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seouljazzbar · 1 month

Text

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest.

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry.

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats.

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…”

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties.

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?”

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?”

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat.

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in.

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.” He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you.

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains.

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.”

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed.

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

#mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct smut #nct x reader #seouljazzbar

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weirdmageddon · 1 year

Text

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

#homestuck #homestuck meta #dave strider #mom lalonde #roxy lalonde #hs #strilonde guardian swap

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abbyshands · 8 months

Text

— sub!ellie x dom!gamer!reader

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

imagine sub!ellie, whose need grows wild each time you play video games. she’ll want to sit on your lap, arms wrapped around your neck; or, in some cases, her lips wrapped around your cock under the desk. you’re playing at your desk, ellie in your lap with her legs on either side of your thigh. you’re looking at the game over her shoulder as she clings onto you, face buried in your neck. you giggle as you take a small break to look at her, running a soft hand into her auburn locks. you could guess what she needed, easily so. “so obvious when you need me, els. yes, you can,” you say as a form of giving her permission. it’s vague and unclear, but there’s a shared comprehension of what, precisely, you’re giving ellie permission for. she begins to grind her lower body onto your thigh, clit rubbing up on your jeans. she’ll only be wearing underwear and a tank top, and it’s like you can feel how wet she is through the denim of your jeans. you snake an arm around her waist and use your controller to play your game behind her back as she pleasures herself. “you want my friends to hear you, baby? or do you want mommy to turn her mic off?” you tease ellie, whispering the words into her ear. your mic is already off, but you just love to fuck with her. “o- off. m’just for you, mama,” ellie grumbles as she fucks her pussy onto your thigh carelessly. you smile with a small shrug, then go back to playing your game. ”f- fuck,” ellie whines loudly, filling your ears as your eyes are locked on the screen. from time to time, you grab onto ellie’s ass, playing your game one handed as you help her grind down on you, pressing sloppy kisses to her neck to help her release along. when ellie begins to brokenly moan out your name, brokenly whispering, “mommy,” like it’s a prayer, you can’t help yourself. you find a spot for your in-game character to stay without getting killed, and set your controller down. “aw, sweet girl. so needy for mommy,” you coo as you get a good look at her, auburn hair messy over her forehead, neck and cheeks a pale pink. when you look down at her boxers, there’s a wet spot where her clit is, needy and achy for your touch. you hold ellie by the hips and make her grind as fast as she can go, to which ellie isn’t at all opposed. “c’mon, baby. fuck, look at that. look how good you are for me,” you praise as ellie buries her face into your neck. “m- mama, c- can i—“ she begins, but you already know the next word that’s going to leave her puffed up lips. “go ahead, baby. cum for me, nice and easy,” you coo, and that’s the last thing ellie hears before she’s falling apart on your thigh, soaking her boxers in her release and spilling it onto your jeans.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

a/n; the double posting when i should be asleep rn is crazy (but real) anyway?! user abbyshands not posting abby?! so weird.

———

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #tlou ellie #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #tlou smut #tlou2 smut #the last of us smut #the last of us #tlou #ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ kit’s works

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moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

i was wondering if we could have some roomate!james where him and reader have a disagreement over something and reader feels like james don’t want her there anymore but he comforts her??

Thanks for requesting!

cw: reader feels financially insecure

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“James.” You run your fingers worriedly over the small tears in the doorframe. Look to your roommate in the kitchen. “This is getting out of hand.”

“What is?”

“Juniper’s been scratching on the doorframe again.”

James tsks. “Junie-girl,” he coos, little reprimand to be found in his tone as he looks down at the orange cat currently winding through his ankles, “what are you trying to do to us, huh?”

You’re not quite so amused. Since James had agreed to look after his friend Lily’s cat while she’s traveling, Juniper has knocked down and broken two of your glasses, scratched up a corner of the couch, and pissed on the carpet in James’ room. You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with the smell of that last one yourself, but you doubt your landlord will be pleased if James can’t get it out by the end of your lease.

“She’s got to stop,” you say, oddly unsure if you’re trying to reason with James or the cat. “It’s getting really noticeable.”

“I’m not sure what else to do.” James shrugs. His pan sizzles as he turns over the chicken he’s cooking. “I’ve already moved her favorite scratching post over by the door and sprayed it with the catnip Lily gave me.”

You cross your arms and sit down on the couch, chewing the inside of your lip. “I’m worried about the security deposit,” you admit.

“Oh, don’t be.” James waves a hand vaguely in your direction. “My last apartment was way worse than this when I moved out, and they didn’t charge me for anything.”

His unconcern nettles you. Of course, why would James be upset about a security deposit? He likes to pretend at independence, but you know his parents will always give him funds if he’s in a bind. He doesn’t worry about money the way you do.

“Yes, but that was a different landlord, wasn’t it.” There’s a bit of bite to your tone, and you try to soften it. “Maybe someone else could take her for the rest of Lily's trip?”

James turns, eyebrows lifting as though he’s surprised you’d even ask. “She couldn’t get anyone else to take her in the first place. Mary’s visiting her family, Marl’s allergic, and Sirius would have a cow.” You’re not very inclined to find the last one a spectacular excuse, but you keep your mouth shut. “I agreed to take her,” he says, somewhat firmly, “and I don’t want to go back on that.”

Heat prickles over your skin. “I just—listen, I can paint over the small things,” you say. “I’m going to try to cover up as many damages as I can, but when your friends come over and break the handle off the microwave” —true story— “or you let their cats tear up the apartment, I don’t know what to do.”

“I told you I’m going to fix the microwave,” he says without turning around.

“When, James? That was months ago, and—”

“And if my friends coming over is a problem for you, it’s not like you didn’t have plenty of opportunities to mention it when we first moved in.” Now James is growing agitated too, his posture stiffening over the stove. “I don’t get where this is coming from. I told you before we moved in that I’d want to have friends here often. When I asked if Junie could stay here, you said it was fine!”

“I didn’t know it’d be like this!” You feel ridiculous, nearly shouting at him in your mostly lovely apartment. James really isn’t a bad roommate overall; you know you could do far worse. But the small things have begun to add up, and you really cannot afford not to lose your deposit. “I like your friends, and I like Junie, but this is—it’s too much.”

“You shouldn’t have lived with me if you couldn’t deal with it.”

James flicks off the stove, turning around to speak to you directly, and you see the moment he sees the glossy sheen in your eyes. His expression pinches.

“Sweetheart—”

“No. Do not feel bad for me right now,” you hiss, blinking furiously. “Just because I’m not good at arguing doesn’t mean I’m not still mad.”

Your anger is rapidly fading, though, as his words reverberate around in your head. You shouldn’t have lived with me. Does he really think that? There are certainly things upon which you don’t see eye-to-eye, but you love living with James. You love spending time with him, sharing things with him, just being around him. The idea that he doesn’t feel the same about you starts spiderweb cracks going through your heart.

“I’m not good at arguing either,” he says with a hefty sigh. The tension seems to go out of his shoulders with it, and he starts toward you with heavy steps, plopping down on the couch. “Can we just talk, please?”

You sniffle, working hard to suppress your tears. “Do you think it’d be better if we didn’t live together?” you ask.

James' eyes widen behind his glasses. His brows hook up in the middle. “No. Why would you say that?”

You shake your head, not quite looking at him. “I honestly do like your friends. I don’t mind them coming over or helping you do favors for them, and I get that—that sometimes things happen.” You take a shallow breath. Ignore the way James’ hand twitches in his lap. “But you’re right that I didn’t consider all of this when we moved in together. I’m okay with trying to get past it, but if you want me to move out—”

“Oh my god, no.” James leans forward, trying to catch your gaze. You don’t let him, because just then a small droplet of water squishes out of the corner of your eye and begins a slow trudge down your cheek. “Sweetheart, I don’t want that. I like living with you.”

