#nail salon suites

[wumvinblog]

French Heart Fruit False Nail Long Coffin Press on Nails for Nails Art 24pcs

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞

summary: tainted, virgin!reader is growing tired of grinding against her boyfriends. she’s never touched herself before—no toys, no fingers, no fondling—the friction from a pillow used to be enough. but, maybe having something inside of her isn’t as terrifying as she believed. charles’ pretty pianist fingers don’t look too scary, and they way he raves about how talented max’s daunting thicker fingers are; well, she could be convinced to see what all the fuss is about. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. fingering. hand and finger kink. guided masturbation. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. dialogue heavy. max is a brat tamer. word count: 2.7k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: pressure • ari lennox

preface: *laughs maniacally*

prev 1k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

max stated, “when you get your nails done today, don’t get a new set. keep them natural; you can get polish but keep them short and rounded with no sharp edges.”

you stared at max with a lukewarm expression. it’s seven in-the-fucking morning, and he’s woken you up from your extremely comfortable position tucked into charles’ chest to tell you that you’re getting your nails done and exactly how he wants them done. he must have lost his mind overnight.

“d’you think,” you croaked out, voice unused from sleep, “that getting my nails done will distract me from realizing that my thighs have healed from the friction burn?”

the dutchman opened his mouth to speak but you held up a hand to shush him, and continued scratchily, “‘cause it hasn’t worked. ‘n i don’t even have an appointment to get my nails done? ‘s not happening today.”

“i made one,” he responded with a self-satisfied smile, “it’s in an hour.”

“WHAT THE HELL, MAX?!” you exclaimed, fighting through the layers of blankets tangled around you to make your way out of bed to rush through getting yourself ready. charles, still asleep, snuffled unhappily at the commotion and rolled over facing away from the two of you.

max chuckled mutely as he watches you stumble off the bed towards to en-suite bath, “use my black card–i’m sure it’ll cover the late fee.”

slamming the bathroom door shut, your yell carries through the door, “I WAS GOING TO USE IT ANYWAYS!”

thanks to years of lounging in bed to the last possible second before you needed to get ready, you were exactly on time to your appointment. it’s a boujee “self-care salon” that you don’t usually go to but it’s pretty much impossible to mess up a soak-off and basic manicure. actually, max is paying so there’s really no harm in treating yourself. you go from a basic manicure to the most luxurious mani-pedi package they offer, there’s even a hand, arm, foot, and calf massage included. you leave a healthy tip too; it’s not like you can run up max verstappen’s black card, he won’t even notice.

by the time you get home, you’ve completely forgotten about being mad at max for terrorizing you with morning. but, you’re quickly reminded of why when he jumps you as soon as you walk in the front door, tugging you in by your hands as he examines your nails.

“sheesh,” you gasp, “can i close the door first?” 

charles, more awake but still disgruntled (he considers any-time before noon “too early to be awake), apparates from around the corner and walks to shut the door behind you. he wordlessy shimmies your keys and bag out of your hands, and presses a kiss to your cheek, “bonjour, mon coeur.”

“good morning, charlie,” you murmur sweetly, ignoring max’s general incompetence, “may i…” you shift awkwardly on your feet, “can i have a real kiss, please?”

the brunet’s discontented gaze turned to liquid gold warming your body with the amount of love that poured through just one glance. he leans in to kiss you but yelps, flinching away from you at a pinch on his arm from max.

the older man grunts, “bedroom first. then you can make out with each other to your hearts content.”

your legs have turned to mush from deep kisses, so you’re thankful to be seated on top of charles’ lap on your vanity chair. the monegasque has one hand fisted in the curls at the nape of your neck, moving your head to just the angle he likes as he continues to explore past the seam of your lips. he doesn’t allow you to pull away for more than half a second to catch your breath, all of your hums, moans, and whimpers of delight are caught in his mouth. the lust fogs your brain as he nips and tugs at your bottom lip, the soft skin surrounding your lips raw already from his stubble. the weight of his large hand resting on the small of your back combined with the overwhelming sensations has you shifting your hips rocking back and forth on charles’ thigh, yet you haven’t consciously noticed you actions yet. you haven’t noticed how max has been calling your name to get your attention for a while now.

“liefje, come here,” max’s voice has a commanding edge to it, that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention, “you’ve been patient like i’ve mentioned. so, i think it’s time you experience more than one of our thighs, hm?”

you squirm of charles’ lap, prying his hands off your waist when he tries to tighten his grasp, and eagerly make your way over to the foot of the bed where max is sitting–has he been watching the whole time? the monegasque huffs loudly to inform the two of you of how displeased he is at you discarding him quickly at the promise of something more. the younger man stands up and doesn’t manage to take more than one step in your direction before max halts him.

“and where do you think you’re going?” max asks condescendingly, he pulls you down to sit in between his legs, his chest to your back, so you can face charles, “only good boys get to participate. and if i can remember…two days ago, you decided to be a brat.”

the brat in question reddens, “yes! i was…being mean–but, you said that i don’t get to come, not that i don’t get to touch her?”

max shrugs dismissively, and he starts to undress you–pulling off your shirt to leave you in your bra, while he motions for you to tug off your jeans.

“mon chat–this is unfair,” charles whines, “let me touch her!”

“you want to touch her?” max asks, charles nods eagerly in response, “say you were a brat and apologize, and then maybe i’ll let you touch her.”

the brunet gapes at his boyfriend, stumbling over his words for a few seconds, before he turns to look at you, expecting you to help him out. you curl up, dropping your gaze to your lap and pulling max’s hand around you to play with it while he sorts out charles. the monegasque, too stubborn to do anything but disagree with max, clenches his jaw and fists, before he steps and back and sits in your vanity chair again. he crosses his arms across his chest, and turns his head up at max to emphasize his attitude.

“mmm,” the blonde’s chest rumbles behind you, he dips his head to press a kiss to your temple, “he’ll learn how to act once he realizes he won’t be able to finger your pussy, pretty girl.”

you and charles both jolt with matching gasps of surprise at the reveal of today’s sexual exploration. a meek whimper escapes you and max coos sweetly, “do you want to this, liefje?”

you nod shakily, ignoring the flush of heat to your cheeks and the way you press your thighs together a little tighter. 

“words, baby.”

“y-yes, maxy.”

“remember the rules: any time you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we can stop or take a break.”

“y-yeah,” you say airly, “ok.”

“good girl.”

max tilts your head to the side and lavishes kisses along your neck. your breath catches at the unexpected attention, you can only rest limply against max as he sucks marks into your skin. he nips teasingly at your pulse point and you tighten your grasp on his hand to prevent yourself from moaning embarrassingly loud. you let your head fall backwards to give max complete access to the length of your throat, and in the motion you make eye contact with charles. his green eyes are piercing–you can see the envy, yet you can’t tell if he wishes he was max in this moment, or if he wishes he was you.

the dutchman moves lower and focuses on bruising up your collarbone, tugging and biting at the thin skin and you’ve quickly lost your ability to regulate your volume. every exhale transforms into a moan and max’s free hand gets more exploratory as a result. his lips are wet and flushed red when he pulls himself away from the expanse of your newly bruised neck, playing absently with the strap of your bra and whispers next to your ear, “may i take this off, liefje?”

“yeah, yes, yes–take it off,” you rush out, turning shy at the sound of max’s amusement, “you can take it off, please?”

the use of manners quiets the man’s laughter easily; something about the way you use ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ unhesitantly in bed causes his brain to misfire. he rids you of the bra, tossing it at charles, who catches it and stares at max in disdain.

the older man smirks, and brings both of his hands to your chest to ghost the pads of his thumbs against your nipples. the barely there touch had your back arching, pushing your breasts more firmly into his grasp to seek more of the sensation. his chest rumbles behinds you and he steadfastly applies more pressure as he toys with the buds–your moans are more like sharp whines now, and whenever he throws in an occasional pinch you shriek, as your vision already blurs from this level of pleasure. you’ll cum before he gets his hand inside your panties.

you clumsy pull at his right hand, trying to tug it away from your breast to direct him further south, but max tuts disapprovingly and you cease your motions as soon as the sound registers.

“actually, liefje–you won’t need my hand for this part, only my voice.”

you tilt your head towards him to stare in confusion, and max brings his hand up to caress your cheek, “i’m going to teach you how to finger yourself, if that’s okay?”

you gulp, the pressure in your tummy only building, “more than okay.”

max nods, and presses a kiss on your jawline.

“be good for me and touch yourself over your panties, pretty girl.”

you squirm anxiously, but do as he ordered. you drag your hand down past your navel and in between your thighs, trying to keep them as closed as possible without having yourself spread out obscenely. max, obviously, doesn’t allow that to slide, and spreads your legs for you, draping them along the outside of his, his knees pressing outwards to prevent you from slamming your thighs shut. you whimper shamefully, but continue to drag two fingers along the seam of your cunt over your thin panties, the fabric beginning to darken as you start to leak.

“nice and slow until you start to get wet for me, yeah?”

“‘m already wet, maxy,” you murmur, biting your lip to suppress a whimper.

(“merde,” charles groans from across the room, throwing his head backwards.)

max brings his hand down to tug your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the cooler air of the room, and moans at how your glistenting already, “shit–always so wet for me. keep dragging your fingers up and down, liefje.”

max’s hand continues to rest on your navel after he tucked your panties away, and you quickly bore of the slide of your fingers, huffing silently and nudging your nose against his jaw for the next direction, “once your fingers are nice and wet, you’re going to take just one–and gently press inside, yeah? you should be nice and relaxed, okay–if your pretty hole doesn’t open up easily just keep rubbing at yourself and then try again.”

you nod jerkily, and your first attempt at breaching your inner walls fails. you chickened out–after your felt yourself opening up, the pressure was odd. however, with max’s reassurance, you took another pass over your cunt and then tried again. and this time, your finger easily slid within in you–a shocked gasp pushed from your chest at the intrusion. 

“you’re okay,” max murmurs, rubbing at your side and navel calmly, “take your time, get used to the feeling, and when your ready you can start moving that finger, liefje.”

it’s odd–the feeling of something inside you. a little uncomfortable, but not painful like you thought it would be. the strange feeling passes quickly, especially when you draw your finger out and press deeper–it feels good? you think, it feels good at least. max watches the array of emotion pass over your face, and once he sees the previous apprehension dissipate, he instructs you to slide in another finger. the addition for another finger is easier for you this time, even though the pressure is multiplied–as if once you learned that this wouldn’t be painful you were a lot more receptive to the intrusion. 

and when your second finger pops in, the stretch feels good. you sigh breathily, and without further instruction, you begin to slowly thrust your fingers. max leans back and allows you to awkwardly fumble through your own motions, allowing you to figure out what brings you pleasure and what doesn’t. you mimic what you’ve heard girls talk about before, curling your fingers, scissoring them wide, pressing them upwards–and it feels fucking euphoric. your moans begin to ring through the room, and your hips buck dowards to meet your palm, pushing in your fingers deep.

“hm–you see why you needed your nails cut now, pretty girl,” max teases. his words go unheard by you, you’re more focused on trying to find the one spot everybody raves about–you want your vision to flash white, your toes to curl, your eyes to roll, your back to arch, your chest to heave–but you can’t find it. you whine in displeasure, kicking your foot out angrily, and begin to more vigorously thrust your fingers to no avail. 

“let me give you a hand, pretty.”

max gently removes your hand, a sob falling from your lips at the newfound emptiness, but quickly soothes you with the press of two of his fingers inside of you. you and max moan in unison–max at the feeling of  just how tight and dripping wet you are and you at the size of his fingers. max patiently waits for you to adjust, before he begins to absolutely ravage your pussy. his fingers are unforgiving; his rhythm is consistent, the pads of his fingers press firmly along your walls, and he finds your sweet spot after his second attempt of searching.

you shriek, legs trying and failing to slam shut at the overload of pleasure—max coos, ‘good girl’s’ and ‘so pretty’s’ falling from his lips freely. it’s a testament to how talented he is with is fingers that as soon as his thumb falls to press at the bud of your clit–you cum.

it surprises you, max, and charles (from across the room). it’s so overwhelming you cry–forget a toe-curling orgasm, you’e pretty sure you’ve just forgotten your name. your hips are frantically thrusting forward freely, and maxx continues to rub his hand over yout clit until you start bucking away from him in discomfort. you’ve soaked the bed, again. the dutchman tenderly pulls his fingers from the pulsing warmth of your cunt, and calls charles to the bed.

the younger man rushes forward, kneeling on the bed next to max. wordlessly, the blonde shoves his fingers covered in your essence into his mouth, smirking wide at how charles’ eyes widen, exposing his blown out pupils, before they drop to a half-lidded gaze as he thoroughly slurps max’s fingers clean.

when charles pulls away from max’s hand, panting heavily like he was the one who was just brought to a mind-blowing orgasm, max drops that same saliva-covered hand to grope at the bulge in charles’ pants.

the monegasque moans highly, hips thrusting forward to press deeper in to max’s hand–but he pulls it away cruelly.

“you better go take a cold shower charles, since you still can’t come for a while,” max orders nonchalantly, “you might want to put some music on while you’re in there. i would hate for you to get hard again when you hear me make her squirt.”

1k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarrii @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock@biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris @xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld @hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101 @valent1na-ferrari

© httpsserene 2023

[adrienneleclerc]

Shopping Trip

Pairing: Lando Norris x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Lando and Y/N go to the mall and Lando is bored

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: based the scene from the Barbie Movie, you know the one.

