all of them. something about the guy's laid back nature put you the most at ease (wonwoo was right next on that list, though).

"hey, um..." you had tugged on his sleeve to get his attention, always so careful of other people's boundaries. "i know what you're doing."

jihoon had looked up from his phone, eyes flickering from you to vernon. "huh?" he paused, voice soft, "has he been bothering you--"

"no! nonono--" you waved a hand. "no. um. jihoon. you brought it up last night."

vernon looked between the two of you. "what?"

"you tell the others to knock it off anytime they see us touch at all," jihoon said outright. he was good at that when you were starting to shy away from things. "it's not a big deal. we're adults."

truth be told, it was usually mingyu who brought it up. but the others gave their fair share of loving teasing toward jihoon when they noticed the way he held tightly onto your hand at times, or the loving way he gazed at you. they always took glee in watching his face turn redder and redder. but you... you had always been a different case. jihoon could handle the teasing: he wouldn't stand it for you, even if he knew it was coming as a symbol of their acceptance toward you. you needed to say if it was alright first, not them.

"i just..." you were getting flustered over it. "i appreciate it. i like you guys a lot, but it gets kinda embarrassing when someone like jeonghan teases us like we're teenagers on a first date."

"they're shy," jihoon ran his thumb along the back of your hand. "not a kid."

vernon looked between the two of you, and something clicked. there was this understanding between the two of you that no one else had quite understood yet. all of them knew how jihoon was when it came to skinship: he didn't want to be treated like a child. and you, with your shyness, could be seen in a similar light. maybe that was why the two of you clicked so well. something about yourselves could be misconstrued and used to speak down to you, and both of you recognized that in each other and respected the other's wishes.

"yeah! yeah, i get it," he nodded. "i'm glad you guys have each other."

you averted your gaze, lips forming a subtle smile. "thanks," you said, voice quieter than before.

the two of you separated from vernon after a little more conversation, and he watched as jihoon flexed his fingers before clutching your hand in his own. and when no one was looking, he leaned in, whispering something into your ear before kissing the skin right in front of it.

the two of you were happy. and that was all that mattered to any of them.

lee seokmin

seokmin knew that, as well as you could mesh into social situations now, there was one thing that made you more nervous than anything. and that was when pictures were being taken.

he had his fair share of candids of you saved in his phone for his eyes only (or, well, his eyes and anyone who caught a glance at his home screen--his lockscreen would always be a picture of the two of you). pictures with or taken by seokmin were in this different realm of 'safe,' according to you. hell, pictures taken by you were safe, too. but he'd seen the way you tried to duck out of pictures constantly, always uncomfortable when they came up in mandatory situations.

so when he saw the wedding photographer's assistant making his rounds to grab pictures of the guests during the reception... his hand tightened a little around yours. he leaned in, lips grazing your ear for a moment, "just stay close to me and i'll block what i can, if you want."

you had been confused at first, only to spot the guy a moment later. you glanced down at yourself, brows drawing together. being a distant face in the wedding video during the ceremony had already been a little nerve-wracking, but photos of you... you looked at seokmin, a deer in the headlights. "i..."

you told him once that you didn't like pictures of yourself because you felt out of place in them. it all came from a lack of confidence that you managed to find when you were in control, or when you were seeing yourself through seokmin's lens. he clutched your hand tight, guiding you away from where you'd been sitting together, watching others dance.

"seokmin, wait," you tugged him to a stop as he guided you toward a side door. "you don't have to. i can go by myself--"

he shook his head. "he got pictures of me when i was dancing with minghao earlier," he said. "we can go outside for a minute, okay? you can't avoid all pictures tonight, but..."

you already knew that: hence why you were avoiding these. you were already tired, clothing a little less neat compared to this morning, and all you could think about was how thankful you were for seokmin. you squeezed his hand. "okay," you said softly. "then... lead the way."

(and if mingyu snapped a picture from a window of the two of you walking outside... then you were okay with it. just this once.)

kim mingyu

if there was one thing you were thankful for, it was that mingyu talked about you constantly. you weren't exactly the most outgoing person, always a little too nervous when it came to people you didn't know... and with a silly, loving boyfriend who also happens to be incredibly handsome, some people were all too eager to flirt wih him. as much as it made you a little insecure (and a lot more jealous, to be honest), you trusted mingyu wholeheartedly. mainly because you'd seen the way he reacted when people started flirting.

"i'm married," was his go-to now. neither of you were married (mingyu said he was fine marrying you as much as he was fine not doing it: he was committed to you, period, and didn't need papers to say that if you didn't want them), but the rings you wore were wedding band-adjacent. you had wanted a pair that looked simpler because your work could dirty your hands sometimes (thus you wanted something easy to clean), and mingyu liked the sleek look of these compared to the others.

sometimes you swore he took a little too much joy out of flashing his "wedding band" at people. he told you once that it was because people always backtrack so hard, it's a little amusing.

except when you were standing right next to him. that was when mingyu pulled you into his arms, giggling like a dummy (your dummy, always) as he showed off his ring. "we're married, actually," he would say. "aren't they cute?" he giggled. "they're still so shy after all this time..."

the person had wandered off, face burning with embarrassment, but seungcheol rolled his eyes from where he was boxing up your chocolates. "for how long?"

mingyu smiled, arms still securely around you. "ah... does the time really matter?" he swayed a little, dragging you along with the motion. "we're together for life. that's all that matters now--"

"you suck at lying." seungcheol smiled a little when that earned a snort from you.

mingyu just hugged you tighter. "someone has to do it!" he nuzzled your head. "and i like doing it. did you see their face when i said we were married? it's cute."

seungcheol rolled his eyes. "so i've heard."

"are you saying they aren't cute?" mingyu's voice became more serious now. would he be pouting if you turned to look at his face? you weren't sure, but with mingyu... you felt like it might be a safe bet. "they're right here. don't be mean to them."

"if i called them cute, then i'd never hear the end of it from you."

something about the way they continued to bicker like brothers finally earned a laugh from you, hands holding securely onto mingyu's arms. it stopped him there, and he immediately dove around you to kiss your cheek.

"see?" mingyu said. "they're cute. shyness and all."

xu minghao

"cute."

you looked up from your book, curled up on one end of your couch. minghao was smiling at you, head propped up by his hand as he leaned against the back of the couch. you knew this smile too well now: something inside that cute head of his had stirred awake and decided now was the time to tease you. you'd seen stoic, serious minghao plenty of times, alongside the wittier, snarky version of your boyfriend you had fallen for after he made one snappy comment back at one of his friends... but playful, silly minghao would always be your favorite flavor of him. except for when 'silly, playful' meant complimenting you. minghao knew compliments were your weakness in life.

"hm?" you sounded, hoping that maybe you heard him wrong. "did you say something."

"you heard me." that same smile greeted you now. "you're cute."

shit. shit. this was already a losing battle as you shrink down against the couch, the hood of your hoodie being dragged up. "hao... don't."

"hm?" he reached out, pushing your book out of the way--just enough that he could see your face. "don't what? tell the truth? you know i think you're cute, why shouldn't i say it?"

"it's embarrassing." you looked away.

"we're the only ones here, my love." your heart rate spiked for a moment: not the 'my love'. he knew what those words did to you. your ears were burning now, and you continued to hide yourself in your hoodie.

"still..." you already knew he had won this, whatever it was. you shoved your bookmark into your book, setting it aside as you continued to hide, tugging at the drawstring from your hood to close it around you. your voice grew higher as you finally confessed, "you're cuter."

"we're not talking about me right now," he had begun to move in. "you're just proving me right, you know. you're cute." he nudged your knees aside as he propped himself up over you.

this man was going to be the death of you.

he tugged the hood away from your face, string coming loose with ease. "see?" he poked the tip of your nose. "cute. it's a fact."

all too easily, you gave in when he wrapped his arms around you, tugging you so that you could be closer to you. he folded himself around you, burying his face in your neck as he breathed out a happy sigh.

"is something up?" you asked quietly. "i mean--i don't, up, i don't mind the sappy stuff. just..."

"i'm fine," he pecked your neck, nose grazing against the underside of your jaw. "just needed to love you louder today." he paused, raising his gaze to meet yours as he leaned around you. "is that okay?"

with a sigh, you settled into his arms. "yeah," you mumbled. "always okay. thank you for asking."

boo seungkwan

this was mortifying. what if you died right here? would that be better than witnessing this? chan had an arm around you while vernon was trying to pull seungkwan back. you just wanted one nice night with your boyfriend and his friends, and now seungkwan was very loudly arguing with someone who had said something not-so-nice about you relying on him so much. you were fine when it was just the four of you, but seungkwan knew you. he knew you struggled with being heard: hence why he reiterated your request on your behalf.

"they're my partner and i'm not going to let you speak about them like that!" he balled his fists. "just because they won't complain doesn't mean you can insult them to their face!"

"seungkwan," vernon pulled his arm harder. "dude. we're gonna get kicked out."

"fine!" he said, looking back at vernon. "i don't care! he was rude to them and made fun of them--they don't get to insult anyone i love like that!"

"seungkwan," you called out, finally getting his attention. you shook your head. "it's okay. let's just go."

he stole one last glance at the asshole he'd been yelling at, before taking a breath. seungkwan pulled away from vernon, making his way over to you as he took your hand. the four of you left, heading back outside as seungkwan immediately rounded to face you once you were far enough away from the place. he waved for the other two to go on--he just needed to speak to you alone. seungkwan took your hands, squeezing them gently.

"are you okay? did i ruin our night?" he frowned, pausing as he tugged at your sleeve to fix it back into place. "i would have let it go if he didn't make fun of you."

"it's okay," you said. "i'm sorry you always have to do this for me."

he blinked. "hm?" he looked back. "that place was busy. vernon didn't hear you, so i made sure your request got across." he paused, realization hitting him. "not that it matters now..."

"you guys can go back without me," you said, pulling your hands free. "i'm gonna go home."

"but--" he stepped forward. "you don't have to. we can go somewhere else." he paused for a moment. "i'm sorry i started yelling at him. i..." he took a deep breath. "i love you, and i don't care that you get shy or nervous or whatever you want to call it. i'm happy to talk for both of us if that's what you need me to do." he paused. "do you really want to go home?"

you nodded. "a little."

"then i'll go with you," he took your hand. "we'll come back out another night."

you squeezed his hand. "seungkwan?" you interlaced your fingers with his. "thanks for having my back."

