#someone has almost certainly done this already
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okay i'm aware that Misali probably is intending to/already has done this themself, but i took a look at the data (so far) and there's some really interesting stuff in it
firstly, no letter scores extremely high or extremely low:
as far as i can tell from the formulas, these tiers correspond to uniform divisions of the ranking scale, so S tier is anything scoring above 5 and F tier is anything scoring below 1; both of these tiers are completely empty (as is the A+ subtier). we end up with a sort of lopsided bell curve, with a slight bias towards lower scores. the mean ratings of all 1179 letters average 2.754, with a standard deviation of 0.741. (the letter scoring closest to this average is ɦ (small letter h with hook), with 2.757.)
the number of ratings received by each letter also follows a rough bell curve:
the letter with the fewest ratings is 𝼩 (small letter s with mid-height left hook), and the fact that that's almost certainly displaying as an invalid character for you is presumably why most people skipped it. where it gets interesting is if we compare each letter's score to the number of ratings it received:
assuming that each letter had a roughly equal chance of being presented to someone, this would seem to suggest that the letters that are hardest to have an opinion on are also the letters which are rated less highly by the people who do have opinions on them. speaking only for myself, i can say that i skipped over any letter that had more than one diacritic, and those (plus the ones that don't render properly for me) make up 65 of the 100 lowest-rated letters, but only 1 of the 100 highest-rated.
we also get access to the standard deviation of each letter's ratings (i.e. how much the ratings tended to cluster around a particular value vs. being spread out). if we plot each letter's average score against its s.d., we get:
which indicates that letters with very high or low ratings had pretty significant consensus around the result, whereas letters in the middle of the rankings had much more variation in popular opinion. in other words, there are no letters that were consistently ranked as "mid" by most respondents.
miscellaneous stats (at time of writing):
the single highest-ranked letter is ɤ (small ram's horn), scoring 4.667; the lowest-ranked is Ấ (capital A with circumflex and acute), scoring 1.228.
of the unmodified, unaccented letters used in ordinary English, the highest-ranked is lowercase x, scoring 4.352 (in 20th place); the lowest-ranked is l (lowercase L), scoring 1.749.
Ɐ, Æ, æ, A are A-tier. ꞵ, B, Ꞵ, b, ʙ, Ƃ are B-tier. ȼ, ç, č, ʗ, Ȼ, ꞔ, ĉ, Ć, ƈ, Ċ, Ƈ, ć, Č, Ꞔ, ċ, Ĉ are C-tier. Ḍ, ď, ḑ, Ḑ are D-tier.
poll idea that's too big for tumblr. what are your favorite letters?
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for those of you who have been awaiting more on the kidnapping- I bring you 800 words from Pierre's POV. things are happening here...
A/N: I've totally switched around what order the extra drivers went in. yes I'm using Pierre, but this is not canon to the actual chronological timeline of 2nd RB drivers. suspend your imagination please and thank you <3
darkbull! the next couple ficlets are going to be the kidnapping, so if you haven't read the previous snippet I'd recommend doing that. just so you know what you're getting into.
Sweat drips down the back of Pierre's neck. He feels clammy with it, half convinced there's a glaring neon sign above him saying SUSPICIOUS. He certainly feels that way.
He wipes his palms off on the inside of his pants. It's fine. He's a Redbull driver, the same as any of the others.
Except for the fact that he isn't really a driver. Sure, he gets in the car, drives it passably well- but he hasn't clicked with Max.
He's learning that cohesion with Max might be the most critical trait in the garage, valued above anything else.
He doesn't have it.
It's not his fault- Pierre quite likes Max, but he's not allowed to get close to him. Not even really allowed to touch him- Charles has a thing about wandering hands.
Pierre has been subject to one too many rants about Redbull and their fondness for contact, but the bender Charles had gone on after the jewelry... Legendary, even by the normal Charles standards.
He takes a quick breath out. It's fine. It'll be fine.
Charles has done the work already- been slowly pulling Max further and further from the safety of the garage each weekend, has the cameras for this area on the fritz- all Pierre needs to do is get him down a few hallways.
He beeps his keycard into Max's hotel room. There had been an "unexpected" podium change after the race, propelling Daniel from fourth place to third, so he's out doing media. Carlos is still in his debrief. The Redbull team has been trickling down to the bar, and it's the work of several subtle miscommunications that has team members under the impression that someone else is coming to get Max.
He'd be worried about the higher members of the team noticing, but they're occupied at the moment, ending Pierre's career. That's what he assumes anyways, based on the fact that he'd seen Mark Webber follow Christian into the meeting room.
This is the only chance he's going to get.
Max's head pops up from where he's digging through his suitcase on the hotel bed. His shirt is partially unbuttoned, showcasing the gold necklace he's always wearing, interlinked rings resting against the hollow of his throat.
"Pierre! Hello!"
Pierre almost feels bad. He's gotten fond of Max, despite his best intentions. Max really has tried to get along with him, loop him into team activities and make him feel included, and here Pierre is- about to deliver him, gift wrapped, to the rest of his life.
Charles doesn't let go of his things- not without leaving claw marks behind. The chances of Max getting out are slim. The chances of him getting out unscathed are zero.
It's not Pierre's problem. Pierre's focus is on himself and Esteban, and Charles dangles both of their lives and their careers from his fingers, makes them dance like little marionettes.
Pierre has the protection of Ferrari, if he can get out of Redbull's clutches. He's not stupid enough to believe Charles will ever let him go, but maybe if he brings him Max- maybe he and Esteban can have a bit more freedom.
"Max, hello. Christian and GP are still in their meeting, and Daniel's down for media, so I'm taking you to the bar."
Max nods as he runs a hand through his hair, slipping his shoes on before standing. He's closer to Pierre than he's ever been before, enough for Pierre to smell his cologne, soft spiced notes and nutmeg.
His eyes are a stunning shade of blue.
"You will have to lead the way mate, I haven't been to the bar they picked before."
Right. Showtime.
Pierre flashes him a grin he hopes doesn't look as strained as he feels, before he's leading Max out of his hotel room.
Max is perfectly content to follow him, and Pierre is struck by it for a moment- it's really no wonder Redbull has him surrounded so often. He's too trusting. Hasn't even considered for a second that Pierre might be lying to him.
Because Pierre is Redbull.
Well- at this point, probably not. The contract has most likely already been signed, booting him out of his seat.
Pierre guides him through twisting hallways, and when they leave the hotel he deliberately takes them the wrong way. A few curved streets later, and they're in front of a bar, boisterous and noisy.
It's not a Redbull bar.
It's a Ferrari bar.
Pierre is putting his faith in Charles now, because Redbull will want him dead for this.
"Right inside, Max."
Sweet, trusting Max. Charles is going to crack him open and bleed him dry, leave him begging on the floor. He'll remold him exactly how he wants, removed of anything he deems unworthy.
He plays rough with his things. Pierre watches the glint of the gold around Max's neck and wrist as he walks in behind him.
Spoiled, naive Max.
He won't trust so easily again- not after this.
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I’m in a mean mood rn and want to punish Phillip for no reason. (I know it’s not really a punishment since he’d let reader do anything but shh work with me here)
Imagine a reader who has a bunch of work ti do and is really tense so Phillip starts like “let me take care of you” and trying to make them take a break but reader is so on edge that he just ends up pushing them over it instead. So now since he’s been such a distraction while reader is trying to work he needs to be punished.
Him and his stupid, sexy body are too tempting so his cock needs to be locked in a cage and he’s gonna get tied up, forced to kneel out of sight with his arms behind him. And that silver tongue of his will definitely be a problem so he gets gagged as well.
Now reader obviously can’t punish him fully right now cause they need to finish work so he’ll sit there until they’re done. Then he’ll be taken over and bent across the desk in order to be spanked for being so damn tempting. And why stop at just spanking his ass? Give his balls a few whacks, turn him over and crop those sensitive nipples of his, turn his thighs different shades of red too.
And now that reader has finished work and gotten rid of some of their angry stress Phillip can be untied and uncaged 🥰 they can both take a quick break for snacks and water and then he can ride the reader until he’s completely sure all their stress has dissipated
(Sorry it ended weird I got distracted halfway through writing)
cw;; bondage, caning, age gap, chastity cage
Phillip's figure ever present at your side, always right within arm's reach like a doting mother watching her child's first steps. But you are not a child. His ability to always be present by your side for your needs is usually a good thing, if you need a drink or snack he'll be able to get it for you immediately. But when you're already overstimulated and aggravated by the idiocy and greed of nobility the last thing you want is someone hovering over your shoulder. It's not his fault, you know it's not his fault. But he's so fucking annoying the way he peers over your shoulder almost like a teacher grading your work or his tender smile as he gently corrects a spelling mistake. It's not a surprise when your quill snaps, a mess of ink all over your shirt and the form you now have to refill.
Your hands are shaking as Phillip diligently cleans up the mess and retrieves a clean version of the document for you. Isn't he so nice? And he goes to standing by your side again like he's not at fault.
"....Phillip."
"Yes, your grace?"
"On your knees."
You've clearly caught him off guard as he stands there without moving for a breath.
"Sir?"
"On. Your. Knees. I will not repeat my order again."
You can hear his breath hitch slightly before he falls to his knees besides you. His hands rest on his thighs and he looks up at you almost eager for his discipline. You call one of the maids to bring you a discipline rod and rope. It doesn't escape your eyes the way he shivers but his face remains neutral as he shifts his gaze forward.