Lando was in Monaco, came home after the triple header and like most drivers, he missed his girlfriend. Lando was asleep in his bed when he heard Y/N getting dressed.

“What are you doing up, sweet thing? I thought we could stay in bed.” Lando said.

“Mm, I would love to, mi fresita, but I can’t. I have a nail appointment at the galleria.” Y/N said.

“You mean the metropole shopping center?” Lando asked.

“It’s a big indoor mall, I’m calling it a galleria. I’ll probably have a look around too.” Y/N said.

“Can I come with you?” Lando asked.

“You wanna come with me to get my nails done?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, I could pick out your nail color, I’m paying. Let me shower real quick and we can go.” Lando said.

“Okay, amor.” Y/N said. Y/N had a quick snack and looked for Pinterest photos of nail designs while she waited for Lando to shower and get dressed. Once dressed, Lando got out of the room and sat next to Y/N. “Great, pick which design you like.” Lando took Y/N’s phone and searched through her Pinterest board until he landed on a design he liked.

“This one is very you. Plus, it’s cute and girly, and the color suits you, you ready to go?” Lando asked. Y/N nodded and both of them left the apartment to go to his car.

Though the rules are ‘driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole’, Lando let Y/N pick the music. Once they arrived at the mall, Lando opened Y/N’s door to let her out and they walked into the mall, some people were asking for photos on their way to the nail salon. Y/N walked in first.

“Hello, I’m Y/N, I have an appointment.” Y/N said.

“Ah yes, we were expecting you, we have your chair ready right here.” The employee lead Y/N to the ‘nail station’ while Lando sat in the waiting area. As soon as Y/N was settled, they began their work, using the nail drill to buff her nails. The acrylic isn’t even on Y/N’s nail when Lando decided to stand next to her.

“Darling, I’m bored.” Lando said with a pout, Y/N turned her head.

“Cariño, you wanted to come with me. Just entertain yourself, find something to do.” Y/N said, turning her head back to make conversation with the nail tech. Lando looked around the nail salon.

“What am I supposed to do?” Lando asked.

“Lando! Go for a walk or something.” Y/N said

“By myself?” Lando asked.

“Yes!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Where?” Lando asked.

“Anywhere!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Can i go that way?” Lando asked, pointing to a store across the nail salon.

“Yes.” Y/N said. Lando started walking but he didn’t leave the salon yet. “Don’t go too far.” Y/N said.

“Okay!” Lando exclaimed. He walked back to where Y/N was sitting. “I’ll text you what store I’m at, here’s a couple hundred bucks, I love you.” Lando said, kissing her temple, adding the couple hundred bucks in her bag.

“I love you too, stay on the first floor please.” Y/N said.

“I will.” Lando said before leaving.

An hour or so later, Y/N’s nails are finished, she paid the nail tech, and checked her phone to see what store Lando is at but she found him sitting by the water fountain, eating chicken wings.

“You got food?” Y/N asked.

“I was hungry and I came here to spend time with you, which means we will check the stores together. Let me see your nails.” Lando said and Y/N showed him her nails.

“Beautiful, they did a great job. Maybe when it’s time for me to propose, I’ll send you here to get your nails done.” Lando said, getting up from the fountain edge to walk with Y/N,

“Wow, you think about proposing to me?” Y/N asked.

“Of course I do, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I plan on spending the rest of my life with you.” Lando said,

“You are the sweetest. Think we can go to Sephora?” Y/N asked.

“You spend too much money at Sephora.” Lando said,

“It’s not my fault Ulta isn’t available in Europe. Which is stupid, by the way, Sephora is so expensive for no reason, they don’t have my favorite shampoo and conditioner.” Y/N said.

“All right, let’s go to Sephora.” Lando said.

“Yay!” Y/N said.

The End

Hope y��all liked it, short but cute, do you think Lando would be like this?

[eternalsa2z]

The Guestbook

Porter wasn't invited to the Lovedoll wedding - but he became obsessed with the highly publicized event that promised to provide excitement. Hot bimbo starlets? High end trophy bridesmaids? A gorgeous lesbian couple with absolute 10s for friends? It wasn't just dream wedding...it was a dream for a man like him.

So he decided to crash the event. It was even easier than he thought. The bimbos had all that money and they didn't even think to buy any security? He was ready to march on into the venue ahead of the wedding march when something caught his eye.

It was the guestbook. He had noticed everyone signing it before disappearing through a side door. Porter felt a strange obligation to sign his name. A way to hide in plain sight...or perhaps a way to brag and prove he had snuck in. Before he knew it he was in front of the open red book.

Grasping the pink, almost wand-like pen, he began to sign his name with a flourish. But as the pink sparkly ink flowed, he found his hand moving of it's own accord. Signing P-O-R-S-C-H-A P-A-R-T-A-Y as long pink acrylic nails grew around the pen.

That wasn't the only change. As the ink dried, his identity died. Porscha took over and she was aghast to see that she wasn't properly dressed for the wedding! Instinctively she new she needed to stop in the anteroom to the side and see if she could find something more fitting.

A little while later and Porscha was strutting back onto the scene. Her fugly suit had transformed into a skin-tight minidress. Short buzzed hair grew darker and longer thanks to high-end extensions. Her body was also banging thanks to huge plastic tits, noticeable BBL, and an entire salon supply of fake tan slathered onto her curvy body. It was a dream look for a doll like her.

Porter's fake identity had became a real one with a really fake look. Porscha fit in perfectly with all the bodacious bimbos and salacious sluts that the Lovedolls were friends with - in fact it's why they had ensured that she was invited and would show up! She was tops on their guest list and, as her last name implied, she was ready to par-tay!

[satoruzlove]

omi and his girly little gf <3

he thinks you’re so PRECIOUS. when he first saw you walking across campus with your nails done, shorter than most of your friends, dressed well and in pink he couldn’t stop thinking about you. atsumu had to snap him back into the conversation. kiyoomi thought that you looked like a pretty princess.

when you two become friends and talk more, he’s a little more obvious about it. when you get your nails done or ask him if he likes a skirt you got he always compliments how well it suits you, that pink is your colour!!

if you’re black, and you add pink into your braids/ dreads/ locs/ twists he thinks you look like an absolute FAIRY!!! you come back from the salon [ he wanted to come see you. he swears he did. but you didn’t let him for the ‘surprise’ of it): ] his mouth curls into a smile and his dimples are on display, he gets up from his spot on the sofa and asks if he can touch them. he clears some of the hair from your face and he places a feathery kiss on your forehead , “it’s not fair, how pretty you are,” he says.

kiyoomi just loves when you have french tips. he loves it. especially when the base is a pale pink colour, and the tips are just a crisp white. he loves how it contrasts with his black rings as he holds your hand. his heart flutters when your little, neat palm can only wrap around a few of his fingers. he loves how your manicured thumb rubs against his battered knuckles - it makes him feel dizzy.

he loves when you wear skirts or get new ones, he always twirls you around like you two were slow dancing. he’ll chuckle along with you when you giggle, “i think this one’s my favorite now,” he said to you ; although he’s said that about all 7 of the skirts.

don’t you dare try to do anything when you’ve just gotten your nails done. laundry? he’ll help. you wanna make yourself smth to eat? nah, he’s got it. you wanna shower??? why????? he’ll just clean you🤞🏻🤞🏻. his big sister used to complain about having to do things with her nails on and he’d never let his sweet little princess do anything by herself ):

omi would absolutely let you do his makeup if you wanted to try a new makeup look. you sit him down, putting his bouncy curls in a little bun and then priming his face. his cheeks smush and squish as your small hands work on him gently. he can’t help the warmth in his chest when he feels that you’re making a conscious effort to be gentle when you’re soaping down his eyebrows or blending out the highlight. his favorite is when you put on mascara- the way your index finger tilts his chin upwards and you mutter a ,’ look up f’ me, kiyo’ in the most sugary sweet tone he’s ever heard. he replies with a simple , ‘ ‘kay’ that could never give away the butterflies in the pit of his belly.

lastly - he’s spoiling you ROTTEN. he’s got allll that athlete money for what???? you, obviously. you saw some pretty mary janes you wanna wear to work? done. you want new earrings? done. you want a necklace with his name on it? done. well, that part wasn’t a choice- but he’s still happy that you wanted it. if you two are out and you even say that something is cute , his immediate response is , “do you want it?” and he’s dead serious. even if it’s ridiculously over priced. if you’re someone who cries when they accept gifts i’m projecting i’m sorry consider his heart SHATTERED when he hears the break in your voice as you thank him. he’s coddling you, asking if you really hated the gift that much, but when you explain that it just overwhelms you he feels tears in his own eyes at how precious you truly are. his large hand caressing your head and the other rubbing gentle circles on your back, whispering to you that you deserve his gifts, his love, his patience because you give it back to him. you deserve to be a princess- his princess- forever</3333333

[koiiiji]

part 2 for this

author’s note ; i like dynamics with Goo and his secret friends, so it’s gonna be few more parts!

tw ; none, maybe fluff

working for Goo Kim had its perks. money and old friendship were a major ones, but the real fun came from the influence you wielded over his friends. dangerous, powerful men and all were under strict orders to cater to your whims — Goo valued your intel too much to let anyone else mess with you.

Lee Taesung had learned this the hard way when he spent an entire afternoon trailing you around a mall, carrying your shopping bags like some kind of personal valet. his discomfort reached its peak when you dragged him into a lingerie store, enjoying every moment of his mortification as he stood there, visibly uncomfortable, holding up delicate lace with the expression of a man who would rather be anywhere else.

now, it was Cheon Taejin’s turn.

Taejin, unlike Taesung, had a proud, almost regal demeanor. where Taesung would grumble and sulk, Taejin held his tongue, though you could always see the tension simmering beneath the surface.

“where to, boss?” Taejin asked with just enough sarcasm to let you know he didn’t appreciate the nickname as he opened the door of the sleek black car.

“nail salon, Taejin,” you replied, sliding into the backseat with a smirk. “my appointment is in fifteen minutes, so let’s not waste any time.”

he said nothing, just slid into the driver’s seat and pulled into traffic. you watched the world blur by outside the window, your fingers drumming lightly on your thigh as you planned your next move.

while parking the car in the parking lot, Taejin got out of the car, holding the door for you, he casually asked if you would stay long there.

“oh, i might be a while — there’s a new color i want to try.”

“right,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear. “wouldn’t want to ruin your day.”

you took your time in the salon, chatting with the manicurist as she worked, enjoying latest tea about that one girl drama, who also visits your manicurist. when you finally emerged, nails gleaming a perfect shade of crimson, Taejin was leaning against the car, clutching a cigarette between his teeth.

the nail salon visit was followed by a trip to the hair salon, a boutique, and finally, after you had squeezed every last drop of patience from Taejin, a drive to Goo Kim’s office.

Taejin’s knuckles were practically bone-white as he parked the car, clearly holding onto the last shreds of his composure. before he could say anything, you pushed the car door open and stepped out, casting a quick glance over your shoulder.

“you know, Taejin,” you mused, your voice laced with mock concern, “you’ve been awfully quiet today. i hope you’re not mad at me for taking you on this little adventure.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied through gritted teeth, his expression remaining stoic despite the irritation brewing beneath the surface.

“good to hear,” you said sweetly. “now, let’s not keep Goo waiting. i’ve got something new for him.”

you made your way into the building, Taejin trailing a few steps behind. as you entered the lobby of Goo’s expansive office, you spotted Samuel leaning casually against the wall, his gaze sliding to you the moment you walked in.

“Samuel!” you called out, rushing toward him with open arms. Samuel barely had time to react before you were embracing him. “oh, you’ve done something different,” he said, glancing at your freshly manicured nails, his voice smooth and practiced. “new color? it suits you.”

You pulled back slightly, grinning up at him. “oh thank you, Samuel!! i knew someone would notice. i’ve been dragging poor Taejin around all day, but he didn’t say a word, can you imagine?!!!”

Samuel chuckled, casting a sidelong glance at Taejin, who had the decency to look slightly uncomfortable. “ah, Taejin. so focused on the job, aren’t you?”

“i’m not paid to notice nail polish,” Taejin muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall.

you turned to him, a playful glint in your eyes. “maybe you should be, Taejin. it’s the little things that make the difference. girls like a guy who pays attention to the details.”

Samuel smirked, clearly enjoying the exchange as much as you were. “she’s right, you know. attention to detail is key, even outside of work.”

Taejin sighed, rolling his eyes slightly but otherwise refusing to take the bait. “noted. i’ll make sure to compliment your next manicure. just give me a heads up beforehand so i can practice my delivery.”

you laughed, patting Taejin on the arm as you moved past him. “i knew there was a soft spot in there somewhere. you’re learning, Cheon. soon you’ll be a gentleman yet.”

Samuel followed behind you, still chuckling as you all made your way toward Goo’s office. as you approached the door, you threw one last glance over your shoulder at Taejin, who was still following dutifully behind.

“don’t worry, Taejin. i’ll make sure Goo knows just how valuable you’ve been today,” you said with a wink.

“i’m sure you will,” he replied, his voice resigned yet still carrying that ever-present edge of pride.

working for Goo Kim certainly had its perks. and as long as his friends were willing to play along, you intended to enjoy every single one of them. after all, it wasn’t every day you got to boss around some of the most feared men in the city.

and if they didn’t like it? well, that was just too bad.

[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath Part 5 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: 😈 <---Me knowing how this chapter ends.