"thank you for having mine," he pecked your cheek. "i'll always be here."

chwe vernon

the moment you turned the corner, vernon immediately straightened up, all signs of 'illness' seeming to disappear entirely. it made you slow to a stop, hand leaving his as you stare at him. was... was that why he was so insistent on not taking a cab home? he'd said the night air might help if you walked a little, but...

"alright. where to?" he turned, phone already in hand. "there's that dessert place you like. wait, did you eat? we could grab something else instead--"

"i thought you were sick." you sounded dumbfounded, and vernon blinked.

"you wanted to get out of there." a true fact, but you hadn't said it to vernon yet. "oh, dude. you get this look on your face." he made his way over to you. "like... you looked miserable. so i figured i'd take one for the team and pretend i'm sick so you wouldn't have to come up with an excuse again."

your cats could only get sick so many times without people wondering if something was wrong with them, after all.

you frowned. "you didn't have to do that."

"i kinda did." he took your hands. "like... i saw the look on your face. the 'please stop asking me about work, and my relationship, and my life, i'm going to pass out' face. remember that work thing you took me to? you did that face there, too."

maybe you loved this man more than anything.

"so... where do you wanna go? we could go back to my place. i've got popcorn, we could steal seungcheol's netflix account again, watch something dumb."

it earned a giggle from you. "he knows, right?"

"you haven't seen the new profile he made last week." he pulled you back with him, letting you follow his steps, "named it freeloaders. we're not the only ones using it, y'know."

you giggled again. between vernon, mingyu, and wonwoo... you weren't surprised seungcheol knew the netflix account was getting used by more than just him. they shared accounts, after all. he was using vernon's disney plus account often enough, mainly to get to hulu.

"just say the word if you ever want me to make up something, by the way," he squeezed your hand. "i know you get bad with people sometimes. let me handle it, alright?"

at least you had vernon in your life to make it all easer.

lee chan

chan chuckled. "it's okay," he said as he felt you bury your face in his neck. "i don't think he'll think anything of it."

chan was beyond used to seeing you flustered over the silliest little things. while he replayed his own slip-ups later on, you wore your emotions plain on your face after finishing a phone call with your close friend (and the guy who introduced you to chan), seungcheol. you'd slipped up and said an innocent 'love you!' to him, something chan always saw coming considering you'd long-since confessed that he felt like family to you. he saw the regret on your face for saying it so casually to a friend when it took you forever to say it to chan, and now he was fighting back the urge to laugh as you whined.

"he's never gonna let me live it down."

chan patted your back gently, chuckling a little now. seungcheol definitely wouldn't let it go--at least not to chan. "you're close friends! friends can say they love each other."

"i know, but..." you squeezed your eyes shut. "it's embarrassing. he didn't even say anything back and--and you know how cheol is."

that he did. chan heard your phone chime, and reached for it to steal a quick look... only to see seungcheol had texted you back: CALL ME BACK >:(

"baby?" he held up your phone, waving it in front of your face. "he's waiting."

"nooooooo," you whined again. "he's gonna make fun of me."

your phone began to ring. chan didn't hesitate to answer it, putting seungcheol on speaker. "they're dying, cheol."

"they didn't let me say it back!"

you buried your face further into chan's neck. of course seungcheol took it in stride--and of course his real problem was that you didn't give him the chance to say it back. chan let out a snort, hand curling around the back of your head as he gave it a quick pat.

"you're killing them still. you know how they get with affection."

you knew seungcheol was rolling his eyes with that annoyed sigh he let out. "they're like family. i wasn't going to be mad until they hung up on me before i could say it."

the affection truly was killing you. chan had seen you bury your face in his neck before, always too embarrassed to just accept the sweet words of anyone--especially himself. he called you one night to drunkenly ramble about his affections for you, and immediately apologized when you broke your favorite mug while you were mentally malfunctioning. even now, he felt the way you grabbed at his shirt, face burning hot with embarrassment. this was the reason why he could never arrange a surprise party for you: you might pass out if so many people broadcast their love for you at once.

"so?" seungcheol said, and you could hear someone laughing in the background. mingyu for sure, and someone else. "ignore them."

"love you, cheol," you mumbled. "sorry i hung up earlier."

your apology was met with a warm chuckle. "it's okay. let me know when you're coming over for dinner again," he said, and then paused for a second, "bring your boyfriend, too."

chan gasped in mock offense, as though he hadn't been sitting there the entire time. he hung up the call, and immediately wrapped his arms around you. "you love me more, right?" he teased, just to see that cute pout on your face. he'll kiss it soon, too.

you averted your gaze, face burning hot now. first cheol, now chan? "you know i do."

"say it." he poked your side, just to watch you squirm. "or else."

you could feel the way his fingers were starting to tickle your sides. "chan!"

all too easily, he'd made you forget about your nervous blunder as he dove forward to kiss you amidst your giggles. "say it!"

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

[prettyboykatsuki]

vanilla-cherry sweetheart | h. sakura

✮ tags ; gender neutral + afab!reader, dom top!reader, sub bottom!sakura, explicit feminization (referring to sakuras ass as a pussy, dick as a clit. the pet name good girl etc.), light dollification (reader dresses him up), rimming, anal fingering, pegging, cumming untouched, lots of gender fuckery, BRIEF breeding kink / pregnancy reference directed at sakura, excessive dirty talk, mirror sex 18+

✮ wc ; 5.1k (im crazy im crazy im crazy)

✮ a/n ; there's no way im not ovulating. this is insane. sorry. also sorry if there are any egregious typos i can only read this once over before i feel like exploding

✮ synopsis ; you think sakura makes the prettiest girl.

The soft slip of silk and satin feel weird  against Haruka’s skin.  

You’ve put effort into this, more than he thought possible. Every detail of him has been preened and plucked. A soft scent rolls off of his freshly smooth skin,  cherry and vanilla. His hair is styled down against, bangs laid flat as opposed to push backwards, decorated with clips and accessories.  

He has a face full of makeup on which was a pain to apply and even more of a pain to not rub off. His lips are parted, polished with color and his eyes are lined with a soft brown. There’s some shadow underneath, some glittery dust but everything is generally subdued. He hasn’t seen what the hell he looks like and he thinks he’d prefer it that way.  

Like hell he’d wanna see what perverted things you’ve done to his face.  

His clothes feel the most unfamiliar to him. Boxers replaced with frilly boyshorts. Bra straps tugging against his shoulder. Expensive so the fabric doesn’t itch. The kind without cups, all loose and sliding against his nipples every time he shifts. He’s wearing clothes you’ve hand-picked. Dresses that girls usually wear. Skin-colored tights underneath a patterned slip dress with that he doesn’t have the full chest to fit into, accompanied by a sweater hanging off of his arms and shoulders.  

All of these details on Haruka’s musculature make no sense. It can’t look very good on him, he thinks. Haruka has a hard body. Sinewy muscles from manual labor and fighting, a square set of shoulders. He’s always been thin and languid but not…feminine. He has no idea how to posture himself. In what ways he should sit or stand, how to behave with these soft clothes and light scents on his skin. 

The delicacy of your hands as they paint more of a nude rouge onto his mouth, makes Haruka blush further. His stomach turns as he stares at you, searching for answers he doesn’t find in the calm express on your face. You cup his jaw, your other hand using a lip brush to slide it against his mouth as you finish up with last touches. Focused as you prep him to your standards, whatever the hell they are.  

Haruka won’t pretend to understand. He thinks most of the effort you’ve poured in priming him is wasted. He thinks that this whole affair has been stupid and he’s sure the minute he catches a glance at himself he’ll want to explode into a thousand little pieces. You’ve been so damn meticulous, Haruka can’t even bring himself to destroy your hard work. No stone left unturned, each and every element met with incredible focus and detail.  

More shamefully, the attention has felt good. It’s hard to pretend that it doesn’t when it’s the only thing that makes Haruka bend at your will. He’s never had a relationship before, but he’s not ditzy enough to think your sex life is particularly normal. Nothing about you really is. Maybe your unbridled affection for Haruka can be attributed to that. It was you who pursued Haruka, you who courted him and romanced him - cornered him even as he  ran away, with frustrating levels of discretion - until the option to fall for someone else had all but disappeared.  

And Haruka had tried to run away from you. Many times. Your persistence wore him down until eventually his mind would only fill with you and whatever you wanted to do to him. With him.  

(Haruka loves you to put it plainly. You’re clever and sardonic and interesting and he doesn’t totally get you but he loves you so madly it makes him crazy. Loves you for the ways you’re good and careful, and loves you for the ways you love him. You’re so good to Haruka, so good he can’t stand it. So good his head feels staticky trying to make sense of it 

That’s why he’ll do anything for you, no matter how horribly shameful.)  

It’s impossible, difficult, irrational  - the breadth and depth of Haruka’s feelings for you are completely and utterly distanced from his own understanding. Where Haruka is abrasive yet timid, you are soothing but straightforward. Sincere. You’ve been gently introducing him to the depths of your affection, putting yourself forward in expressing your desires and thoughts.  

You’ve always been this sort of person, you hope he won’t hate you etc.  

You always give Haruka a chance to run away from you.  

No expectations. A warm gaze from across a shared bed that turns Haruka pink, incoming dawn on his cheeks down to his shoulders and collarbones. He always has options, but he likes the option making you happiest. The words thank you sound like a hymn on your lips. 

He tells itself its for you, and it is mostly. Mostly. After all this time though, he’s  conditioned. His body is molded for your touch. The unwitting pleasure of submitting himself to you had shocked him the first time he really experienced it. How soothing you were, how easily you dragged him into abyss of pure pleasure. Pleasure and sex he couldn’t imagine existing.  

Your touch had conditioned his body to burn bright wherever it lingered.  

The shame is always there, pooling in his gut and lying in wait to swallow him. It overwhelms him whenever he’s alone.  

But you always pull him from it, out of it - cradle him in the palms of your skilled hands as you whisper sweet platitudes against his skin. Praise him, fuck him into something boneless and desperate. Being exposed to a type of want, the euphoria in humiliation, the reclamation of his shame. It turns Haruka’s doubts into noise slowly but surely. He falls so deep into that depth, becomes completely unrecognizable only because he’s so sure you’ll catch him.  

He hates it so much. 

(Read: He hates liking it. Hates liking the forbidden sexual things you’ve introduced him too that he can’t forget. Hates liking the fact you’ve imprinted so mercilessly on his body and mind. Haruka could never be with anyone else. Nothing would work.  

No one could make him feel like this. You’re the first and only in the world.)  