Once the maid brings you the items you lock the door and ask not to be disturbed. She has barely contained glee seeing the figure of Phillip in such trouble, no doubt about to inform the whole manor that the most loyal sadistic butler has earned himself discipline. The humiliation is certainly part of the punishment.
"Undress."
Phillip doesn't hesitate to begin undressing, determined not to gain anymore of your ire.
"Your grace... I apologize for speaking out of turn but may I ask... What did I do that displeased you?"
You caught yourself blushing and looking to the ceiling as he removed his pants and underwear. You clicked your tongue against your teeth.
"You're the one who caused me to destroy my quill and spill ink everywhere. Are you not going to take responsibility?"
"Ah..." His voice was like a knowing parent and he smiled to himself as he lowered his head. It reignited your anger again.
The wooden rod cracked down against his naked thigh.
"Stop looking down on me."
Before he could try to defend himself you cracked the rod against his thighs again. The sound of it against bare skin was loud enough to be heard out in the hall but Phillip did not make a sound. Still his thighs were quick to turn red and his eyes wet with the hint of tears. The most disgusting part was that his cock was hard, red, and dripping.
You poked the tip with the wooden rod. "Do you even have any shame and remorse for your actions?"
Before he could speak you hit his thighs again finally earning a strained noise from the words caught in his throat. You grabbed his neck forcing him to look up towards you.
"You're nothing but a vile pervert getting enjoyment from this."
The tears gathered in his eyes finally spilled down his cheeks as he looked up at you. He looked wrecked. His pink lips opened slightly while his breathing was rough and shakey. Tears cascaded down his cheeks from his wide red eyes that gazed at you with admiration and shame. His thighs were red with the outline of the wooden rod's lashes against his tender skin. The hands that rested in fists above the lashes were trembling. And again there was his leaking red cock with pre cum dribbling down from the tip.
"Unsightly."
You ignored the way the sight made your own cock twitch against your pants and instead you went to your desk, dragging the man by his neck with you. His sinful form half crawling across the floor to follow you was definitely not helping. There in your desk drawer you found an abandoned cock cage once given to you as a gift from a religious zealot.
After figuring out how to force your servant's length into the little cage you turned away from him. You abandoned the discipline for later because you had work to get back to. But it's not like you could let Phillip just go back to hovering over your shoulder. You grabbed the length of rope you'd asked for before and you began tying him up tightly. He obediently allowed himself to be completely restrained with his discarded underwear serving as the perfect gag.
You pressed your foot against one of his thighs, enjoying the way it brought fresh tears to his eyes. "Be good and sit there until I'm done working, we'll continue your punishment then."
He wasn't going to leave your office without being bruised and sore. And leaking cum down his legs if he's lucky.
#replies#yandere butler#yandere oc#yandere x male reader#sub yandere#i didn't include everything u mentioned but#its fun to write for him
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“Average communications officer goes through 12 traumatic events a year” factoid is actually just a statistical error. average communications officer goes through 0 traumatic events per year. Trauma Doug, who orbits a star & faces a new horrible nightmare every day, is an outlier and should not have been counted
#someone has almost certainly done this already#but I don’t care I think it’s funny#wolf 359#Doug Eiffel#cienna talks
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Has anyone made a proper execution of the concept of a teenage “boy” (egg) who gets chosen to be a magical girl and that’s how she comes to terms with her gender. It just feels like such an obvious and good concept what with the gender affirming transformation sequences and all other typical gender shenanigans. And what better reason for a magical girl to need to hide her identity than her non-magical form being a closeted trans girl.
#It’s been on my to do list of stories to write but that will probably take me several years to get to lmao#I’ve thought about writing a short story or something along the lines of this concept but I feel like surely someone has done it already#right?#there’s a voice in my head saying not to post this bc someone will steal the idea#which is a really fucking stupid thought. the idea has almost certainly been done before#and that wouldn’t stop me from doing my own version of it
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i very briefly mentioned this in the tags of a post on my fanfic account, but i would like to reiterate:
trans Stede supremacy.
#i know someone has almost certainly already done this#i just cant detach the motif of mermaids from the notion of afab identities#whoops#trans stede bonnet#stede bonnet#ofmd#our flag means death#gentlebeard#blackbonnet#mine
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I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.
I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.
This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.
Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.
The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.
I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”
“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”
“Why don’t you steal them?”
“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.
“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.
After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.
Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.
“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.
“Is it about the frogs?”
“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”
I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”
She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”
“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”
The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.
I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.
I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.
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mae my lovely, can i possibly request emt!marauders and reader who hasn’t replied to any texts in a few days/a week? pre-established relationship but not quite living together, and reader struggles with her mental health and has holed herself up in her apartment which worries the boys greatly? please don’t write if you feel uncomfortable (and if you’ve already written it but i’ve devoured emt!marauders today and i don’t think you have) obviously!! love you
Thank you for requesting my love! And thanks to @ellecdc for helping me figure out the emt stuff <3
cw: mental health struggles, self isolation
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words
Sirius’ knuckles rap loudly on your door.
“Fuck, ease up.” James winces. “She’s gonna think we’re the cops.”
“Good. Maybe she’ll answer for them.”
“You need to calm down.” Remus’ voice is patience with a firm edge. “We don’t know what’s going on. If we go in angry with her, it’s not going to help anything.”
“I think I have the right to be somewhat miffed,” Sirius argues. “You ghost someone after a first date, not once you’re in a relationship. It’s fucked.”
“She’s not ghosting us,” James says certainly. Sirius’ mouth pinches in response.
James knows that, truly, his boyfriend is as worried as any of them. You’re well past the point in your relationship where you feel the need to establish the next time you’re going to meet before parting, but after your date last week it took the boys a few days to put it together that none of them had heard from you.
At first, James presumed you’d simply gotten busy. Remus was convinced he’d done something to upset you. Sirius, secretly the most prone to worry, would rather believe he’s been slighted than consider the possibility that something might be keeping you from responding to their calls. Now that it’s been nearly a week, James is convinced something’s happened. You’ve had to take an emergency trip out of town or something’s spooked you and made you avoid them or—worst case scenario—you’re ill and have been holed up here with no one to check in on you for almost a week.
Once he brought up that idea, it wasn’t difficult to convince his boyfriends to do a wellness check during their shift.
“Just don’t be harsh with her,” Remus says gently.
Sirius huffs. He knocks again, albeit somewhat softer.
“NHS,” he calls.
James holds his breath when he hears some shuffling from inside. Gradually, it gets closer and louder, until the door is creaking open and you’re peering through the crack.
Your voice is scratchy, like you haven’t used it in a while. “What’re you doing here?”
James expects Sirius to snipe at you, is already prepared to smooth it over himself with kinder words and a gentler tone, but something seems to shift in the other boy at the sight of you. He pushes through the crack in your door, hugging you fiercely.
“We…” Remus seems as thrown by this deviation as James is. “We thought we ought to check up on you.”
Your hand migrates up, touching Sirius’ back tentatively. “Why?”
“It’s a wellness check.” Sirius’ voice is bitter, but the effect is somewhat muddled by how he’s speaking into your neck. “We had reason to believe you could be harmed or deceased.”
“Oh,” you murmur.
James takes a moment to look you over. You’re in pajamas, visibly rumpled, and yet you look as tired as if you’ve not slept in some time. There’s something off about your expression, something missing that he can’t put his finger on. It’s unsettling in a way that makes him want to wrap you up in a tight cuddle and not let go.
“Are you okay?” he asks, perhaps more brash than he means to be. Normally he’d expect more tact from himself, but he’s shocked Sirius hasn’t asked yet, and someone has to.
“Can we come in?” Remus asks at the same time.
You look between them like you’re not sure what to do with them. Like you’re questioning whether you’re still in some sort of dream.
“Yeah,” you say after a moment. James gets the sense you mean it to answer both of them. You step back from the door to make room for them, and Sirius moves with you. “Um, forewarning, it’s really bad in here.”
Really bad by your standards isn’t the same as James’. If he hadn’t seen the way you normally keep things, he’d never notice anything was amiss. Your place smells a bit stale, like when you leave for a weekend and then come home. There’s a laundry basket on the floor with a few balled socks like you’d started to fold them and given up, and if he peers into your bedroom he can see a small trash pile on your floor and the covers of your bed all twisted up. It’s no worse than his side of the dorm he’d shared with Remus and Sirius in school.
“What happened?” Sirius asks you. His voice sounds clearer now, and James focuses back in to find that he’s let you go enough to press his forehead to yours. His brow and lips are pinched. “Why have you been avoiding us?”
James is nearly overcome by the desire to kiss him and rub his back, but he decides to let you have the honor, if you want it.
You look unsure whether you do.
“I’m sorry.” The words seem scraped out from some aching part of you. “I wasn’t trying to.”
“Then why didn’t you answer our calls?” Sirius’ tone matches yours for desperation. Remus’ expression twinges compassionately.
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Sirius,” Remus chides softly.
Your shoulders are slumped, but when Sirius moves away you seem to droop further. He’s only giving you space, his expression far from unkind.
“Why couldn’t you pick up, dove?” Remus asks gently.
“I…” Your eyes meander the floor. “I didn’t know what to talk about. And then my phone died, and it was just easier. I’m really sorry.”
“Is talking to us really that bad?” Sirius is clearly making an attempt at joking, but the heartache underlying his words is unmissable.
“No,” you sigh. “I’m just not really fit for the world right now. I didn’t want you to worry.”