Warning: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, dirty talk, slight overstimulation, hot tub smut :), FLUFF, ANGST, they take her to an event where she feels slightly out of place and nervous. Guys tell her a bit more of their background. TWO cliffhangers in one ending! Your welcome.

What can I say...I need someone to spank me and make me behave.

Word Count: 4531

Series Masterlist Here/Donate to my Ko-Fi

You bite the nail of your thumb as the limo the three of you were riding in slowly inches forward towards the building where the event was taking place. Even with the tinted windows, the flashing lights were blinding you as the press snapped constant photos of each person as they stepped onto the red carpet in front of them. 

“Hey. Everything’s going to be ok, sweetheart.”, Eddie whispered as he took hold of your hand and threaded his fingers between your own. “These things still make me nervous to but trust me, you got this. If anyone was meant to be seen, baby, it’s you.”

His sweet words calm you a bit as you tilt towards him and kiss his lips. 

“Remember, just be yourself.”, Steve grinned as he pushed some of your salon styled hair behind your ear. 

“Be a pain in the ass. Got it.”, you tease making both boys chuckle as they leaned back in their seats and straightened up their extremely expensive but extremely sexy suits. “I feel a little out of my element.”

“I know, honey. Thank you for coming with us though. You look fucking beautiful.”

When a horde of stylists appeared at their apartment that afternoon, you thought they were only there for them since technically you were their guest but when a couple of people dragged you into the bedroom to get you ready, you literally stood there in silence accepting your fate. 

They spoke at you the entire time, asking questions before answering them on their own. 

“Ok, baby, now what kind of look would make you comfortable? The boys said you were going with them and since they are wearing black and pink, we were thinking a pink sleeveless with this slit up the thigh. Of course, we’ll keep your hair down. Is that ok? Oh my god, you are going to be so gorgeous!”

By the time they were finished, you hardly recognized yourself but both men’s reactions were priceless. 

“Mr. Munson, do you HAVE to smoke?”

“Yes, Stephanie, I do if you don’t want me shaking like a leaf.”

“Oh wow, Y/N, that dress is just stunning!”, their stylist beamed as you stepped out. 

As Eddie’s eyes glanced your way, he was starting to remove a cigarette from his pack but as soon as he saw you, they fell out of his hand making you giggle as he fumbled trying to catch them. 

“Fuck! Shit! I mean… wow… princess, you look…”

“Breathtaking.”, Steve finished for him. 

“Not half as good as you two.”, you grin as you kiss his lips as well. “Please don’t leave me alone out there.”

“We won’t, Y/N. I swear. One of us will be with you. If for any reason these reporters want to ask us questions, just stay behind us ok?”

Before you even get a chance to answer, the limo door is pulled open and you watch with amazement as their faces seem to change while stepping onto the carpet. Still holding your hand, he guides you out as your grip on him tightens and the lights of the cameras flash. 

“Mr. Harrington! Mr. Munson! Right here please! Turn your head this way! Eddie! Eddie! Steve! STEVEN! Over here!”

Someone with a headset appears to greet them, taking your arm and tugging you to the side while both men stand silently smiling as their photos are taken. They appeared confident especially Eddie who at random points stuck out his tongue causing Steve to laugh at his friend but you could tell this was an image. Another headspace they needed step into to do what needs to be done and control the image that the viewing public sees. 

“Come on, Miss, we need to get you inside.”

“Oh, no. They told me to stay here—”

“Well, I’m sorry, honey, but you can’t. I need to keep the line moving.”

Thankfully, Steve glanced your way, taking note of your panicked expression before hastily thanking them for their time and power walking your way. 

“Hey, no, no. She stays with either me or Eddie. No exceptions. This is her first time at one of these.”

“I understand that, Mr. Harrington, but I have to do my job.”

“Ok, well then I guess we’re done with interviews.”

“Steve, it’s ok. I’m ok. I’ll just wait inside by the door.”

His eyes scan you over as the girl behind you anxiously dances on her feet.

“Right inside, alright? Don’t wonder around.”

***

When they finally made it inside, a small huff left their lips at the fact that you weren’t waiting by the door. It took them a few moments to find you standing by the bar talking to a couple Steve definitely knew. You seemed a bit more relaxed and as they made their way to you a big smile stretched across your face. 

“Hey! Finally. You two were out there forever.”, you giggled. “Mr. Carmody and his wife Annie were keeping me company.”

“When she told us she knew you, Mr. Harrington, I had to poke her brain.”, the man chuckled.

“Please, sir, call me Steve.”

“Your office has reached out to me a few times but unfortunately I’ve been out of town dealing with some chaos.”

“Yes, sir. I read about what was happening to that building your renovating out west. We can help with that. My firm is really good with locking that down and getting things back on track.”

“So, I’ve read, Steve and what Y/N tells me as well. Look I don’t want to pull your attention from this beautiful young lady any longer. Why don’t you meet me in my office on Monday at about 9am and we can talk shop?”

Steve nods and shakes the man’s hand as he hands him his card and turns with his wife to leave. As soon as he disappears, the mogul spins around and lifts you in his arms in a big bear hug making you giggle till he places you on your feet again.

“I have been trying to get a meeting with him for months! How did you do that? How did you even…”

“Because I listen to you when you talk.”, you smile. “And I read a bit more about what you do. I thought maybe I could help.”

A bit too excitedly, Steve tugged on your hand and pulled you to a more secluded area before crashing his lips to yours. 

“You…are…amazing.”, he praises between pecks. 

“I know.”, you grin as your hands cup his cheeks.

As the night progressed, you found yourself getting more and more comfortable with the environment around you as both men introduced you to different people. When a lull finally presented itself, however, you scurried away to the outdoor patio and exhaled as you leaned over the balcony. 

“Excuse me, young lady, but I believe you’re supposed to stay by one of us.”, Eddie teased as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting the end, and balanced over the concrete beside you. “Oh shit. I’m sorry. Is it ok if I…”, he asked gesturing towards the stick between fingers. 

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you look fucking gorgeous and I don’t want to ruin your ensemble here with cigarette smoke.”

“Nah, baby. You know I don’t mind when you ruin me.”

The rockstar laughs as he ever so slightly leans close to you and you respond by looping your arm through his, tilting your head against his bicep. 

“You’re doing well by the way. You know how to handle the heathens that run around here.”

“I’m a teacher, Mr. Munson. I know how to handle rowdy kids.”, you giggle. “I just…I don’t want to embarrass you in any way. This is your life, you know?”

“Nuh uh.”, Eddie shakes his head. “Music and buildings are our life… you…are our life.”

As he trips over his words, you can’t help but glance up towards his face as he stares off into the New York skyline. For men that were extremely confident, they both turned into nervous shy teenagers when they mentioned your relationship with them. You imagined part of that was because of Gina and what she put them through.

“I know we haven’t know you very long but you’ve done more for us in over 5 months than anyone has done in the years that they’ve known us.”

“Why do I doubt that?”

“Ok, maybe, my uncle but don’t tell him that or else it will go to his head.”, he teased making you smile. 

“What are you two freaks doing out here?”, Steve joked as he came up to lean on your other side. 

“Escaping the boredom that is this party. I’m not going to lie though; I’m really fucking hungry.”

“Me to.”, you add with a whine causing both boys to laugh.

“How about we sneak out and go get some food?”

#################

You couldn’t stop giggling as you munched on the greasy burger in your hand while Eddie took another sip of champagne from the bottle in the car that was driving you three around. 

“Fuck. Steph is gonna kill me.”, Steve fussed as he hastily cleaned the ketchup that had fallen onto his tux. 

“Can we do something fun? I’m not ready to call it a night.”

“What did you have in mind, sweetheart?”

“Can we go see one of Steve’s buildings? I’d love to see one.”

“You’ve been in one, honey, with your class. My office is in a building I purchased. Plus, I’m not sure looking at one of my places would exactly constitute as ‘fun’.”, the mogul laughs. 

“Oh, come on. Pleeeease, Daddy.”, you playfully pout, clapping your hands in excitement when he gives in. 

After he gives the driver instructions, you curl up in both their sides as you wait to reach your destination. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised when the vehicle stopped outside of what looked to be a stadium.

“You own this? Do you own the team as well?”, you laugh as Eddie takes your hand and helps you out of the car.   

“Uh no. That is way too much work BUT I do come to the games from time to time.”

“Steve used to be the star basketball player in our town.”

You beamed up at him as he nodded in agreement while you followed them blindly before ending up on a well light basketball court. 

“Is someone here?”

“No ma’am. Just us. These lights are timed so they’ll turn off closer to the morning.”

The sound of dribbling echoed through the stadium as the rockstar came into view bouncing a basketball. 

“Want to play?”

Smirking, you took the ball from his hand, bouncing it before shooting your shot and making the basket. 

“Oooo Stevie. You got some competition!”

“It seems I do. Want to make it interesting?”

“How so, Mr. Harrington?”, you sing with your big grin making them swoon. 

They loved seeing you happy.

“How about we take turns and for every basket we miss we have to take off an item of clothing.”

“Well, that’s not fair, Daddy. You have more pieces than I do.”

“Well, honey, make sure not to suck then.”

While you and Eddie laugh, Steve bounces the ball and shoots it from the free throw line, making his basket. The two of you follow suit, mimicking his moves perfectly while making the shot.

“So, you were a basketball star, huh? MVP?”

“Yup.”, Steve answered obnoxiously popping his lips on the P as he made another basket. “And swim captain to. None of it impressing my dad by any means.”

Taking your turn, you moved out of the way to allow Eddie his.

“What about you?”

“No sports for me, babe. I was hanging out with the other nerds playing D&D till all hours of the evening and selling drugs to cheerleaders.”

“Oof, you bad boy.”

After only hitting the rim, the rockstar sighed as he took off his jacket and tossed it to the side. 

“What about you, pretty girl?”

“I was a journalism kid. I loved to write and read.” Steve missed his next shot and having removed his jacket long ago, unbuttoned his shirt and placed with the others. “I know you said you both grew up together but how did you officially meet?”

“We didn’t exactly float in similar circles but—shit—“, Eddie whines as he takes off his shirt as well. “We didn’t really start talking until senior year. Learned we both had a lot in common.”

“How so?”

“Asshole dads, our moms weren’t in the picture, people in the town misjudged us…”, the mogul answered. “Everyone thought I was this fucking stupid jock with an ego.”

“Which to be fair, Harrington, was an image you catered to for a while there.”

“To make my dad happy. I learned a little too late that would never happen.” Missing his shot again, he took off his belt and pushed down his pants. “I’m starting to think we misjudged HER, Ed.”

“Most men do.”, you giggle. “What about you, Eddie? How did the town see you?”

The rockstar slide playfully to your side and you squeaked when he spanked your behind. 

“What did we say about that ‘most men do’ shit?”

“You’re not like most men.”

“Mhmm. Give me something.”, he demands light-heartedly as he holds out his palm. 

Jokingly glaring his way, you reach under your dress and shimmy down your panties, slamming them into his hand.

“These are cute.”, he grins as he throws them on top of their discarded clothing. “And they saw me kind of how you did before, some troublemaking bad boy except they thought I worshipped Satan or some shit.”

“You?”

“I know. Weird, huh? Fuck!”

With the men now in just their boxers, you beamed with pride.

“Ay, calm down, little one. You’re young and have a lot more energy than we do.”, Steve smiled as he ran his palm along his stomach. 

“Calm down, Mr. Harrington, you both aren’t THAT old. Now if I make this last shot, can you show me one of those rich people suites?”

“You mean the places that look like our apartment but are the size of yours? Yeah, sure, why not.”, Eddie chuckled. 

“Last time I checked your apartment doesn’t have a hot tub.”

“How do you know these do?!”

“Please. I’m broke. You think I haven’t fantasied about watching the game from one of those rooms?!”, you laugh as you casually bounce the ball in your hands. “Spend some time in that warm water, naked, with a glass of champagne and a sexy man between my legs. Both or three of us probably tripping in sweat with heavy panting and just being utterly filthy. Oof.”

Silently, they watched as you tossed the basketball in the air and you grinned at the sound of the swish as it effortlessly made it in. 

Grabbing your hand, Steve practically tugged your arm off while Eddie hastily gathered their clothes and all but ran to the elevator that would take you to the suites above. 

“Oh wow.”, you breathe as you take in the room. “This is gorgeous.”

“Not as gorgeous as you.”, the rockstar smiles sheepishly as he helps you out of your gown and carefully places it on one of the chairs nearby. 

“I didn’t realize the tub would be this small. Is that ok?”

“Depends.”, Steve answers as he slides into the water and flicks a button that allows it to come to life. “Are you asking because Eddie and I may bump into each other or because you think we’ll have trouble being comfortable because of your body?”

“Steve and I have bumped into each other before. I mean we are sharing a beautiful woman so skin touches from time to time.”, Eddie follows as he jumps in causing his friend to roll his eyes when some of the water spill onto the carpet. “And there’s no place we’d rather be, babe, then scrunched together with you in between us.”

They both reached out their hands that you take as you step into the tub, pleasantly sighing at the feeling of the hot liquid bubbling against your skin. 

Their lips were all over you immediately as they trailed along your neck, shoulder, back, and chest. You often marveled at how in sync both men always seemed to be in when it came to pleasing you. They both grinded against you but Steve was the first to slide his cock into your pussy as he tugged your back to his chest. 

“Fuck…”, you whine as your hand reaches down to stroke Eddie’s length. The rings on his fingers felt cool against your skin as he gripped your jaw and kissed your lips. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

“Definitely come a long way from ‘I don’t want to ruin your suit, Daddy.’”, the rockstar teases making you and Steve breathily laugh between pants. “Our dirty girl.”