A few weeks ago, you had mentioned wanting to dress him up like this. Stared, long and hard before petting his hair and assessing he’d make a pretty girl. There’d been traces of it before then but...  

To have it brought up so deliberately made him hiss at you feral until you winded him back down. Asked if he would be fine with it, assured it’d be okay if not.  

He said no then, and you didn’t ask again.  

(He brought it up later and felt all melty seeing you beam.)  

He thought it’d be simple. He’s seen stuff like this before when he went to look up other things you wanted to try. He thought it’d just be panties or clothes, something basic and lacy. Still perverted but simple.  

But everything has been elaborately crafted to make him pretty. The soft drawls and whispered demands, the compliments, painting his nails and washing his hair and shaving him.  

These are ritual acts of beauty, made to accentuate feminine appeal he doesn’t see in himself but you so clearly do.  

After you’re finish up your last touches, you tell him to keep his eyes closed. You stand behind Haruka with a hand under his jaw once he turns in his seat, still blind to his new looks. Your voice is an appreciative murmur, so genuine and so raw it makes all the hair on his neck stand on end.  

“Open your eyes. You’re so pretty, Haru-chan,” Your thumb slides against his cheek lightly. “Look how pretty you are.”   

He doesn’t recognize himself. Adorned, dolled up. The sinew of his muscles and hard lines of his figures contrast against the shapely pulls of his dress. He’s smooth and smells nice, perfumed and stunning. The makeup on his face doesn’t overwhelm him. It’s him but he’s pretty. So pretty it freaks him the fuck out.  

Pretty like a girl. The hell.  

“What’s all this even for? Doesn’t make sense. I’m a guy and I’m not—,” He murmurs, trying not to shudder as he feels self conscious. You lean down, your chest pressed to his back as your arms circle around his neck. “You’re so weird.”  

You ignore his empty threats skillfully. “It’s for me to fuck you in,”  

He wants to be pissed at you but you look so pleased. Obvious satisfaction making your shoulders relax, eyes raking over him in the mirror again and again. He looks in the mirror and sees a version of himself so…cute it’s unfathomable it’s even him.  

He makes a noise of discontent, lip jutted in a pout. That’s met with an airy laugh. “Seems pointless.”  

You smile at him in the mirror and his skin shades a deeper pink, tucking his chin.  

“It’s fine if you think that,” You murmur. “Is it okay if I make you feel good now?”  

“Don’t say it in such an embarrassing way.” He grits. You laugh again as you bend down over him where he sits, kissing him once before the two of you stumble into shared bed.  

Haruka feels conscious of himself when he finally lays back into the sheets. His dress rides up near over his lmees and there’s nothing underneath to shield him from your hungry view. His tights are too sheer of any use. You amble on top of Haruka, sitting on him as he lays back.  

You admire him for a long while like that.  Palm settled on his waist, you trace his features with appreciation. “You’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you Haruka?”  

“I’m…” He deflects instinctively. A coy smile tugs at the corners of your lips as your fingers find the hem of Haruka’s dress. It’s a loose thing, a printed pattern decorated with a frilly hem meant for a more shapely frame. You toy with the material, rubbing it between your fingers. “Fuck off,”  

He can’t bring himself to say he’s not a girl. For some stupid reason. The words die on his lips when he stares up at you and sees you looking at him so reverently. So expectant without words. He squirms and looks away.  

“What word do you say when you want to stop, Haruka?”  

“Tomato. Or I can pinch you,” He repeats from memory. You smile lovingly.  

“Right. Is there anything you want to say to me?” Do you want me to stop? 

He looks away, frown deepening. Relieved when you take his silence as compliance as you often do so kindly.  

“Don’t worry about anything else,” You slide the spaghetti straps of his dress off his shoulder, pulling it down past his chest and revealing the soft patterned black lace underneath. His nipples peek through the material, the rosiness more noticeable through the paneling. It looks so lewd from the angle he sees it. “Just focus on being a good girl for me,”  

Haruka lets out a strangle protest before uttered soundless from your steely gaze, nodding  frustratedly as your hands slide up to his chest. You brush Haruka’s nipples lightly with the dull edge of your nail, his spine arching responsively to the pleasure. It’s a brief touch, a promise of what’s to come. You lean forward pressing your lips to his as you rub the hardened buds until they’re tender. His lipstick smears a little onto you, a dusty rose. Haruka moans into your mouth, entirely aware of the thing barrier between your touch and his chest. Your fingers are deft in rubbing his nipples as your tongue occupies Haruka’s. You lick against his lips and tongue, sucking on it lewdly. . 

Shameless in your pursuit of him, his ass throbs from prior prep and his cock stirs to all the sudden stimulation.  

The way arousal floods his brain scares him. He can’t fight it.  You’re so good with your hands. Good at everything, like knowing where and how and when exactly to touch him. His cock tents, strains against the suffocating nylon wrapped around his legs and waist. He shivers as he feels the leaky tip press against the silk and push desperately through the nylon - stretching it with it’s length. His whole body is throbbing urgently.  

You kiss down Haruka’s bare chest until your mouth finds one of his nipples. You suck them through the cups first before tugging them away slightly and giving Haruka what he wants which is the full heat of your mouth. You’ve made him so weird. Wired his body into feeling this unimaginable pleasure in places he hardly used to touch.  

His hips buck into anticipation, mouth open and panting as your incisors sink into the flesh of his pec.  

He cries out, shuddering as he grabs the nape of neck to anchor himself at the wet feeling. His blood is rushing south making him light-headed. He feels needy, sensitive. So much anticipation had built up while you spent time on him and all of it floods to his mind all at once. The attention you pay him and only him.  

The weight of your gaze clings to him.  

“Your clits getting all hard and sticky from having your nipples teased,” You point out.  Haruka groans reflexively at your tone of voice. “You’re a perverted girl, huh?”  

Haruka should protest your words. He wants too. The cognitive dissonance should cause him discomfort but he finds only euphoria in it’s wake. He can’t understand why. It’s all so weird, but you sound so sure of yourself. Falling deeper into those unfamiliar depths makes his anxiety curl up in his chest yet when he looks at you it all fades.  

He feels greedy. Feels so selfish when his mind chants for you to keep looking at him just like that. He falls deep into that familiar liminal space, warm and comfortable.  

Your eyes are softened and assured. Haruka makes a pathetic whine. It doesn’t feel like his voice. He protests the words right away. “I’m not,”  

“Not what, Haruka?”  

He blinks at you wetly, brows scrunched. He huffs. “I’m not a pervert, dammit.” 

It’s the right thing to say. He thought it’d be. You light up at the admission, sucking a mark into his neck as you grab his waist a little more and grope him all over. You can’t keep your hands off of him, your fingers searching for all of his skin as you kiss him again more feverishly. He wraps his arms around your neck, his sweater sleeves slipping awkwardly when he does, making you kiss him harder.  

“My Haruka. My Haru-chan,” You murmur against his lips in between kisses. Haruka opens his eyes to you looking utterly adoring. Lovesickness bleeds into your eyes, a drug to his system as you direct it his way. “So pretty and perfect.”  

“Shut up,” He goads, trying to get you to kiss him a little more. “You’re so annoying.”  

You kiss again, deeper and stronger before pulling back. “I’m gonna eat you out, Haru-chan.”   

The words make him gasp, shiver  - goosebumps covering every visible inch of your skin. “Gonna make use of your pretty pussy and split it open on my cock, make you cum from the inside like a good girl.”  

It melts him down to his core, spoken with such clarity - smooth leaving your lips and so genuine. Haruka has been fucked enough to know how it feels and to want it. He thinks of all times prior, and feels the plug inside of him more consciously at the mention. He squeezes his legs together from the arousal, like a girl he thinks and the whines somewhere deep in his chest. Preens for you.  

His consciousness feels like it’s fading with each step, each breath he heaves from his lungs labored.  

He forms his lips around words that never escape him. Before long you’re scooting yourself further back, down between his legs until you’re faced with his clothed erection.  

Arousal nips at him at the sight of your face near his cock underneath so many layers. You purposefully hold the skirt of his dress and rub all over - emphasizing the shape through it. Haruka flushes at the way his cock sticks up against them. Distorts that stupid floral pattern, stretches it. His ears grow hot at the lascivious image it paints. Your palm glides over his bulge once, twice, three times before sliding it up again.  

A wet patch stains his nude nylons visibly after all of the teasing, pre-cum dribbling between two thin layers that makes Haruka want to die. Your voice is gravelly, lacks it’s usual amusement. “You’re so wet, Haruka.”  

He shivers and huffs.  

His cock twitches and his ass is throbbing. Unspoken desire nips at him as your thumb presses against his slit through layers of fancy material. Praise falls from your lips crassly. He becomes more aware each second. His bra and panties, his dress and skirt, the feeling of make-up on his face and the sensation of clips keeping his bangs away from his eye. He looks like a girl and his dick is leaking, twitching, pitifully as you touch and caress him.  

His head rings heavy with the words wet.  

He wants you to touch him more. Nearly begs with his eyes for you get the memo. 

And you do. Of course you do, all wispy and pleased by his obvious desperation for your touch. “Haruka’s got such a needy little pussy, huh?”  

He hisses, swears, takes a sharp inhale of air as your fingers find the seam of his stockings and pull until they rip unceremoniously. You pull them until his cock and the insides of his thighs are open to air, and snagged nylon shrinks against his waist. His panties, black boyshort lace panties, make his milky skin look whiter and the tip of his cock redder. 

It’s so unbearably dirty to him. It’s so humiliating. Vanilla scented skin and the heady scent of his own cum, his painted, blunt nails digging into the palms of his hands  - bitten chest and misplaced bra,  all of it is so humiliating. Makes his dick even harder under everything as your fingers wrap delicately along his shaft with the fabric. “You have to cum from the inside first, Haruka,” 

You remind him and he aches, grits his teeth about it but you don’t budge.  

You don’t take Haruka’s panties off either. The panel of fabric barely covering his cock instead gets pushed aside. Haruka bends his legs up instinctively. Your thumb taps on the jewel end of a plug, one he’d mostly forgotten about until he’s forced to be reminded it of it. He swears loudly.  

You make an abrupt move suddenly, reaching over to bedside table and rifling along for things you’d both need. Lube, a harness, and something to fill Haruka with. You settle back between his legs when you’ve got them all before you carefully tug his plug away from him.  