James’ ribs hurt at your admission, but he feels himself nodding. Even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is you’re dealing with, he’s familiar with people who think they’re somehow so damaged they don’t deserve to engage with anyone or anything. Sirius was like that once. Remus even more often. He sees the recognition on both of their faces now, pity and love and regret all tangled up into one messy thing.
“Well, it was a noble effort,” says James, giving you a small smile, “but you can’t stop us worrying. Can I hug you?”
You nod, making an effort towards returning his smile. It’s a half-hearted, flickering thing, but he appreciates it nonetheless.
He kisses your forehead as he folds you into his arms, starting gentle and tightening when you hug him back. Your grip feels a bit weak, if ardent. James pushes his palm up your spine.
“Have you eaten today, sweetheart?”
Your hum in the negative vibrates against his skin.
“I’ll make us something.” Remus starts toward the kitchen, passing a hand over James’ curls as he goes by. “A sandwich alright, dovey?”
“Yeah,” you murmur. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” His voice raises as he enters the kitchen, and James knows he wants you to hear. To understand that this is something he would happily do for you.
“Let’s sit down,” James suggests. “Pads, would you mind opening the curtains some?”
Sirius complies with vigor, whipping open your drapes while James gets you situated on the couch. In the light, the shadows under your eyes are more evident, as is the redness in them.
James squishes you up against his side. Rubs up and down your arm. “It’s okay,” he murmurs.
You make a tiny, stymied sound, and turn your head down.
“Hey.” Sirius sits on your other side. He kisses your shoulder, worry hewn into the lines of his face. “What’s wrong?”
Your shoulders give a little shake. It’s small, defeated. You curl further in on yourself.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to explain,��� James tells you, continuing to drag his hand up your arm. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”
“I wanted—” You take in a wet inhale. He feels close to tears himself. “I wanted to be better when I saw you. I’m sorry.”
“We don’t need you to be any sort of way, sweetheart.” Sirius’ voice is soft but fervent. “We just want to be with you.”
“As much as you’ll let us,” James agrees. His own voice is thick, and Sirius slides his arm around you to rub between his shoulders.
You don’t say much after that. James holds you tight until your trembling stops, and even then he only loosens his grip to let you eat the grilled cheese Remus has made for you. From the wrappers he saw in your room, it’s likely the closest thing to a prepared meal you’ve had in some time.
When you’re done eating, Sirius insists on kissing the saltiness from your cheeks even though your tears have dried. Remus coaxes you into a bath while James and Sirius tidy your room and change your sheets, and then Remus enlists Sirius to shampoo your hair while he tucks your sheets in more effectively. They put your phone on the charger. James makes dinner and puts it in the fridge for you to have later. None of it fixes anything, but he hopes it makes you feel less alone.
When they have to go out for another call, Remus gives you a long hug, James makes you agree to go on a walk with him the next day, and Sirius threatens to pester you with calls until you block his number if you ignore them ever again.
Your eye roll at his antics makes James’ heart sing.
#emt!marauders#emt!marauders x reader#marauders au#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#hp marauders#the marauders
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SVT when you initiate
Requested? Yes!
Request: ‘how would SVT react if s/o suddenly asks for them to do IT or vice versa? Like they're the one asking I really love your writings and all and I want to see how you would do it:] (sorry forgot to put it earlier was too distracted sorry)’
TW/CW: MDNI, smut ahead. You are responsible for the media that you consume.
Seungcheol
So fucking smug. Lowkey might play dumb when you become a little touchy, like he doesn’t notice your hand on his thigh or how you’re giving him a particular look. Still, this dumb act won’t last long before he’s sweeping you away for some privacy because your new-found desperation is something that makes him a little desperate.
He’s just buried himself deep inside of you when he groans at the feeling of it all and the look on your face. “Feel good, baby? Is that what you needed?” The moment you adjust, you will not get a second to breathe, because it’s what he needed too.
Jeonghan
Will absolutely make you say it. Will high key play dumb like he doesn’t notice how touchy you’re getting. If you get so bold has to slide your hand up his thigh to his crotch, he might jerk a little at the touch, but he’ll look highly entertained. “Can I help you?” Will give you whatever you want, if only you ask for it.
He holds your hips tight to stop you from grinding against him where you sit in his lap. He even has the gall to chuckle at your frustrated expression, pressing a little kiss to your lips. “Tell me what you want and you can have it.” He’ll keep sweetly encouraging you, soaking up any desperate sound that you make.
Joshua
Another one to play dumb, but he’ll do it for so long that it’s frustrating to you. He’ll smile at every hint you drop and go about whatever he was doing. Finally, if you start to look dejected or upset, he’ll hold you close and ask what you need. The more blunt your request is by now, the better. Is down for anything.
His eyes widen in excitement when you admit you just want to suck his cock. He’s helping you to your knees in front of him, smoothing back your hair. “Whatever you want, baby,” he’ll soothe, letting you reach for his waistband. He plans to repay you shortly.
Jun
He’s hard the moment you become touchier than usual, but he does his best to keep it under control. However, any semblance of control he has snaps if you outright ask for him. I fear that you guys aren’t making it home in time either. This will almost certainly lead to some sort of semi-public sex.
He kicks the seat back the moment he’s parked somewhere secluded with the lights off, letting you settle into his lap. His hands are everywhere, rewarding you for your boldness earlier. When you grind into him, letting your lips trail down his neck, he sighs. “You drive me crazy.”
Hoshi
You will never have to ask outright. Any indication that you’re coming on to him will have him folding right away, dragging you off somewhere more private. I just think he’d have very little self-control when it comes to someone he’s dating. Seriously, a hand on the thigh is all it will take.
He pulls you into a private bathroom, locking the door and lifting you up onto the sink. He’ll work fast, if only because he’s impatient. Once you both are done and cleaned up, he’s leading you out and to the car to get home because he’s already planned round 2.
Wonwoo
He’ll chortle if you’re acting a little needy and you might just get more than you bargained for. If you show signs of overwhelm, he’s pulling back gently, saying something like, “I thought this was what you wanted, do you want to stop?” The answer’s ‘no’ and he knows it, but he likes when you’re vocal about it.
He pulls his fingers away, watching you squirm in frustration. “Too much, baby?” He sort of enjoys how far gone you are, particularly when you grab his hand, pulling it back to you. He keeps his touch light. “Words, baby.” A simple ‘more, please’ has him smirking a little to himself as he begins to work you up again.
Woozi
Very into you outright asking for what you want. It’s such a turn-on that he’ll drop just about anything for it. I know it’s a stereotype by now, but this screams studio sex. Will give you a little bit of a hard time that he needs to work and you’re distracting him, but don’t let it get to you. It’s all an act.
He’s got you in his lap, cockwarming him as he smooths a hand up and down your back. You twitch and sigh at the feeling and he presses a little kiss to your cheek. “I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? It’s okay, I’ll give you want you want.” He lifts his hips slightly to watch how you keen at the feeling. This will end up fast and messy, but until then he enjoys the sweetness of it all.
DK
He will not understand the meaning of your touches right away. He’s good with you being a little extra clingy, but if your hand lands between his legs or you whisper a request to him, he’ll only hesitate for a moment before he’s taking you home. Whatever his baby wants.
The way you keep requesting for him to go harder makes him lose his mind. He’s being rougher than usual, soaking up all of the noises you make underneath him. This will be something he comes to crave from time to time, and it will most certainly be followed up with the sweetest aftercare.
Mingyu
You hardly have to do anything before he’s already turned on. He’ll give you a desperate look that says he’s really trying to keep it together, but if you keep pushing it, he’s the one begging to go home. I’m a big believer in subby Mingyu, okay?
He’s the one whining as you ride him mercilessly. He grips your hips tight to hang on to reality. “So good, baby,” he’ll mumble, but you know he’s pretty far gone. Will fold any day when you want to take charge of the situation. Might even beg you to do it from time to time.
Minghao
He’s borderline patronizing at first. “What’s gotten into you, baby?” He’ll ask with a quirked eyebrow as he watches you fold at the lightest of touches he gives back to you. I think he’d lowkey live for the power dynamic. The way you need him in times like this turns him on beyond belief, but prepare for a long night.
You’ve tipped over the edge for what feels like the dozenth time on just his fingers as he presses a little kiss to your neck. “Feel good? Is that what you wanted?” A sweet nod from you has him aching. “Do you want more?” When he starts pulling off clothes, you know things are really just getting started. Overstimulated as you are, you’ll never turn it down.
Seungkwan
This could sort of turn into a punishment. Don’t get me wrong, he thrives on the way you need him sometimes, but your desire for any sort of touch from him makes him go a little rougher during these times. It’ll make your head spin how he’s so sweet most of the time and then the switch can flip and it turns you on beyond belief.
He gives you a faux hard look as you slow your riding. He gives a little warning grip to your hips. “I thought you wanted this. Already tired?” He’ll let out a little sigh at the way you’re struggling to keep up. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll do it.” He flips you onto your back, sort of reveling in the way you relax, the pinch between your eyebrows relaxing into bliss.
Vernon
Lowkey cannot wait until you initiate. He’s super encouraging for you to be all over him. He sort of loses his mind when he can tell how turned on you are. Would do whatever you want, but really enjoys letting you do whatever you want.
He sighs, throwing his head back when your hand creeps into his sweats, wrapping around him. You lowkey enjoy how his fingers twitch against your back and the little sounds that he makes. “I love when you’re like this,” he sighs against your lips. He’ll patiently ride out whatever you have in mind, no matter what it is or how long it will take.