The mogul abruptly pulled out of you but before you had time react, Eddie lifted your leg around his waist and slide his cock into your core. The sudden change had your pussy clenching around him as your forehead rested against his own. 

“Y-You like that, sweetheart? Being passed between us…shit.”

“Being used by us?”, Steve added as you nodded. “Say it, honey.”

“I like…like being used by you, Daddy. Please, I’m gonna…cum.”

Eddie removed his length, spinning you around as the mogul guides himself into you again pumping his hips at such a fast rhythm that more water spilled out of the tub. Your fingers tangled in his hair that was beginning to dampen with warm water and his sweat. The sight alone had your cunt tighten even more and you whimper as the coil snaps. 

“Miss is it ok that the tub is small…”, he groans in your ear as he continues to thrust into you. “You like being this—fuck—close with no room t-to breathe.”

Hands pressed into your tummy and Steve pulled out once more for Eddie to replace him. Your head fell on his shoulder and he tenderly nibbled on your neck while the other man encased his lips around your nipple with his tongue flicking against the bud. Slamming his hips into yours, you listened as the rockstar grunted against your skin till you couldn’t take it anymore and came with a loud groan. 

When your body went limp against them wet hands cupped your face and tilted your head upright. 

“Hey. Look at me, baby girl. Are you ok?”

“M-More. Want more, Daddy, please.”

They both chuckled as Steve reached over to turn off the hot tub and carefully lift you out of the water. Neither of you made it far as he laid flat on his back against the floor with you on top of him; your head resting on his chest. 

“Here, sweetheart. Drink this.”, Eddie instructed, handing you a bottle of water that you gladly accepted. “You to, Steven. We aren’t young men anymore.”

“Oh my god.”, his friend laughed as his did what he commanded. Ignoring their banter, your lips trailed up the body of the man underneath you. “So needy, honey.”

“For you two.”, you coo softly as your nose grazes his. “Let me help you cum to, Daddy, please.”

“Go ahead, baby.”, Steve whispers. “Ride Daddy’s cock.”

Resting his hands on your sides, you both moan as you slowly sink down onto him. As you start to roll your hips, you feel his tip nudge past that spongy spot inside you causing you to tremble and throw you head back in ecstasy.

“Fuck, Y/N. Move.”

“I-I am Daddy. Fuck you’re so deep.”

Roughly his palms grip both sides of your head and bring you down till his face is inches from yours. 

“Don’t tease me, Y/N. We didn’t with you. Now, ride my dick like you fucking mean it.” Steve’s mouth fell open when you did what he told you to, bouncing aggressively as his hands found their way back to your hips to guide you. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. So fucking beautiful like this. Fuck! I’m so glad your ours.”

Collapsing flat onto him, his arms wrap around your back and he plants his feet into the floor, allowing him to thrust his cock into you at a rapid pace that overwhelms you as you push back against his hold. Steve doesn’t allow you mobility so you submit to the feeling as you melt into him, clinging to his body till you shake and cum hard with him following as he milks his seed into your cunt. 

Lifting you off the mogul, Eddie placed you on a nearby table on your back and yanked you to the edge. With his palms clinging to your thighs for leverage, he thrust his cock into your entrance and pounded his hips into your own, desperate for a release after watching you ride his friend. 

“Fuck, sweetheart…so fucking tight…Mmph.”

“Oh my god.”, you mewl as you drag your nails down his sweat glistening chest. 

“I need you to cum again, baby. Cum all over Daddy’s dick.” When you shake your head, his hand promptly flies to your throat and firmly squeezes. “I wasn’t asking, little girl. Don’t tell me no.”

As he rolls his waist, your eyes roll closed as your back arches and your arms fall over the side of the table giving Eddie a perfect view of your tits as they bounce with each pump of his length. 

“That’s our girl. Just l-let go, Y/N.”

His cock repeatedly abuses your g-spot and you grip his wrists to ground you as you whine loudly till the ball in your belly drops.

The rockstar’s jaw clenches at the feeling as his head hangs and he chases his own high. Tilting his body over yours, he grunts as his rhythm sputters and you feel him warm your insides. 

“F-Fuck. Good…good girl.”, he coos as his lips tenderly trail along your cheek to your neck. “You ok, princess?”

“T-Tired, Daddy. Wanna sleep now.”

Both men chuckle softly as Eddie carefully pulls out of your sore, aching cunt and reaches for a towel to clean you with while Steve searches around the room till he makes a tiny aha noise when he finds what he’s looking for. 

“I don’t think we can sleep here, baby. But let’s get you back home so you can curl up in bed.”

“Your home?”

You groan as the rockstar lifts you to your feet but holds you under your arms to keep you steady as the mogul lifts your leg to slide a pair of shorts up your body. 

“These may be a bit tight, honey, but I think you’d prefer this for the time being till we get you back to, yes, our apartment which is yours too.”, Steve beams as he places the shirt over your head. “Do you think you can walk?”

You adorably shake your head and Eddie lifts you in his arms as Steve leads the way out of the stadium towards his car. Through the ride home you pleasantly sighed at their gentle touches as they ran their fingers through your hair or along your legs. 

When they placed you in Steve’s bed, you didn’t even hesitate when you pulled them both as close to you as possible. Because of everything they had been through they were never sure if the clinginess was you or the headspace but they relished it either way. They would do anything for you if you asked but knew you never would. You weren’t like their ex; you were strong and independent. They knew you could take care of yourself but chose to be vulnerable for them and they loved you for that. 

Wait…

Their eyes met as the realization hit them hard. 

They loved you. 

So many different questions and scenarios ran through their minds as insecurities of their own started to seep in. Those feelings were validated when both their phones pinged at the same time.

###################

The following morning you woke up with a big smile on your face and felt more at peace than you had in a very long time. As you leaned up to stretch, you realized you were in bed alone. 

“Eddie? Steve?”, you called to no response. 

Reaching for your phone, your eyebrows knitted together when you found a piece of paper taped to the screen. 

“Y/N, 

We had to leave due to something that came up but, please, feel free to have some breakfast and a shower before you head back to your apartment.”

Head back to my apartment? Are they asking or telling me? Didn’t they say last night that their apartment was also mine?

“We are going to be extremely busy these next few days so we may not answer texts or calls. 

Honey, do you remember the promise you made to us about not looking us up on Google or anything like that? Please, keep that for us.

Talk with you as soon as we can…

Eddie and Steve.”

You blinked as you read and reread the note they left you. You understood they were busy men and that you promised not to search them on any news outlets or gossip sites but how could they expect you to not have questions after a cryptic note like this?

Sighing, you got dressed bypassing breakfast and a shower to head back to your lonely apartment. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you clicked on your TV, channel surfing till you found something even slightly interesting. You wish was granted when Steve and Eddie’s face illuminated your screen. 

Bolting upright, you turned up the volume.

“And on our top story today, lawyers of Gina Frost, the daughter of actress Libby Frost, finally released the identities of the two men she’s seeking to get palimony from after a 4-year relationship she claims to have had. Business Tycoon Steven Harrington who just made a massive 400 million deal and Guitarist of the popular grammy winning band Corroded Coffin Edward Munson have been named in the lawsuit filed by the young actress herself. Lawyer Daryl Barnes made a statement saying:

‘It’s not right for my client to have her face plastered all over social media where she is demeaned constantly and belittled for the completely valid choice she is making when it comes to these two men who have failed to keep promises they made to this young lady!’

No comment yet has been made by either celebrity who were seen out just last night at a benefit with a yet to be identified young lady at their side.”

The remote shattered against your hardwood floor as it fell from your grasp.

“Yet to be identified.”

Your own mobile device came to life as messages and tags came through almost in an instant.

How…how could they not tell you? How could they leave you alone when all this was coming to light? 

Fury overtook your shock as you threw on your jacket and stomped out the front door.

################

@aol19 @paradisepoisons  @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer

@aactuaaltraash @nailbatanddungeon @yesimabratandwhataboutot @eddiesguitarskills @mygirlchaos @kezibear

[merakiui]

boyfriend.

yandere!female!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied (cyber)stalking, cheating, dub-con, alcohol/intoxication, characters written as 18+ note - riddle seeks to prune the filthy weeds from your life, starting with your ill-mannered boyfriend. // inspired by dove cameron's boyfriend.

i. i can’t believe we’re finally alone. i can’t believe i almost went home. what are the chances? everyone’s dancing, and he’s not with you.

Riddle has never traveled to this part of the city before—the seedy, unsavory sliver overshadowed by towering skyscrapers, illicit, perilous secrets tucked away in every alley. It’s not as if she’s here under duress. Although if you were to frame it from her perspective, it would feel less like an active, consensual choice and more of a you’ve-forced-my-hand choice. It’s blatant rule-breaking all the same, a stain on her delicate character. Blight on her shiny social status as a golden child, forever marked as the obedient one.

She’s lived her rebellious streak, was punished swiftly and accordingly, and strived to be better in the aftermath. It was one thing to slip out during independent study, and that fun had been trampled upon by a cruel, heeled foot. That was a child’s error. A lesson learned. A valid reason to sever all distractions and improve academically, consequently maturing with sharp, sparkling intelligence and abysmal social skills. 

But Riddle is no longer that starry-eyed, impressionable child, and she does not make the same mistake twice.

Or so she’s always believed, but she’s willing to risk an unforgiving tongue-lashing and life imprisonment at the hands of her mother if it means she can fix things. No matter how she spins it, the truth remains the same: She’s fallen back on an old habit, sneaking out and keeping secrets. She’s an open book to Trey, though, who she’d taken care to message on the train ride into the city, her text mostly cryptic: Should anything happen, this is where I’ll be. It’s wrong to skirt around the truth, especially when it’s your closest friend. She knows this, but then she also knows Trey gives terribly good advice. The type of terribly good advice you often don’t want to hear.

Advice like: “You need to let her go.”

And Riddle can’t—won’t. 

So she steps into the digital footprints left by that brash, brutish party animal you lovingly call your boyfriend, and she follows the string of social media posts like a diligent detective, flicking through each with manicured fingernails. She commits them to memory so that they remain imprinted in her mind before they’ll eventually expire at the twenty-four hour mark.

In the days leading up to tonight, Cater had taken her out for their usual self-care makeover day, which was really just a day dedicated to dressing up and gossiping at the salon. It was a monthly arrangement, and it kept the both of them entertained and sane. The latter of those two was called into question when Riddle, wholly out of character, selected black nail polish for her mani-pedi, which left Cater looking on with brewing curiosity. She gazed at him, pouty lips upturned slyly, and said, “I thought I’d give red a temporary break.”

“Oh, but red is so your color!” he insisted, raising his phone to capture both of them in frame. 

Riddle smiled at the camera. “I know.”

It has always been her color, a staple in her closet. It’s a favorite she can never truly shake, hence why it stains her lips instead. Bright like arterial blood, a blossoming carnation, it stands out starkly on her pale countenance—the only splotch of color on her person. Cater took her shopping when he’d learned she was attempting to fit a new style into her wardrobe of prim, modest clothes. They ran up and down the racks, grinning at each other from across the store and holding up sweaters and skirts, weighing whether either would suit Riddle’s night out. In the end, she settled for the outfit she wears now: a red tube top, a cropped puffer jacket, a pencil skirt that doesn’t pass the fingertip test (not that she cares to follow that rule), tights, and knee-high heeled boots. To finish the look, she’s pulled her hair from its usual plaits, allowing it to cascade down her back like a crimson waterfall. Fingerless lace gloves adorn her hands, stitched with intricate patterns of roses and thorns.

Cater called it the Femme Fatale Friday fit. It’s a Saturday night, but it feels like Friday when she peers at her reflection in a pocket mirror, checking her makeup once more. 

She will not make the same mistake twice. She’s a paragon of perfection—Riddle Rosehearts, for seven’s sake! 

Stuffing the mirror into a matching handbag, she eyes the skyscraper looming before her, sleek with its metal framework and industrial glass. The bright cityscape reflects off of each window, dazzling with luminous specks of light. She considers the contents in her purse, reviews each with a critical eye, and inhales a steadying breath. 

This is necessary.

She’s an adult now, nearly finished with her graduate studies. She lives on her own in a quaint, pet-friendly apartment with her hedgehog, and she works part-time at the café down the street, putting forth her best effort as she weathers the woes of university. Despite all of this independence, she doesn’t feel like an adult. 

Not when she can hear her mother in the back of her head: You look ridiculous. Come home right now before you make a fool of yourself and sully my good name.

Riddle scowls at the concrete, curling her fingers into fists. 

She’s an adult now. She is not her mother’s doll.

Leaving all hostility and self-doubt at the door, she steps through the lobby and beelines for the lift. It carries her to her destination—one of the highest floors. A penthouse suite. 

And not just any penthouse suite. Floyd Leech’s penthouse suite.

Under normal circumstances, she would never willingly set foot in his territory. She survived four years of school with him, which was already a sickening amount, and in that time she watched him glide through his undergraduate with just barely passing grades. That wasn’t enough to stoke the red-hot embers of envy, though. It only made him seem even more like a cockroach, unable to be crushed by the weight of scholarly responsibilities, for he never took anything seriously.

For that reason, Riddle has never envied Floyd. But by the end of their third year, he had something Riddle didn’t. 

He had you. 