The emptiness makes him whine  - hole pink and fluttery and open. Your thumbs pull him open until he gapes a little more, hands massaging his thigh. “Such a perfect pussy.” 

Haruka makes an aborted noise  - a pitchy whine cut off as you dip down further and further until your nose tucks against his perineum and your tongue slides over wet hole.  

He cries out at the sudden intrusion, muscles fluttering as you force your tongue as deep as it can go. It’s embarrassing, so shameful he could die and it feels incredible. 

“It’s fucking dirty,” He shouts, cries, prying himself away from you before it can feel even better. “Stop, it’s—“  

“Ish not dirty,” You mumble, words mumbled against his puckering hole. “I helpedth you clean, remember?,”  

You pull away and your face is wet with something, lube likely, but the visual mixed with everything else makes Haruka want to crawl into a hole. Your hands on his thighs are soft and your eyes gaze, turned on him is sparkling. “You’re a cute girl, Haruka. Saying things like it’s dirty. But this much is normal, okay? It’s only polite if I eat your pussy.”  

His stomach flips, heart racing at the ease of your words. A cute girl. Being praised in such a way… so genuinely. Enough to make him think it. Haruka likes being your boyfriend, your good boy but there’s something so much naughtier about all of this that makes him want to cry. His body is so chery red, down to his neck and shoulders.  

You’re going to fuck his pussy while he’s wearing these lacy, frilly, girly clothes and he wants it so bad he could die from the shame.  

“Do you want me to eat you out? Do you want me to make your pussy feel good?”  

The words come out like a sob, ripped out of his labored breaths. “Fuck, yes —“  

So you dive back again, pressing your tongue to Haruka’s hole with reckless abandon. It feels strange but it feels good when you tease and slurp. It’s sensitive and ticklish with each stroke, something about it feels dirty. All the hairs on the back of his neck stand - electricity shooting through his nerves and making him pulse hot all over. You’re doing it so passionately, eating him out like he really has a— 

He moans a little, shuddering, cock dribbling pr-espend. Tip ruddy and desperate, he want more. He grinds against your face searching for it, hips chasing for friction.  

He knows what he really wants even if it’s too shy to voice it. His body feels so empty, so uselessly empty. He casts his gaze on your harness, your cock—laying beside him and clenches without thinking. He wants it so bad he’s drooling, aching, hips pushing against air as he moans while you eat him out. Please, please,please.  

You make an appreciative noise into him as you pull away, his hole soaked from your saliva as you look up at him from between his legs. Noticing the state he’s in, faced reddened and chest heaving. He feels so ruined and so, so stupidly horny. He wants to cum any way he can, he thinks.  

He looks at your face, absolutely lovestruck, then shivers.  

That’s not true. He wants to cum from your cock, from being fucked. He wants to cum like a girl. 

“I want you to see yourself baby,” You say, all warm. Haruka pants. “Come here,”  

Haruka is dazed as you help him up to his feet and guide him back to your vanity. He can barely stand he’s so hard. His knees buckle further when he sees himself in the mirror. 

God. He looks ruined. His makeup smudged slightly at mouth despite himself, his bitten chest and skin and his clothes. His ripped tights. All of it is too overwhelming to process. He decides against thinking.  

You wrap your arm around his waist from behind. “My pretty girl.”  

Haruka covers his face instinctively, squirming. “Shut up.”  

“Mm,” You put a hand on the front of his thigh. “Put your knee on here and your hands on the vanity table, Haru-chan.” 

Haruka obliges only because he can barely keep himself upright other wise, propping one knee onto the vanitys bench. He’s close to himself in the mirror this way - the lights making him look at himself with more scrutiny than before. He has no idea what it is about this you like. Gold-silver eyes, short hair - everything about him, he doesn’t see what you admire.  

But you’ve put so much focus into accentuating each of his features. It’s skilled in the way Tsubaki is. Everything done with meaning.  

He looks at himself closely. The sweater around his arms, the shiny polish on his fingers, the jewelry. The ornery of it all messy and ruined. Mascara rings around his eyes and his lipstick is swiped messily. All of that effort to make him so beautiful only to fuck it all up. It’s fitting. To be made and completely ruined by you in the same breath.  

When you return to him, you’ve got your strap harnessed and lube in your hands. Pour  it onto his pussy and rub it in with rough touches, doing the same to your silicone cock before tossing the bottle back towards the bed. You finger Haruka open with a hand on his hips, squeezing appreciatively at his ass through tights before tearing them even more.  

He groans, gripping onto the sturdy vanity for his life as you work him back open soft enough to be fucked.  

“Haru-chan,” You murmur, leaning forward to press a kiss the small of his beck where his dress rides up. “I’m going to fuck your pretty pussy and make you watch,”  

Your crass words sent heat flaring through up his spine. His nerves fray at the end. He pushes his hips back on instinct as you slip a third finger in, curling against his prostate. Nearly slipping, Haruka lets the sensation bleed through him, tip weeping as his pussy aches for the perfect stretch.  

“Deep breath, Haruka.”  

He takes in a sharp inhale as the head of your cock swells inside of him. Pushes past the puffy, pink rim of his hole and stretches around the sticky, veined shaft. His mind goes numb, body limp. Your hand pushes down on the curve of his back until he’s arching properly, feeling it deeper. His body and mind disconnect, acting on instinct as his teeth grind making up for the emptiness. The tables edge digs into his palms hard and Haruka shakes. His mouth drop opens, drooling from the corners of his lip.  

“Deeper,” He groans, can’t think, can’t think of anything but the delicious and obvious intrusion of your cock inside of him. “Harder, fuck.”  

“I wanted to be gentle,” You tsk then thrust. Slam yourself into the welcoming tightness of Haruka’s pussy without second thought, knocking all the air from his lungs. “It’s good to be gentle with girls. Haruka likes it rough though, right? You like your cunt mistreated even though you’ve got such a cute face.” 

Your hips grind against the back of Haruka’s ass as you bottom out and his cock twitches. His vision goes white, body taut before trembling violently. You pause. “Did you cum, Haruka? Did you cum from having your pussy filled?”  

He’s shaking. He can’t stand up properly. He’s so full. His stomach is so full, he’s so happy to be so full. It feels so good everything in his vision is white, smatterings of starlight behind his lids when they flutter closed. His pussy feels so good. He feels good for you. He’s so contented nothing else makes sense.  

“Haruka,” Your voice is wrecked. Like you were the one being devastated, not him. “Oh, my perfect girl. Cumming from my cock, so good. You’re a good girl, you’re such a good fucking girl. Such a tight pussy.”  

You fuck Haru with reverence. Pure delirium. His eyes widen frantically when you pull out and blow wider when you slam back in - forcing him to hold onto the vanity for dear life. You angle yourself and fuck Haruka hard and hot without so much as another word of warning. Praising him endlessly as you look at him in the mirror.  

“Fuck, look.” Your hands go around to his chin, cupping his jaw upwards with free hand until he sees himself in the mirror in sheer bliss. He sees you in the reflection, too, besotted. Flushed all over, eyes glazed over in complete hunger. Haruka looks embarrassing, looks euphoric and messy and so filthy he can’t believe its him he’s looking at. “Look how fucking pretty you are.”  

You pull Haruka up back his arms until his back is against your chest when you fuck him, sinking your cock so deep he feels it in his throat. He cums again, dry, from the inside just like you want. The wet slam of your hips is making it hard to think.  

“So beautiful. Gorgeous, aren’t you? So stunning even without all this. My beautiful Haruka’s and his pretty, perfect cunt. You’re made for me to fuck you like this. Made for me to fuck you like a girl,”  You babble, voice hoarse as you fuck into him hard and precises over and over and over. “Made for my dick. Should fuck you pregnant, keep you all filled until you carry my kid , turn you into my housewife.”  

It’s nonsense. Useless, horny filth. And it makes his head spin, makes his body ache so hot when you say it. Hearing you praise his cunt so affectionately, being made to take your cock. All of it makes his blood rush and turns him stupid. Impossible but his body aches at the possibility as it gets filled. Haruka can’t keep his head on straight, can’t find his tact or pull away from you fucking him so ruthlessly.  

He moans your name with his voice shattered, hands at his sides as you pound away. Dick slapping against the soft plane of his stomach each time, dribbling cum onto satiny floral and dying it white.  

His body goes taut. He can feel it. He’s going to cum again, going to cum harder.  

His voice is shot as he begs.  

“Touch me,” He whines. “Touch me,”  

“Touch where, baby? Say it.”  

He nearly buckles. “Touch my c-clit. Make me cum, fuck.”  

“Good girl,” You praise, so sweetly. “Such a good girl for me,”  

Your wet hands wrap around Haruka’s shaft and everything he was keeping pent up inside him explodes all at once. You barely stroke twice before his cock starts to twitch so hard it hurts, an orgasm hurdling towards him full speed before he nearly gets knocked down. His spine arches against you as he finally, finally gets the relief he wants and he cums.  

Haruka cums hard. Thick, heavy, wet ropes of white semen splash onto your vanity and mirror, into your fingers as you fuck him through his orgasm, jerking him off hard until he’s howling from overstimulation. He’s overwhelmed when you bottom out, sticky hand holding his hips as you grind.  

“I’m close,” You pant. “Hold still.”  

Haruka feels as you grind yourself against the leather harness of the strap with your forehead pressing his back and feels aroused all over again. His brain is so clouded with lust he can’t stop the words from escaping his lips as he looks at your face in the mirror trying to cum.  

“Cum in me,” He begs helpless. “Want you to cum in me,”  

And you push yourself into him further, deeper, hips rutting until you drop down in a shudder and scream. “Fuck. Shit! Cumming in you, fuck,”  

You cum and still drunk from the endorphins Haruka thinks its a waste you didn’t cum inside  - too deep in his head space to think about the whine from his lips.  

You breathe slow and kiss his shoulders and all over his neck. “Love you, Haruka.”  

He shudders. “…Love you too,”  

[leclsrc]

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach. 

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase. 

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting. 

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk. 

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly. 

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen. 

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.” 

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches. 

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously. 

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.” 

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking.  “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard. 

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum. 

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly. 

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting. 

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.  

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title. 

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while. 

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there. 

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot. 

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure. 

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?” 

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease. 