Juniper hops up onto the couch, plodding onto your lap and rubbing her side against your stomach affectionately. A wet laugh bubbles out of you, more tears cresting your cheeks as you scratch awkwardly between her ears.

James makes a sound so soft you think you’ll dream about it. “Can I hug you?”

You lean toward him in answer. He meets you halfway, needling his arms under yours and folding you into him. You press your face, hot with embarrassment and upset, into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and James’ hand rubs your back in big, sweeping circles, before it stops moving at all, pressing flush to your spine, easing you closer. Junie hops off your lap. Evidently, she considers your comfort taken care of.

“I don’t want you to pity me,” you mumble. When you blink, your lashes leave wetness like the strokes of a paintbrush on his skin. “If you want me to move out, it’s okay.”

“I don't,” he promises, squeezing you until it almost hurts. “I was being rash. I was only being defensive because you were angry. About very reasonable stuff, if I’m honest. I can pay for your half of the security deposit if we lose it.”

You shake your head, shifting your body to hug him harder. James meets you a hundred percent. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I do, it’s fine. It’s my mess. Just don’t talk any more about moving out, okay?”

You mumble your agreement into his neck. It tickles, and James squeaks, but he doesn’t let you go.

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iamred-iamyellow · 5 days

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Bad Blood

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: franco colapinto x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: tensions started rising in the williams garage when bad strategies pitted you and your teammate, franco against each other. after spotting him in a bar the night of a race the two of you bonded over your shared bad result.

♥ one-shot - wc: 1.6k

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing, drinking, and vaguely suggestive !!!

♥ a/n: rivals to lovers + forced proximity, go nuts babe. btw there’s some salty team vibes so i just wanna say i love williams (except james) this is purely for the plot lol

“Plan B, Y/n. Plan B,” you engineer said on the radio of your car.

”Is Franco undercutting me?” you asked, shifting down into a corner.

“We think this is the best decision point-wise.”

“You’re joking.”

“Y/n stick to the strategy, you’ll get your time eventually.” they responded.

“No this is bullshit. What advantage are you giving him? He can’t chase down Kmag any better than I can—at least he doesn’t have the pace right now. I don’t see why you’re making him the priority.”

You reached the end of the main straight watching as your teammate exited the pit lane in front of you.

He was on hard tires, an extremely odd choice for the end of this race. You were trying to complete the last 20 laps on softs while your teammate tried to make up positions on the opposite compound. Wait why the fuck would they put him on those tires? If they were aiming for an undercut, they were certainly going to fail with this strategy.

You dove down into the apex and collided with Franco, who was turning in front of you. You both spun out into the gravel, ending your race.

It was always like this. Somehow you always found yourself competing against Franco no matter where you went.

“Fuck,” you yelled on the radio as you threw your HANS device outside of the car.

“Are you okay?” your engineer questioned.

“Yup, yeah I’m fine.” you responded.

The Williams team could hear faint breathing from Franco.

“Is she ok?” he asked.

“Yes, are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

You scrolled through your phone in your driver's room, coming across a couple of posts about the situation.

@fcswife “is she okay?” FRANCO THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 😭❤️

@charlesgf16 she really has zero respect for franco huh?

@francodefender1 how could anyone hate him? 😩

You rolled your eyes and clicked off the device, throwing it onto a different cushion on the couch. You were going to need a drink.

Later that night you retreated to a bar you were unfamiliar with. A couple of F2 drivers in your circle mentioned it in passing and considering you couldn't fluently speak the language of the country you were visiting, you hoped to run into a few people you knew.

The room was dark, loud, and packed. You could hear music playing over the sound of dozens of drunk voices. You pushed your way through the crowd of people towards the front of the bar in order to get a drink.

You spotted a familiar face when you arrived. To your dismay it was the only person you wished not to talk to at that moment. His brown curls were immediately identifiable and if that wasn't enough, the fluorescent lighting illuminated his face, drawing your eyes towards the small mole on his cheek.

You looked around for a place to avoid him, but all the booths were taken and the only open bar stool was the one next to Franco.

Because of course it was.

You sighed and took the seat next to him, trying your hardest to avoid eye contact.

"A bottle of Dom Perignon please," you asked, causing Franco to snort.

“What?” you shifted your gaze towards him.

“Champagne is for winners,” he said, looking you straight in the eye.

It wasn’t like he was incorrect. Champagne was for the podium—but you had a long day and it was time to treat yourself. Regardless, you rolled your eyes at the man’s comment.

Franco waved over the bartender to get a glass and help himself to the bottle of alcohol.

“You can venmo me,” you said only half joking as he poured himself some champagne.

A small tv in the corner of the bar had a replay of the race and press.

”There were a lot of emotions definitely, uhm I think the decisions tire wise for the strategy weren’t great. It’s frustrating to see the prioritization of your teammate but I guess I have no input on whether that goes to me or Franco each race. We had a rough week overall as a team but I hope we can bounce back.”

“As much as I hate to agree with you… you were right. Both our strategies were fucked.” he said referencing your post race interview, “They screwed us both.”

The two of you never really got along, but at least neither blamed each other for the crash. It was just a racing incident and it didn’t have to prevent you from finally having a civil conversation with Franco.

“To screwing us both,” you smiled while raising your glass of champagne, eliciting a chuckle out of him.

He clinked his cup to yours with a smirk and took a small sip.

From that point on your distaste for him slowly started to die down and you began to have a mutual understanding.

The next race went over far smoother than the last. Franco ended up in P5 with you right behind him in P6; an incredible result for the two of you and the team.

You jumped out of your car and strolled your way over to his. The camera picked up on you patting his helmet and mumbling something.

Of course this was going to be all your media feed would show for the next few days.

That night you found yourself at a far more tame pub than the last.

“From the gentleman across the bar,” a server said, causing you to look up from your phone and towards the direction he was pointing.

Franco was leaning against the counter with a grin. He raised his eyebrows quickly and waved.

You took a sip of the cold blue drink in front of you and waved back. His eyes stayed locked on you as you pulled out your phone and unblocked a number.

You

is there red bull in this?

+1800******

yea

You got a text back immediately, prompting you to change the contact name.

You

i think that’s a sin

Franco

oh?

You

yea if i can’t drive it i shouldn’t be drinking it

Franco

i guess it’s too bad williams doesn’t make energy drinks

You

come sit with me

Tensions were still high on track between the two of you but the minute race weekend was over it was like someone flipped a switch.

A few weeks flew by and people started to notice your behavior towards Franco. By now there were probably dozens of pictures of you looking very cozy together at parties, but not getting along at the circuits or simply ignoring each other in the paddock.

Of course people were getting suspicious. Maybe this was a ruse to keep your relationship a secret? Maybe it was all staged for Netflix. Or maybe—you two didn’t really know what you were.

“Che,” a voice called out to you in spanish, instantly grabbing your attention.

You spotted Franco in a booth at the back of the club. It was far darker in that corner, but with the flashing lights and loud music you were glad he picked a more secluded area.

The building was full with the familiar faces of drivers and team members.

”Look at you,” he said, impressed.

You laughed and did a small spin, showing off your dress. You knew he’d liked it and by the memory you had earlier this evening, it seemed as though a lot of people would.

”Another date with Franco, huh?” Kika smirked while putting on some dangly earrings. “It’s not a date,” you protested. She spun her body around to face you. “This,” she gestured to your outfit. “Is for a date.”

You slid into the booth next to him, setting your black clutch purse beside you.

Franco’s hand firmly grabbed your thigh to steady himself as he shifted closer towards you. Your eyes darted down to the action but he didn’t seem to notice. His grip loosened as he settled and he started rubbing small circles with the pad of his thumb.

A small hum escaped your lips, barely audible over the music and voices, but there was no way in hell your soft noises wouldn’t catch his attention.