Chan
Another one that hardly blinks before he’s pulling you away to somewhere more private. Absolutely melts when you show any kind of need for him. He aims to please. All you have to do is ask.
You simply request that you want his mouth on you, and he’s pushing you against the door as soon as you’re home, dropping to his knees. There will certainly be more later, but he wants you shaking before your back leaves the door. You’re boneless by the time he stands up and he gets a different kind of high at how you seem to be on another planet as he carries you off to bed.
#seventeen#svt#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen reactions#svt reactions#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#smut#seungcheol#jeonghan#joshua#jun#hoshi#wonwoo#woozi#dk#mingyu#minghao#seungkwan#vernon#dino
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Forgive me if I'm mistaking you for another person, but I remember you speaking at multiple points on the unsustainability of free social media services (I think especially in response to the cohost collapse?), and I'm curious on what your thoughts on bluesky are so far. I'm not an expert on the subject, but from what I've read previously it seemed like they were on track to be financially sustainable, but I don't know if the recent floods of users has thrown those projections off. Sorry if I'm mixing you up with someone else on my timeline, in that case just ignore me.
bluesky will almost certainly follow the same trajectory of monetisation => bloat => enshittification => decline as every other major platform built on venture capital and user hoarding. it's a terrible model that only works in the short term as a mirage for attracting funding and making founders look good for a year or two before they sell.
you can see the same effect in the decline of all the subscription box services that came into vogue just before covid: they feel great to use for as long as the initial injection of venture funding lasts, because the purpose of that funding at that stage is to attract users and impress the next round of funders with how pleasant/intuitive/efficient/ethical/good value the service is. that's the stage where they're handing out freebies and bowling over influencers, and every ingredient in the box is fresh and high quality and locally sourced. wow what a good deal, what a great system!!! why hasn't anyone done this before? the answer is because it's unsustainable by design. they rack up good reviews, sign on a billion new users, attract new funding from a bunch of much more credulous investors, and then gut all of the expensive parts. portions get smaller, ingredients get worse, packaging gets flimsier, prices go up, freebies turn into "5% off your first 9 boxes when you invite 3 friends", and customer service vanishes.
with social media (and platforms like discord) the logic is the same, it's just a little less glaringly obvious to the end user because they're not coming home to leaking packages of rancid chicken on the doorstep. bluesky has an advantage over tiny operations like cohost because it was founded by a billionaire making a point for the sake of his own image. it got a really significant chunk of startup funding, and the owner had existing connections and rep in the space to attract more. That's why it has survived the goldrush period, why it still feels good to use, and why users who have been burned so many times before are finally accepting it as a stable, reliable option. It's still in its venture capital honeymoon phase where the only thing worth spending money on is making the service attractive to users.
What I expect we will see next, with another mass influx of users from twitter and new funding from a rogue's gallery of tech venture sickos led by Blockchain Capital is a strong ramp up into monetising that userbase. They've already been pretty forthright about how they plan to do this, and I think it's a solid roadmap of how Bluesky will bloat and decay over the next few years:
this is a huge lol. don't worry, we're not going to hyperfinancialize the social experience through NFTs. the thing even crypto freaks started feigning amnesia about a year ago. real "our health conscious sodas are 100% arsenic free" messaging here. They know perfectly well that rubes users are suspicious of their typical 5 dimensional tech finance chess games and are patting our hands about last week's bogeymen so nobody worries too hard about whatever 'decentralised developer ecosystem' just happens to be helmed by a bunch of crypto guys. this definitely means something good and based and not a google-like single sign on user data harvesting operation.
This is the same shit that's currently rotting the floorboards of discord. Bluntly, there is no way to run a platform on this scale without gating functionality behind paid services. Discord has been squeezing free-tier file uploads and call quality etc. down steadily and cranking up subscription costs over the last year or two, throwing in chaff like animated avatar frames to try and justify the user cost. They're also doing the same misdirection thing again here, pointing to Thing We All Hate to deflect from thing we might not like very much when they do it. Booo elon booo we all hate elon!!! wait how do we feel about subscription models again,
watch out for this to kill porn on bsky like it has killed porn on every other social platform 👍 boooo we hate elon boooo stupid idiot and his 'everything app' booooo wait why do you need my tax information, what's that about mastercard,
Look, we are all aware social media is a money pit. Let's not forget dorsey was looking to sell twitter in the first place, long before elon's very public plunge into total online derangement. Subscription services are not going to plug the hole, so we are gradually going to see more and more spaghetti thrown at the wall while early funders shuffle cards and do their pyramid scheme bit bringing in stupider and stupider investments. this is the window in which bluesky will be temporarily worth using for us, for the idiot public, the poorly rendered crowd jpegs in the background of their venture capital MOBA. it's in their interests to slow and pad the decline as much as possible, because that is how they get maximally paid.
Given the scale of the money involved, and dorsey's weird ego investment, I think bluesky will probably manage a controlled drift for a good few years before it gets really bloated and painful. and by then we will all be so used to the *checks notes* decentralised developer ecosystem that we'll just be posting through it, watching another generation of columnists call another collapsing platform 'their beloved hellsite' and passing around that meme about not getting out of our chairs no sir until idk we all get on a fediverse neurolink alternative to stick it to the elongated muskrat and our brains pop peacefully in our sleep. which I guess is the closest thing to viability any social media platform can achieve.
anyway diogenes the cynic is also on bluesky
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PLEASE MORE LION!HYBRID+TIGER!HYBRID X READER PLEASE I BEG IF YOU HAVE TIME AND ASKS ARE OPEN🙏
Monstertober Day 13: Mating Season ft. Lion & Tiger Hybrids
content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, NSFW
Through the large mirror, you glance at the beast currently combing your hair, then towards his friend, who is fidgeting in his seat with a somber, sunken expression.
Something's off today.
Usually, the salon is filled with chatter. Your lion stylist would shuffle back and forth, greeting and biding his farewell to the ever-flowing wave of customers. Now the grand room is empty, save for the three of you, and not a single word has been uttered in what seems like an eternity.
The tiger clicks his tongue and glares at the lion, who in return frowns and urges him to settle down. You observe the exchange with increased confusion.
The lion hybrid gulps and throws a clawed hand through his mane. He's been tasked to do the talking. Very well, except, how the hell can he explain such a thing to you? Hey, (Y/N) dear, it just so happens that me and my friend are presently overwhelmed by a terrible need to own you, and we were hoping to fuck you dumb. Right here, on the counter, ideally multiple times. Might we perchance ravage you? Would you like some peppermint tea while your holes are stuffed?
He groans. The mere thought of it has already put him on the edge. He sheepishly glances down at you, then involuntarily breathes in, savoring your scent. God, he can almost feel your plump thighs caught in his grasp, soft flesh bending to the hungry hold of his fingers as he adjusts you over his erection.
You jolt, and he realizes he just broke the comb with his thumb.
Similarly, his friend had been lost in the desperate thought of pounding you against the wall, feeding on your sloppy, naughty whines, watching as your eyes roll back with each thrust. Oh, you're so small compared to him. How would your insides stretch and bulge from his intrusion?
The tiger hybrid stands up, exasperated. You squirm in your seat as he approaches: he's always been intimidating. The bulging muscles, the scars, the tattoos. He certainly matches the appearance of an underground fighter, someone who gets what he wants.
"I'm done waiting", he declares, planting himself right behind you. "If you ain't speaking up, I will."
"S-sorry?" you ask hesitantly, then look up to the two beasts.
"Oh, it's just", the lion hybrid begins awkwardly, "we like you a lot. So, you know, we were wondering-"
"Ever had a threesome?"
You stare at the tiger, mouth parted. He stares back with a grin.
Somehow, you suspect you won't be leaving this place in one piece.
[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist] | [Lion and Tiger Hybrid Intro]
#ozztober#monstertober#tiger hybrid#lion hybrid#hybrid x reader#monster x reader#monster x human#monster smut#monster boyfriend#terato#teratophillia#monster fucker
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Hoooo boy okay let's do this. 2x06 was a goddamn doozy, you guys. There was a very strong theme here throughout the episode of makers and fledglings being able to feel one another through their shared blood even when they can't read each other's minds. Louis says he can feel Madeleine is out of town because she is his fledgling. Likewise, Madeleine calls out the fact that she can feel Louis after acknowledging she can't read his mind. But there's something else happening here too....
She looks to Armand. Says she can feel Louis' love for him through their blood. Then calls out the fact that... Louis won't tell him? Only... Louis HAS told Armand "I love you". That was a pretty important element of 2x04. The casual way he said it with the vision of Lestat laughing at the bedside all the while. The one Louis actually couldn't say it to...
Was Lestat. We all remember, but just in case anyone forgot...
But what does Madeleine ascribe this feeling to? Why does she think she can FEEL Louis loving Armand? Because of the blood they share. The blood they share that comes from Lestat. The blood Claudia didn't want Madeleine to have BECAUSE it's Lestat's. The episode did a really great job of reminding us about the blood bonds and just what it means to have a connection to your maker. And when that maker is also your lover..... hoooooo boy.........
Anyway. The love. The blood. The bond with your maker. I can understand why Madeleine would be confused about the love Louis is feeling. She sees Louis with Armand. She assumes they're in love. She doesn't realize...
Her maker is sitting there thinking about his own maker the entire time. To the point he almost quotes him word for word before he stops himself...