How he managed to settle into a relationship when all he did was slack off, party, and break the rules was beyond Riddle. He was a slippery delinquent, hardly deserving of your sweet affections, and yet you looked at him like he was the only one on the planet. Just where was the appeal? His manner of dress is sloppy. The way he carries himself is unpalatable and crude. The way he acts suggests his insipience is incurable. Even when he applies himself, he is still Floyd and that doesn’t clean his slate or shine his reputation. So in Riddle’s discerning eyes, he does not possess a scintilla of romantic appeal.

You don’t seem to agree with these sentiments, for you’ve been with Floyd for four long years. 

Love is blinding, but Riddle has never been in love before and so she doesn’t have adequate data to prove this point. It was forbidden in her home. She’s only allowed to love the men her mother handpicks, plucking each specimen like they’re ripened strawberries from a bush. In the beginning she found all manner of minor details to excuse them from her life, insisting upon a nonexistent list of impossibly high standards. He was too tall. He was too forward with his interest. He wore contrasting colors. He didn’t like tea. These reasons were far too critical and childish, and each man had been sent away in a huff. Her mother would scold her, halving her with a nasty glare: “Are you planning to die alone?”

Yes, Riddle realized by the twentieth admonishment, yet another man cast aside. If dying alone means romantic freedom in life, I’ll do just that.

The elevator spits her out into the hall, which isn’t as silent as she thought it’d be. Bass shakes through the walls, reverberating all the way through her ribs as if it intends to stir up her organs. She catches her reflection in the windows, noting the dark, monstrous scowl, and smooths her face into something courageous. She means business as she clicks down the hall, preparing herself for the whirlwind that undoubtedly waits behind the door. Riddle starts to wonder how Floyd’s neighbors have yet to file a noise complaint and then stops, her thoughts cutting off abruptly. It’s a challenge to make complaints when your father holds parts of the city’s underground in his palms.

He’s got it easy, that spoiled pest. 

Riddle’s gait slows to a halt and she reaches out to knock thrice. The door is thrown open before she can even bring her fist down. Soon she’s staring at a rosy-cheeked stranger, whose eyes trace her figure like he’s trying to paint her on his mental canvas. She’s prepared for the worst, having tucked the spray in her bag, its container disguised to look like lipstick. The strawberry keychain hanging from her purse is a self-defense alarm, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice. His ogling does not frighten her, nor do his intentions, if he can even harbor any in that intoxicated brain of his. She’s braved scarier horrors. Like living out years of her life with her mother.

“Heyyy, you one of Floyd’s girls? Here for the party?”

Riddle suppresses the disgusted shiver threatening to crawl up her spine, swallowing bile. “Just the party.” 

She is no one’s girl. Definitely not Floyd’s. 

When she’s let inside and the stench of sweat and alcohol assault her nostrils, coupled with the too-loud party music, she considers retreating, her mother’s judgment echoing: You look ridiculous. Her fingers twitch towards her purse. One text and Trey would pick her up. One call and Cater would be on his way. But then she’d be forced to tell them the truth—would have to admit that she’s chasing the one person she can never have. 

She hardens her resolve, pushes through the throng of bodies in an effort to find refreshments, and there you are, her perfect, pretty wallflower in a perfect, pretty silver dress. The dim neon lighting casts you in a luscious pink haze, and she watches you scroll through your phone, your eyelids falling and opening. You’re so beautiful—the sweetest thing she’s ever seen, more saccharine than a truckload of strawberry tarts. Her hand slides away from her purse, and she tamps down a gleeful smile, stepping over to you with newfound confidence.

“(Name)?”

You turn your whole body towards her, your gaze unfocused. She can smell the liquor on you, can see the hickeys not quite covered by a velvet choker. Her gaze narrows. He’s all over you, isn’t he? From top to bottom, you are covered in traces of him. Her nose scrunches. Just what do you see in him?

It should be her teeth on your skin, tearing it open, bruising it, tasting slick copper on her tongue. It should have always been her, but it’s not. Why did you have to settle for less when you’re entitled to so much more?

You peer at her like she’s something in a museum, perplexing and abstract. And then it clicks. You gasp, your mouth falling open in awe, and your words come out horribly slurred. She fails to hide her wince when you throw your arms around her, hanging off of her like a tote on a shoulder.

“Riddle! You…seriously showed up… Can’t believe it’s really you. It feels like it’s been forever.” You pull away, swaying with the motion, and place your hands on her arms. “Your outfit is suuuper cute.”

She’s blushing. She knows she is because her face is burning with heat and suddenly it’s much too stifling in here. “Oh. Ah, um, t-thank you very much… You look very nice, too.”

Really? Is that the best thing I could say? ‘You look very nice’? Honestly, Riddle…

But you smile, and the sight steals her heart all over again. You can have it. By all means take her heart. Take it and love it to pieces. That way it will be fair when she takes yours. An even exchange in accordance with the rules of love. 

Or maybe it’s more so the rules of romantic warfare, carried out to the extreme on a chessboard. Or a croquet court. Something sporty and metaphorical, anyway.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” she asks, refusing to say his name lest she speak him into existence and tarnish her near-perfect evening.

Her question strikes a chord within you, and you heave an exaggerated sigh. You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall for support. “Left me to go hang with the guys. S’not fair!” you whine, sliding further down until you’re sitting in a defeated heap. 

Riddle bends down to your height, her tone as soft and sympathetic as her expression. “Does he always do this?”

Hurt flashes across your face, but you don’t say anything. So he does. Why is she not surprised?

Who in the world leaves their partner at a party, vulnerable and alone? Riddle thinks, anger flaring up in her chest. Someone could take advantage of you. You’re in no state to be standing here by yourself. That fool… He doesn’t know how to treat a lady at all. How have you put up with him for four years? Your patience amazes me.

“It’s not like…” You shut your eyes and rest your head against the wall. “Not like an always-happening thing…”

Riddle isn’t going to sugarcoat it. She wants her words to cut deep, all the way to the heart you’ve allowed Floyd to bind. “Whether or not he does it often, the fact still stands that he left you intoxicated in the corner of this room. That’s careless and unsafe.” She tilts her head, admiring the way you’ve done your makeup, the way your plush lips jut out in a miserable pout. And it just rushes out, words she’s thought but never had the courage to say. At least, not to the sober you. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

Like me, she almost adds, but that’s too direct. And she’s not even sure the admission will land when you’re so out of it.

“Appreciate it…” You scrub your face, groaning. “Ugh. I feel sick…”

“Would you like to get some fresh air?” 

You shake your head, stubborn to a fault. “Can’t. Gotta wait for Floyd.”

Riddle frowns. “I highly doubt he’s coming back anytime soon.” 

“Still.”

“At the very least, let’s get you some water.” She offers her hand, hoping and praying to the heavens above that you’ll take it.

You do. It’s a flawless fit. Her heart flutters, weightless and feathery, when her fingers close around yours. She wonders what moisturizer you use, what sort of lotions kiss your skin. Are they scented, or is that just your perfume? Or have you done away with perfume for tonight and is that a natural fragrance? Or maybe it’s the sweet scent of a fruity wine, printed on your tongue like a delicious tattoo. 

She wants to kiss you. 

“Just how much have you had to drink?” 

“Like a cup or two? I…dunno. Does it matter?”

You stumble when she helps you up, grabbing at her shoulder for support. Riddle almost falls back, but the wall braces her. You place your palm right by her head, and suddenly you’re leaning in, inadvertently pinning her to the wall. Her pupils nearly eclipse her blue-grey irises, and her breath sticks in her throat. Oh, you’re so close. You’re a drunken mess, pushing yourself up against her, your beauty enveloping her like a chrysalis. If this is a dream, she never wants to wake, for the world that awaits her beyond this is cold and colorless. 

Your head lowers to the dip between shoulder and neck, and she gazes heavenward. The ceiling is much nicer at this moment, if only so she can clear her own heady haze of impure thoughts. 

There are people about, she has to remind herself, shaking off the urge to close her fingers around your chin and tilt your head up to meet her mouth. And she has a boyfriend. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.

But the chance is much too beguiling. You’re right here, quite literally within her reach, and Floyd’s nowhere in sight. It’s too perfect. She can’t quite wrap you in an affectionate embrace—though that is an irresistible urge she must fight off—so she settles to rub circles into your back instead, dutifully reflecting the role of a concerned friend. It’s not the part she wishes to play. Rather, she’d gladly take on the title of boyfriend if it meant you’d feel loved. Every day, at every hour, for the rest of your life. She’d do all the things Floyd ought to do: care for you, appreciate you, protect you, stay by your side through thick and thin. 

Love is a dangerous, thorny thing, but it’s the encroaching jealousy that kills. 

Floyd doesn’t deserve you. If anything, he deserves a mouth full of soap to scrub every profanity he’s ever uttered. Just what does he tell you in bed? That you’re a good girl? That you’re soooo tight? That you can take it? Does he know which ways you like it? Does he know where to touch so you’ll unravel faster? Does he know how to get you properly, thoroughly worked up, so much so that it feels like your skin is aflame with potent want and desire? 

Does he even know your anatomy, or are you simply a body for his avaricious appetite? 

Like roses twining possessively around a trellis, Riddle holds you close in her arms, her hand sweeping across your lower back. Her glacial eyes scan the crowd, warding off anyone who may be curious with her most malevolent death stare. 

“Mm… I need to lie down. My head is…spinning…”

With that, the murderous, overprotective haze sticking to Riddle like a poisonous fog dissipates. A sickly sweet smile widens on ruby-red lips. “Let’s find someplace quiet.”

Together, the two of you stagger-walk out of the room, leaving the party and its inhabitants behind. Crossing through the attached kitchenette, Riddle pilfers a bottled water from the fridge.

Her mind is sharp as a cut diamond. Her skin prickles with anticipation.

Down the hall you go, with Riddle supporting you with what minimal physical strength she has. A door looms before the both of you, cast in a comfortable glow from a neighboring skyscraper, and you struggle to pull your heels off while she pushes the door open. It reveals a messy room, clothing and candy wrappers strewn about sloppily. 

Riddle feels like she’s on top of the world, and she is. Up in the clouds on the forty-third floor of this luxurious penthouse apartment. 

ii. i could be a better boyfriend than him. i could do the shit that he never did. up all night, i won’t quit. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle pined. Hopelessly. Forlornly. Desperately.

Hungrily. 

It was unbecoming to want something to such an obsessive degree. She buried herself in her studies to do away with lustful delusions, each more distracting than the last. But then you would crop up in her life when she least expected it and soon the two of you were studying together. Soon you were visiting her dorm to watch movies during the times in which she allowed herself the break (and she only did so because it was you). Soon you were spending nights in her room, sleeping sprawled on the floor even though she offered her bed time and time again. You’d get ready in the mornings, debating what the breakfast menu would entail. She’d watch your reflection in the floor mirror as you pulled your shirt up and over your head, eyeing the way you slid seamlessly into a lacy black bra. And then she’d change out of her nightgown, and you’d comment on her undergarments. 

“We should go shopping sometime. You gotta get cuter stuff!”

“Why should I? No one’s going to see it,” she insisted with a flustered huff.

“I’ll see it the next time I sleep over,” you told her, smiling innocently as you stepped into a blue handkerchief skirt. “Besides, there are so many cute sets you could wear. You’d look so pretty in something red and frilly. You’re totally missing out.”

Riddle considered it back then. Your eager eyes had almost won her over, but she was firm in her decision. “I’m fine with what I have now.” 

And the conversation ended there. She really wishes you would have pushed it back then because just a little nudge in that direction and she would have given in, entirely at your mercy. 

Selfishly, she just yearned to be stuck in a changing stall with you. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle fostered a special sort of friendship with you. You’d stop by her dorm during finals to insist she take a break, your offer too tempting. She’s always been weak to sweets. You were close enough to exchange intimate details with one another. She listened to all of your dating woes, and conversely you’d sit still and bear witness to her ramblings about fascinating law facts. Sometimes she’d rant about her mother. You always listened. “She sounds like she sucks,” you said once. “How are you even related to her? You’re so nice.”

It was a pleasant three years. If she deluded herself enough, she could have pretended you were her girlfriend and then she’d have something to tell her mother to put an end to the countless attempts at scoring her a husband. I will never marry any of your options, she would think, playing the confrontation out in her head. I have a partner now and we’re very happy together. Sometimes Riddle imagined her mother tossing darts at a board with photographs of men attached to it, disregarding compatibility altogether in favor of upholding traditional rules. But then Riddle realized she’d have to die before she could ever admit her own romantic freedoms to her mother, and so that conversation only ever came about in daydreams. 

I’d rather die alone than live life shackled in a loveless marriage. She wonders if her father thought the same.

Those three years had been a wonderful reality, filled with sugared, candy-coated love. A one-sided love, sure. But Riddle could settle for platonic affections, for that was just as sweet.

And then he arrived at the doorstep to Riddle’s fantasy cottage, kicking the walls down and sweeping you off your feet.

Floyd Leech has always been a nuisance. You were there to shoo him away every time he came knocking, all broad grins and vexatious jeers. He listened to you most days, a mutt without proper leashing, oddly loyal to you. As if you were his keeper of sorts. Riddle was amazed, befuddled, and worried all at once. Unlike her, you could keep your cool, could still smile so kindly even when Floyd was being an utter pain in the ass with his foolish nicknames. When he tried to pluck Riddle’s hairpin from out of her braids—a handmade gift you had given her for her birthday—she slapped him hard across the face and hissed, “Don’t ever put your filthy paws on me again.”