”¿Esto está bien?” (is this ok?) he asked in a whisper, causing you to only nod.

His face moved closer to yours, and you wasted no time cupping his cheeks in your hands, and connecting your lips.

You melted into the kiss knowing damn well you daydreamed about this an embarrassing amount.

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, tasting the gloss you applied earlier. You opened your mouth to allow him entrance and he dragged his fingertips further up the inside of your thigh.

Franco moved down to your neck leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses. His index and middle fingers brushed the lace of your lingerie, causing him to smirk against you.

“Stand up,” he demanded. He slipped out of the booth and pulled you onto your feet. You grabbed your clutch as he guided you through the crowd, hand-in-hand.

He opened the chiming door and the two of you stepped onto the wet cobblestone. Your heels clicked on the ground as he guided you to his car in the rain.

He pulled open the passenger seat door for you.

“Wow, we weren’t even in there a couple of minutes,” you stated.

“I think we’ve had enough time to talk… quiero llevarte a casa…” (i want to take you home) he leaned down and mumbled to you.

“O en este caso mi hotel,” (or in this case my hotel) “unless you’d rather go back inside..” he trailed off.

You shook your head in protest to his last works and a light chuckle slipped through his lips.

”Alright then,” he smirked, getting into the drivers seat.

#𝒍𝒊𝒗'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 ౨ৎ #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x y/n #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto imagine #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #fornula one fic #formula one fanfic #f1 one shot

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yazmarina · 26 days

Text

close to you

for hit play, a drabble event.

—"break my heart and start a fire, you got me overnight, just let me be" (close to you by gracie abrams)

oscar piastri (f1) x afab!reader

warnings/notes: smut, protected sex, cunnilingus, first date, basically you match with oscar on a dating app lol

a/n: what a weekend guys. have this as the cherry on top <3

You never really expected anything much to come out of it.

You swiped right on the app, highly suspicious if this was really even him, but for the plot (as the kids say), you wanted to try anyway.

The screen graphics confirmed that it was a match and you felt your blood run cold.

Oscar Piastri, Formula 1 driver, had matched with you on a dating app.

You locked your phone and paced about the room for a solid five minutes, refusing to pick your device back up. You yelped as you saw the screen light up. You shoved it under your pillow, rushing out of the room and pacing even more, but this time, around your living room.

It took another ten minutes for you to gingerly return to your room, your trembling hand flipping your phone upright to expose your notifications.

Oscar: Hey :)

You nearly dashed out onto your balcony and leaped off the edge right then. With bated breath, you tapped on the notification, thoughts cycling seemingly a million miles a second.

You: Hi! Fancy seeing you here haha

You groaned immediately after sending the message, cringing at the utter lack of eloquence.

A sob nearly escapes your lips when you see his reply.

Oscar: Don't tell on me, then ;) I take it you're a fan?

"You have no idea, Oscar Piastri," you whispered to yourself as you tried to maintain a semblance of composure in your following messages.

You really should have practiced restraint, a cautious approach to this whole situation. What if it was some sort of poser? What if whichever dickhead pretending to be Oscar posts your responses online to dunk on you? Your face was exposed, goddammit.

But after two hours of messaging and a selfie sent from his side to prove that, yes, he really was Formula 1 driver Oscar Piastri, the two of you agreed to meet the next day.

You're still not fully convinced at that point but you decided to go with it. You sent a vague yet urgent message to your friend who lives nearby, in case you need an escape plan.

You covered all your bases, said all your prayers, and plucked every stray eyebrow into perfection.

Your heart nearly gives out now as you look up to see Oscar approaching your table, the sun gleaming down, casting a glow on his wavy brown hair. You're seated just outside the restaurant doors, the breeze gently displacing some of your own hair.

A nervous giggle escapes you as you tuck your hair back in place. Oscar beams and pulls the chair out in front of you.

"Hi. Sorry to keep you waiting."

You shake your head almost instantly. "No, it's okay. I wasn't here for long."

Oscar smiles even wider and you clamp your hands together under the table to stop them from shaking.

"It's nice to meet you," Oscar says, reaching his hand out. You chuckle at the formality but grasp his hand in yours nonetheless.

"Same here. Though, I'm a little nervous," you reply.

"Though, I hope you aren't super weirded out about going on a date with a fan," you rush out. "I just really enjoy the sport and I think you're a great driver."

You see a hint of pink dusting Oscar's cheeks. Your own face heats up at the realization.

"It's fine," Oscar consoles. "Thanks, by the way. I mean, you're gorgeous, so you're not the only one in awe here."

Oscar's eyes widen as he realizes the words that had come tumbling out of his mouth. Your own jaw slackens and another nervous laugh rises from your chest.

"Thank you," you manage to splutter out. "I-I don't know what else to say to that without sounding like some lovesick fan."

Oscar bursts out laughing, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. You realize that every inch of skin above his shirt collar is tinged with red.

"I think that's our signal to order," Oscar offers, flipping through the menu in front of him.

You nod silently, doing the same.

The text you send to your friend after your lunch with Oscar is just as vague, if not a little more.

You tell them that your date went well and that you'll be moving to another place. You don't exactly clarify what this other place is, but with the way your friend tells you to be safe and call immediately if anything goes wrong, you know that they're aware of where this is going.

You lean back, comfortable in the passenger seat of Oscar's car. You set your phone down, sneaking a peek at the man beside you, and for a split second your eyes meet.

"You good?" Oscar asks, his eyes trained back on the road. There's an easy smile playing on his lips and you can still see pink on his cheeks.

"Yeah," you say, digging through your purse and retrieving some breath mints. You pop two in your mouth and you offer Oscar the container.

You smile knowingly as Oscar glances at your outstretched hand, his smile widening into a bashful grin.

"Want some?" you offer, toying with the candy in your mouth. Just then, you come upon a stoplight and Oscar turns to you fully.

He holds up his palm and you shake out two more mints onto his awaiting hand. Oscar places them in his mouth, watching as you put the candies away.

"Any particular reason you'd be needing breath mints?" Oscar asks almost playfully.

You snicker. "Not really. Just wanted to get the taste of food out of my mouth."

Oscar hums, eyes trailing down your face. You can see him continue to suck on the mints but he soon loses his patience and bites down, grinding his teeth.

Yours are all dissolved, the fresh sting of spearmint settling on your tongue.

"I don't really do this," Oscar suddenly declares.

You raise both of your eyebrows. "Do what?"

"Take girls home on the first date."

A grin settles on your face as you hear the words. You lean in closer, over the center console, noting the way Oscar inhales as you do so.

"I'm flattered," you admit. Oscar laughs, mirroring your posture, the proximity between you two diminishing.

Oscar kisses you, tenderly at first, his hand automatically coming up to hold you in place. It's easy to forget that it's the middle of the day in sunny Monaco, the tint on his car windows not the ideal shade to necessarily hide what you're doing.

You pull, back glancing at the stoplight just as it turns green.

It takes a honk from the car behind you to get Oscar out of his daze.

Oscar is a gracious host, as you quickly learn. Gracious in a way that his hands immediately cradle you close the second his front door latches shut. His lips are just as welcoming as they trail down your neck, careful and almost nervous. It's also so hospitable how he so eagerly ushers you into his room, settling you down on the sheets as he does all the work for you.

Your clothes are stripped one by one and the familiar anxiety rises back up in your throat. Oscar senses the shift in your mood and pauses just as he's undoing his own pants.

"We don't have to," Oscar offers, taking ahold of one side of your face.

You kick yourself in your mind. This is an opportunity you would never pass up and it's right in the palm of your hand.

You shake your head. "I want to. I really want to. With you."

Oscar grins and practically tackles you down on the bed. It takes some effort but the rest of his clothes finally come off and the two of you lay bare on his bed.