And of course he's thinking about Lestat. He's just become a maker himself. Why WOULDN'T he be thinking about Lestat? Even after saying goodbye to Dreamstat, he can't get Lestat out of his mind. Even after becoming a shadow of who he used to be. Someone cold and distant. He's trying so hard, but it's never going to work. He's never going to be able to shove Lestat away completely. And he's certainly never going to be capable of loving Armand in the way Armand desperately wants Louis to love him. Because while Armand might say he belongs to Louis. If you ask Louis if he belongs to Armand, well...
And honestly... I feel so horrible for Armand here. Because there's nothing he could have done that would have made this particular outcome any different. He never stood a chance. Louis and Lestat are bonded not only in their blood but in their hearts and their souls. Lestat was not only Louis' maker but the love of his life. His first love. The first man he ever allowed himself true intimacy with. The one he shared a coffin with. The one he shares a heart with. Louis is trying so hard to be who he was before Lestat, someone closed off and cold. But he cannot sever the bond in their blood and in their hearts with all the coldness in the world...
Which leads me to wonder... did the love Madeleine detect in Louis not only have to do with his blood bond with Lestat/the fact that he was thinking about Lestat the whole time, but also the fact that Lestat was already in Paris? Could Louis feel it? Was he aware of feeling that innate connection but was so determined to make himself a hardened shell of who he once was that he just brushed it of? Thought it was residual grief? Is that why his visions of Lestat before he banished him in 2x04 were so vivid? Because Lestat was in Paris for years, and despite not really knowing that, Louis felt it all the same?
Anyway. Moving on. Circling back to Armand and Louis and the topic of love. When they're discussing Armand not being aware of what Santiago was truly up to, Armand blames being distracted on being in love and Louis just... outright scoffs at the idea?
We sure are a long way from "meet the vampire Armand, the love of my life" territory this deep into season 2, that's for sure. And sure, in Dubai Louis is feeling bitter and doesn't trust Armand for many reasons this particular post aren't about. But even looking back on it, on the time that should have been their honeymoon phase before it all went to shit, Louis just... doesn't see love there. Or at least not being In Love. Because the only one Louis was in love with in Paris was his maker. The one he was bonded to in blood.
And the one he's about to have to sit on a stage with next week and never once be permitted to touch. Never once be permitted a moment of truth with. But the bond is still going to be there. They'll still feel each other's hearts, beating as one with their shared blood. And we have to assume after that... they just never see each other again after Paris? And just thinking on that point alone... it truly is no wonder Louis is still so unwell in Dubai. Locked away in his tower that is his prison that is his forgetting. I wasn't sure I believed Armand when he said Louis asked him to take the memory of San Francisco away from him. But I think I actually do? It makes sense. That he would want to forget something like that. And it also makes me wonder...
What else did Louis want to forget? And how much of that forgetting is related to this agonizing, unbreakable blood bond he shares with Lestat? I truly have no clue how far they're going to take this, so I guess we'll just have to wait to find out...
#interview with the vampire spoilers#interview with the vampire#loustat#otp: all my love belongs to you#iwtv meta#iwtvedit#i'm doing totally fine thanks for asking
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what would it be like if yandere Sebastian, Claude, and Ciel found out that s/o have a contract with a demon?
Yandere Sebastian Michaelis
Sebastian would hate this.
From the bottom of his heart.
He couldn't stand another demon around you.
However, you are his partner.
Although you might not know it.
And another demon near you would be a threat.
Especially if the Demon was anything like Claude.
Sebastian wouldn't show his disgust when you're around.
But between the two of them, he has no reason to show his true feelings.
Sebastian would try to manipulate you.
To see him in a better light.
And to wish you had a contract with him.
Sebastian would try to do almost every task faster and better.
And he would certainly succeed.
Sebastian would also try to be between you as much as possible.
Kidnapping would certainly not be easy.
This would also be one thing that would annoy him.
But he would try to make it work.
For love.
The love he feels for you…
There is no certainty about your feelings.
Yandere Claude Faustus
Claude would hate this.
He would REALLY hate this.
Your soul would be the reason why he would fall in love with you in the first place.
That would be so special.
And he really would like have that.
But the knowledge that it would belong to someone else.
Wouldn't make him happy.
Especially after he fell in love with you and not just your soul.
Of course, Claude wouldn't show his feelings for you.
He would be good at hiding them.
But he will do anything to break the deal with you and your demon.
Claude wouldn't care if it was possible or not.
He would find a way.
He would have to.
However, Claude would slowly start to show his feelings.
Would definitely try to replace your demon.
And manipulate you really subtly.
Claude would really know what could happen if the deal is done poorly.
This really wouldn't suit him.
You should stay safe.
Yandere Ciel Phantomhive (older)
Ciel would be surprisingly relieved by this.
Does he like having someone with you almost all the time?
Not really.
Does he like it to be really hard to hurt you?
Absolutely.
Because Ciel has a lot of enemies.
And he wouldn't want any of them to hurt you.
Ciel would have lost enough people in his life already.
He would be interested in how you and your demon made the deal.
Of course, he doesn't care if it's a sensitive thing.
But if you want to talk he listens.
Would definitely take revenge on people who wronged you.
This isn't even a question.
Ciel doesn't really like your demon.
And he would try to avoid this whenever possible.
Ciel might also sabotage the success of your mission.
So that he can spend more time with you.
An abduction would probably also not happen.
Too bad.
But manipulation is way :D
#black Butler#black butler x reader#yandere black butler#Yandere black Butler x reader#kuroshitsuji#kuroshitsuji x reader#yandere kuroshitsuji#Yandere kuroshitsuji x reader#Sebastian Michaelis#sebastian michaelis x reader#yandere sebastian michaelis#yandere sebastian michaelis x reader#ciel phantomhive#ciel phantomhive x reader#yandere ciel phantomhive#yandere ciel x reader#claude faustus#claude faustus x reader#yandere claude faustus#yandere claude faustus x reader
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Three’s a crowd
Pairing: Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x reader
Words: 3389
Warnings: swearing
Summary: You accidentally tell Ona about your relationship with Ingrid and Mapi despite promising them you’d keep it to yourself. Their reaction is nothing like you expect.
Notes: I’m sorry I’m advance for the terrible Spanish. Also, this may not flow smoothly and I apologise for that. I tried my best!
"I mean, I'd make out with them but like -platonically, you know?"
"You can't make out with someone platonically, idiota."
"Of course you can! We've done it like, so many times before already. I mean, maybe it was platonic at first, anyway. But it's definitely not now." You wave your hand dismissively. It takes promptly three seconds before you freeze in the midst of shoving your belongings into your back at the words that had just escaped your mouth without meaning to. Eyes widening, you turn to face Ona who was staring at you with a look of pure shock on her face. Her mouth was agape, hands frozen mid air in the midst of pulling off her jersey.
"qué?" Her eyebrow raise.
You panic. "Uhh, nothing. I said nothing," you scramble to collect the rest of your things, hoisting your kitbag onto your shoulder before slowly backing away from her. "You're just hearing things, Ona. I didn't say anything."
You see, this...relationship, or whatever was going on between Mapi, Ingrid and yourself was new. So new, in fact, it didn't quite have a label. In the privacy of their home, you were like any typical throuple. You kissed. Cuddled. Held hands. They'd dote over you and you craved their attention and affection. In public, however, they tended to stay away from you. Not in a mean way. A least, you didn't think so anyway. Sure they'd speak to you. Pull you into he occasional side hug if you did particularly well in training. Soft, subtle smiles would be shared between the three of you.
But that was it, and that was okay. It was just easier that way anyway. Nobody questioned you; talked you into thinking that maybe joining their relationship wasn't the best idea. You were already going a good enough job of that yourself, after all, and the rumours and speculations that would surely appear if started being affectionate in public certainly wouldn’t help.
It wasn't like you didn't want to be with them, because you very much did. It was just...they were perfect together. Had been together for years before bringing you into the mix. What did you bring into this...relationship that they didn't already have?
The answer was nothing.
Perhaps that train of thought wasn't fair, you thought. It had only been a month, after all. A month was nothing. It was why you'd chosen to remain silent. That way, you wouldn't cause any issues.
"ey ey ey, no," her hand grabs your arm, preventing you from making your escape. "You are not going anywhere chica. Sentarse." She all but demands, pointing your cubby.
"No, Ona," you futility attempt to free your arm. Ingrid was going to kill you. Literally murder you before bringing you back to clean up the mess. Both she and Mapi had asked you to keep this to yourself, and you'd broken their trust before talking without thinking. You and your stupid big mouth.
"Really. I have to go. I said I would-"
Ona shakes her head, effectively cutting you off mid sentence. "Sentarse." She says again, sounding less amused than she had before. It has you shrinking in place, but yet, your stubbornness has you once again shaking your head.
"No. I'm not a dog." The door was just there. Your eyes desperately flicker around the room in hopes of finding something that would distract the defender so you make a break for it.
"Y/n, I swear-"
"What is going on?" A new voice fills the room, and both your heads turn at the sound. At the sight of Mapi standing before you, tanned, tattooed arms crossed against her chest, your eyes wide almost comically. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. You were dead. You were so dead.
Mapi's eyes flicker from Ona's face to her grasp around your arm, prompting the defender for sigh heavily before dropping it. She turns and sits, bending down to begin removing her boots. The knowing smirk on her face was hidden. She knew it.
"Qué está pasando?" Mapi asks again, dropping her arms and making her over to you. You instinctively take a small step closer to her, staring at Ona with pleading eyes when she looks up and makes eye contact. She stares right back at you for a few moments before sighing lightly and shaking her head, rising to her feet and tugging off her jersey.