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

[reidmania]

LATE NIGHT BLABBER

miguel o’hara

summary: miguel wants to sleep, but you love to blabber

warnings: fluff, dramatic reader, short sweet fic really based off the sound on tiktok thats like ‘i had a dream where i was ketchup, and u were mustard, which is weird since ur normally mayo in my dreams’ yk

“goodnight” miguel says, leaning over to press a kiss to your shoulder, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull your back flush against him, “goodnight miggy”

its silent for a minute, you try to match miguels breathing in a way to try to fall asleep, but it fails, you just aren’t tired.

“miggy” you say softly after a minute, he hums in response. “would you still love me if i was a worm”

miguel sighs, seeing what type of night it was, “yes, baby.” he says softly, squeezing you gently.

you sigh, “what if i was a snail, without a shell”

“a slug?” miguel asks.

“no, a snail without a shell”

“thats a slug” he mutters, voice full of sleep. you pout, he can’t see though. “no!” you cry out, shuffling away from him.

“okaokay- yes i would still love you if you were a snail without a shell” he says, pulling you back against him. you smile. “sleep time?” he asks.

“okay!” you says, curling into him.

once again, its silent, until you hum, “miggy”

“yes baby” he sighs out, you frown. “why are pizzas made in cirlces, put in square boxes, but cut in triangles?” you ask.

“i don’t know, baby” he says, “search it up” you hum leaning out of his touch to reach for your phone on the nightstand. “tomorrow” he says, pulling you back.

you nod, leaning back into him once again. “why is jello green” you ask, “i don’t know” he says tiredly.

“how do they get it green” you sigh, thinking deeply.

“think about it in the morning” miguel says. “am i being annoying” you ask, turning so your facing him, looking up, you can only seem his face from the moonlight shine peaking through the curtain.

his eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed, he opens them slightly to look down at you. “no baby, im just tired”

“sorry”

“its okay, i love your blabber” he says, you smile cheesly up at him.

“realllyyy??” you ask.

miguel nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “yes, just a little less at one in the morning” he mutters.

“im sorry- im just not tired” you hum, miguel chuckles. “its alright princessa, do you want back rubs” he asks softly, knowing it calms you down.

“yes please” you say softly, “alright, come here” he says pulling you impossibly closer.

soon enough your breathing slows down, head buried in miguels chest as his hands rub circles around your back.

“i love you, and your blabber, always” miguel whispers in your ear as you fall asleep

[squidpedia]

Helloooo, I have a question. How do you draw faces/heads?

When I draw faces they look extremely silly XD.

Helooooooo!!! As always ill try my best to word this but im not the best at explaining art tips or even paying attention to my own process :’’’’) so some things could be worded kinda weird, sorry!!

I’ve been trying to get into the habit of drawing squares or rectangles for the base shape of the head. Its sorta depends also on if im drawing something more loose and chibiish or more detail dedicated to the face. I sorta just freestyle it usually but I just draw rectangle + shape to indicate cheek. The cheek area usually spans from the bottom of the face to somewhere a bit underneath the middle of the face.

General rule of thumb also passed around a lot for proportioning eyes, nose, and mouth is drawing a circle with a crosshair in the middle along with the rest of the bottom half of the face. Finding the middle point between the horizontal crosshair and the bottom of the fair and placing the nose there. Then finding the middle point between the nose and the bottom of the face and placing the mouth around there. Usually for the eyes I stylize them to fall just a bit under the horizontal crosshair.

Sometimes I will also mark the hairline for the face since that makes the face make a little more sense to me when I’m struggling. I eyeball this 100% of the time i sorta just pretend the character is wearing a swim cap

it also helps me a lot lately to study different facial structures from models and practice drawing varying facial types to incorporate into characters. This isnt exactly the best example since the faces arent really the main focus as much as getting a thumbnail for the general shape of each character, but you can kinda get a vibe for trying to shape each face differently from each other

[huggybearluvr]

Next Thing You Know || Q.H

Series Masterlist

Synopsis: After meeting Quinn at a bar in your 20's you can't believe how fast the time flies.

The song links:

Apple Music || Spotify || Youtube

y/nmathews

liked by yourbestfriend, quinnhughes, and others... y/nmathews met this guy at a bar and next thing you know he's my boyfriend....

view all comments...

yourbestfriend I'll kill him. He better treat you right.

y/nmathews oh he is girl

austonmathews do i know him. does he play hockey. and how old is he.

y/nmathews idk. maybe. lols

quinnhughes seems like a stud

jackhughes that back looks familiar....

y/nmathews no it doesn't!

lukehughes YES IT DOES @quinnhughes

quinnhughes shut up.

jackhughes @austonmathews do we approve of this?

austonmathews i'm just glad it isn't you with your grubby hands.

jackhughes excuse me?

quinnhughes

liked by y/nmathews, lukehughes, and others

quinnhughes never thought I could love like this.

view all comments...

jackhughes thought you said you were staying single for awhile

lukehughes he did infact say that.

quinnhughes don't be mad that you guys cant pull like I can

y/nmathews I love you <3

quinnhughes I love you more baby

ellenhughes such sweethearts

austonmathews this is...

jackhughes nasty?

lukehughes absoutely fucking crazy?

y/nmathews can you guys leave us alone please?

austonmathews sorry.

jackhughes im not

lukehughes me either

quinnhughes .

yourbestfriend OKAY THIS IS CUTE

quinnhughes

liked by y/nmathews, jackhughes, and others

quinnhughes next thing you know she moved in! ... and brought her weird ass dog with her...

view all comments

austonmathews the first picture...

y/nmathews is so cute!

austonmathews no.

y/nmathews WEIRD ASS DOG?! excuse me sir Zues is a little baby

quinnhughes he could squash us both.

y/nmathews hes. a. little. baby.

quinnhughes he ways 140 pounds...

y/nmathews shhhhh he's my baby.

mitchmarner @austonmathews YOU LET HER TAKE THE DOG?!

austonmathews its her dog?

mitchmarner NO NO NO It was yours as much as it was hers.

y/nmathews he didn't take care of that dog, it was all me.

mitchmarner zues squared tho :(...

y/nmathews ill bring him with me when I visit.

y/nmathews

liked by austonmathews, mitchmarner, and others...

y/nmathews Mrs. y/n hughes has a ring to it.

view all comments...

quinnhughes I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you baby

y/nhughes I love you more than anything else in this world

austonmathews when he asked for my blessing, I didn't think he would propose so quickly.

quinnhughes oops?

austonmathews if she's happy, I'm happy.

y/nmathews im more than happy :)

jackhughes god she's gonna be moms favorite now

ellenhughes she already is :)

lukehughes MOM NO I AM

quinnhughes in your dreams Luke it was me before y/n

yourbestfrind AWWWW BABY

y/nmathews my maid of honor <3

quinnhughes

liked by y/nhughes, ellenhughes, and others...

quinnhughes the best weekend of my life. To my beautiful wife, I love you more than any words could ever say. You are the sunshine of my life and I have no idea where I would be without you. Thank you for choosing me to spend the rest of your life with.

view all comments....

y/nhughes wouldn't wanna be doing life wiht anyone else. I love you quinn.

quinnhughes I love you too baby

jackhughes congrats to both of you! I love you both.

y/nhughes awww rowdy, we love you

ellenhughes Congratulations! welcome to the family officially y/n!

y/nhughes thank you!!

austonmathews You got a good one Quinn. Congrats to both of you!

lukehughes huggy is all grown up :(

quinnhughes i've been grown.

y/nhughes

liked by jackhughes, yourbestfriend, and others...

y/nhughes the honesymoon has been nothing short but amazing.

view all comments...

austonmathews Zues misses his parents come back soon

y/nhughes or do you just miss me?

austonmathews ...

jackhughes QUINNS A SIMP

y/nhughes I can't deny that

quinnhughes for her yes I am a simp.

quinnhughes mrs. quinn hughes looking great!

y/nhughes mr. quinn hughes looking even better

lukehughes vomit.

y/nhughes

liked by quinnhughes, jackhughes, and others...

y/nhughes surprise! baby hughes on the way!

view all comments...

austonmathews I'M GONNA BE AN UNCLE?!

jackhughes WE ARE GONNA BE UNCLES?!

lukehughes WEE ARE GONNA BE UNCLES?!

mitchmarner WEEE ARE GONNA BE UNCLES?!

y/nhughes yes you are ALL gonna be uncles.

austonmathews so like whose the god father...?

jackhughes me

lukehughes uhmmmm no me.

quinnhughes both of you stop.

ellenhughes congrats! the baby is gonna be a little angel!

quinnhughes I am so excited baby!

y/nhughes me too! Can't wait for little nugget.

quinnhughes

liked by y/nhughes, jackhughes, and others...

quinnhughes surprise twin boys! Y/n and I are so excited to introduce Sawyer Warren Hughes and Seth Auston Hughes.

view all commments...

y/nhughes I am so excited to be doing life with you and them! I can't picture a better family! I love your three more than anything in this entire world.

quinnhughes and we love you all the way to the moon and back baby.

austonmathews you named one of them after me?

mitchmarner he is quite literally crying rn.

y/nhughes awww Aus, come over and meet your god children :)

austonmathews are you being serious? I am the god father???

quinnhughes we couldn't think of any one more perfect for the role

lukehughes I am so honored.

y/nhughes we love you lukey.

[elvishdemigod]

I headcanon that Leo invents phones that are actually just portable Iris-Messaging boxes. The IM-Phone.

I'm sorry, but that kid is too creative and smart to just make a basic phone with the addition of no monsters being attracted. He'd make a creative one just for demigods, but isn't too weird for regular people to take notice of.

I think it would have a similar mechanism to that of the phones from Trollz

Like this, but a touchscreen phone that can turn into a flat square instead, and the screen has water in it.

Because with a basic phone, there's still going to be some kind of demigodly bad luck with those. At least an IM-Phone, it might be easier to make and therefore faster to produce for others. Worst that could happen is losing or breaking it.

Here, a quick doodle of what it could look like:

It would work for them, losing it wouldn't be the worst thing ever, it's convenient, it's quick to make.

[specialinterestshows]

minor spoiler if u havent see raw 7/22

yeah sorry i went insane for a few. Yea oh lord yea im re reading. Idk if youve seen raw yet but if so the clip of rhea licking doms face😭❤️🫡

it wont lemme insert the vid i have i can dm it to you so likeeeee

Like gn!afab!reader and dom yella at liv and then rhea does that little lick thing and she then takes reader and dom back stage and fucks them? And like raging mommy kink (idk if you could tell but i LOVE mommy/daddy kinks /sarc) and but like POSSESIVE SEX like they get handsy back stage a damian is like “take it easy” the they fuck at the hotel.

holy fuck i love this woman lmao

You got it!