You can feel the desperation in his movements and you reciprocate with as much eagerness. You think for a moment what it could have been in your lunch that caused the both of you to just want to jump in bed together, but you ultimately doubt that the tapas had anything to do with it.

It feels surreal, having Oscar's mouth on your core, and even more unbelievable the way his fingers work as if they already know you, how to please you. You're trembling by the time Oscar comes back up, lips smeared with your arousal.

You blink the tears out of your eyes as you watch Oscar reach over to his nightstand, expertly dispensing a condom, rolling it down on his rock-hard shaft.

You scramble to get him close, not even caring about how quick he plunges inside you, the stretch eliciting a hiss from between your teeth. You relax and Oscar takes this as a sign to start moving.

"Jesus, fuck—" Oscar curses. "You're fucking tight."

You let out a breath, holding Oscar's body close as he fucks you, steady and unrelenting.

You don't particularly care if everything he's said up to this point is a lie. You could be his fifth this week, you could be herded out his apartment the moment he finishes. You really don't mind, not when he feels this good inside you.

"Oscar," you gasp as he starts to pick up his pace. Even that doesn't seem real. The way his name rolls off your tongue registers like a faraway dream to you.

Oscar pulls back to look at you, his hair falling over his eyes. You've gushed about this exact look a few times online. The thought embarrasses you a bit and you can't help the blush that creeps up your neck.

"What?" Oscar asks, the corners of his mouth turning up as he watches you.

You shake your head. "Nothing. Don't look at me like that."

Oscar smirks, pressing his mouth to yours in a heady kiss. Your whines and moans are muffled as Oscar takes you closer and closer to your release. You claw at his back, digging your nails into his supple skin. Your hips start to move along with his, your own orgasm now within reach.

The two of you cum almost simultaneously and Oscar stills inside of you, his mouth hanging open as the euphoria completely washes over him. You're panting, eyes unfocused, even as Oscar pulls out to discard the condom.

Oscar plops back down beside you and you can't help the giggles that erupt as the two of you catch each other's eye.

"That was great," Oscar muses, staring at the ceiling, his hand patting around the bed until it finally finds yours. He slots his fingers between the spaces of your own.

You risk a peek at him and you take it all in. A strange feeling blooms in your chest.

Oscar turns to you and you quickly look away.

"It's kind of cute how you think I don't notice you looking," Oscar says, scooting closer.

You meet his eyes again and the strange feeling only flourishes. Pessimistically, you think of that one quote about never meeting your heroes. You start to think that it might be true.

The illusion is shattered. You've come too close. Icarus reincarnated, the sun staring you right back in the face.

You anticipate the sugarcoated rejection.

"Wanna stay over?"

You blink.

"Stay over?" You repeat rather plainly. Oscar nods.

"Yeah. I'll get us dinner." Oscar tucks your hair behind your ear. "Unless you'd rather I drive you home."

A giddy sort of sensation shoots through your body. You tentatively reach out, laying a hand on Oscar's face.

Maybe you could get just a little closer to the sun.

You peck his lips briefly, smiling as you pull away.

"No. I guess you can have me overnight."

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #op81 #oscar piastri x reader

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mockerycrow · 1 year

Note

hello

I saw ur prompts post and wanted u to write the second one with 141 +konig while they're on a mission or accidentally hurting the reader during training (not any super serious injuries tho) would appreciate it 💖💖.

400 Follower Celebration

—“C’mere, let me see.”— With 141 + König

Summary: These are different situations where you get mildly to moderately injured and 141 + want to see.

[WARNINGS: descriptions of killing, mild gore, mild/moderate physical injury, fluff.]

-> John Price

“You need to work on your technique.” He huffs out, standing victorious on the training map. Price’s hands remain on his hips as you’re still crouched over on the mat, one hand holding you up while the other is covering your mouth and noise.

You don’t respond to him, instead you peel your hand from your face, glancing at it and then you cover whatever you’re covering right back up. You moved so fast Price didn’t catch onto what was in your hand, so his eyebrows furrow. His hands drop from his hips, approaching you. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” You say with a strained voice, muffled by your hand cupping your face. Price raises an eyebrow, not believing you. He crouches down, using one knee to balance himself. Price puts a hand on your back and the other grabs your wrist gently. “C’mere, let me see.”

You allow him to pull your hand away from your face and Price sputters when he sees the amount of blood in your hand. “Jesus bloody Christ!” He curses, letting go of your hand and grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are watering from the pain and there’s blood dripping from your nose, smeared across your lips. John then stands up, murmuring, “Let me get you a towel and then get you to medical, yeah?”

-> Kyle Garrick

“Fuck!” You shout, your voice cracking. You grimace as pain blooms across your right arm, but you ignore and opt to shove the blade of your knife into this man’s throat. He begins to choke, wide eyed, his hands grabbing at yours. You yank the blade out of his neck and blood splatters over your face and clothing, and the man drops to the ground whilst holding his throat, red hot blood pouring through his fingers.

You pant and stare down at the man, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You barely acknowledge the deep gash in your arm besides a heartbeat residing in it’s place. Heavy footsteps come down the hall and into the corridor, Kyle shouting your name. “Hey, hey! Are you alright?” His voice is dripping worry, glancing at the man and then at you, his eyes widening when he sees all of the blood.

“Yeah, it’s.. it’s not mine.” You breathe out, ripping your eyes off of the bloody corpse in front of you. Your left hand skims over your right arm and—yep, there it is; you hiss in pain and cover the wound with your fingers. Your hand is trembling from the adrenaline, which combined with the noise, catches his attention.

“Are you hurt?” Kyle asks, his voice firm as he grabs your arm, his other hand grabbing your wrist. “C’mere, let me see.” Kyle moves your hand and grimaces for you, a small hiss coming from him. “Yep, definitely injured.” His thumb gently swipes at some of the blood coating your skin. “Let’s get you somewhere safe and get you some stitches.”

-> John MacTavish

You grunt as Soap’s arms are wrapped around your head with his legs locked around your waist and own legs, his forearm pressing against the front part of your throat. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you vaguely hear Soap teasingly shout, “Do you need to tap out?” You don’t respond as you struggle, trying your best to rip the man’s arms off of your head and throat. Your fingers grab at his flexing forearm, using all of your upper strength in an attempt to pry him off of yourself. “No shame in tappin’ out, bonnie..” His voice is low and cocky, tightening his hold around your help.

Being the stubborn person you are, you refuse. You attempt to gasp and you can feel your lungs heaving for air, your chest spasming. You close your eyes harshly as you don’t want to stare at the black dots swimming in your vision. In a last attempt to get him off, you buck your head forward—but your plan fails and you end up busting your lip open.

“Steamin’ Jesus-“ Soap’s tone is shocked as he immediately loosens his grip, giving you a second to gasp for air. You take this opportunity and use all of your weight, pushing Soap off of yourself. You ignore your bleeding lip and grab his arms, twisting them behind his back and you sit right on his legs, earning a grunt from him. “Hey- fuck, are ya bleedin’??” Soap grunts out, twisting his head to look at your face. His own lip curls up in concern, his eyes narrowing at you. You release your grip on him and crawl off of him, your fingers brushing against your lip. You wince, muttering, “Yeah.”

“C’mere, let me see.” Soap sits up and crawls over to you, cupping your cheek in one hand, the other balancing himself. “Ah, just busted it a bit. Guess that’s a lesson ta’not do that then, hm?”

-> Ghost

You’re cooking some breakfast for Ghost while he’s on vactional-leave, humming in the kitchen. One hand is grabbing the handle of the pan, the other holding tongs over the pan, flipping the crackling bacon. You get so caught up in your time playing softly from your phone a few feet away that you forget to be careful and the bacon pops at you, hot grade covering a small patch of your arm. You can’t help the loud yell that leaves your mouth followed by a loud “Fuck!”