"Nada," she finally speaks, and you let out a subconscious breath of relief as feel your heart beginning to settle in your chest. Crises averted. For now, anyway.
Mapi eyes Ona for a second before nodding and turning to face you. You don't seem to realise the look of concern still etched on your face, but the Spaniard decides that for now, she'd drop the subject in an effort to prevent furthering your impending panic.
"Are you ready to go?" She asks instead, and you nod, allowing her to place a steady hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the locker room. You glance back at Ona who just so happened to be staring right back at you. She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head slightly to the side in question, and you nod, the defender mimicking it before focusing her attention back to her kitbag.
"Ingrid is in the car already." Mapi tells you in her heavily accented English as you make your way outside, her hand absentmindedly trailing up and down your back in a subconscious action of comfort.
You hum does little to comfort her.
"What happened, amor?" She gently pulls you to a stop, her hand on your hip gently coaxing you to face her. You comply, albeit a little hesitantly, eyes focusing on the tattoo on her neck. Looks can be deceiving. They could be indeed. A small part of you admittedly wants to tell her, but you figure doing so and spilling your guts and in the middle of a car park with all your teammates surrounding you wouldn't be the best idea.
"Later?" You plead instead, and though the Spaniard hesitates, she nods her head and once again starts guiding you back to her car with her hand on the small of your back. The remainder of the walk was completed in silence, Mapi opening the trunk of her car allowing you to dump your kitbag in the there along with Ingrid's and her own before opening the back passenger door.
You slip inside with a tight smile and without your usual kiss to her cheek in thanks, and the defender finds herself frowning as she closes the door and makes her way round to the drivers side, completely missing your less than enthusiastic greeting to Ingrid. You settle in the back with your headphones in, perhaps a not so mature response, but one you deemed necessary to get your thoughts together before the inevitable conversation ahead.
"Is she okay?" The Norwegian questions, glancing back a you in concern. She doesn't normally like talking about you with you in such close proximity, but she figures due to the loud music currently emanating from your headphones that you wouldn't be able to hear them. Besides, she was only doing so out of concern.
Mapi shrugs, "no sé. Ona said something, I think. Said something she did not mean to, maybe?" Her eyes follow Ingrid's for a second before she starts the car, pulling out of her parking space with relative ease. The plan had been for you to stay with them tonight, so she purposely misses the turn to your apartment and continues straight to theirs.
"Ona said something to her?" Ingrid frowns.
"Sí. She look like, how you say..." Mapi tightens her hands around the steering wheel, "como un ciervo atrapado en los faros?"
"A dear caught in headlights?" Ingrid responds, and Mapi nods.
"Sí." The Spaniard confirms.
Ingrid reaches out and places a steady hand on the defenders thigh, giving the bare, tanned skin a soft squeeze. "Did you ask?"
Mapi nods as she eases the car to a stop at a red light. "Talk later, she said. So obstinada." She grumbles.
Ingrid couldn't help but smile, "Like you, you mean?" She teases, earning herself a playful punch to the arm.
"She is worse." The Spaniard grumbles, and Ingrid laughs softly.
With a quiet sigh, you place your AirPod back into your ear. You were stubborn, she was right. But it wasn't like you weren't willing to talk about it. You just didn't want to do so where there was a risk somebody would hear.
The looming conversation ahead seemed way more daunting now.
*
"Go shower, bebé," Mapi finally breaks the silence as Ingrid closes the front door and locks it behind her, and you nod mutely as you kick of your shoes and make your way down the hall to their bathroom. Their bathroom. Ingrid and Mapi's. Not yours. That thought alone makes your eyes burn with tears.
Pathetic.
You miss the look of concern shared between both women share as you close the bathroom door behind you.
"I need to text Ona." Mapi murmurs as she pulls out her phone, a gentle hand resting atop of her own stopping her in her tracks.
"Qué?"
Ingrid shakes her head, "I know it's hard, but you need to let her come to us. It's obvious that she doesn't want us to know what happened with her and Ona, and we need to respect that. Forcing her to talk will only end badly."
Mapi sighs, knowing her girlfriend was right. Still, she couldn't help but push.
"But, what if-”
"No, kjære," Ingrid takes both Mapi's hand in her own and squeezes. "Let her come to us."
"Sí, mi amor."
Both knew the topic of conversation between you and Ona had evidently been about them. If not, you would have come to them. Just like you had when Lucy had said something to upset you. It wasn't like you to push them away. Mapi knew that. She also knew Ingrid was right about letting you come to them, despite her reluctance to do everything possible to figure out what was going on.
"Okay. Go find us a movie to watch. I'll make a start on diner." Ingrid places a soft kiss against the Spaniards cheek before disappearing through to the kitchen. Mapi watches her go before letting out a quiet sigh and curling up on the corner of the couch, picking up the remote to turn on the tv.
You finish with your shower long before Ingrid finishes with dinner, and you appear in the threshold of the living room clad in both their clothes. Ingrid's sweater, and Mapi's sweatpants, your hair wet and hanging down by your face.
Mapi gestures you over with one of those smiles that makes you melt, "Let me do your hair, amor. Sit." She opens her legs and pats the spot in between them. Your reluctance was evident as you comply, placing your hands on either of the Spaniards thighs as you settle and allow her to start combing through your hair.
"Dinner smells good." You finally find it within you to talk as you feel Mapi's fingers beginning to part your hair with the intention of braiding it. You didn't like leaving your hair down to sleep, and you found it endearing that Mapi had somehow remembered that fact despite it being weeks since you’d told her.
"Mhh," Mapi hums, "huele deliciosa." She agrees.
After tying off your hair with a hair tie, Mapi's tattooed arms loop around your waist, her hands clasped together against your stomach. You expect her to talk. To push you into opening up about what had happened earlier. But she surprisingly does neither. She simply rests her chin against your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek before once again picking up the remote.
"You pick." She mumbles into your ear, and you nod, eyes skimming over the screen.
Ingrid makes her way into the room just as you'd decided on the lion king, carrying a plate in either hand. She hands one off to both you and Mapi before once again disappearing and returning with her own.
It was pasta. Your favourite.
"Gracias." Mapi grins, settling back against the couch with you still between her legs and shoving a large forkful of food into her mouth.
Ingrid stares at you with a smile, one you couldn't help but mimic as you both watch the Spaniard stuff her face. Knowing you were in the way, you shift yourself over Mapi's leg and settle on the couch between them instead.
You ignore Mapi's playful pout at the action.
"Thank you." You whisper, and Ingrid smiles again as she gives your thigh a squeeze.
"You're welcome, elskling."
It didn't take long before dinner was quickly demolished, three empty plates sat on the coffee table as the three of you lay comfortably on the couch. You were in between Ingrid's legs now, your back to her chest with one of her arms wrapped securely around your waist. Mapi was curled up next you both, her head on Ingrid's shoulder as the Norwegian combs her fingers through her hair.
The defenders arm was thrown lazily over your stomach, tattooed hand resting on the gentle curve of your waist. Your own hand settles on top of her arm, the pad of your thumb trailing over warm skin.
The silence between you was comfortable. You were comfortable. So much so you almost want to bring up the elephant in the room. It couldn’t be that bad, right?
You sit up suddenly, yanking yourself out of both woman's grip. Mapi whines unhappily, but Ingrid nudges her softly as she shakes her head and sits up too.
Understanding, Mapi sighs lightly and forces herself to sit in front of you, her rear end perched on the edge of the coffee table. She tries to take your hands, but frowns when you gently push them away.
"I told Ona." You blurt out.
Ingrid's eyes widen, but you didn't need to see it to know she was disappointed. You could tell by the way an alarmed Mapi meets her gaze over your shoulder. You desperately try and fix your mistake.
"Well, I didn't tell her. We were talking, and it just slipped out. I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear. It was just a joke. I mean, it wasn't a joke. I was just trying to tell her a joke. That's when it happened. Please don't be mad. Or well, you can be mad. I betrayed your trust. But please don't be mad. It was an accident, I swear." You weren't aware that you had started crying until you feel Mapi's hands cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears.
Her hands were warm, and you relish in the feeling as you force yourself to take a few breaths. Ingrid's arms, you now notice, were tight around you too, her hands beneath your shirt resting on the bare skin of your stomach. You inhale and exhale, feeling her hands move with you.
"It is okay," Mapi was the first to speak, scooting a little closer and moving her hands to rest on either of your thighs. You desperately cling to to them with your own. "I am not mad. And Ingrid is not too, right?"
"Right." The Norwegian murmurs in your ear, her chin hooked over your shoulder. Her hair tickles your cheek.
"But I told..." You whisper, your voice breaking slightly, leaning back into Ingrid as much as your body would allow.
"Sí. You did," Mapi agrees. "But it was an accident, no? You did not mean to."
"Mapi's right, elskling."
"I always am." Mapi smirks, and you couldn't help but laugh when Ingrid playfully kicks her with her foot.
"She is right,” Ingrid repeats. “We are not mad at you. Being mad at you for something you didn't mean to do would be stupid. And besides, it's about time we start letting people know, mhhh?"
You blink, craning your head to the side so you were more or less looking Ingrid in the eye. She stares down at you, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your nose. It scrunches up at the action, and both she and Mapi share a look when you flush and bashfully stare down at your lap. When Mapi reaches out to take your hands again, this time you let her.
"You want to tell people? About us?" You murmur.