And maybe it was because you were there that she was able to recover shortly after the outburst. (Although she still meant that slap with every fiber of her being.) Maybe you were her collar. Maybe you were her keeper. Maybe she was meant to meet you so that you could color her world, lead her along into the friendship she’d been robbed of as a child. 

Looking back, Riddle realizes that was the catalyst. Because when Floyd cradled his bright-red cheek, giggling like a maniac, you asked him, “Don’t you have anything better to do? Can’t you bother someone else?”

And then you were made the prime target. 

What’s worse is that you reveled in it, adored every ounce of attention Floyd gave you like it was something holy, later admitting to Riddle during a movie marathon that you “wondered if Floyd was seeing anyone.” She wanted to retch. You, a seraph incarnate, with a devil like Floyd? Impossible. But your tone was so whimsical; you were dreaming of it. You liked him. 

She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.

By the end of her third year, just as finals gave way to summer, you threw your arms around Floyd’s neck while he pressed you up against the trunk of a flowering tree. Pink petals fluttered to the ground, and with the falling blossoms came Riddle’s hope, crashing and burning in a heartbroken heap. 

She won’t make the same mistake twice, which is precisely why, when you flop onto Floyd’s unmade bed, she turns the lock to keep all outside influences away. The party is but a mere muffle now, thrumming through the floorboards with reckless abandon.

Her nose wrinkles at the pile of dirty laundry. Slob, she thinks, brimming with hate. What does she see in you? You’re a mess, you’re definitely a criminal, you can’t keep a stable job, you throw obnoxious parties every other week, you leave your own girlfriend unattended… What part of that is appealing? She gazes at you next. You’re too good for him, (Name). You can do so much better. Raise your standards. Find someone respectable and attentive. Someone who’ll stay with you forever. Someone who won’t let you get stupidly drunk and then run off to Queen-knows-where.

“Someone like me,” she mutters.

You have to be coerced into drinking, and you’re so sleepy that the water dribbles down your chin. Riddle tuts at you, swiping the liquid away with her sleeve. 

“You’re a mess,” she says, affectionate despite the barb. 

You’re my mess.

She slides your heels off, casting them elsewhere. You look like a starfish when you lay sprawled, or maybe you’re more like a snow angel. Only rather than snow, you imprint yourself amongst wrinkled sheets. Riddle knows it’s wrong, but you’re right here. She’s waited so many years for a moment like this one.

It’s not fair. 

She unzips her boots, kicks them off, and stands at the edge of the bed, locked in a fierce debate. You should have thrown your arms around her that day. You should have kissed her, should have spent the last four years with her, should have stayed in her life like the permanent fixture you were destined to be. She’s never wanted anything more than this. Not even a surplus of strawberry tarts. Not even the dreams she’s working tirelessly towards achieving. She’s only ever wanted you. 

But Floyd took you away, and her world has never been the same since. 

The mattress dips under her weight; she’s made up her mind. 

“Do you remember the promise we made?” she whispers, running her hands up your legs. You lift your head to look at her, eyes glassy with inebriated exhaustion. “The one in which we’d live together after graduation? You said you’d want to live somewhere pet-friendly so we could get hedgehogs and name them Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

You hum, your lashes fluttering. 

“We could still do that. Just you and me. Without your boyfriend.”

“What?”

Her fingers catch on the waistband of your panties. “Hm?” 

“Mm, no, nothing… You should get going. It’s late…” “Someone has to look after you.”

“Floyd can.”

She presses her thumbs into your hips and the tiniest gasp leaves your parted lips. “But Floyd’s not.”

“He will.”

“He won’t,” she snaps. Something flickers in your eyes, a flash of unrest. Riddle chews her lower lip. “He’s… (Name), what do you see in him? Honestly, truly, what is it? Please educate me. Please… What does he have that I don’t? What makes you stay?”

“Cuz he’s my boyfriend,” you mutter slowly, perplexed, “and I love him.”

“Do you?” 

“Riddle, why are you so…” The words fizzle out on your tongue when her touch strays too close to home. “Wait… We can’t… Not in here.”

“Why not? It’s just one more mess. He won’t even notice.”

“That’s not it… Riddle, wait. I… I don’t like you in that—”

She collapses, anchoring herself to you, her manicured nails digging deep into your arms. And then her mouth is on yours, clumsy and uncoordinated. She doesn’t want to hear it—can’t bear to hear it. She knows the truth. It’s haunted her from the day she met you, a shadow looming like a guillotine’s blade. You were fated to be forever out of reach. Just like those strawberry tarts in the bakery window. The kiss is filthy, all desire and zero skill. Her tongue flashes into your mouth. It’s nothing like the way they describe it in fiction or portray it in films. It’s obscene. Sinful. Libidinous. Her lipstick smears; she tastes the wine in your throat, licks your teeth and nibbles your lip, delicate and gruesome all at once. She tries her best, unyielding. 

The technique doesn’t matter. Not now, anyway. It’s just blind, unrequited passion. She’ll learn it eventually and when she does she’ll kiss you drunk. It’s just another thing she’ll master. And she will because that’s just who she is. Give her a textbook and she’ll have it memorized. Give her a kiss and she’ll return to practice it to perfection. 

She pulls away, panting, her lipstick in disarray. It’s all over you, smudging on the corners of your mouth. Running a hand through her hair, her figure outlined in the tantalizing glow from the city lights, she licks her lips. 

“Riddle…” 

Spoken soft like prayer, it’s a whisper she’ll treasure. Over and over, without end, repeat it like a mantra. 

“Riddle, please…”

“He doesn’t know anything about your preferences, does he?” Your dress is slid up next. She traces a heart into your bare stomach, capturing your navel in invisible lines. You shudder under her touch, grabbing at her wrist with a limp hand. She brings it up to her lips and presses a chaste kiss to the top of it. “I know you much better than he does. I always have.”

To prove it, she presses two fingers to your clothed pussy. You whine, reedy and high-pitched. “But…”

“I read it takes fourteen minutes for women to reach their end during partnered sex.” She levels you with a half-lidded stare, smirking. What she lacks in skill, she makes up for in raw confidence. “I’ll only need less than that, so you won’t have to feign anything for my sake. I know you well enough, my rose.”

A wide range of emotions waltzes across your countenance. Your arm falls over your face next. It’s defeat or hesitant acceptance, but to Riddle it’s love. 

“Ten minutes,” you whisper, conceding. “And then…you need to leave.”

She makes you cum in just five, covers you in lipstick prints, each kiss a sly cover-up. Floyd may be all over you, bites and bruises blooming new and old, but he’s not inside you, wringing you out like a sodden towel. You sob like you’re in heat when she sinks her fingers into your slick warmth, scissoring so slowly, until you’re begging her to make you cum again. Your fluids soak through the sheets. The scent of sex and sweat hangs heavy in the air. She’s alive, wildly untamed, a knight who’s just rescued the princess and slayed a bloodthirsty dragon. 

Her head is between your thighs next, her hands braced on either leg to keep them apart. You watch her with glazed eyes, soon throwing your head back when she slides your hood up to reveal your pretty, pert clit. Experimentally, she licks a teasing stripe up your slit. You shiver and dig your fingers into her scalp, imprisoning her there. It’s where she’s always wanted to be. 

“Tell me,” she murmurs, the words fanning across your pussy, “if he’s so good, why haven’t you proven it? Is this the most you’ve ever cum in a night? Does he please you or do you please him? If he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, why are you still so unsatisfied?” 

“Because… B-Because!”

Your protests are fragmented and spotted with gasps. That’s arguably more telling than a detailed response. 

Riddle smiles like a Cheshire, her eyes narrowed victoriously. Spidery digits creep along your thighs. Her thumbs dip into your pussy, spreading it wide for her viewing pleasure. “Don’t think of him. Tonight, it’s just you and me. I’ll give you what you’re owed. That and so much more.”

Like a fragile statue, you topple. Right into her, bucking against her mouth like the world is ending, and she’s there to steady you.

She always is.

iii. i’m gonna steal you from him. i could be such a gentleman. plus, you know my clothes would fit.

“Sooo… Gimme the goss. How was your night out?”

Riddle looks up from an assortment of nail polish colors, each one more red than the last, and says, “It was more enjoyable than I thought.”

“Yeah?” Cater prompts, brows raised. “Don’t be so vague! I wanna know all the juicy details. It’s rare for you to stay out so late. And to go to a party, of all things, in the city? Hello?! New Riddle, who’s this?” 

“I was only meeting an old friend.”

“That’s what they all say.”

The technician asks her to pick a color. “This one,” she says, pointing. “The one named Sanguine Sunrise.” 

“You’re totes keeping me in the dark!” Cater whines, dramatic. “At least give Cay-Cay some hints! Something! Anything! Spare change, please?”

Riddle smiles smugly. Pride drips from every syllable when she speaks next. “My friend will be spending this Valentine’s Day alone.”

“Bummer.”

“Not quite. She’ll have me and half-priced chocolates. A rather charming combination, no?”

Cater laughs. “GL. I’m rooting for you.”

You don’t need to, she thinks, tracing the love bite stamped into her skin, hidden under the soft fabric of her blouse. Because I’m already winning.

Her phone buzzes with a text: about last night… if i did anything weird, i’m so sorry. i was way too drunk. 

Riddle turns it over, dips her feet in the heated water, and settles into the massage chair, pleased as a peach. “It was one bad decision. Four years of bad decisions, but it’s forgiven. We all make silly mistakes when we’re lovestruck. Hopefully her silly mistake disappears for good and we never have to speak of him again.”

“You’re so scary, Riddle. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Another message arrives: i think we might’ve kissed last night. i’m really super sorry.

There’s a brief delay.

ok this is gonna sound weird coming from me but maybe we can do it again??? floyd’s kisses are sorta… :/ 

Her phone vibrates for the final time that afternoon.

actually i’m just gonna stop talking omg i’m crazy. i have a bf and everything. sorry riddle please ignore all of this kk tysm ttyl <3

wait one more text before i forget,, if you wanna meet up for tea i wouldn’t mind. we should definitely catch up when i’m not hungover. kk bye fr this time <3

A start is a start. You can’t grow a rose tree without first planting a seed.

[richarlotte]

more things you swear by?

Japanese Lingerie.

I swear by Japanese lingerie, especially if you love detailed sets. My body doesn’t suit American-made lingerie now that I’ve lost so much weight, and I learned about Japanese lingerie from r/abrathatfits on my journey to find what suited me. The bras are forward projecting and give me a much better side view. I love buying matching lingerie sets, and the sets I usually go for are lacy and intricate; they’re incredibly well priced for the quality they are, and they fit me the way I like my sets to fit me. Buying lingerie is extremely feminine to me, and I love finding sets that complement my body. I’m still not as secure in my new body as I’d like to be, and good lingerie makes me feel beautiful again.

French Tips.

French tips are my go-to. They look good, they’re low maintenance, they’re universally acceptable, and they look clean. When done right, they make my hands look longer and thinner than they are, and I love that with a thinner white line, they look and feel delicate. I mostly do French mani-pedis; it’s a habit I got into when I first went to Chicago, and it’s served me well, so I doubt I’ll ever stray from it. The nail salon combo is widely accepted to be DND865 and DND473, and I do an acrylic overlay on top of my natural nails, keep an oval shape, and request a thin tip if I’m not doing BIAB again. I won’t get into the acrylic vs. BIAB debate at the moment, but I will say that when properly done, BIAB looks amazing, is better for helping you retain length, and it lasts longer than acrylic while looking better.

Classic Makeup and Flicky Layered Hair.

I love styling my hair and doing my makeup; it’s like a reward for waking up in the morning. I get to sit down, make myself pretty, and enjoy the entire process. I figured it was time to update my skincare and makeup routines once again, so I took the time to start watching makeup tutorials (Uma Jammeh, amazing) and using what products I already have to adapt certain looks to my face. As for hair, I’m obsessed with Sarmadina de Beaute as of late and layers. I think my hair looks best with heavy, flicky layers (Remington curls) if I don’t have the time to do a blowout, and I’ve really embraced the process of both finding styling inspiration and actually doing my hair. I found my ultimate inspiration the other day, ordered hair immediately, and cut and styled one of my synthetic wigs to get the look in the interim, and I’m smitten.

Minimal Jewelry.

I’ve always worn minimal jewelry; I’m a major fan of Cartier, and I’ve curated a small collection that I wear nearly every day. I love accessorizing, but I don’t like wearing a million things that have no meaning; I prefer to only wear things I love or things that have a story behind them. Gold is my metal and diamonds are my jewel. I prefer this combo over all of the other combos I’ve seen or worn before, but I also occasionally wear mother of pearl when the time is right. I dislike being weighed down by poorly made pieces; I think jewelry can be used as a statement (when needed), and putting thought into what I wear and what I want my jewelry to say has saved me a lot of misery. With the exception of my charm necklace or lavaliere necklace, I try to wear the same sets every day.

Lymphatic Massages and Red Light Therapy.

Now that it’s November and the weather is soon to turn cold again, I’m much more focused on cardio and my diet. Because I’ve filled my weekday mornings with Pilates and my afternoons with the elliptical and stairmaster, I’ve added lymphatic drainage massages and red light therapy to my weekend schedule. I’ll be in Europe, on the slopes, in the freezing cold for the majority of my winter break, and I’m preparing for that now. Lymphatic massages are a lifesaver for me, especially during allergy season, and full-body red light therapy is just an additional benefit. I’ve also switched from studio yoga to hot yoga and from the steam room back to the sauna, stopped drinking coffee, and really started focusing on increasing my flexibility.