You hear his heavy footsteps coming down the hallway in a quick fashion, grumbling out loudly, “What happened?” Despite his grumbles, you know he’s concerned, especially when you’re holding your arm, you blink and he’s across the room—you blink again and he’s next to you. “Bacon got me,” You whimper out quietly, the humming of the pain and heat radiating through your skin.

“C’mere, let me see.” Ghost’s voice is low and rumbles through the air, crackling like fire with how rough it is. His large gloved hand takes your arm into it and allows you to uncover the grease burn yourself. Ghost gently pulls towards himself, grabbing under your arms and lifting you onto the counter. He reaches over and turns the stove top off, moving the pan to a cool burner. “Hey- what about the food?” You say softly, watching as he goes through a small drawer and grabs a small hand towel. “That can wait. We have to treat this before it gets worse.”

-> König

You’re running an endurance and strength training course when you get hurt. You do fine on the pull ups, the rope swing, but when you reach the tire hops? Your ankle ends up catching on the edge of the tire, a yelp leaving you as your ankle twists in an awkward way, sending waves of pain radiating up your leg. Your arms end up catching your body before you fully face plant and you pause for a moment, your whole body tensing up as swift swears leave your lips.

You hear your name being called and heavy footsteps against gravel before a pair of large hands gently grab you. “I-I saw you fall, are you alright?” His voice is light with worry, and he moves downwards to softly dislocate your foot from the tire. You groan as soon as he touches your leg and you shake your head. “Fuck, that hurts—it’s my, my ankle..”

“C’mere, let me see.” He’s gentle when he gets your leg out of the fire and he quickly unties your boot. König helps you flip over to lay on your back with your leg in his lap. He slips off the boot with a hiss coming from you, making him quietly apologize as he removes your sock. Your ankle is swollen, but definitely not broken, nor dislocated. “It is a good idea to see the medics. I’ll carry you.”

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ihavethedreamies · 3 months

Text

Ride a Tiger | San

Choi San - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~6.3k

Pairing: Tiger-Hybrid!San x Deer-Hybrid!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU!, Historical/Joseon Era, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Married

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Biting/Marking, Bonding/Mating, Heat/Rut, Pheromones, Breeding Kink, Bath/Water Sex, Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…), Monster(?)!San (not really, he's a tiger hybrid)

Author's Note: Just so you know, this is NOT Omegaverse, but they do both go into rut/heat. They have animals ears and tails and he's got a spiny tiger cock. This is vaguely set in the Joseon Era of Korea, which is a pretty long time range. It is after the creation of hangul, so its post 1600s about. I only know a lot of this stuff from, and am copying from, historical/period dramas. I know in a lot of ways they aren't completely accurate, especially with women going around and not covering their heads/faces. This is not supposed to be accurate, by any means. Let me know if something is horribly wrong.

At the bottom I will have a guide for all the untranslated words I use, most of which are to do with the clothing they wear.

P.S. Should I be packing? Yes. I did this instead.

P.S.S. If anyone has a picture of San in traditional/historical clothes, could you get it to me with a link or something, I couldn't find anything with Google Images or Pinterest. GOT ONE

"He who rides a tiger is afraid to dismount." ~Chinese Proverb

-> Series Hub <-

🦁 Hongjoong's 🦁

🐕 Yeosang's 🐕

🐻 Jongho's 🐻

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

When you had heard thunder rumbling in the distance earlier, you didn't think anything of it. You would be done before the rain came! Nope. You scrambled to gather all of the books you had laid out at your stand, getting them under the surface so they wouldn't get damaged. A giant flash of light followed closely by clap of thunder startled you, and you bleated, your long furry ears pressing back against your hair. Your short tail under your hanbok twitched, slightly rustling the fabric it laid under. Once all of the books you were selling were safe, you grabbed the sseugaechima you had and slung it over your head, stepping back toward the building you were in front of. It was some kind of accessories shop, but the roof awning was quite short and so you barely were able to hide from the downfall underneath it. People scrambled on the street to flee to rain, and the few of them that had coverings continued on their way normally. You peaked out from under your own covering, observing the sky best you could. It was clearly not going to end anytime soon; it was just that time of the year. You had no idea how you were going to get all the books back to your house. Your father didn't mind you working to copy and sell books for the local seller, but he wouldn't let you establish your own business. The seller you worked for also didn't have a store front himself and so the two of you would sell at stalls in the market.

You decided to wait just a bit longer, wondering if the shop owner of the building behind you would let you store the books for a bit. The street had more or less cleared out, but you watched a nobleman come closer. His clothes were nice, even nicer than yours, so his status was probably much higher. The gat he wore was adorned with a silk strap and the beading was clearly finely made as well. As you looked over him, the belt tying his jeogori accentuated his narrow waist and wide shoulders. Your eyes travelled up to his face and he was stunning. But also…he had tiger ears. As he got closer, you caught a glimpse of his long tail. Definitely a tiger. It was incredibly likely that the guy was not just nobility, he was possibly one of the princes. There were like eight of them so that wasn't too unlikely. Despite the downfall, he was simply strolling down the street, almost like there wasn't any rain. Since you were one of the few people still outside, he stopped in front of your seemingly empty stall. He lifted his head and his eyes met yours and you felt them widen. Instinct flared to life, your deer-like genes screaming at the sight of the predatory gaze. It wasn't that he was trying to scare or threaten you, he just simply was a predator hybrid, and you a prey.

"Have you nowhere to go to escape the rain?" He was definitely of high status, with not just tone but the exact words he used. You nodded dumbly, back pressing to the stone foundation of the building behind you. The sseugaechima over your head covered your deer-like ears and your tail was completely hidden by your hanbok.

"I-I have books to sell, and I don't want them to get wet." You pointed under the stall, and at the crate that held your wares. He made an 'ah' of acknowledgement. You wondered why he felt the need to stop at an empty stall.

"You might have to wait a while for the rain to stop." He looked up at the sky. You sighed, knowing he was right.

"Do you want me to help?" He offered and you flinched. Really?

"If you wish, my lord." You bowed a bit and he huffed.

"Shh. Pretend I'm not that important." His smile was much softer than you expected from a tiger. You nodded, not able to speak and he came around and you dragged the crate out, ready to use the sseugaechima to cover it.

"Use this." He corrected, taking the cloth that you had laid out on the wooden stall, and you wondered how frazzled you were that you forgot about it. He tucked the edges of the fabric over the books and easily lifted the crate. You moved around him so you could start to lead him home and you felt tense the whole time. Negating that he was a tiger and you a deer, he was clearly a nobleman, and he was doing physical work…Then again you were technically a noble yourself, and a female at that. Finally getting to the entrance for your family's estate, the door was open already and you waved for one of your father's guards to come and help. The guard took the crate from the tiger, bowing deep in respect and then dashing off to put your wares in your quarters.

"Thank you, my lord." You bowed again, sseugaechima still covering your head.

"San." he added, and your brow furrowed trying to wonder why he was talking about a mountain. Then it hit you, it was his name, he was one of the princes!

"Oh, yes, your highness. (Y/N)." You introduced yourself as well, staying bowed and making sure not to look at his face.

"Get inside and out of the rain Lady (Y/N)." He smiled and your eyes flitted to his gorgeous face. You bowed deeper and then dashed further into the courtyard and booked it to your quarters.

~*~*~

Looking up at the clear blue sky, you squinted at the tiny white cloud you could see. It had rained for nearly four days straight and therefore you couldn't set up your stall for that long. You didn't really have need for money since your father was…well, rich, but he didn't just give you pocket money to buy stuff for yourself. It was because you wanted books that weren't normally what noble women would read, you know, like things you could learn from. You had read more than your fair share of romances and adventures from copying them. After you had set out the final pile of books, you looked at your hand and rubbed your finger over the callus you got from holding the brush. Yes, it was painstaking, but you were extremely glad that you could use hangul, it would take ten times longer if you had to use hanja. Right as you got done setting up, two women strolled up and you continued your day.

About an hour before you would get ready to go home, you noted that you had done well for the day and had only about six books left, each a different one. Since it had slowed, you were sitting on a stool, people watching the few that were wandering around. It was nearing the evening mealtime, and you could smell the food from the restaurant down the road on the corner. Your stomach rumbled and you sighed deeply, ears drooping. You started to zone out a bit, watching some birds on the ground, not looking up when someone stopped.

"What is this one like?" the man asked, and you finally looked up so you could see which book he was pointing to.

"Hm, something about a servant seducing a nobleman's son…" You sniffed and looked up at the guy and startled. It was that prince from before. Even if you hadn't carved his face into your memory, it was a bit obvious from his tiger ears right under the brim of his gat. You immediately stood and bowed, and he looked around quickly.

"It's fine, I'm trying to lay low." He waved you off and your eyes caught sight of the black claw-like nails on the end of each finger. You risked glancing up at his face and he was smiling, dimples indenting his cheeks, your eyes focused on his large canine teeth. You felt your tail flick a few times, your skirt ruffling a bit. You felt his eyes moving over your face and your ear flicked at well, nervous under the gaze of his golden colored eyes. You froze when his arm moved, hand coming up and your eyes followed the movement till you couldn't see, and you felt a little tug on your earring.

"These aren't real." He made note of it, and you cringed. You had wanted real jade earrings, but you didn't have enough money, and so you had to settle with those instead. Your father might have bought those for you, but you really wanted them right then and there. You weren't even sure what they were actually made of.

"N-no." You bowed your head and he let them go.

"When do you leave?" His question startled you and your ear flicked again.

"In about an hour."

"Don't leave till I get back." He told you and he headed off further down the market road, back the way he came. You blinked after him, eyes wide, wondering what the heck that was all about.

You did as he asked though and waited for him to return. Glancing up at the sky, you had another ten minutes or so and he still wasn't back. If you didn't know he was one of the princes, you would have left, but he told you to stay. You still hadn't sold the rest of your books despite a few people stopping by, and so you started to put them in the crate. Looking down into the mostly empty container, you looked to the side and saw him coming. Even at a distance you could see his smile when he noticed you were still there, and he jogged to meet you sooner.

"You stayed."

"Well, you said to." You shrugged, not looking at his face. Part of it was because of his status, but it was also because he was so handsome. Too handsome, actually. You wondered if all the princes were so. You watched as he pulled something out from the interior pocket of his jeogori, a small but detailed wooden box coming out. He held it out to you, and you hesitated to grab it.

"Go ahead." He waved his arm a bit and you gently took it, lifting the hinged lid. You gasped, looking at the earrings inside. They looked nearly identical to yours, but they were obviously real jade.

"W-what?" You had to look at his face then, see what his expression was for some sort of explanation. His cheeks were a tiny bit red, and his own ear flicked some and you could see his long striped-tail swaying behind him.

"Your Lord Bak's daughter, from the Saseum Clan?"

"Y-yes?" He smiled a bit bashfully, looking down as he swung his leg around, drawing a circle with his foot.

"Could you take me to talk to him?" You nodded jerkily, a little shocked at the request. Before you could grab the crate, he took it, and you balled up the cloth from the stall and shoved it on top of the books. You walked next to him as you headed toward your home, feeling a bit weird, like you should be following him. You had never directly interacted with a prince, but you still knew the basic rules. Don't look at his face, walk behind him, don't be physically higher than him, speak formally… Yes, he was trying to lay low, but that didn't change who he was. You wondered who was genuinely ignorant enough to not know who he was since he was so obviously a tiger hybrid. When you showed up to the house with the same man carrying your book crate as the time before, your father's guard was a little skeptical. He still took the crate from the prince- San, his name was San, you remembered.

"Could you please get Lord Bak?" He asked and the guard's gaze flicked to you, and you gave a short nod. As he went to do so, you stood with the prince awkwardly, swaying just a bit so your skirt twirled a bit around you. Your ears were twitching so much that your old, fake earring jingled. Your arm twisted around your back so your hand could tug on the end of your braid, a nervous habit.

"(Y/N)? Who is this?" Your father came around the corner, strolling down the stone-paved path toward both of you. He glanced at San, and you cringed slightly at how much smaller your father was than him. His jeongjagwan was modified to fit around his antlers, only that put him at the same height as the prince.

"I am Prince San, Lord Bak. I have come to ask permission to court your daughter for marriage." You balked at this, turning to gape at him directly. Your head turned back to your father whose gaze had sharpened. You knew that there was a lot of noblemen that had brought their sons as potential suitors, and your parents had turned down every single one. Would San be different? You were lucky that your parents did take into consideration your opinion on most things.

"You are the fifth eldest, no?"

"Yes."

"Are your parents aware of your request?"

"Not yet, though I have been given more freedom since I am far down in the line of succession." It seemed the men were having another conversation through their eyes.

"Is that why you would be allowed to marry a prey hybrid?" The prince faltered for a reply, it seemed he hadn't even taken that part into consideration.

"I will need to request an audience with his highness." Your father answered and San seemed to deflate.

"What do you think of this?" Your father turned to look at you and you cast a nervous glance at the tiger next to you. You knew that you would have very little say in reality, and you wished you lived about a thousand years earlier. You know, before Confucianism ruined feminism. Though, the prince seemed to be very sweet, and he was extremely attractive. It could be way worse.

"If my lord finds it auspicious." You bowed your head a bit and your father hummed.

"Why don't you go back inside, (Y/N)?" The request was more of a command than a suggestion and you scurried off to do so. As you entered, your mother came down the hall and you met her.

"Geez, mother…" You led her to spin around, and she did, though with a confused look. Adjusting her binyeo so it was setting in her bun evenly, then she turned back to face you.

"Were you speaking with someone?" She peaked around you so she could look out the window, but she couldn't see.

"A suitor…" You told her and her long, furry ears perked up.

"I shall see then," she nudged past you and went to go out and you huffed a sigh, heading back to your room.

"(Y/N), your father requests your presence in the courtyard." A handmaiden came to summon you and you got up from your floor desk to follow her out. Your father was not alone, Prince San standing with him. It was only three days prior that your father had an audience with the king, and since the prince was there…

"Yes, father?" You came out and stopped before them, bowing at the waist some.

"It seems that it was auspicious…" Your father tossed a glance at the prince, and you looked up at both of them. Your gaze went to the tiger's handsome face, and he was beaming.

~*~*~

The next few weeks were a blur and before you knew it you had gone through the marriage ceremony, and you were moved into his own little palace that belonged to the greater palace grounds. Since he was one of the younger princes you shared a palace, whereas the queen and the crown princess had their own places. There was a place as well for any consorts that the royals might have as well, but it seemed San requested you to live with him. Honestly, you would think it quite impersonal for a husband and wife not to share a room and bed each night, but that seemed to be the norm for royalty. When you learned that even princes sometimes had consorts, you got a little insecure. What if you weren't enough?

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" San's voice caught your attention and you turned to him as he entered. You had been standing in the middle of the room, just looking over everything, the room fairly barren compared to the overall size.

“I was just…” You stopped, trying to think of how to word it. He hummed for you to continue.

“I was just trying to soak in everything I’ve been told to learn.” You lied, not ready to bring the subject up quite yet. Your head was pounding from all the new information you had been pumped full with and you were nervous about messing up. Luckily since you were a noble already, you knew most of the rules and practices, but you were going to be under a bit harsher scrutiny. Not a bit, a lot. Your head felt strange, having your long braid looped up into a chignon braid, the jade binyeo holding it up making it feel heavier. The cheopji sitting on the middle of the top of your head was heavy as well, since it was gold. Your hanbok was of much higher quality and you felt nervous about getting it messy or torn somehow.

"(Y/N)?" He called your name again and you snapped out of your tumbling thoughts.

"Why did your eldest brother step down as heir?" You finally remembered the question you had wanted to ask him, before your insecurities started to spiral. You had heard some of the other women talking about it but didn't want to rely on gossip.

"Hm. The woman he fell in love with was too low in status. He abdicated so he could marry her. That's why Hongjoong is the crown prince."

"I see. The eldest is Seonghwa, yes?" San hummed and you sighed, racking your brain for all the names you had learned. There were too many. Finally, you looked over San…your husband. Just the thought made you a bit giddy. Even though it hadn't been very long since you two met, maybe about two months, you had endeared to each other. He was so sweet, contrasted greatly with the normal thoughts of how tigers were. Then again, he was a hybrid, not a full tiger. He was in a much different ensemble than what you met him in, more princely clothes. He didn't have any kind of headwear on then, just his manggeon and you could see the streak of orange and white in his hair to the right of the center of his head.

"Are you nervous?" he asked and your ears flicked. Not really sure what he was talking about, you just nodded. You were, but you weren't for sure in what way he meant. He stepped forward and his hands found your waist, your own landing on his chest. San pulled you closer and your ears pressed back against your head. Your nervous habit of tugging on your braid was going to have to be replaced since it was no longer hanging down your back. You let out a noise similar to a bleat when he hauled you even closer, his nose nuzzling against your ear.

"We get to make it official." he whispered and what he was getting at finally hit you. The consummation of the marriage. You were nervous, and a bit worried as well. You were told that predators had a much more aggressive…mating process. Plus, apparently, tiger hybrids were much like real tigers, and had 'barbs' on their… You were in your own thoughts; you could say whatever; they had barbs on their cocks. Plus, you were a good 30 centimeters shorter than your husband and he was just big overall. Your hands on his chest fisted, digging your fingers into the fabric and you squeaked when the claws on his hands dug into your own clothes enough you felt them against your hips. You shuddered as his slightly rough tongue ran up the side of your throat. Your heart rate spiked, nearly taking your breath away, some primal part inside of you freaking out.

"Your high-"

"It's just us, call me San."

"San, I-"

"Your highness!" A eunuch called from the other side of the door, and you pulled back. He reluctantly let you remove yourself from him and you turned away from the door as he turned toward it. He allowed the servant in, and you were informed that the bathing chambers were ready. After the eunuch stepped out and the handmaidens were waiting outside patiently, San went back to you.

"Why don't we be efficient and take a bath together?" He had wrapped his arms around you from behind and you were sure he felt your tail wag nervously even through the layers of fabric you both had on.

"C-can we?"

"Hm. I don't see why not. Not exactly traditional, but…I can get away with a lot." He chuckled and you felt it rumble through his chest pressed to your back. When he finally pulled back, you turned to him, face warm and he grinned.

"So cute." He nuzzled your ear again and then came back, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. It was your first kiss as a married couple, not that you hadn't stolen a few leading up to that point. This one was different though and he nearly growled as he deepened the kiss. You squeaked, it was like he was trying to eat you and the obvious comparison was not lost on you. His tongue was rough against yours when it wiggled into your mouth and your head swam when his large canines clacked against your much smaller ones. When his lips let yours go, a trail of saliva connected your mouths and you let out a shaky breath.

"Go with the handmaidens and get ready, I'll join after." San pressed another kiss to your cheek and allowed you to leave his embrace. You stopped in front of the door, looking back at him again as the servant on the other side opened the door. He smiled warmly and you bit your lip giddily and then followed the maids to the bathing chamber. They carefully removed your garments and took your hair down, so it was still just in a braid, you didn't need to wash it yet. You were left in a simple white sokchima, not ready to be fully disrobed since San was still to come in. You heard his own servants getting him ready in the adjoining room and as soon as your maids left, the side door opened. He stepped in, closing it behind him and you gasped, eyes widening. Speaking of wide…his shoulders were so broad, especially compared to his waist. It was fairly obvious even when he was clothed, but right then he only had a pair of white sokbaji. His torso was toned as well and your mouth, still hanging open, started to water. Well, not really, but you were close. Feeling very small and delicate under his intense gaze, it softened when he noticed your shoulders were tense.

"Come here." San cooed, coming to meet you halfway and you let him hug you again, not able to help yourself placing your hands on his bare chest. His skin was smooth, and his muscles were hard and your thighs clenched as you practically stroked him. He chuckled and your eyes flitted up to his, ears flopping they were twitching so hard. His tail was sticking out the back of his pants, swaying slightly, his ears drooping just a bit.

"Can I take this off, (Y/N)?" The prince's voice was quiet but deep in your ear and his hands gripped the back of your sokchima.

"Y-yes." You did feel the amount of clothes was fairly unequal, but your final garment being removed would leave you completely bare. Shivering a tad as he pulled the tie open, the straps of the undergarment fell from your shoulders, then the rest of the fabric onto the floor. Your arms went to cover yourself, but his hands stopped you. Your face was hot, almost on fire and you could meet his gaze, ears no longer twitching but pressed back hard against your head. Your short tail was waving back and forth quickly, no longer impeded by any fabric over it.

"You're beautiful." San told you as he made sure you wouldn't cover yourself and he stepped back a tad, fingers going to the tie of his sokbaji. Your tongue ran nervously over your bottom lip, eyes immediately zooming in on his hands. He noticed your gaze's direction and he huffed a laugh but continued with his task. Your arm wrapped around your back, tugging on the end of your braid, now free of the pin holding it up that showed your wedded status. It was like time slowed down as he lifted the waistband up and over his half-hard cock and the fabric pooled on the floor as well and your eyes widened almost comically. You had never seem a man naked in person, only having seen what were basically medical diagrams in books. All you knew was that they probably weren't all that big, and he wasn't even fully hard. The little spines at the base and head of his cock were not quite like you imagined, unlike the barbed end of a fishhook you imagined. Your cunt clenched hard, and you swallowed hard as he stepped closer.

"Here." He grabbed your hand with his and brought it toward him. You both gasped when your small, warm hand wrapped around his cock, and you bit your lip as you pumped up with your fingers wrapped around him. You wondered if it would hurt with how thick he was, your fingers not even meeting, and you pondered what the flesh would feel like on your tongue.

"(Y/N)?" His amused voice pulled you from your thoughts and your head had to tip back to look him in the eye with how close you were. A drop splatted onto the floor, and you realized what it was when your slick thighs rubbed against each other. A rumble rose in San's chest and his nose nuzzled over your ear again, then down your throat and he inhaled deeply. The rumble picked up and his warm spiced scent grew stronger, and you felt his cock harden fully in your grip.

"Let's get in." You whined a bit in disappointment when he pulled back, but he took your hand and led you down the little steps into the water. It was nice and hot, but not too much so, flower petals floating in the water and carrying with them their sweet aroma. He sat on the bench that sat inside the large wooden tub and he hauled you into his lap, legs straddling his lap. You watched the wavy image of his tail through the water, your tail not able to wag as hard with the water resistance. As you rested on his lap, his hard cock pressed to your tummy and you pressed into it more, making him groan.

"You need to stop doing that if we're going to wait." His tone was a bit harder, his brow furrowing after your next press closer to him.

"Wait for what?" You gave him a coy look. You knew it would be "proper" to wait till you were actually in a bed to…bed each other, but…

"(Y/N), love, don't you want your first time to be-" He grunted when you leaned in, your breasts pressing into his chest, and he had to close his eyes to think.

"San, I don't care if you take me here, now, or in that bed. What matters is it's you." You rested your head on his shoulder, nose nuzzling his neck, your head feeling foggy as you breathed in his scent. You heard the water sloshing before you felt anything, but his strong arms had wrapped around you, lifting you up a bit. His lips crashed to yours as he maneuvered you, only pulling away so he could flip you around. Your back pressed to his chest and he had you rest your knees over his so he could hold your legs open. Even with the water of the bath, your slick was still stuck to your folds, and he groaned as he ran two fingers over you. Your whole body jerked, thighs twitching at the little bit of friction, already sensitive. San's arm held you to him as his index finger breached your entrance, your slick easily letting him in. You had noticed earlier that he had filed his claw-like nails down to blunt them, and now you knew why. You had expected a bit of a sting at his finger's entrance, but you only felt pleasure. You had…tested on yourself before, but his fingers were longer and thicker, and your head fell back over his shoulder as a second joined the first. He grinned, watching your cunt swallow his fingers, his tail sliding through the water to wrap over your thigh, holding it to his. San ground the palm of his hand against your clit and your gummy walls clenched around the digits inside and he heard you whine right into his ear. Under normal circumstances, your flitting ears and tail would tickle, but he could use them to tell just how you were reacting.

"S-San!" You gasped, the pleasure he was bringing over you rising fast and your blunt nails dug lightly into his arm where you gripped it.

"Good girl, (Y/N). Fall apart for me." His prompting words led you to your climax and he rumbled as your cunt clenched and pulsed as your orgasm hit. When the little twitches finally died, your body slumped into his, he removed his fingers and helped move you once more. You faced him again and your nails dug harder into his shoulders as he held you over him, the head of his cock rubbing through your folds.

"Ready, princess?" He smirked a bit at the pet-name, though it was completely and officially accurate now.

"Please." You leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth and down his neck. San grunted and your grip on him tightened as he pressed you down, fat cock finally breaching your entrance. It stung, burned in the best way though, the rubbery spines of his cock flicking against your clit as he finally got the head all the way in. The rest of his dick followed a bit easier, but each little increment deeper, the spines rubbed against the ridges of your cunt. He was only halfway in when you threw your head back, breath harsh, chest heaving at the sensation of him splitting you open. Your cunt spasmed and pulsed, you were already close, heat pooling and growing in your groin and lower stomach. Your flowery scent filled the air even more than the petals in the water, the pleasure and pheromones your husband were letting off spurring you into a semi-heat. Immediately, your cunt slicked even further, the thick wet not able to be washed away by the water. As he started to bottom out, the spines at the base of his cock flicked over your clit and against the folds of your pussy and you shuddered hard as your groin met his. San barely shifted and that was all it took, your second orgasm hitting quicker and harder than the first. His growl rumbled through his chest, you and the room as your cunt clenched hard around him.

"Fuck-" You swore softly and hearing the vulgar word leave your soft, sweet lips made him groan.

"Are you okay, love?"

"J-just give me a second." You were still shuddering in his arms, tiny waves still pulsing through your cunt.

"I can't last much longer." He warned and you shifted once yourself, pressing your knees harder into the bench of the bath and you nodded jerkily. You were prepared…well, you thought you were. San's arms around you tightened, almost to hold you in place, and he lifted you off his cock some, the pumped up his hips, fucking back into you deep. Your head flew back so hard he was a bit concerned, but he continued his thrusts, not even pulling out halfway before filling you once more. The water sloshed around you, your tail wagging hard through the water, his own wrapped around your right thigh.

"Shit-" He grunted, pressing you to him and standing. You yelped at his movement but then he lightly rested you against the rounded edge of the wooden tub. He reached past your head for a towel and balled it under your head.

"San?" You didn't get an answer to your prompting tone, and your breath hitched as he hauled your legs up to wrap around his narrow waist. One hand rested against your thigh to hold your leg up, the other taking your hand from his shoulder and lifting it up above your head. His fingers linked with yours, holding your hand tightly as his lips hovered over yours.

"Hold on, princess." He more or less warned, and your other hand flew to the narrow wooden column near you, barely getting a hold on it before he snapped his hips, relentlessly barreling his cock into you, head battering your back walls. You let out a choking sound, followed by unintelligible whimpers and babbles, your next orgasm rising already. With each thrust, he ground his hips down, the spines at the base of his cock teasing your clit and he didn't even slow down as your third orgasm crashed over you. If anything, it made him go harder, the water around his legs sloshing hard. He was full on growling at that point, tongue running over his long canines, a drop of saliva falling past his lips and into your mouth, gaping open, drool dripping from the side. Your eyes rolled back as his pace seemed to pick up, the thrusts somewhat shallower but even harder.

"Fucking hell, love, you're taking me so well." San rumbled, watching his fat cock split you open, the shine of your slick and cum on his cock made his head swim.

"Want me to cum inside? Fuck my cub into you?" He laughed cockily; eyes fixed on the joining of your bodies. You both weren't even sure how easy it would be for you to conceive, and he honestly didn't care if you couldn't. He was so far down the line of succession himself, let alone his kids. Though, if it was harder, that just meant he could try all the harder.

"Please! San, want your cum!" You whimpered, neither of you caring anymore if the servants heard the filth spilling from your mouths.

"Gonna make you my mate too, my wife…" He growled and his thrusts grew unsteady, his nose nuzzled your neck again and your breath hitched as the sharp ends of his canines met your skin. Your blunt nails dug into the wood of the column, hand gripping his hard as he finally fell over the edge himself. His teeth sank in as he came, white, hot spurts of cum coating your walls and filling your womb. Your orgasm helped him ride out his, core gripping him hard, eagerly drinking in his seed. You felt like you almost blacked out, brain clearing some as he stopped, licking over the bite wound in your shoulder. He pulled back enough to look down at your worn-out body, face red and splotchy but still so cute, so pretty. And you were all his.

The next few minutes passed with a blur; all of the servants being called to leave the hallway leading from the bath to your bedchambers. You only realized you had changed location when the still-wet skin of your back hit the silk sheets, and San was filling you back up. You had nothing to hold onto, so you white knuckled the sheet of the futon under you. Your legs were thrown over San’s wide shoulders, ankles by his ears, and animalistic noises were leaving him. He was salivating like a hungry…well, tiger, growls turning into near roars. You weren’t sure how many more orgasms he fucked out of you before he filled your womb with even more of his seed. Your mind was nearly gone, only little squeaks leaving you as you flipped you over, hips raised in the air, chest pressed to the bed below. His giant cock, with all those blasted spines, carved into you, and your cunt clenched hard, molding to him. You were both a mess already, the bath having been nearly negated. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your bare back, a thick mix of your releases coating both your thighs and forming a puddle below. A dark stain from the tears caused by the overwhelming sensations and drool formed below your cheek. Even with his claws blunted, they tore into the bedding some as he leaned over you, hips pumping hard, the slap of skin muffled by his grunts.

“One more for me, princess. Gonna get you pregnant, keep you stuffed full till you do.” He chuckled, pace stuttering, and your vision spotted as he came once more, squirts and sprays of your own release soaking his groin further. Soon, all that could be heard was both of your panting breaths and you were having trouble staying awake, all strength leaving your body. That was when something terrifying hit you…he was still hard.

hanbok - traditional/historical clothing, most people think of women's dresses, but men's clothes were called this as well. sseugaechima - this is the extra-skirt looking garment women would wear over the heads. gat - this is the hat that noblemen would wear, more specifically the ones that were black and made of mesh. jeogori - the top/shirt part of a hanbok. hangul - the Korean alphabet we use today. hanja - the old Korean characters derived from Chinese used prior to Hangul's creation. jeongjagwan - a type of gat that noblemen would wear, it looks much like a pagoda. binyeo - the long pin that would hold a woman's bun up, mostly used for married women. cheopji - a hair accessory worn by women, looks similar to a headband with a clip or pin in the middle. manggeon - the mesh-like headband men wore to hold their hair in place sokchima - basically a dress/skirt like under-garment. sokbaji - pants-like under-garment, mostly worn by women actually...

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