This was not how you thought this conversation would go.
"Mhh," Ingrid nods. "Sí." Mapi agrees.
"But, what if..." you trail off.
"What if what, amor? Talk to us, por favor." Mapi coaxes, squeezing your hands again. You look up at her, and she smiles oh so gently at you it has your mouth opening before you could give it permission to do so.
"People will talk. About us. And that won't bother me, not really. But I don't want you guys to change your mind. You were perfect before, and I don't exactly bring anything to the table." You admit.
"Baby, no. Do not think like that. This is new, yes, but that does not mean we have any doubts," Ingrid starts, her frown identical to Mapi's whose eyes have grown shiny at your words. "I can almost guarantee people will talk. That's just what they do when they see something that they're not used to. But that doesn't mean their opinions matter."
You nod, feeling something inside you slotting into place.
"My opinion, yours, Ingrid's are what matter amor. If we are happy, then that is all that matters, sí?"
"Sí." You nod.
"You are happy?" Mapi pushes, and you nod with a genuine smile. "Bueno. Now stand, por favor." She holds her hands out for you to take, and you place your own into them allowing her to easily pull you to your feet. With a kiss to your forehead, she takes your place in between Ingrid's legs and tugs on the material of your sweater to pull you closer.
You yet again comply, ending up sat on her lap with your legs either side of her hips atop of Ingrid's thighs. Mapi's arms loop tightly around your waist, holding you tightly to them both, and you melt in their embrace as you rest your head against her shoulder.
Ingrid's face was just millimetres away from your own, and you smile when you feel her lips press softly against the top of your head.
"Something to the table. What does that mean?" Mapi settles back into Ingrid when she feels the Norwegian secure her arms around both herself and you.
Your eyes rip open. Damn. You hoped they wouldn't bring this part up. When Ingrid remains silent, it becomes clear she expects you to answer Mapi's question. So with a sigh, you do.
"It's an idiom. It means to do something that will benefit others." You mumble, less than happy.
Mapi's eyebrows furrow.
"You do not think you benefit us?" She places her hands on each of your sides and gently tugs your upper body away from her. You let her, but not without a pout and refusing to meet her eyes.
"Bebé, look at me por favor."
You shake your head.
"Elskling." Ingrid's warning voice echos around the room along with her fingers tapping gently under your chin, and you sigh heavily as you comply with the Spaniards words. Mapi's eyes immediately meet your own, but they didn't hold the stern look Ingrid's did.
"You do not think you benefit us?" She asks again, and you hesitate to shake your head.
"Por qué?"
"I don't know. I just...your relationship was perfect before me." You fumble with the chain hanging from Mapi's neck.
"No relationship is perfect, my love." Ingrid cuts in, Mapi nodding in agreement. "We love each other, yes. But all couples have their issues. Including us."
"If anything, being with you only makes us stronger. Because now there's three of us, instead of two. Meaning there is lots more love and time to go around." Ingrid hand grips your thigh and squeezes. You rest your own on top of it, gripping her fingers and squeezing hard.
Mapi nuzzles her nose with your own for a second before dropping her head back onto Ingrid's shoulder. "You make us better, sí?" She reaches up and cups your cheek, her thumb grazing gently over the still damp skin.
Your lips quirk up into a hesitant smile.
"There's that smile." Ingrid coos, and you flush slightly as you fall forward into their arms, hiding your face into the Spaniards neck. Mapi grins as she cups the back of your head, and Ingrid mimics is as she presses a kiss to her cheek.
"Our girl."
**
@ktgoodmorning @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @alexias-putellas @mapis-russo @wileys-russo
#mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader#ingrid engen x mapí leon#mapi leon x reader#ingrid engen x reader#ingrid engen#mapi león#woso community#woso x reader#woso imagine#@lots of pockets > @mapis putellas
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"do you like me?" "nope."
gojo satoru x reader summary: even yuuji realizes that gojo has a crush on you, but you're oblivious as ever w/c: 1.1k tags/warnings: ft. yuuji and megumi. fluff. super light angst. lots of banter. a lil mutual pining. yuuji and gojo being chaotic. gender neutral reader. a/n: not sure how this turned out, but it was fun to write! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here
"(l/n)-sensei!!"
you're trying to relax and really, fifteen minutes is all you want, but these days that seems impossible.
you turn your head toward the sparring field just in time to see yuuji fly into a tree about 30 yards away. megumi is already on the ground struggling to get up.
meanwhile gojo is prancing, literally prancing, in the opposite direction. you walk toward the group with a mixture of annoyance and disappointment playing across your features, all your hope for some peace and quiet crushed.
"that was awesome!" the pink haired boy shouts from amid a mess of leaves and branches.
gojo gushes over the praise, his hands pressing against his cheeks. "thank you, yuuji! it's nice to know someone around here appreciates my unmatched strength."
"i don't remember offering to be a part of the demonstration," megumi grumbles, finally rising to his feet.
his demeanor is less than pleased and you glance at him sympathetically before turning to gojo. "you do know that you're an adult, right? like, as in, a fully grown man."
"(y/n)-chaaaaan, you're always so mean to me," he whines, grabbing your hands dramatically. "what have i done to deserve such cruel treatment?"
"today or in general?" you pretend to think for a second. "i seem to remember you waking me up at seven this morning so that you didn't have to go to your meeting with masamichi-san alone-"
"he was mad at me for skipping the last one i had!"
"-and then you hid my phone for almost an hour because i wouldn't give you my last candy bar-"
"i was starving, (y/n)-chan! it wasn't my fault, you know that!"
"-and then you destroyed that tree, which i really happened to like by the way."
his gaze flickers toward that direction, the splintered wood a sad remnant of what it used to be, then throws his arms in the air. "this is so unfair!"
"(l/n)-sensei! did you see?" yuuji calls out, already fully recovered and bounding toward you.
"i sure did." you chuckle at his tattered clothes and unfazed attitude.
"what'd ya think?"
you really can't bring yourself to scold him, not with all the excitement in his voice. "oh, it was certainly something."
"did you hear that, gojo-sensei?" yuuji lights up.
megumi disguises his laugh with a cough. "i don't think that was a compliment."
the boy visibly deflates so you ruffle his hair. "it was pretty cool, i just don't want you getting hurt." that earns a grin, to your relief.
"so i get yelled at, but you're nice to him?" gojo pouts indignantly.
"yes."
"ugh! this is killing me, (y/n)-chan!" he announces before promptly knocking you to the ground, the action something between a hug and a tackle.
"gojo, get off of me!" you yell, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.
"i can't! not until you forgive me!"
your giggles ring through the air, music to gojo's ears, and your hands push him away as he tries to tickle your sides. you look like two kids, rolling around in the grass and shouting at one another.
yuuji leans in toward megumi, his voice hushed as if he's about to reveal the world's biggest secret. "i'm starting to think there's something going on between those two."
his friend looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "you're just now noticing?"
~~~
you're making dinner in your apartment while gojo sits on the kitchen floor, his legs splayed out and taking up nearly half of the small room. his blindfold had been discarded at one point or another, something he made a habit of doing when it was just the two of you.
"what are we having tonight, chef?"
"me? i'm having braised chicken thighs. i'm not sure about you though," you tease.
you didn't invite him to dinner, he just kind of followed you back to your place after sparring practice. you don't really mind, you never do, not that you'd ever admit it out loud.
"you wouldn't give me your candy bar and now you won't have dinner with me either? today is the worst! is this still about the tree? i told you i was sorry-"
"geez i was just kidding!" you cut him off. "of course you can have some, but only if you get the flour off the top shelf for me."
"i guess that's a fair trade," he reasons, rising to his feet lazily.
the cabinet is just to your left, so his body presses into yours as he reaches up, the contact making your heart flutter.
"thanks," you exhale when he sets it down within your reach.
he doesn't return to his sitting position, just leans against the counter and watches you carefully stir the ingredients in the pan.
"do you like me?" he inquires suddenly.
"nope."
"hm, do you like like me?" he suggests, a small smirk playing at his lips.
"gojo, that's honestly defamatory."
he rolls his eyes playfully. "c'mon, be serious."
"you be serious," you challenge the usually facetious man.
"i am."
resting your spoon on the pan, you turn to face him, unsure if he's just messing with you like always. the room is silent, save for the faint popping of oil, as he waits for you to say something.
"why do you wanna know?"
"'cause i like you, why else?"
your hands gather the fabric of your apron nervously, crumpling it between your fingers while you avoid his gaze. his words strike you as entirely implausible. after all, he's gojo and you're, well, you.
"you... you shouldn't joke about stuff like that."
he laughs at you and it breaks your heart a little, but then you feel two lithe hands on either side of your face. "(y/n), look at me."
you do, albeit apprehensively, and his eyes bore into your own with an intensity you aren't familiar with. it makes your knees feel weak. a smile tugs at his lips before they capture your own, the movement slow and soft.
your fingers reach up to wrap around his wrist, an attempt to steady yourself against him, before one of his hands travels down to your hip and gives it a light squeeze.
you taste so sweet, feel so perfect in his hands, that gojo kicks himself for waiting so long to kiss you. his lips move to the corner of your mouth, across your cheek, then begin to work their way up your jaw. he hums against your skin, satisfied with the breathy noises he's pulling from your throat.
then, the smell of burning invades your senses and you pull away from each other with wide eyes, exclaiming in unison. "the food!"
#m!writes#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru imagines#gojo#gojo x reader#gojo imagines#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#gojo fluff
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The Thrill of It (1.8K Words)
LandOscar x Reader
Genre: Street Racer AU, Smut
Summary: Sometimes the boys come back from races a little riled up, it doesn't help tonight that they get a bit possessive when someone lays a hand on what's theirs.
Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, public sex, exhibitionist Lando, Sub reader, Dom Oscar, Oral, face-fucking, Hair pulling (?), minor degradation, Oscar being stressed after because AFTERCARE IS IMPORTANT OKAY
Notes: I'm back! Did you miss me? I think this is the most lewd smut I've ever done... But reminder that comments and filling my inbox with nice things motivates me to write!!
Side Note: MINORS AVERT YOUR EYES!! ADULT CONTENT AHEAD!!
Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi
The lights amongst the crowd flitted about in shades of neon. The people are rowdy tonight on the sides of the street. All of them handing off their cash to each other to bet on which driver they think will win.
It’s a dangerous game with no medic on scene. She supposes that’s the thrill of it. Knowing there may be no return once they put their foot on the pedal.
Lando and Oscar are practically swimming in the cash now. While she isn’t in the spotlight, they certainly are. These are their streets. They know Woking like the back of their hands now.
Lando says he drives by feeling where Oscar has a map of the turns memorized. It speaks volumes about their character.
You’d think these idiots would stop betting so much on other drivers. She’s been here enough times to know they never learn. Always lured into a false sense of hope. She doesn’t mind it, simply finds it funny.
She finds herself entranced by the sounds of the engines, the people chanting their names. She sees other people oggle the two, hands becoming a bit more than friendly as the night progresses and alcohol is consumed.
A car pulls below her hiding spot. The second car driven, a truck she can sit in the bed of when things get overwhelming and the people too much.
Those friendly hands tend to slip when they see a pretty stranger. Boundary lines are crossed. Another thing they should know by now: Oscar and Lando are the kings of these streets and it’s best not to mess with their queen.
The bed of the truck shakes as they climb in with her. Their faces are half hidden in the dark. The other is illuminated by intermittent flashing lights.
Lando looks all too happy about the stunt he just pulled. A dangerous thing that could have killed him if not done right. The adrenaline has his pupils dilated. “Don’t think he’ll be coming back again. Gave him a run for his money… Liturgy!”
“Literally-”
“Yes, that’s what I meant - Literally!”
She tilts her head back and laughs. Drunk off the atmosphere of the night and maybe the fumes of whatever people have been smoking all night. “Scared him off then?”
“You know it baby!” Lando latches right onto her exposed neck with his teeth for all of two seconds before Oscar is dragging him off. It leaves them both whining. “Osc! I’m doing things!”
“You’re doing our things.” The dehumanizing language should not have her this hot and bothered, in Woking, in October. She’s wearing a skirt with nothing aside from panties underneath and one of Oscar’s zip-ups with a tank top. Not the best choice of clothing all things considered, but she could care less. Not when it gives them easy access when they are all riled up like this.
Oscar drags her into his lap. The feeling of strong thighs underneath her in almost the right spot has her whimpering. “Didn’t realize you’re already so needy for us darling. Forgot how much seeing us drive turns you on.”
She nearly cries when Oscar pulls her underwear to the side and slips a finger through her slit. “Look at this Lan! She’s a mess already!” Oscar’s free hand grips Lando by the collar and pulls him closer; nearly choking him out in the process. When his fingers are pulling obscene sounds from her, he brings them away. Up towards Lando’s mouth which unlatches to suck on them eagerly.
The Brits eyes roll back as Oscar jams four fingers down the back of his throat just for the sake of it. “S’pose you’ve earned it tonight, Lan. You’re already a mess anyhow and I think you’ve been leaking since you got out of the car.”
Lando mumbles something around Oscar’s fingers. It’s unintelligible - or she’s too lost in her haze to comprehend anything. Having slotted down on Oscar’s thigh to get some kind of friction.
The sound of Lando’s belt buckle coming undone becomes louder than the engines. Then the wet sound of lips clashing together. The hand Oscar previously had in Lando’s mouth is now around his neck.
The same story time and time again. Lando goes by feel where Oscar exudes superiority in how he has them memorized.
She clocks the hand on her waist moving to the back of her head. Oscar switches to kiss her instead. The filthy kind - all tongue and teeth. It keeps her occupied long enough for Lando to shimmy his boxers just far enough down.
“I knew you were leaking.” Lando makes a weak noise at that. Oscar’s words seem to have that effect on him. Both of them - really. “I bet you like showing off for all these people, huh? The possibility of us being caught like this. You get off on the thrill.”
The boys help her reposition her boy. Oscar gets two of his fingers in her, hovering just above Lando’s cock. Which - to Oscar’s credit - He’s not wrong. Lando is leaking like a faucet that has a consistent drip. It is mesmerizing and should be illegal.
Oscar gets a third in her, dutifully stretching her open despite having to support her weight. Lando thrusts into the air out of impatience which earns a lovely smack to the side of his ass. “You should know better, Love, that all good things come with time.”
She feels empty for all of two seconds before her body is plunging down onto Lando’s cock. She can feel him twitching behind her - trying to remain still until given the go-ahead to move. His hands paw at the slope of her back and curve of her ass.
In front of her, Oscar is undoing his own belt. She should’ve realized sooner how he had positioned them. How the truck bed is conveniently long enough to let Lando work out his residual energy by thrusting into her while Oscar makes use of her mouth.
He’s always three moves ahead of them.
She leans down, ready for him without him even having to ask. “Spit,” He commands. She does it without hesitation.
Oscar makes use of the makeshift lube and gives himself a few strokes before motioning her forward. She unhinges her jaw and relaxes her throat and still - she gags.
“See Lando, patience works wonders.”
“Please Osc, please - I’m dying over here-”
“Go ahead baby, you’ve earned it.” Oscar chuckles.
They find a rhythm. When one is going in, the other is going out. She’s drooling all down the exposed skin Oscar is showing.
“Best. Fucking. Reward. Ever~” Lando punctuates each word with a particularly hard thrust. The sounds are ridiculous and they are lucky that the sound of engines revving is drowning them out. If anyone is watching - well - they are certainly getting a show.
Oscar’s voice cracks. “Fucking hell, you two look so good.” She concludes the walls of his resolve are starting to crumble. That the grip she has on his waist to ground herself is enough to make him snap and throw him over the edge.
“You like the show, Osc.”
“You could say that.”
Lando likes to be seen and Oscar likes to watch. She likes everything in-between that. To be the object of their affections and an element of desire. Something they covet enough to lose themselves like this.
Everything gets messier - if that was even possible. Oscar snaps his head back and grips the back of her head so he can hold her stead and fuck her throat. Lando grips her hips and sets an unrelenting pace. Each movement is sloppier than the last. Each moan is more pitched.
She swallows. Her throat constricts enough for Oscar to growl from somewhere deep and sum without any warning. The tears are streaming down her face as she gags on the new and sudden change of consistency.
He drags her off and gives her no time to recover. Simply lunging forward and nearly sending her crashing backwards onto Lando. His hand goes back to the Brits throat while his tongue goes so deep into her mouth that there is no way he can’t taste himself.
Lando is a mess of high pitched whines. “Please - please I’m close-”
She inhales desperately as Oscar unlatches from her mouth only to find the sensitive spot on her exposed collarbone. “Osc-”
“I could keep you two like this forever. Desperate and whiny. Leaking with the thought of how good it would feel to cum.” They are both letting out desperate sounds. “I bet that guy from earlier would have stayed away then. So consumed by us that he could smell it on you.”
“Yesyesyes - please-” She’s going to lose her mind. Lando might be closer than she is and yet he won’t slow down. There is nothing but this until Oscar tells them yes. Because it feels better waiting for it.
And Lando will always go by feel.
“You’ve earned it Lando, fill our girl up yeah? Make her cry harder.”
Oscar has to cover her mouth as everything goes white. Her ears are ringing - swimming in the sounds of their voices and nothing else. It’s white hot blissful nothing. No thoughts or anxieties, no worries about some guy making passes at her.
Here she knows the two men who want nothing but to see her smile and cry for their cocks. Which is a stark contrast considering - but she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Oscar recovers the quickest. Swiftly jumping out of the truck bed to grab their extra blanket and hoodies. “I can’t really clean you two up yet, but will this do for now?” He shifts his weight between feet. Normally more prepared, ready to meet the needs of physical pains and emotional needs that come with the aftermath.
They both nod and excitedly wait for him to climb back up. “That… was amazing,” she laughs. Her voice broken and hoarse from her throat being used.
Oscar winces. “I need to get you some water.”
“Osc-”
“Yeah.”
“Relax! It felt good! It was great and we’re okay.” Lando gestures to the two who can barely move. Bodies still twitching from the overwhelming sensations. “Now we shall bask in the glory that is the ridiculous amount of cash we made tonight!”
“What are you gonna spend it on?”
“You, of course!” Oscar leans her into his side as Lando throws an arm around her shoulders for good measure.
Cars begin to drive past. Leaving for the night either to wherever they are staying or another race. They wave off some of the familiar faces and flip off the annoying ones. Yeah - she wouldn’t have it any other way.
#formula 1#f1 fic#lando norris#lando norris imagine#landoscar#lando norris fanfic#lando norris f1#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x oscar piastri#oscar piastri x lando norris#oscar piastri f1#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri x reader smut#lando norris smut#op81 smut#op81 fic#op81#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4#ln4 x reader#op81 x reader#op81 imagine
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