Tinting, Tanning, and Toning.

I love having dark skin already, but I do tend to go wild with the self-tanning in the winter. In my mind, there’s nothing more beautiful than dark skin against white snow, and the darker I am, the better I look. I grew up being told that I was too dark, but I’ve embraced it. I’m proud of my skin, and I love the richness of it, and I use tanner as a way to cover up the scarring on my body and contour my face. As for tinting, I tint my brows and lashes darker than I normally would in the colder months because they don’t turn over or fade as quickly. I never ever tint my eyebrows jet black; that color is far too harsh for my face, and I can’t pull it off at all. I use the darkest brown on my brows and jet black on my lashes. When it comes to toning, I spray my entire body with the Ordinary’s glycolic acid and let it dry after showering for the best results. I swear by it for clearing body acne and preventing any body odor.

It’s similar but different.

[slut4sugu]

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Hobie brown x black!fem reader

Includes: slight suggestiveness, touchy hobie, pet names, slight British slang, slight cursing,

🎸: 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚- 𝐉𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐢𝐤𝐨 𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐰𝐚𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐞

FIRST WEEKS DATING

Sweet and gentlemanish, he’ll be gentle and only tease you a little at first ( only a few suggestive whispers in your ear from time to time)

Not too heavy on pda at first (though he loves it) so he’ll start off small with you, especially if your shy. For example: if your not easy to hold hands? He’s fine with pinkies, though hugs are a whole different thing, he loves hugging you with almost all of his weight on you. If your not a fan of it he’ll lighten up, but besides that. Expect a couple of bear hugs if he hasn’t seen you in a while.

Kisses are something he won’t go heavy on at first either unless you ask, though he will give you forehead kisses regardless, and some on the back of your hand, and knuckles.

Hobie wouldn’t really be too upset if you weren’t into pda that much, he believes that physical touch isn’t the sole way to be intimate with someone, energy and vibes are how he can be that way with you. Not just his spider sense but just in general, he loves being in your company and sharing things you like to do with him. That’s just something he’s always loved about you.

Loves when you ask him to help style your braids/hair, he’s really good at it actually and hardly gets tired while doing so and since his touch relaxes you so much you end up falling asleep most of the times. Even if it only take 6 minutes.

Lovesss your lip combos, will almost stare at your lips every time he’s talking to you

If you are a touchy person, he loves the feeling of your nails softly drawing shapes and words into his skin absent minded. So whenever your due for another trip to the salon he sends you with enough to get whatever design you want <33

FIRST TWO MONTHS

More touchy and suggestive, you and hobie naturally clicked when you first met. So 2 or three months felt almost like a year with you since you both tried to hang out everyday when the spider business wasn’t a problem.

Speaking of the spider society hobie thought about telling you when you first started dating, since he’s not a fan of keeping secrets. But then he thought about how that could be putting you in danger since all it took was a villain to see you too hanging out while he’s in his suit long enough to put two and two together. You both had a conversation about it once he told you, which didn’t take you by too much of a surprise. “You found out didn’t you?” A big smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, “One night while you were taking a shower a my place i mayy have seen your mask on my chair in the corner. And plus you both had the same frame height and I saw the little beaded bracelet I gave you on our third date, on your wrist.” He chuckled as he pulled you into his side on the couch, “Cute lil Velma huh? Gotta start being more careful around ya.”

Definitely the type of boyfriend to walk with his hand in your back pocket/ arm around your waist.

He NEEDS to be touching you some type of way at all times.

BROOO i see this everywhere and i believe in it too STONER HOBIEE <333

He wouldn’t smoke around you tm at first and only do it in his apartment and you would smell it on him when he came over, however if you asked him for a blunt or something he would def smoke with you.

Helps takes off your makeup when your too tired remembering your skin care routine and your kisses afterwards <33

Matching bonnets lol

Always sleeps over every time he comes to your apartment, his reasoning being “Your beds more comfortable love.”

Wakes up before you to see you cute sleeping face nuzzled into your bare chest.

Plays a lil song for you in the mornings on his guitar to wake you up sometimes, he wrote a song about you a while ago

SPOILS TF OUTTA YOU

Whenever he sees you looking at something in a store window, he immediately buy it for you no questions asked.

“Doesn’t matter the price, ya want it right?” “Well yea but babe its like 80 dollars-” “No buts, I’m getting it and those martins you were starin’ at”

LOVESSS LEAVING HICKEYS ON YOU

Since he doesn’t like labels he doesn’t really feel the need to tell people your his, so doing things like this is just a way of saying that silently <33

4 MONTHS +

Y’all are moved in together atp

Causally leaves his card in your purse with a note attached to “Buy whatever your pretty doll heart desires”

It was a mutual descion since you didn’t like not knowing when he would be back or not, or if he did come back if he would have bruises or injuries you needed to tend to that he would brush off.

Speaking of which, EYE CONTACT WHILE YOU FIX HIM UPPPP

Would definitely make it so you would be sitting on his lap to do so, claiming it was the most efficient way to tend to his wounds properly. While his hands mess with the jean loops on the waist of your jeans, his half lidded eyes staring you down as you fix up a cut on his cheek.

Makeout sessions while high>>>>

If you like jewelry or specifically rings, he’ll give you his favorite one and slide it on your ring finger and kiss your knuckles afterward

I can see hobie being definitely more clingy and sweet with you in the mornings and at night, holding your back close and tight to his chest while you sleep causing you to stay still as a rock.

If you wear make-up he would LOVEE to have you put some eyeliner on him before a show, though he wouldn’t admit it he does get a little shy when you stare at his face for long periods of time.

Yk how he wears his pants LOW ASF on his v line? Oh yeah your gonna get an eye full of that everyday <33

He may not like labels but he has no problem with the idea of putting his spin on getting married to you, social constructs who?

[haikyu-mp4]

I want to note that I don't condone Terushima's behaviour around Kiyoko in the series, but everyone has the potential for character development. this is an idea I had for a while but haven't felt motivated enough to start writing<3

Terushima Yuji is an apprentice hair stylist who mostly cleans up hair off the floor and does less-risk haircuts. He works in the hair salon where you, a rich, young woman, come in regularly to get a blowout and have your nails polished.

Terushima used to be quite confident in his tall, lean stature in high school and would use it to his advantage when approaching girls, but now he sought your approval desperately. He wanted you to notice him and to get you whatever you needed. For you to step on him if there was a puddle in the way of your pristine high heels. Never before has a strong woman been so attractive to him.

One day there was a late notice of more hair stylists being sick or busy, so one of the permanent stylists somewhat anxiously tells Terushima that he can totally handle this regular client because it’s just a basic blowout and that he has some creativity when styling it, which is his strong suit anyway.

He bravely takes on the challenge, and even though you're busy checking e-mails on your phone with your pretty nails clacking against the screen, he starts up some conversation and manages to catch your attention. Next time you come in, you request him specifically.

You’re a young CEO and had to take over for your late father much earlier than you should have had to. Definitely thrown into the adult world too quickly to enjoy your twenties in any meaningful way so far.

Maybe you need someone like Terushima to show you what having fun means.

[mickmundy]

scout's ma headcanon thread! she was requested by a couple of people and i'm having a burst of inspiration for her so without further ado, let's get to it! i hope you like!

absolutely not your average "housewife"! there's lots of professions i entertain her having (hair/nail salon worker, waitress/bartender, something Generally Unassuming for a woman in the 70s to have as a job)… all intentionally mundane, but serving useful purpose in her life! good for keeping tabs on things around the city, sussing people out and potentially letting spy know any hot goss! these are just day jobs; she gets her thrills elsewhere!

knows everything happening everywhere, anytime. spy learned lots of his intuition-based skills from her! any time spy thinks he knows everything, she always has something in her back pocket that he doesn't! >:)

has a VERY contagious laugh that you can hear miles away. she loves being loud! will clap you really hard on your back or slam her hand on the table when she laughs.

can hold her liquor better than anyone around! doesn't like to get sloppy, but that doesn't mean she doesn't from time to time! loves drinking beer, but will always enjoy a nice glass of wine with her beloved spy! :-) wouldn't/doesn't care if scout is lgbt+ lol. it's absolutely not a big deal to him to come out to her, either. he knows his ma means it when she says she loves him no matter what! she will occasionally hit him with "well ya better bring somebody home to meet me sometime!" (loud laughter)

i think she'd be more financially well-off than her home leads one to believe; she's good at stashing and moving around spy's cash! her apartment is humble but she always looks immaculate. doesn't let scout know how much money she really has. very financially savvy and an incredible negotiator… even if it means getting a little ugly! used car salesman tremble in her presence!

fights like a scorned gambler who's owed a debt. won't let you know she can fight, though! likes it when people think she's just some dainty dame.

is a material girl, but knows what really matters. fell in love with spy before he was The Spy he is today and values loyalty and trust/honesty above all else. some might think that's ironic considering her partner of choice, but she'll be quick to quip back with a snide/cheeky "of course that's what you think! you only know the mask!"

breaking balls is her love language. she'll tease you, but never maliciously. this is also scout's, and one of spy's, languages of love too.

always trying to feed you. "put some more meat on your bones! it's good for ya!" (pops gum and winks at you) while i think she no doubt is well-versed in the lifestyle that spy leads, she's not Directly "in-it" like spy is. not an agent of any kind herself, but gives spy a hand when she can. knows how to shoot a gun and wield a kitchen knife!

grew up dirt poor and has "a champagne taste on a beer budget". high standards, takes no guff, won't hesitate to put you in your place. this (and many other reasons) is why spy loves her :-)

very charismatic, knows how to lie, but also how to be sincere. is genuinely a good mother to her boys, who love her in return. they're all protective of her even though they know they don't have to be; she has no problem sticking up for herself!

spy was not her first husband, but he's her favorite! she loves him very much, and he loves her. they aren't exes, they're happily together, and have an open relationship.

she knows all of the mercs (some better than others ofc!) and won't hesitate to talk their ears off when she visits the base, armed with embarrassing photos and stories about spy and scout that make them both groan and the mercs holler with laughter!

she picks out spy's suits for/with him. she's the only one spy would ever trust to dress him other than himself! they always look great together and accessorize around each other.

she does not tell scout about who his father is. not because she doesn't want to, but she knows the nature of spy's job and knows "the business" from being around him for all this time; it's the best thing to keep scout and herself (also spy!) safe. i think scout would be angry at first, but once it's explained to him, he'd understand. ma knows best!

spy taught her how to walk in heels and does things like painting her nails for her all the time. he always makes sure she has enough money for a well-deserved spa day, but if she knows he's coming to town, she'll let her nails get a little busted up so spy can paint them for her!

she loves to look at spy and sigh a fond "ugh, i could just kill you!" while smirking/bating her eyes at him after/as he showers her with gifts and other wonderful things… to which spy chuckles and hums lovingly and replies with "mhmhmm, ma petite chou fleur, if anyone could, it would be you. <3" and they give each other the most Loving Look.. :')

she's younger than spy but not by much. they met while she was a waitress in a diner in boston while spy was on a mission to assassinate a target in the city early in his career (when his suits were still cheap.. <3). he hides in the diner after a particularly fiery shootout and his pursuers come into the place. she recognizes him as the Quiet Gentleman who has been coming in for coffee in the mornings to enjoy with a cigarette. covers for him and spy never forgets her kindness and quick wit. he comes back after the mission ends and, with his payout from the job, treats her to a romantic night and promises to see her again. no matter how far away spy goes, he always returns to her! she has more faith in him than he deserves (so he says), to which she smirks and straightens his (now expensive <3) suit tie and places a kiss on his balaclava's cheek and says "we both know i only deserve the best." and winks at him and he smiles at her and hums in agreement.. kisses her hand… siigh.. this is a massively condensed "origin story" for them lol but! AH I LOVE THEM

AHH I HAVE SO MANY MORE THOUGHTS BUT FOR NOW.... i will leave with all of this... HEHE TYSM for reading! ^__^ i hope you enjoy ehe!!

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances. 

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done?  he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals. 

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you. 

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not. 

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone. 

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls. 

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down. 

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body. 

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld @buendiabebeta @butterfly-lover @lana-d3l-rey @dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhajj @miahgonzalez16 @jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @sweetpiccolo-blog @my-ylenia @zaynzierulez @reblog-princess

© httpsserene 2023

[dsybouquet]

modern! ellie would love a fem with long nails. like recieving head and back scratches after a long day, taking her to the nail salon and paying for the nails to spoil her like a princess. she’d even choose the color of her nails and picks out designs she thinks suit the season or her..

also.. having her scratch her back open while she’s fucking her up badly with her fingers or a strap.

“babe, you really want to leave marks huh?”

but she’d be so happy about it im telling you

[redrose10]

Here is #4 from the picture game! I hope you all like it.

Warnings: Bullying, body image issues, slightly suggestive if you really look, swearing

Nervously you walked around your room slowly packing things to try and slow down the inevitable.

“Babe why did you sign up for this if you didn’t want to go?”, your boyfriend Yoongi asked from the bed where he was sat taking the clothes out of your bag and folding them neatly before placing them back in the bag. He had always hated the way you packed for trips.

“I dont know. It sounded like a great idea at the time. A week away at a beauty convention in a high end resort getting pampered and relaxing. I was hoping maybe I’d meet some friends or something.”, you sighed.

He came over and wrapped his arms around you, “Well I’m not going to force you to go but it does sound nice. Maybe go and check it out and if you don’t like it then you can leave and come home.”