The following is a gender-neutral!AFAB!reader x Rhea Ripley x Dominik Mysterio oneshot, based on the incident in the aforementioned episode of Raw (which I have been mentally calling “the face-lick that launched a thousand fics.”)

Warnings: Exhibitionism, mommy kink (for reader; Dom still calls her Mami), possessive dirty talk, choking, face-licking, voyeurism, groping, orgasm control, biting, blindfolding, body writing, possessive sex, begging, edging

-

Squared Circle Triad

“Wepa!”

Damian quickly averted his eyes, having walked into the Judgment Day locker room to see Rhea with you and Dom. She had half-stripped the two of you already, black lipstick prints covering you both. She ran her nails across you for a moment longer before turning around.

“Just reminding both of them who they belong to,” Rhea smirked, “Mami’s been gone so long, hasn’t she, loves?”

She was right. Three months without Rhea had left you and Dom scrambling trying to get the title belt away from Liv and avoiding her increasingly uncomfortable advances toward you both. It had all come to a head tonight, when Dom started yelling at Liv.

You were surprised at first, never having seen him have an outburst quite like that before. But the more he spoke, the more you agreed and, eventually, both of you were yelling across the stadium for Liv to stop trying to interfere with your relationship. She ran away crying - but the moment she did, Rhea grabbed both you and Dom by the throat in that passionate, possessive way you both missed.

You watched his goofy grin as Rhea slowly licked the side of Dom’s face and kissed him, before doing the same with you. A thrill ran up your spine and you were left a bit dazed as she whispered something about wanting both your tongues next, pulling the two of you out of the ring and into a more private setting - but not completely private.

“Yeah, well, take it easy,” Damian suggested, looking at the three of you now, “Carlito walks in here and I guarantee he’s gonna make it weird.”

“Relax,” Rhea chuckled, “Never thought you’d mind getting a free show so much.”

Her lips brushed your shoulder as she played with Dom through his unbuttoned pants, her teeth sinking into your skin and making you moan loudly. You felt your face get warmer, knowing you were being watched.

“That’s cool,” Carlito’s voice made you look over, realizing your audience now included the entirety of the rest of the Judgment Day and company, all watching intently.

“Perverts,” Rhea sighed, letting go of you and Dom, “Alright, alright, we’re leaving for the hotel.”

Grabbing what clothes you recognized as quickly as you could, a sigh made you look up. Dom locked eyes with you, disheveled and visibly aroused. He seemed hesitant to leave, despite the crowd.

An insistent cough and tilt of her head from your girlfriend told the two of you to hurry up. There was no hesitation after that, both of you re-dressing in record time.

“Coming, Mami!” Dom said as he walked over, not appearing to realize his shirt was on inside-out.

“Not yet,” Rhea teased, grabbing his jaw as you caught up, “Not without permission.”

She let go and you grabbed Dom’s hand, pulling him along with you as you followed.

As you exited the room, you swore you could faintly hear:

“That’s… cool?”

-

Once the three of you entered the hotel room, both you and Dom were told to strip down to nothing. Eagerly following orders, it quickly became a sort of competition as to who could strip faster, Dom playfully throwing his clothes your way as soon as he removed them until you were doing the same.

“Behave for Mommy, darlings,” Rhea warned, trying not to laugh at your antics, “Go on, kiss and make up.”

Dropping the underwear you still had balled up in your hand, you threw your arms around Dom and the two of you giggled as you kissed.

“That’s better,” she said, slowly taking off her belt and undoing her pants, “Family shouldn’t fight. Family” - she let her pants, belt and all, fall to the floor before running her hand along the small wet patch that was already soaking through her panties - “should love each other.”

Once her underwear also laid on the floor in a heap, Rhea turned around and bent over. While you and Dom were distracted by the mouthwatering view, her hand disappeared into one of her bags for a moment, pulling out a purple bandana and a shiny, silver marker.

“You, on your knees,” she ordered, pointing at Dom, then the floor underneath her, “You’re mine, which means your mouth is too. Get to work.”

While Dom did as he was told, Rhea folded the bandana.

“You, come closer,” she was speaking to you now, beckoning you forward with one finger.

Rhea was already biting her lip and sighing at the touch of Dom’s tongue when you stepped forward. She placed the bandana over your eyes, tying it into a makeshift blindfold.

“Can you see?” she asked, breath hitching at the end of the question.

“No, Mommy,” you replied, mesmerized by the sounds of her restrained pleasure.

“Good,” you heard the smile in her voice before she moaned, “Fuck, that’s it, Dom-Dom.”

A cool feeling slithered across your chest as the acrid marker smell reached your nose. No matter how hard you tried to concentrate on how the marker moved - and what she might be writing - you were distractingly wet and aching with desire. Listening to both of your partners enjoying each other wasn’t making it easier.

“Hold still,” she instructed when you squirmed, “Mommy wants to make sure everyone can read what she’s writing on you.”

After what felt like far too long, you finally heard the click of the marker cap snapping back into place.

“Yes… fuck yes… smile for the camera,” Rhea said before the sound of her phone taking photos clicked over and over, “Mmm, fuck, now turn around” - her hand gently touched your waist to make sure you did as you were told - “So good for Mommy.”

The moans that rang in your ears were getting louder as the blindfold was untied and lifted away from your eyes. The look on Rhea’s face told you she was close to coming. She confirmed your suspicions when she pulled you in for a deep, passionate kiss and your lips buzzed, her grip on you tightening as she trembled, letting the sensation engulf her. Your body screamed for the same pleasure, but you knew trying to touch yourself would only delay it further, so you kept your hands at your sides and melted into the kiss.

After riding out her orgasm, Rhea let go of you and giggled. Looking over, you saw Dom serenely licking cum off his mustache before looking down at yourself. You could only read some of what Rhea had scrawled across you. Then, you remembered her taking photos.

“What is it, darling?” she asked, eyes searching you for a hint at what you might be thinking.

“Can I see the pictures?” you asked shyly, watching her slight worry turn to amusement.

“Of course you can,” Rhea cooed, “Look at all the lovely things Mommy wrote on you, baby.”

You looked through the pictures of you on her phone as you felt Dominik’s eyes reading what he could see of you.

There were several that made you smile:

“I love my Mommy” across your chest,

“Pretty little plaything” on your lower back,

Yours, Dom’s, and Rhea’s initials inside a heart on your side, separated by little plus signs,

“Rhea’s forever” on your shoulder.

By the time you were done reading, you were practically dripping down your own thighs.

“Get a good look?” Rhea asked, smiling when you nodded and handed back her phone, “Perfect. Now switch places, both of you.”

A gentle peck on your cheek sent you on your way. A second later, Dom pulled you in for a kiss, the familiar taste of your girlfriend still on his lips, before grabbing your ass and taking your place - standing, ready to be blindfolded.

Kneeling down between Rhea’s legs, you greeted her with your open mouth. Her body responded as soon as you started to move your tongue, the melody of her ecstasy beginning once again.

The orders she gave Dom became background noise as you focused all your attention on pleasing Rhea. You hummed against her, delighting in how good she tasted. Losing yourself in the rhythm of your own movements and your girlfriend’s moaning, your mind reached a point where your thoughts melted into muscle memory.

Even without having payed attention to any of the words exchanged between your partners, you knew when Rhea was done with Dom when she suddenly started moaning louder. Your mouth moved faster and faster, tongue flicking wildly, until Rhea filled the room with the sound of her climax. She tasted even sweeter when she came, and it took her yanking you away to stop you from trying to push her through to yet another orgasm.

Grinning, Rhea turned, reaching into her bag once more as you and Dom took a moment to examine what she had written on him. The two of you compared similar ones; his said “Mami” where yours said “Mommy,” among other slight differences. Each of you was so busy pointing out what was written on the other that it wasn’t until Rhea said “Your turns now” that the two of you turned to look at her again.

She was stanced powerfully, naked except for the strapon fully snug against her hips, thighs, and ass. The purple toy she had on was one that the three of you had picked out together; thick, with a series of bumps around the base that drove you and Dom wild.

“Lay down on the bed, babe,” she told you, giggling at how quickly you followed instructions. Then, once you had, “Scoot down a bit.”

You did so, but apparently not far enough.

“Here, let me help,” she said before pulling you closer to the edge by giving your ankles a sharp tug, “There we go. Now Dom-Dom, you get on top of them, facing each other.”

She pushed him down once he held himself over you, making his elbows buckle and his torso press against yours. You gasped at how hard he was, the pre-cum dripping down his shaft smoothing the friction against your clit as he squirmed.

“Good boy,” she praised, “You’re going to stay there, just like that, and you’re not allowed to come until they come twice.”

Dom whined pathetically at this news, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Aw, don’t worry,” Rhea told him, “You’ll still get to feel Mami fucking them while I tease you.”

Saying this, she pressed the tip of the toy against your wet, needy hole.

“You’re not allowed to come without saying you belong to me first,” she pushed a bit further inside you for emphasis, “Understand?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you whined, desperate to feel her fill you all the way.

“Let’s practice,” Rhea suggested, drawing out your anticipation, “Pretend you’re getting close. What do you say?”

“I belong to you, Mommy,” you recited.

“That’s right, just like that,” she praised.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head the moment she slid so deep inside you that you felt the texture at the base of the toy.

The first few thrusts released your unrestrained moans into the air, feeling like almost too much all at once - just the way you liked it. Dom obediently remained on top of you, making needy noises as he kissed your neck. Your fingers gripped his hair as you rapidly approached your first orgasm.

“I’m close,” you moaned. Then, remembering your orders, “I belong to you, Mommy.”

In response, she started fucking you harder; but you still didn’t have her verbal permission.

“I’m yours!” you cried out, so close you were worried you might come whether you had permission or not, “I’m yours!”

“Come for me,” Rhea purred, praising you as your body automatically responded to the command. She had trained you well, and a few months away hadn’t dulled that training in the slightest.

As you rode out your pleasure, Dom suddenly began squirming on top of you, noises growing more desperate.

Once you had fallen into aftershocks, you opened your eyes and moved your head to see Rhea teasing Dom’s asshole with the pad of her thumb.

“Mami!” Dom moaned.

He sounded so cute when he was desperate that you couldn’t help but want to tease him a bit too. You nibbled on his ear as Rhea stopped moving the toy inside you, both of you having too much fun torturing Dom. He whined your name next, knowing he shouldn’t even think about coming until you had done so again.

“Aww, he’s confused,” you joked, “You don’t need my permission, babe.”

“Mami, please,” Dom begged urgently, “Please make them come again.”

“Oh I will,” Rhea said, “But I’ll take my sweet time doing it.”

She gradually started thrusting in and out of you again, the sublime motion making you cling to Dom. He whimpered against you as you grew closer and closer to your next orgasm with every movement. But, just when you were getting close enough to confess Rhea’s ownership of you once more, she stopped entirely. Both you and Dom groaned in frustration, making her laugh with delight.

“You’re both so cute when you want it this badly,” your girlfriend said, a twinge in her voice betraying the sadism behind her sweetness.

Before either one of you could try to beg, Rhea began fucking you and touching Dom at the same time. Your moans and his echoing each other as you both writhe against one another, a fervent mass of flesh chasing release.

But the moment the word “Mommy” escapes your lips, Rhea stops, leaving only the tip of the toy inside of you. The whine of defeat muffled by your shoulder tells you that both of you have been left at the edge.

“Please, Mommy,” you hear yourself say, so needy your words are running into each other, “Please, I’ll do anything-“

The heavenly sensation of Rhea sliding all the way back into you made you lose your train of thought, the loud sound of how wet you were punctuating each push of her hips. It wasn’t long before you were close once again.

“I belong to you, Mommy!” you cried out hopefully.

But rather than giving you permission, she slowed her pace instead.

Dom started begging her not to stop. Soon, the both of you were pleading for her to let you come.

“Alright, alright,” she finally conceded, “Mommy can’t say no to both of you.”

Rhea started thrusting again, showing you just how much she had been holding back by putting her weight behind every bruising, carnal thrust pounded into you this time, until the hotel walls resonated with your cries of pleasure. She fervently fucked you past your peak, until you whimpered a breathy “thank you, Mommy.”

Rhea pulled out of you then, immediately sliding the head of the toy into Dom. Your cum must have made excellent lube, judging by the way he was moaning on top of you.

Once the toy was all the way inside of him, Dom came embarrassingly fast, all over your torso and his.

“Gracias, Mami,” he breathed as she pulled out.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Rhea says, leaving you and Dom in a warm, sticky embrace as you kissed each other.

She appeared by the bed again a moment later, handing you both warm, damp towels to clean off with. Dom rolled off of you with a sigh and began cleaning off.

“You two did so good for me,” she praised, loosening the straps on her harness before climbing out of it, “Need anything else?”

“Just you,” was your reply as you wiped the last bit off your chest. Dom agreed, motioning for her to join the two of you.

She turned off the light, crawled over, and sat down on the bed. Her arms were around you both before your eyes even had time to adjust. The three of you moved and shifted into each other until you had all found maximum comfort.

“Te amo,” Dom mumbled sleepily, tapping Rhea’s hand with one finger.

“Te amo,” he said again, doing the same with you, “Buenas noches.”

“Good night,” you said to your partners, “I love you both.”

“And?” Rhea asked, gently grabbing hold of your jaw to get her point across.

You understood immediately.

“And I’m yours.”

[end]

-

Tag list (thank you!)

@domripley , @falloutboy-lover , @emogoblin-666 , @teganc , @sinderellanightwolf

[princesssmars]

she can fight.

an abby anderson x reader

while out on an outing with your girlfriend, some vloggers decide to make you their next target. luckily your girlfriend can handle it.

wc: 792

contains: cursing sorry im a sailor. reader is described to have hair. those stupid vloggers youtubers whatever that go up to people and ask dumb ass questions. said bloggers hitting on you icky. abby being a sweet bodyguard girlfriend. me being obsessed with her.

a/n: i haven't been this obsessed with a white woman since my vi phase of early 2022 nobody look at me.

you had thought prior to this point that you were a moderately lucky person. you had a loving family and friends, a caring and incredibly attractive girlfriend, and if she and most other people on campus had any say, you were pretty fucking hot. so in short, life was pretty good. until today.

abby was the one to ask you to come with her today, telling you how she needed some new gear and clothes for sports and working out. you weren't gonna say no to spending some more time with your girlfriend, especially when she offered to buy you a new purse.

after a bit of shopping in the outdoor mall, you start to feel a bit hungry right as abby says she has to use the bathroom. you tell her that you're just going a minute's walk away to catch you both a quick bite to eat, the blonde reminding you of her favorite order and ruffling your hair before she walks away laughing at your pout.

so you're sitting at a table in the square, already indulging in your meal and sneaking a quick bite of abby's when you feel a quick tap on your shoulder. turning around, you're met with two boys, one further back with a camera that seems to be recording and another who seemed to be the tapping culprit who has his phone up to his mouth.

"hey, do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" he asks, pointing the phone in your direction. you'd seen people like this on tiktok before, coming up to people in public and annoying them. normally you wouldn't be for it but you decided to indulge them since you were getting pretty bored waiting for abs.

"no problem, fire away."

at first, the questions are weird but simple. basic ones like "how many stars are on the flag?" and "what's the craziest thing you've done in the past year?". throughout the questions, you noticed your interviewer constantly and not at all subtly checking you out, and you weren't surprised he couldn't detect how you were steadily becoming more pissed off. after a particularly dumb question you put an end to it, telling the boy how you need to get back to your snacking.

right when you turn away to sit back down you feel a hand grip your arm, your face completely bewildered at the audacity of this man to touch you. he seems to notice your unease and lets up slightly before asking, "can we just ask one more question?"

frankly done with his bullshit but now wanting to piss him off and get yourself into trouble, you relent with a sigh through your nose and nod your head.

"can your boyfriend fight?"

it takes everything in you to hold back your laugh but you fail, a surprised giggle falling past your lips. the guy seems to take it as you giggling like he's being charming and it makes you laugh harder. you calm yourself down enough to answer when you feel a familiar presence behind you along with the scent of pine and you can't help but smirk.

"nope, but her girlfriend can."

the man's grip on your arm disappears so quickly you would have thought he had been burned and the scared look on his face is one you definitely won't be forgetting soon. abby's arm wraps around your waist as she tugs you against her body away from the vloggers, who are currently stumbling over themselves and apologizing to her for hitting on you.

"dont apologize to me, morons, apologize to her." she scoffs, already sick and tired of talking to these people who had the audacity to hit on her girl so rudely. the boys quickly do as she says, apologizing for bothering you before taking their leave to probably bother some other poor soul.

you turn in abby's arm, ready to laugh about the encounter when her other large hand cups your cheek and brings your lips to hers in a passionate kiss. its so quick you barely get to kiss her back before she pulls away, smiling down at your dazed face with that stupidly sweet but smug look on her face.

"you feelin' alright there, baby?"

you nod your head slowly which only goes to amuse her more, the girl grasping your hand in hers as she sits down at your previous little table and pulls you into her lap, ignoring your whines about pda as she asks you to feed her some of her fries since she can tell you ate some already.

the rest of the day was spent giggling and spending time with your sweet idiot-repellant girlfriend, so maybe your luck was turning for the better.

.

.

.

if i don't meet an abby clone in college i will literally eat 800 apple seeds

[bitchimasnake-sss]

tumblr au. ft aot characters!

girlypop im obsessed with making these and theres nothing you can do to stop me. basically, what if aot characters had tumblr? [set in between the time skip period, pre-rumbling]

🐥freedomyeager

oh your friends gave you chocolates? mine gave me ptsd and trauma

🔁🐴jeaniejean Follow

bro you literally lost one uno match why tf are you so fucking emo?

🔁⚔️micasasucasa

eren, stop staring at the ocean and get your ass back in here or so god help me.

345 notes

📘arminarlet Follow

You know what's weird? That typically, I am a "cutie-patootie" but then I do a little, mild, psychological torture to my enemies. And suddenly, I am a threat to the nation. Y'all switch up so quick.

406 notes

👨‍🦲baldspringer Follow

when you enter a dick-riding competition but your opponent is @flochyou

🔁🚩flochyou Follow

you're just mad daddy doesn't like you 😒

🔁🐥freedomyeager

dude how many times do i gotta tell you to stop doing that in public?

🔁🍖sashahaha Follow

hes allowed to do that in private???

#yeagerists exposed

41,032 notes

⚔️micasasucasa Follow

is it normal to have re-occurring dreams about your dead parents or friends?

🔁🩳leviackermanofficial

yes.

🔁👱🏻‍♂️braunreiner Follow

yeah

🔁📘arminarlet Follow

I've asked Commander Zoe if the Scouts can afford to send you all to therapy but she said "fuck no, i dont even have money to eat shit." So, looks like you're all stuck like this. Sorry guys.

3,512 notes

🐴jeaniejean Follow

they call me a horse cause all the girls wanna ride me yeehaw🤠

🔁👨‍🦲baldspringer Follow

dude, blocked.

🔁🍖sashahaha Follow

blocked.

🔁👱🏻‍♂️braunreiner Follow

blocked.

🔁⚔️micasasucasa

blocked.

🔁👑 ymirsgf

and reported.

675 notes

😴leonhart Follow

i swear to god if @baldspringer played "annie, are you okay?" in frong of my crystal one more time, i will break this crystal and come punch him square in his egg-shaped head.

🔁👨‍🦲baldspringer Follow

i was literally trying to keep you entertained. but anyways annie, are you okay?

🔁🍖sashahaha Follow

are you okay, annie?

🔁👓officialtitanlover

@leonhart HOW ARE YOU TYPING IN THE CRYSTAL?

👓officialtitanlover

My son is officially entering his emo phase. Today, he said "ruskin ready to rumble" while staring at the sea. It's literally so funny 😂😂

🔁🐥freedomyeager

ITS LITERALLY NOT A PHASE, I WILL KILL EVERYONE

🔁🩳leviackermanofficial

Have you lost your mind? Do i need to kick you in the face again?

🔁🐥freedomyeager

... no 😞

141 notes

a/n: jean is a loserboy and i love him. only i am allowed to slander him.

[asclexe]

⭐️ government-forced blog intro post ⭐️

(new and improved!)

welcome to marvin’s marvelous mechanical museum!

🌟⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌟

^ me if you even care..

art above by the one and only @pingunaa

remember 2 to do ur daily clicks for palestine

free everyone!! help some people in need!!!

fun websites masterlist

suicide hotlines

this could save your life!

kys /j <3 (KEEP YOURSELF SAFE /srs.)

hai!! hello!! hey!! what’s up!! basic info/fun stuff below the cut (very long intro soo sorry)

*flash/blink warning for the blinkies

name: asclexe formally? cameron causally, but call me whatever! no, seriously! idc! nicknames (ex: cam, ronnie, cammy, etc) are welcome! feel free to call me your pookie or your son or child or something, be creative!

⭐️gender and pronouns: i am uhhh. nonbinary i think. they/them preferred, but it/its or he/him are also fine!! i prefer gender neutral terms, but i also am more masc leaning. like im a man. but also just a person.

⭐️not specifying my age but im a minor. B cool!! internet safety!!

⭐️sexuality: aromantic asexual aplatonic lesbian dumbfuck

⭐️nationality/country: american fuck my stupid baka life (EST timezone)

⭐️ i am also white :/

⭐️star sign: leo :3

⭐️personality type: intj (also houses mtbi if u care)

⭐️religious alignment: atheist cause im god /j 💪💪

bigots and pedos/zoos are lame and not welcome. i bite scammers. exclusively nsfw/kink blogs not welcome. im a kid. ed blogs please do not follow me because im uncomfortable with that. also don’t expect a follow back if youre over 24 cus thats weirdd

also if ur a diehard stan of anything pls think :3

dni if you’re from earth or human. aliens only blog. /j

and everyone else is welcome :3

⭐️fandoms im most active in:

house md

doctor who (only on season 2!!)

good omens

warrior cats (on arc 5 but i don’t plan on reading them)

dungeon meshi

movies in general

+ any other fandoms i consume in the future!!

⭐️fandoms i rarely post abt but still enjoy

tbosas/the hunger games

dead poets society

six feet under

a series of unfortunate events

fnaf

she-ra/the owl house/steven universe/gravity falls/etc

bluey

barbie/monster high

doogie howser md

scott pilgrim

the amazing digital circus

the middle

stardew valley

the spiderverse

abbott elementary

aggretsuko

i will post abt my sims occasionally :3 most posts are text posts bc im untalented

*i’m looking to get into evangelion, supernatural, hannibal, saw, and dexter 👍

i write fanfiction and poetry (i take requests feel free to hmu), i do local theater, i make pride icons (also requests hmu) i drabble in the occasional doodle, and i like baking and watching youtube and scrolling through tumblr and walking through the forest and my neighborhood and making bracelets and spending money and laying on the floor and singing and dancing and being silly and reading medical textbooks and cool novels and hanging with my irls and idk, yeah! life! carpe diem!

*also i’m trying to get into reality shifting! (im not a freak i swear)

⭐️my fav music artists (a little all over the place:3) jack stauber, will wood, lemon demon, tally hall/miracle musical, dazey and the scouts, mommy long legs, the oozes, bear ghost, mitski, chappell roan, weezer, the smashing pumpkins, my chemical romance, laufey, liana flores, faye webster, MARINA, pearl & the oysters, queen, no doubt, slipknot, korn, mindless self indulgence, hole, some olivia rodrigo, charli xcx, some vocaloids,

i love pretty much all kinds of jazz, rock, and showtunes (except ballads. i dislike ballads)

my music taste can be described as like. neurodivergent weird kid alt rock and hot girl summer pop.

(music recs are very much welcome <33)

*taylor swift enjoyers follow at your own risk (i hate on her occasionally. i really dislike her music and she’s also not that great of a person)

random facts about me :3

⭐️i’m left-handed (bully me for it ik im a freak)

⭐️unfortunately a theater kid :/

⭐️tall for this website

⭐️the most insufferable and annoying person ever

⭐️DOESNT BITE!! (i swear)

⭐️ i’m genetically pitch perfect but i’m awful with rhythm

⭐️favorite planet is ur mom (i ❤️ venus)

⭐️honors roll baby 🔥🔥

⭐️im most likely neurodiverse?? undiagnosed but speculated

⭐️perpetually alone only child 😔 please talk to me i love chatting with people, asks and replies preferred, dms okay <33

⭐️favorite color green. all of the shades.

⭐️i haven’t cried properly in like a year and i am not breaking my mewing streak

⭐️minorly touch/attention starved :3

⭐️single & ready to mingle!! (please don’t fucking talk to me like that im aroace and a minor )

⭐️REBLOGGING MACHINE 💪💪

⭐️i’ve never seen an episode of spongebob but saw the musical

⭐️#1 BEST XBOX SIMMER 🔥🔥

⭐️im nicer than i seem (i’m also a very negative person in general but i keep my thoughts to myself!)

⭐️i have a massive sweet tooth :3

⭐️(new) tags guide!⭐️

*note this is a new system i’m trying out, some older posts do not apply

#asclexeposting - all original content

#camyyaps - unhinged text posts/late night eepy time posts/yapping in the tags

#cam touches grass - the rare times i go outside and touch grass and do stuff

#ask the fellows - relating to my ask blog (go follow it go do it its @ask-the-ducklings go ask stuff)

#me ask :3 - reblog of something i asked another blog

#mootie :3 - if we’re mutuals and you send me an ask i tag it with this :3

*you also get your own individual tag for asks, for example @pingunaa is ping :3 and @rubeslovesthesmiths is rubes :3, etc

#cammy’s 4 later tag :3 - stuff for later!!

#cam plays the sims :3 - my simming tag

old man doctor yaoi prompt list :3

my house md oc :3

⭐️side blogs!⭐️

@ask-the-ducklings - ask/roleplay blog 4 the house md duckligns

1/2 of @meanwhile-on-the-road, the other half is pookie @sillyhyperfixator

@house-md-referrer - house md references

@theindierockcafe - writing blog

this will be mostly reblogs of my silly mutuals/my fyp, i try to make original content often! I ❤️ REBLOGGING ART YOU SHOULD DO IT TOO!!!! hope we can get along! ask me whatever! i don’t know! be nice and respectful cause i’m a minor!

SPAM MY ASK BOX :3 create lore, send me images, ask for comfort, WHATEVER!!!! im friendly and ill answer your ask eventually.

disclaimer; i live in the us and a snowflake so im occasionally political, nothing too extreme im just scared 👍 i also don’t spoiler tag!! sorry!

if you want me to share your fundraiser; give me some time to verify you!!!! i promise im not ignoring you!!

blinkies made in the blinkie cafe :3

[pocketmania]

yippee!!! okay! 🎨🔫☁️ (im gonna request a lot of splatoon potentially haha)

could i request perhaps a chubby reader x acht fic where the two are alone in an elevator and acht perhaps decides to kiss the reader a lot since they're not a big fan of pda? possibly leading to a make out session? i dont know if this counts as lime or not but i hope this is okay!!! i hope you have a great day or night! :D

Oh this is perfect!! Thank you again anon!

(I need to start giving yall anons nicknames because I can't call you all anon 😭)

I'm also sorry for the wait!

Now onto the thingy

‎‧₊˚✧[ Makeout-Session.Floor ]✧˚₊‧

(🎨🔫☁️👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨) - splatoon fluff

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

- - - - - - -

Time to assess the situation: You were in an elevator in a spire that was located inside of a.. weird bleached version of Inkopolis Square. You heard your old friend, Marina's, distressed voice coming from the top of said spire when you came to and immediately went to go try and help.

You weren't alone, though. Your significant other, Acht, was waiting inside the elevator. You both saw each other and began to formulate a plan to save Marina. Unfortunately, when you got to the first floor, you both got your asses kicked because you didn't have any weapons with you. So now, you both are just sitting bumps-on-a-log, waiting for someone else to come along and help.. assuming someone would.

You looked up at Acht, then down at their hand. They had hurt themselves trying to protect you from those weird things you both decided to dub as 'Jelletons'. You felt bad. No, you felt guilty. You let Acht take a hit when you should've taken it. You should've-

"(Y/N)?" Acht started, staring down at you. You glanced up, and you could see their eyes through their shades; they were a bright shade of yellow, and their pupils were eights turned on their sides. They always looked so stoic with their shades on, but so sad when they took them off. "You okay?"

You smiled at them and shrugged. Even if they seemed distant, they were actually quite caring. "Aw, don't worry. I'm fine." you replied, smiling and beginning to stand up. As you got up, you winced at the pain coming from your leg. While Acht had taken one of the hits, it wasn't the only blow you faced. Luckily, the spire was kind enough to provide you with bandages for your injuries.

"Hey, no, stay down." Acht insisted, holding your hand and trying to get to you to sit back down. "You're hurt. You need rest." You shrugged them off, smiling at their caring nature. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Don't worry."

Acht sighed. If you were gonna be that way, two could play at that game.

When you were finally standing upright, Acht wrapped their arm around your waist, making you lean into them a little. They turned so your bodies faced each other.

You gasped because Acht wasn't normally someone for a lot of PDA. "Just because you say you're fine doesn't mean that's true. You need rest."

Then you both stared at each other for a moment. Staring at them made you feel.. guilty.

".. I'm sorry for not protecting you back there. I know I should've, but I didn't, and you got hurt for it -"

"Don't start."

Before another word was said by you, Acht sighed and kissed you, but only briefly, before pulling away. "You don't need to be sorry," they told you, trying to sound as sincere as possible. "I took that blow for you."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to."

You paused. You suddenly started smiling at their words, realizing just how much they loved you. They were willing to take a hit for you, and that meant a lot, especially in situation like this.

Acht pulled you back into that kiss, this time making it last longer. As you kissed, you wrapped your arms around their neck. Acht put their free hand on your cheek.

The longer you kissed, the more you wanted to stay like that forever. But you had to pull away to.. y'know.. breathe.

"I never knew you could do this." You said, grinning from ear to ear. Acht smiled, pulling up their shades. "Well, now you do." You smiled at their smugness and immediately began to kiss them again.

Your grips on each other tightened like someone was going to rip the other away. It felt like an eternity, the way your lips collided, the way you held each other and didn't let go, the way you shared you cared. You tried to speak, but it was muffled. "Acht, I-"

Then you heard the elevator begin to open.

You both jumped out of your skin and pulled away in fear of someone walking in on you both. You adjusted your clothing, trying to make it seem like you two weren't just shoving your tongues down each other's throats.

The door opened and revealed an octoling in an orderly suit with a pair of white dualies in their hands. Next to them was a drone, resembling Pearl from that one popular group 'Off the Hook'. The crown gave it away.

"Yo, you with those fish we just busted up?!" The drone shouted.

You glanced at Acht. They gave you a small, brief, reassuring smile as if to say "it's okay". You smiled back, before turning back to the duo.

"Sic 'em, Eight!"

- - - - - - -

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