You nodded and returned his kiss while secretly hating how level headed he always was.

The resort was beautiful. No city noise, no pollution. You could actually hear the birds chirping and see the fluffy white clouds. The lobby smelled like coconuts and hibiscus and made you think of relaxing on the beach.

“Sparking water with lime?”, a woman asked greeting you as you entered. You nodded and accepted the drink before heading to the front desk.

Check in was easy and within no time you were relaxing on a huge king sized bed as you read over all the options for different classes and events. There were makeup classes, hair tutorials, like eight different types of massages, mud baths, tea baths, skin care options, nail salons, the list went on and on. The food menu also looked incredible and you couldn’t wait to indulge.

The first day was great. You eased into the event opting for just a mani/pedi and a make up class on how to choose the best foundation for your skin. You snacked a little in the dining hall but mostly ordered room service and relaxed in your room.

When Yoongi called to ask how things were he reminded you that you were supposed to be trying to make friends.

So the next day you got a little more adventurous and tried the tea bath. You made sure to get there super early when no one else was there which defeated the purpose but you really didn’t want anyone to see you in a bathing suit.

Then you went to one of their skin care routine classes where experts would come around and help you with different moisturizers and cleansers. You learned a lot and you also met a woman there, Mae. She was about your age and lived a few blocks over from where you did. She was really nice and you had a bunch in common and she was also hoping to make friends. That evening Yoongi said he was proud of you for going out of your comfort zone and making friends.

The next day you and Mae had decided to get some breakfast from the buffet bar before trying out the makeup class again to learn about choosing the right eye liners and how to apply them to best suit your eye shape.

You and Mae were sat at a back table enjoying your breakfast. She was telling you about her boyfriend Namjoon and you told her about Yoongi. You happily agreed when she suggested having the two of them meet because they would become instant best friends meaning lots of double dates for you all.

“Well hopefully there’s even any food left.”, you heard someone say followed by giggles. To your left stood three women. One clearly the leader and the other two her little followers. They were all staring at you and Mae and smiling.

“Well I bet all the fruit is still left but I’m sure every pastry is gone.”, another one of them said before they all erupted in laughter.

“Just ignore them. They hate themselves so they want everyone else to feel bad too.”, Mae said noticing your change in demeanor. You gave her a sad smile but the damage was already done.

That night Yoongi knew something was wrong when he called to talk to you but he didn’t pressure you to tell him. He just reminded you that he was there for you which you appreciated.

The next day the words of the three woman still stuck with you. You thought about them as you ate your breakfast. You thought about them while Mae got a massage and you sat on and watched too embarrassed to remove your clothing.

In the evening you and Mae were sitting at one of the outside tables enjoying an after dinner coffee when your three friends from the other day came walking up.

“Can we help you?”, Mae spat. You were so glad to have her around.

“Oh be nice. We just got back from the dessert hall. We couldn’t finish what we ordered and we know you two won’t let it go to waste.”, the ring leader laughed.

Her and one of the other woman sat down nine pieces of cake and three eclairs plus a box of macarons in front of you two.

“This is enough for a snack for you two right? I mean it should last you until second dinner.”, she shrieked followed by her companions cackling like a couple of hyenas.

You could feel your eyes start to burns. Like he could sense your distress your phone started ringing and a smiling photo of Yoongi popped up on the screen. His contact name showing as ‘Future Husband 💕’. You let the phone go to voicemail not wanting him to hear you cry.

“Future husband? No way is that guy with you. He is waaayy to hot for someone like you. He has to be using you for something.”, the woman laughed.

It felt like you had been stabbed right in the chest. You’d always thought Yoongi was too good for you, that he was way out of your league and could do better. It took him a long time to break down your walls and squash your insecurities and this bully was undoing all of that in a matter of a couple days.

Mae spoke up from next to you, “Actually yeah he is her boyfriend. I’ve met him and he loves her a lot actually which is something none of you have experienced.”

Gently you bumped her knee underneath the table as a sign of appreciation for her standing up for you.

One of the women went to speak when Mae dramatically pointed at the itinerary in front of her, “Hey look, there’s a course on how not to be a stuck up bratty bitch that no one will ever love. You should head over there. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”

The three scoffed before mumbling something and finally walking away.

“Hey don’t listen to them. They’re just jealous that you have a handsome guy who clearly loves you and they don’t.”

You tried to smile. You knew what she said was true and that Yoongi loved you. He’d proven it time and time again but it was still difficult to shake the feeling that it was all in your head.

Mae took all of the desserts and started handing them out to people so that they really didn’t go to waste. She kept one slice of strawberry cake for you both to share. To be nice you took a few bites but all you could taste was bitterness.

Yoongi called you later that night again like usual.

“Hey how’s it going? Having lots of fun?”, he asked oblivious to what had happened.

You remained silent knowing that if you spoke he’d hear the shake in your voice.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No nothings wrong. Sorry I’m just tired.”, you said hoping it sounded believable.

“Mmhm make any more friends?”, he asked and you knew he’d caught on already. Yoongi had worried something like this would happen. He knew if your insecurities and how you always compared yourself to others.

“Yeah it’s been really fun.”, you whispered feeling your throat burn.

“Do you want me to come up there? I’ll bring you home or even just visit for a little. I can tell you’ve been crying. Y/N please talk to me.”

As much as you would love to be engulfed in a big Yoongi hug right now you would never want him to go through all that trouble.

You chuckled, “No no don’t do that. I know you’re really busy. Plus it’s an all female event so you wouldn’t be able to come in anyways.”

“Well we could pretend that your parents hate me and you have to sneak out and then meet me outside by my car?”, he said with a playful hint to his voice.

“First off my parents love you, sometimes I think more than me and I’m just pretty tired honestly. I’m gonna get some sleep. Mae wants to go for an early morning swim tomorrow.”

He sighed knowing that you weren’t going to open up to him right now but he accepted it, “Alright baby. I love you. Call me if you need anything.”

The next day you did go for a swim with Mae. It was relaxing and helped your sore muscles. Afterwords you got showered and changed because Mae wanted to catch this seminar on properly curling your hair.

The room was packed. You really regretted agreeing to go but you were already signed in and registered. In the middle of the room a woman was getting her hair curled with a large group of people surrounding them.

You and Mae were standing in the corner when you saw your bffs from the whole dessert debacle walk by. You expected them to say something mean or snarky to you but they were too busy grumbling to each other about something else.

“Who is she?”

“She’s so pretty.”

“Right…her legs are incredible.”

“She’s not that great. I’ve definitely seen better.”, their leader rolled her eyes and they all left the room.

You and Mae both looked at each other before shrugging and moving to one of the empty tables when you got a better view of the woman everyone had been talking about.

Not only could you recognize those beautiful eyes and cute nose from a mile a way but that woman was also wearing your favorite skirt and a wig you wore for Halloween three years ago.

“Yoongi what are you doing here?,” you asked trying to act mad when he finally walked over to your table.

“Yoongi? Who’s Yoongi? My name is Yoonji.”, he smirked pointing to his name tag where sure enough Yoonji was written in his familiar hand writing. You stared at him trying not to give him the satisfaction of smiling but it’s was difficult.

You waited for him to finish getting his hair done while you explained the situation to Mae who thought it was both hilarious and sweet that he would go through all that trouble for you.

When he finally walked over again you took his hand and lead him up to the room you were staying in.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”, you said sitting down next to him on the bed.

“I know but it wasn’t any trouble any ways. I know sometimes you let others get in your head. You were upset and I wanted to cheer you up and remind you how much I love you and how much you mean to me and that I would do anything for you…even driving here in the middle of the night while wearing an itchy wig and a short skirt and accidentally flashing a guy at the rest stop trying to get out of my car.”

You smacked his shoulder, “You did not.”

“Oh I did. I think he liked what he saw too.”, he chuckled, “But sucks for him because everything under this skirt already belongs to someone else.”, he said making you breakout into a fit of laughter.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, “Thank you Yoongs. I really needed that.”

He wrapped his arms around you pulling you in for a kiss which you happily obliged.

“I better get going before I get caught.”, he chuckled getting off the bed, “Give me a call tomorrow when you can. Enjoy the rest of your trip but hurry up and come home because I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”, you smiled.

As he started to walk towards the door you called his name to get his attention,

“Hey Yoongi?”

He stopped and turned to look at you.

“Your legs do look really good in that skirt.”, you smiled.

“I know how good I look.”, he smirked before dramatically flipping his hair and walking out the door leaving you in another fit of giggles and feeling comforted and loved.

[binsito]

I loved your idea of hannie with his nail tech crush.. yk what i think though? OBVIOUSLY the nailtech kinda knows abt this little crush of his. She doesnt know how severe it is but she does notice the way he blushes slightly when she compliments his hands, or the way his eyes sparkle when she finally giggles at one of his jokes. Also who am i kidding the nail tech obviously ALSO finds hannie v v cute and v v hot bc,,,, he's hannie??? He's charming and handsome and he keeps his fingernails clean soooo maybe the next time he comes around, and she is feeling a little frustrated bc her own hands aren't enough fun for her.. she'll hint at wanting his fingers inside of her? Maybe she'll be kinda distracted and shy this tine or maybe she's bold and just straight up teases him by saying things that could be considered dirty but also might just be his pervy mind interpreting the wrong thing. Aaa idk i'm not a writer but yourw giving my head THOUGHTS

OHHHH MYGOD. thank god you left this ask bc i was dying to write more for this JASHDJA

warning: fingering, hand worshipping, swearing, slight perv!han jisung, lmk if i missed anything but it's pretty tame

wc: 914

hannie has to act normal.

hannie has to be cool.

hannie has to act like he doesn't go home after every appointment and edges his cock thinking about how nice it would be to have your lips wrapped around his tip.

so when he walks into the salon, straight into your suite and takes a seat at your chair - he makes a mental promise to himself that:

he. will. not. get. hard.

he won't get hard if you hold his hands, it's all part of your job.

he won't get hard if you smooth lotion on him, it's just a courtesy.

he won't get hard if you compliment his nails, they're only pretty because you made them pretty.

"hannie do you even put your fingers to use?"

what?

"you come here so often and yet they're rarely chipped or overgrown. you must not lift a finger." you smile.

oh.

he felt so stupid, of course he read into it in such a dumb, perverted way.

"you must take good care of yourself hm?"

fuck.

why couldn't he be normal? why couldn't he just have nice, clean thoughts? why was he getting hard? why couldn't he just keep his promise?

"your hands are always soft. i wish i had nice fingers like you. they're long and pretty.."

he clears his throat and laughs awkwardly. he was being such a loser.

"oh yeah.. they're definitely long, alright.. hah.." he says

who the fuck says that?

he literally wanted the ground to eat him up.

"yeah, they are. longer than mine." you giggle as you work on his polish.

"yeah.. way longer.."

and why he kept going? only god knows, but he definitely noticed your face flushing (and was he crazy or were you pressing your legs tightly together under the table?)

hannie doesn't think he's ever seen you this quiet, this concentrated on his hands before. after the conversation died out, there was no other topic to bounce off of. and normally han jisung would just start talking about random shit, would tell you your hair looked pretty or that he noticed your subtle eye makeup and that it looked nice.

but not now.

not today.

"hannie have you ever had problems reaching things with your fingers? i-it could just be because mine aren't as long as yours but.. you know they're never quite enough to reach."

"oh uh.. n-no but do you need help reaching something? i could help.."

"could you really? that's so sweet of you, hannie.." your smile could melt him into a puddle. you smile at him so sweetly, just for him and han jisung can't really handle that well.

"so what is it you need help with? something too high up or-"

"well.. i just can't seem to cum. doing your nails frustrates me so much. they look so nice so why can't i have them inside of me?" you pout at him.

the wind feels like it was knocked out of him. he thanks god that you have your own little suite and no one else was around to hear that.

"f-fuck, are you serious? holy shit, why didn't you say something sooner?"

"well because i'm a little shy and because i wanted to finish doing your set first, of course..

you really mean it though? will you actually help me?"

"yes.. fuck, yes i'll help you."

his eagerness was cute. unluckily for him, he still had to wait for you to cure his gel polish. his leg bouncing impatiently as you gave him a look to quit it.

he smiled shyly and let out a nervous chuckle as he tried to contain himself. once you were done, he damn near jumped out of his chair towards you. you put some of your supplies away and walked past him to lock the door. as soon as he felt the coast was clear and no one would walk in, he grabbed you - kissing you deeply and pressing you against his lean body.

it was an intense kiss, full of want and desire but you welcomed it because you had been feeling the same way. you pulled away slightly to grab his wrist, bringing it up towards your mouth so you could take two of his freshly manicured fingers in between your lips.

you made sure to get them nice and wet, saliva connecting them to the tip of your tongue when you pulled them out.

han jisung felt weak.

he found himself pressing you against the nearest wall, your pants long forgotten as he pumped his fingers inside you, finally leaving you fuller than your fingers ever could.

the pads of his fingers massaged your gummy spot and curled against it making your knees buckle. it was all too perfect and better than you could ever imagine. you knew the orgasm he was going to pull from you was going to be intense. you felt it bubbling up already and he hadn't even been touching you for long.

but when he brings his other hand forward to rub at your clit and you look down to catch a peek of his baby blue nails, you lose yourself to him and feel yourself cream around his fingers. clenching your cunt tightly against them, not wanting him to ever pull out.

however when he does pull out, he makes sure to have you watch as he sucks your essence off his fingers. rolling his eyes back at the taste and humming in satisfaction.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito