#(this is easily the most self-indulgent thing I've written in a LONG time and I'm so so happy with how it turned out!!!)

[changbunnies]

Scent Of You, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Wolf Hybrid!Bang Chan x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader x Wolf Hybrid!Changbin

♡ Genre: little red riding hood au, fantasy/supernatural au, hybrid au, vague allusions to omegaverse dynamics, porn with plot, dubcon

♡ Word Count: 7.8k (oops)

♡ Summary: In which a sweet, naive bunny hybrid nicknamed 'little red' becomes lost in the forest at night, and finds herself face to face with the big, bad wolves her grandmother always warned her about.

♡ Warnings: uses the little red riding hood fairytale as a base for inspiration before it devolves into smut, words like "alpha" and other omegaverse terms aren't used but the vibes are There lol

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): dubcon (but the smut itself isn't very rough), pet names (though mostly as a title- such as bunny, little red, and sweetheart), the word slut is used a few times, gendered language such as "dirty girl", a lot of kissing, size difference, size kink (i'm sorry if you're tall just pretend ur small and they're huge because ur a rabbit and they're a wolf fsdgsdf), oral (m + f rec), some manhandling, some banter and mild rivalry between bin and chan, unprotected piv, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms and multiple creampies

♡ Notes: so i intended to take a small break from writing after finishing crave but inspo struck me as i was trying to fall asleep and i NEEDED to write it so i literally shot up and wrote all of this in one sitting in a cold sweat fsdgdsf so here we are, one last surprise upload before my break <3 it's easily the most self indulgent fic i've written to date dfdgh bunny is my fave petname and this is basically just my excuse to be called bunny in a wolf binchan sandwich lmao this is not as proofread as my other stuff given how quickly i wrote it, and it's my first time writing a threesome, but i hope you enjoy! edit: there is now a sequel you can read here !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

"Please, take care sweetheart. Don't stay out too long," your grandmother warns with a tender kiss to your forehead as you prepare to head out for the day, pulling the hood of your long, red cape up over your head, tucking in your hair and covering your lopped ears. "I know, grandmother, I know! I'll be back before you know it, I promise," you assure her with a smile, hooking your twine basket into your arm, empty and ready to be filled with treats of the forest.

Your grandmother heaves a soft sigh, as she falls back against the bed, and you give her hand a reassuring squeeze and a soft goodbye before you make your way out of your quaint cottage, a long line of intimidating, tall standing trees before you. Grandmother always worries for your safety, as the woods aren't entirely safe for a rabbit like yourself, but so long as the sun hangs bright in the sky, you'd be perfectly fine.

As grandmother has warned you countless times, it's only at night that the woods near your home become truly dangerous, as all manner of nocturnal predators leave their dens in search of their next meal. For a rabbit such as yourself, lingering in the woods at night is assuredly a death sentence; your diminutive stature and weak limbs would cause you to easily fall victim to the beasts that stalk through the forest with the moon's aid. 

The only thing on your side would be your speed, but even then it's no guarantee of safety once a predator has you in their sights; and so your grandmother always instilled a proper fear of the dark within you, in the hope that you'd never find yourself in a situation in which you'd have to flee in the first place. Entering the forest brings with it countless anxieties for your species, but it's not like you can simply not go- the gifts of nature are what sustains you, and you have to enter the woods, even live near them, if you want to have food in your tummy and herbal medicines on your shelves. 

As such, you are always very conscious of the amount of time you spend in the forest, only ever entering when the sun is brightly illuminating your surroundings, always careful and alert as you gather what you need. You observe the sun's position in the sky, use it to determine how much time you have left before it begins to set, always heading back well before it starts to sink behind the trees. And you'd never stay longer than necessary, especially not when you have grandmother waiting at home praying for your safe return!

But well.. grandmother is quite ill these days, and you spent more time than you usually would gathering the berries and leaves you’ll need to make her sweet, healing brews of tea. Soon enough, winter's chill would cause all the greenery to frost and wither, and you wanted to stock up now to ensure you had enough to last 'til the end of the season. It was for grandmother's health! Surely she'd understand and forgive you if you stayed out just a little longer than usual. 

But as dusk started to settle over the trees, and you realized how precious few moments of sunlight you had left to make it home with, panic began to accumulate in the pit of your stomach. You tried your best to take deep breaths, to not allow your heart to race- as long as you remained calm, you could get back before dark, you were sure of it. 

The more the sun sank however, the more you lost your clarity; you found yourself stumbling in circles, the encroaching dark causing the forest to become unrecognizable, leading you blindly in circles. You'd long since lost sight of the path you always followed home, and the moon and stars, which were normally such a beautiful sight, now came with a sense of foreboding. It was dark, you were lost, and grandmother was now all alone, probably worrying herself half to death wondering where you could be and if you're even still alive. 

You continue blindly weaving your way through the trees, just praying that you're moving in the direction of home; you can't afford to hide away and wait until morning, not when a beast could be around any corner. Using your speed to your advantage, you dart past a near endless sea of trees, praying, praying, and praying the clearing will come into view and you’ll see your cottage in the middle, with orange light from the fire peeking through the windows and smoke billowing from the chimney. 

Suddenly you stop, entire body freezing as your hair stands on end, nose twitching as an unfamiliar scent fills your nostrils; someone is near- someone that you should avoid at all costs. It’s so heavy, overwhelming beyond comprehension- the scent of the forest itself is still identifiable, but mixed now with something akin to leather, black coffee, and hot iron. The scent is actually quite pleasant, so that's not what causes you to freeze; it’s the unfamiliarity that is the true root of the problem, evoking a deep rooted, innate fear response. 

You know all the “safe” smells- that of other prey animals such as yourself, for instance, are recognizable, comforting, and bring about a sense of calm. To be met with the unfamiliar is to be met with danger; it means that whatever is near is something you’ve never encountered during your safe treks through the forest, it means that a predator likely has you in their sights, because as grandmother has told you, if you smell them it’s already too late- they’ve found you. 

“Now, now, what do we have here?” A deep voice calls, hidden from your sight. Your heart erupts in an erratic rhythm, a chill running down your spine as your eyes desperately search the darkness for the source of the voice. And there, you finally see it- or rather, him. A man, standing much, much taller and bulkier than you, sharp fangs exposed with his smile, fangs that you are sure will be used to rip you apart. 

You see pointed ears and dusky blue-silver fur, a long tail that swishes with intrigue and delight, a fur coat with the arms cut off, an exposed chest laden with scars both fresh and faded. He’s a wolf, you realize with dread, the thing you were taught to fear most of all. You unconsciously take a step back as he approaches, the moonlight illuminating him in a way that evokes both fear and reverence; as beautiful as he is dangerous. “What’s a little thing like you doing in the forest at night, hmm? Don’t you know it isn’t safe, little red?” he says with a sickeningly sweet smile, referencing the caped hood you’re wearing, a gift from your grandmother meant to keep you safe from men like him.  

You clutch your basket tighter as your legs begin to tremble, lowering your head and pulling your hood down further, trying your best to ensure your ears and other features are completely covered. He probably knows by smell alone you’re a prey animal, but you vainly hope he’ll let you go if he doesn’t realize you’re a rabbit- a stupid hope, but it’s the only one you have. “Poor thing, don’t be scared. You got lost, didn’t you, little red?” With each step towards you he takes, you take another step back, until your back meets that of a thick tree, the erratic rhythm of your heart building to a speed you thought otherwise impossible. 

“Tell me- where did you come from?” The wolf asks with an intimidating smile full of fang, “I recognize you from somewhere. Where was it I’ve smelled you before..?” With nowhere to go, caged against the tree as the wolf closes in, all you can do is tremble as you watch him sniff the air, licking his lips as if tasting your scent. Most prey animals are generally the same, but there’s only one place he’s gotten the scent of sugar and cream from.. 

“Ah, I know,” he says suddenly, smile growing wider as he speaks, “That little cottage in the clearing- that’s it, isn’t it? That’s your home?” You swallow as you timidly nod, your nerves much too frayed to attempt to lie- you’ve never been a good liar anyways, your grandmother having raised you to be honest and good. “You’re quite far from home, little red. But I can help you,” he offers, but you know better than to trust a wolf- they’re liars, all of them. 

“N-No, I.. I can get there by myself,” you say, finally finding your voice (shaky and timid though it may be.) The man hums, seemingly amused by your brave display; he knows how scared you are, can quite literally taste it, but he has to commend you for trying, at least. “I’m not sure that’s true. Do you know which way home is?” 

“W-Well, uhm, I.. I- I, I don’t-” you stutter and fumble, and he chuckles, a smug look of “thought-so” clear on his face as he grins at you. His hand finds your cheek, and you look up at him with glassy, teary eyes, heart thumping out of control as he strokes your skin with his thumb. He smiles sweetly, almost boyishly- a look that would be endearing if he wasn’t a wolf, and you weren’t afraid for your life. 

His clawed hand travels from your cheek to the top of your hood, and you quickly reach your hands up to clutch the fabric, keeping it fully tugged down in a vain attempt to continue to hide your identity. The wolf laughs, clearly amused at your reaction. “Come now, little red, show me what sort of ears you’re hiding under there,” he coos and you shake your head, eyes squeezing shut and knuckles turning white as you desperately cling to your hood. 

At this point it probably no longer matters what you are exactly- no matter the answer, it’s clear the wolf before your eyes has plans for you that won’t go unfulfilled. But still, your survival instincts are in overdrive, and you can’t help but try your best to protect yourself, even if the endeavor proves to be worthless. He tugs at your hood, not yet trying to fully pull it off, but rather playing with you- he could easily pull it off in one quick swipe, his claws could tear the fabric to ribbons, but he chooses to instead have his fun, watch you panic and struggle with the hood in your tiny hands. 

You look at him, unfallen tears blurring your vision; you don’t know what else to do. Grandmother always said if you found yourself cornered by wolves, your only option would be to run and pray for the best, but is that really the best you can do? And while you’re fast, wolves are faster- you’re sure the man would be able to catch up with you easily, especially given that the moon is his ally and he is likely extremely familiar with the deep woods.

Further still, he clearly stated he knows your home; even if you escape, he knows exactly where to go to find you. It fills you with dread, knowing that even if you do make it home, your grandmother would be there too; and you’d never forgive yourself if something bad happened to her because of you. It’s an impossible choice you are being dealt- surrender to your fate now, or try your best to flee and risk dragging your precious grandmother down with you. 

But as he finally tugs down your hood, your white, snow-like lopped ears are fully exposed, and the wolf’s fangs shine as he gleefully smiles, you find yourself unconsciously making a choice- you run, as fast as your legs will carry you. The cape gets caught and snags on stray branches from the myriad trees, tearing as you continue to run, adrenaline coursing through your veins, chest aching from the erratic, forcefully thumping of your heart, breath coming out quick and harsh. 

You barely make it 10 feet ahead through the trees before you’re crashing into something, the sudden impact causing you to let out an involuntary shout as you stumble back and fall ungracefully on your backside. Looking up, tears fall from your eyes when you realize it’s another wolf- shorter than the one who’d cornered you previously, but bulkier, with fur as dark as obsidian and a scent that matches it. You suspect that he was there the entire time, and you just didn’t notice due to the panicked focus you held on getting away from the blue-silver wolf. 

“Where do you think you're going, little red?” the new wolf speaks, affirming your fears; he was there for the entire exchange, witness to the moniker you’d been given and now using it for himself. “Oh Changbin, you caught her,” you hear the previous wolf say from somewhere behind you, leaves and twigs snapping beneath his feet as he approaches your spot on the ground. “Course,” the dark wolf evidently named Changbin speaks, kneeling down to look directly in your teary eyes, “I’d never let such a sweet little thing get away from us.” 

He reaches to the side of your body, where your twine basket has fallen from your arms and spilled its contents, all the berries and leaves you gathered now decorating the dirt. “Hmm, most of these are herbal. What a sweet granddaughter you are, gathering until late into the night! Your grandmother must be proud of you, hmm?” Changbin smiles, looking up to the previous wolf once he stands again, your basket in his hands, “Don’t you think so, Chan-hyung?” 

The blue-silver wolf, that the dark wolf calls Chan, hums in agreement, once again calling you a “sweet thing.” Chan offers you a hand to help you stand, and you hesitate, swallowing as your eyes dart nervously between them. Their eyes on you make you nervous beyond just the predator-prey relationship you share; they’re both so impossibly ethereal in the light of the moon, and it makes you wonder if all wolves are such divine creatures. 

Maybe that’s why the rest of the forest view them reverently; beautiful, powerful, utterly intimidating in all aspects- they offer no choice from a rabbit such as yourself but submission simply from presence alone. “What’s your name, little red?” is Chan’s next question, and again, you find yourself unable to lie; against your own sense of self-preservation, you tell him your name. And he hums, repeating your name as if testing the way it falls from his tongue before diverting back to his nickname for you. 

“Let’s make a deal, little red,” the wolf says, still holding out his hand, waiting for you to take it. You finally do so cautiously, letting Chan help you to your feet, your legs still trembling but not yet buckling in the face of fear. “W-What kind of deal?” you ask hesitantly, looking between the two wolves who smile and lick their lips, tongues ghosting over their fangs as they do. Beautiful, powerful, intimidating, your mind repeats.

“We want to play with you,” Chan says smoothly, the answer coming natural to him, “play with us for a little while, and then we’ll take you home. We promise.” You look at the other, younger wolf who nods, backing the sentiment of his superior. Here you are, confronted in the deepest reaches of the forest by two wolves, and instead of devouring you they just want to “play”..? What does playing entail with them? 

You’re not sure how much you truly want to know, but the promise of home dangling in front of you makes you consider their offer despite how foolish it may be. “You’re not.. tricking me, are you?” you ask, voice small, full of naivety and hope. “Of course not, sweetheart, we would never,” Changbin affirms, even going so far as to pick up the spilled contents of your basket and nestle them carefully back inside- a promise that by the time you’re done “playing”, you’ll be reunited with your sickly grandmother and able to care for her again.

“You just smell so sweet,” Chan says, his clawed fingers once again tracing over your cheek, “and we’ve always wanted to play with a sweet little bunny like you.” You nervously exhale the breath you unconsciously held when his hand traced your skin, searching his eyes for any sort of deceit. If you’re being honest, you’re not entirely confident in your ability to tell if the wolves are lying to you- they’re masters of manipulation, after all; lying is second nature to them. 

Still, you want to trust them- trust that after you play with them for a little while, they’ll keep their promise of taking you home with your basket in your arms and everything you need to get through the winter. “If you really promise, then.. I’ll play with you,” you answer, and the wolves both smile eagerly, with the elder wolf taking you in his arms, swiftly lifting you up off your feet. You squeak in surprise, instinctively clutching tightly to his fur coat, scared of being dropped. 

“Let’s go have some fun then,” Chan grins at you, making sure his hold on you is secure before he starts to move, “but not here. The floor here’s too dirty for you, isn’t it?” It’s a rhetorical question in which he expects no answer; instead he starts winding through the trees quickly, a destination clearly in mind. You vaguely see the other wolf trailing behind before you squeeze your eyes shut, the blur of trees and wind whipping through your hair and past your ears making you dizzy as you’re carried further and further into the forest, likely towards its center. 

It takes you a few moments to open your eyes once you’ve realized you’re no longer moving at high speeds; Chan, who still has you in his arms, is now walking at a leisurely place through what you assume is his den. The smell of other wolves is distinct but distant- evidently, the three of you are the only ones home for the night. It makes you breathe a small sigh of relief to know the rest of his pack is absent, attending to their own matters. It makes you feel safer, somehow; as if you’re not literally inside a wolf's den, at the mercy of whatever it is the two before you want with you. 

Eventually you are carried into a bedroom- one that smells more of Chan than the other wolf, which leads you to believe this is his room specifically. Changbin doesn’t seem to mind that the “playing” will take place here, a smile still clear on his face as he shuts the door behind himself, locking the door behind him as Chan sets you on his rather large bed. 

Your ears lie flat against your head, your nerves eating away at you as you fiddle with your hands. You watch them both carefully, taking note of where Changbin sets down your basket before he meets you and Chan at the bed. The two of them standing over you makes you feel impossibly small, affirms how much better they are than you in every evolutionary aspect; speed, strength, size- they have it all. And you, one measly little rabbit with no significant qualities in comparison to them, who has no choice but to put her life in their hands if she wants to survive. How unfair. 

“Tell me, little red,” Chan starts as he sits next to you on his bed, one large hand enough to cup your entire face and direct your complete attention towards him, “are bunnies as slutty as they say?” Your eyes widen as you gulp in shock, having not expected such a forward, explicit question. “Yeah, I’m curious,” Changbin follows up, sitting firmly on your other side, caging you in between the both of them, “they don’t say ‘fucking like rabbits’ for no reason, right? So what are you? A slut?” 

“I-I’m not!” you sputter out; it’s true that rabbits have a reputation for promiscuity but you live a rather sheltered life with your grandmother- you hardly even know other rabbits your age, much less male rabbits. That being said, you have been a little.. let's say intense during your heats- but you rode those out with toys, not with the help of men. And you don’t think there’s any shame in promiscuity, but that’s simply not the life you lead; you live modestly, simply taking care of your grandmother to the best of your ability. You barely even have time to masturbate these days- fucking is entirely out of the realm of possibility, as busy as you are. 

“But you’ve taken cock before?” Changbin asks from behind you rather shamelessly, and Chan looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer with a cocked brow. “W-Well, yes, but-” you start and Chan is smiling again, another happy hum leaving his lips. ..Does your virginity status really matter here..? Your eyes widen again when the reality of what you’ve agreed to clicks, and Chan chuckles at your delayed reaction. “You’re not very smart, are you, bunny? But that’s okay- you don’t need to be smart to have fun, isn’t that right?”

Changbin is the next to speak, his hot breath coming out against your ear, his hands tracing your hips, “Mhm, sweet, dumb bunnies are cute, don’t you think? I bet they have lots of fun,” It’s vaguely condescending, how they speak of you- sweet and dumb, as if your intelligence pales next to theirs, as if you are an object designed for their pleasure and no other. And somehow, it adds to the tremble in your legs, your breath hitching when Chan squeezes your cheeks between his fingers and thumb, forcing your mouth to open. 

You overtly whine, the wolf’s obscenely long tongue sliding into your mouth, exploring with another eager hum, his fangs catching on your lip with each kiss. As he kisses you, his fingers tug at the knot of your caped hood, leaving the task of discarding it to the other wolf once the knot is undone. Goosebumps once again rise on your skin, with Changbin kissing and licking your neck after your cape has been tossed aside, deeply inhaling your scent as Chan continues to abuse your lips with his tongue and teeth. 

“Chan-hyung wasn’t kidding when he said you smell so sweet,” he whispers against your skin as he continues to trail his kisses down towards your shoulder, “it’s intoxicating.” It’s shameless and almost embarrassing, the way arousal pools in your underwear despite all preconceived notions of how a rabbit should behave in the face of a predatory animal; but the more they kiss and lick, the more fear ebbs away, and becomes replaced by pleasure and yearning. It’s been so long since you last felt the touch of someone else, having been stricken to solitary heats since becoming your grandmother’s carer. It almost humiliates you to admit how good their touch feels on your burning skin. 

They can quite literally feel your body release its tension, Changbin’s strong arms being the ones to hold you up as you melt, and the smell of your leaking arousal obviously doesn’t go undetected by either of their noses. Chan pulls away from your lips, a smirk visible on his features when you open your eyes to look at him. “What a dirty girl you are, excited already,” he says, another whine escaping you not only from his words, but from the feeling of Changbin’s teeth grazing your neck.

Chan, who could quite easily rip your dress from your body, instead opts to tug the fabric away much more carefully than you’d have anticipated- perhaps they really mean to return you home after this? Changbin, whose torso was substantially more covered than his elder’s, removes his top, leaving you to feel his bare, muscular chest against your now exposed back. He wastes no time in latching back to your neck, licking, sucking, teeth grazing the skin, but not biting down- whether to spare you the shame of returning home with the clear mark of a predator, or because he doesn’t have permission from lead of the pack however, is unclear.

Your breasts, which you’ve always considered quite full, despite your diminutive frame, easily fit within Chan’s large palms. Their ability to not only make you feel, but look small leaves you dizzy. You should be afraid of how they eclipse your frame with their size, but instead you find it exciting, your brain unraveling everything you’ve been taught about self-preservation in favor of experiencing utmost pleasure from two hulking wolves. 

Shame, it seems, has entirely left you, as slick leaks from you easily, drenching your underwear with each touch from their rough hands. Chan’s fingers play with your sensitive nipples, pulling and tugging until you’re writhing against Changbin’s body, who has his own hands tracing your hips and thighs, pressing lingering kisses to any patch of skin he can reach. Chan lowers himself to take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as his hand continues to play with the other. 

Meanwhile, Changbin’s hand slinks around, brushing over your stomach before his hand dips between your legs, rubbing your heat over your soaked underwear. “Fuck, this messy for us already? You have to feel her, hyung, touch her pussy,” Changbin speaking such filthy words right next to your ear makes you shudder, a whimper leaving from deep in your throat when Chan obliges, his hand quick to replace the younger wolf’s. Instead of touching you over your clothes however, he opts to completely tear them from your body, in stark contrast to how he treated your dress- you suppose the underwear is less important to remain intact, or maybe he just can’t help it after having gotten this far? 

“Oh, look at that Binnie, you’re right,” Chan grins as his fingers rub along your folds, spreading the slick around to create even more of a mess between your legs, “You’re such a dirty bunny underneath, hmm?” Your face burns red, another whine escaping as shame finally returns to you, your hands reaching to cover your face. The pair of them coo, finding the display cute, whilst simultaneously making their cocks throb- what a treat, to have found a bunny that is both incredibly sweet and effortlessly sexy all at once. 

Chan pushes Changbin’s hands away from your body, and quickly turns you around. Your back is now against Chan, and he hooks your legs over his knees, spreading you open for the younger wolf to see. “Let’s give Binnie a look at your dripping pussy, don’t you think he deserves it after being so sweet to you?” More slick dribbles its way out of you, soaking the mattress beneath, a treat for Changbin’s eager eyes. 

Peeking between your fingers, you see his dark tail swishing behind him in delight, very clearly excited by the sight he’s met with. “Can I taste her, hyung? I want to so bad,” he asks, licking his lips, his eager, sparkling eyes not leaving you for even a second. “Mm, what do you think, little red? Should we let him have a taste?” Chan asks, and though you can’t see him anymore, you can practically hear the smile in his voice- playful and fun. 

You nod quickly, though Chan doesn’t seem content with that response- he tsks, once again grabbing your face and twisting your neck to look at him. “You gotta use your words, sweetheart, you understand?” You start to nod again, but then quickly follow up with a small “yes”, to which the wolf smiles, and diverts your gaze back to Changbin, forcing you to hold the darker wolf’s gaze. “Good bunny, go ahead and tell him, then. Tell him you want him to eat you.” 

He can feel your face burn beneath his fingers, and though you can’t see it you’re sure there’s a smug smile gracing his perfect face as he waits for you to properly address Changbin. “I-I.. I want you to eat me, please,” you force yourself to mumble out, not missing the way Changbin’s cock throbs in his torn shorts. With one last lick of his lips, he’s diving between your thighs, looking up at you with a grin, “I’ll devour you, sweetheart.” 

You gasp when his tongue licks between your folds, a loud moan unintentionally falling from your lips as he eagerly laps away at you. You can’t help but squirm in Chan’s hold, his legs continuing to hold yours open and preventing them from closing around Changbin’s head. Changbin moans as he licks and sucks on your clit, as if the act is more pleasurable for him than you; and eventually he alternates between giving his undivided attention to your clit, to sliding his tongue as deep into your hole as it’ll go, letting his nose bump your clit instead. 

Chan’s erection digs into your back, sometimes groaning when your squirming and twitching causes friction; but he’s not content to just sit behind you and watch- he wants to add to the fun. So his hands come up to the soft base of your ears, expecting it to be as erogenous of a zone for you as it is for them- and by your reaction, he can tell it is. Your head falls back against him, and he can just catch a glimpse of your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, mouth hanging open as more moans and desperate whimpers leave you. 

“You getting close, sweet bunny? You wanna cum?” Chan asks, grinning when you once again quickly nod your head, a near endless stream of whimpery moans leaving you as your high approaches. “Answer properly,” he reminds you, though his tone isn’t as strict as before- it’s almost playful, amused; he’s having fun. “W-Wanna cum, please, please let- hah- please let me cum,” you beg between harsh breaths, your entire body feeling like a wire on the verge of snapping.

“You heard her Bin, make her cum,” you hear Chan say as he becomes harsher with your ears, his calloused fingers now rubbing in rough circles. Your entire body jolts and convulses as the wire finally snaps, cry after cry of white pleasure spilling from your lips as you release on Changbin’s waiting tongue. He hums as he licks up all you offer him, not separating himself from his spot between your legs until he’s sure he’s got it all and you’re shuddering from the overstimulation. 

Changbin takes your face in his hands, pulling you just slightly away from Chan as he drags you into a kiss, his tongue shoving its way into your mouth. Your taste is all over his tongue, his mouth stealing away all the breath you’ve just barely managed to breathe into your lungs after the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes are hazy when he pulls away, fogged over by lust and needs for the wolves you are sandwiched between. 

You just barely register Changbin looking past you to Chan, as if asking what to do next; though the exchange is silent, it seems like Changbin knows exactly where to go from here after receiving a certain look- have they done this before, you wonder? Changbin scoots back just a bit before grabbing your legs, unhooking them from Chan’s knees before he’s pulling you down, closer to him. You gasp, your head falling straight onto Chan’s lap- well, more accurately, to one of his thighs, before he’s closing his legs to act as a pillow for you. 

His cock, though still obscured by the fabric of his shorts, is right next to your face and impressive in its size, just as Changbin’s is. The two of them, in almost practiced unison, pull down their shorts, though the task is harder for Chan, who has your head resting on his lap. He still manages well enough, and you’re met with the sight of his hard, leaking cock right in front of your eyes, almost close enough to touch your cheek. 

You look up at Chan, who looks down to meet your gaze with a grin. “Hope you’re ready, bunny,” is all the warning you get before you’re flipped around to your front, another squeak of surprise as you’re manhandled to your knees, bent to where Changbin wants you, with your face still squarely in Chan’s lap. One of Chan’s hands holds his cock at the base while the other reaches under your chin, lifting your face up to look directly at him. “Show me what you can do while you’re taking cock,” he instructs, your body trembling as you feel Changbin’s cock rub between your folds, slicking himself up. 

You whine when his cock presses against your hole, Changbin’s hands holding your hips up while Chan’s guide you to take his leaking cock into your mouth. You never imagined you’d be in a scenario where you’re taking in the cocks of two wolves at once, but you welcome the challenge. Changbin enters you first, the stretch the most intense you’ve ever taken- you can’t help but gasp, the sting pricking up every inch of your body. Chan, thankfully, doesn’t force you to take him entirely into your mouth in this state- he lets you instead kiss and lick the tip, recognizing your need to adjust to a size you’re entirely unused to taking. 

They both praise you, though Changbin’s voice is significantly more strained and breathy as he continues his slow push inside your tight heat. Your nails dig into Chan’s thighs for support, and he doesn’t scold you for taking pauses in giving him attention, instead just watching as you squeeze your eyes shut and do your best to control your heavy breathing. “Big stretch, isn’t it bun?” Chan ends up asking, which causes you to nod with teary eyes. “‘s so big,” you exhale, and Changbin whines from behind you- you wonder if he likes hearing how big he is?

You can also hear the loud swishing of his tail, almost like a whip with how quick it snaps from side to side; it’s an undeniable truth that Changbin has been very, very excited to play with you the entire night. Changbin hisses once he’s fully aside, while Chan takes this time to rub your back in a soothing gesture you wouldn’t typically expect from a wolf. You look up at him, eyes full of equal parts gratitude and lust, and he simply smiles, hunching his back down to meet your lips in a kiss. 

“Not fair, I wanna kiss her too-” Changbin protests from behind you and Chan scoffs when he pulls away from your lips. “Your dick is literally inside her Bin, shut the fuck up,” he says and to your surprise, you giggle- Changbin is kind of cute, isn’t he? At least, in a weird, wolf sort of way. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, and you can almost hear the playful sort of pout in his voice. “S-Sorry, didn’t mean to,” you mumble, hoping you didn’t offend him. 

You take a cautious peek at him from over your shoulder, relieved to find that he’s actually smiling once he stops his dramatic pouting. Cute, you think again, but he doesn’t let you feel that way for long. He pulls out to the tip and presses back inside in one, swift motion, causing a moan to erupt from you as your nails once again dig into Chan’s skin. “Won’t be laughing by the time I’m done with you, bunny,” Changbin says as he repeats the motion, and it takes everything in you to not utterly collapse onto Chan’s lap. 

He hits your spot every time, and you swear you can feel it all the way in your stomach- but Chan doesn’t let you stay idle in your pleasure for very long. “C’mon, sweet bunny, you know what to do,” he says, his hand under your chin directing you back to his own neglected length. Unable to control yourself much after Changbin starts picking up his pace, you simply open your mouth and stick out your tongue, allowing Chan to enter your mouth however much he wishes to, completely handing your control to him. 

Changbin’s thrusts cause you to take more of Chan into your mouth than you’d initially take all at once, and it causes Chan to curse, his cock hitting the back of your throat within seconds of entering your mouth. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to well with tears, and then for those tears to cascade down your cheeks, trying your best not to choke and gag as Changbin, voluntarily or otherwise, forces you to take more and more of Chan’s cock down your throat. 

You can hardly even breathe between the pleasure of Changbin drilling you from behind and Chan’s cock obstructing your primary airway, but it makes you dizzy in the best way possible. You feel floaty, every cell in your body knowing nothing but intense pleasure. Chan strokes your head, sometimes petting your ears for that extra burst of pleasure that makes you clench tighter and causes Changbin to curse from behind you each and every time. 

Changbin, who is observing the way his cock looks sliding in and out of your tiny hole, gets a flash of inspiration when he looks at your cute, fluffy cottontail. Experimentally, he takes it into his hands, rubbing your tail between his fingers, and you keen, a shiver traveling throughout your entire body. “Oh, you like that?” he asks, a bit smug as he continues to rub and gently tug at your tail, a loud whine escaping you that is muffled only by the cock lodged in your mouth. 

Chan can see your eyes rolling back, and decides to double the pleasure, not letting his hands leave your ears for even a second. Your noises tumble freely now, quick and constant, rising in volume despite how muffled they are. It’s overwhelming being played with like this, but it feels so fucking good you’d never think to complain- you may become addicted to this sensation when it’s all said and done.

You’re so wet and warm, and now squeezing impossibly tight- Changbin isn’t going to last, and you can feel him throbbing and twitching as his pace begins to stutter. “Shit- fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines, letting go of your hip with his other hand to reach under you and find your clit with his fingers. “Cum with me, pretty bunny, c’mon, I know you’re close too,” he says, quickly rubbing your clit between two of his fingers. 

Chan guides your head off of him, letting you suck in the breath you desperately need before he’s lifting you up just enough to meet his lips, capturing your moans with his mouth. You cum again with a succession of loud whimpers, your hands squeezing at Chan’s body desperately. “Oh my god, yes, ‘m cumming, c-cumming-” Changbin gasps, his cum shooting inside you in quick spurts, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he groans. 

Chan lets you fall back to his lap, breathless and almost entirely spent, with Changbin breathing heavily behind you. He pulls out when he finally starts to soften, and you glance behind you the best you can to see him pouting at his elder again. “You did that to make me jealous!” he accuses Chan in reference to kissing you, and the other wolf simply shrugs with a smirk. “I can kiss you too, Binnie,” you mumble, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. 

He whines again, and you realize it’s the first time you’re actually using one of their names. “You should’ve said my name while cumming, bunny,” he grunts as he scoops you up, pulling you back to his chest. “I don’t think she could’ve-” Chan starts to interject, laughing when Changbin glares at him, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss. 

They’re not actually fighting over you, but you find the dynamic fun- maybe that’s why they like to share; and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this desired before. Changbin’s tail is swishing again as he kisses you, and you giggle when you hear it- he’s like a puppy, you think; eager, and easily excitable, with a hint of jealousy that makes him fun to tease. When he pulls away, he looks at Chan and then back at you, “Can you handle one more, sweetheart? Channie-hyung still needs a turn with you.” 

“I can take it, I’m a good bunny,” you affirm and they both grin, Chan reaching out to you and pulling you away from Changbin’s arms, into his own. “Such a good girl,” he hums as he lays you down on the mattress, taking his place between your legs while Changbin lays down next to you, rubbing his hand over your soft tummy. Changbin’s cum is leaking steadily out of you, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind the mess it’s making on his mattress- you've made your own mess of his bed too, after all. 

Chan instead uses his fingers to gather up what has leaked and spread it over his own length, using it as lubrication for his own push inside of you. Changbin presses kisses to your heated cheeks, licking away the tears that fall as Chan starts to push his cock inside you. Chan, who has been entirely composed up to this point, finally breaks just a bit- enough for his breath to start coming out harsher as you feel him twitch and throb inside you. 

His tail doesn’t swish as fast and erratically as Changbin’s but it is nonetheless moving happily side to side, a clear indicator that you’re actually affecting him and he’s not all confidence and smug charisma. “Can I play with you while Channie-hyung fucks you, bunny?” Changbin asks, his hand creeping up to your chest, smiling when you quickly nod at him. 

Chan should scold you for not answering properly, but he’s focusing on his own pleasure now- taking your legs into his hands and holding them open while he fucks in and out of you. Changbin plays with your nipples, his hand taking turns between them while the other is used to keep himself propped up to watch. “You’re making him feel good, can you tell?” he asks, and you look at Chan, who has sweat trailing down his brow and his plump bottom lip sucked between his teeth, face scrunched in pleasure. 

It makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you turn back to Changbin, a small pout on your lips. “I-I wish I-” a deep breathy moan interrupts your dialogue as Chan hits your spot, but you continue, “I wish I could’ve s-seen you too.” You bet he looked absolutely divine, just as Chan does. Changbin groans, your sentiment evidently having an affect on him. “God, you’re the fucking sweetest, bunny,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss you some more, his tongue once again shoving it’s way into your mouth. You tangle your fingers in Changbin’s curly hair as he kisses you, and he hisses when you unintentionally tug during a particularly harsh thrust from Chan. 

Changbin simply watches your face in awe for a moment when you pull away to breathe and let yourself fall back against the mattress, finding you incredibly cute, beautiful even, even with your hair a mess and drenched in sweat. “B-Binnie, Channie, think ‘m gonna cum again-” you whine, eyes rolling back once more when it causes Chan’s thrusts to become harsher. “Yeah? Gonna cum again, slutty bunny?” Changbin smiles, egging you on with his voice. 

You nod quickly, pleas starting to fall from your lips effortlessly, “I-I can, right? Been a good girl, a good bunny? Good bunnies can cum?” They both smile, endless encouragement leaving them such as “yes pretty, go ahead and cum for us,” and “good bunny, good girl, cum sweetheat.” Changbin pulls you back to his lips as you cum, wanting to kiss you as you cum since he missed the chance earlier, and he eagerly swallows your noises, his fingers finding your clit once more to drag out your orgasm. 

Chan as well starts to become louder, his grunts becoming more successive with each thrust, not losing speed even as his hips start to lose their rhythm. He grabs your face and tears you away from Changbin, kissing you in a display that is either meant to make Changbin jealous again, or is simply for his own pleasure. Or maybe it serves both purposes at once, because as Changbin whines in protest, you can feel Chan smirk against your lips before he’s losing himself again, his groans muffled against you as his hips stutter once, twice more before he’s spilling inside you, ropes and ropes of cum filling you to the brim. 

You reach out to Changbin’s hand, squeezing it in a gesture that is meant to stop his jealousy, and he smiles at you, calling you a “sweet little thing” once more, giving you a peck to your forehead. Your eyes close, not opening even as Chan softens and slips out of you, exhaustion having clearly seeped into every molecule of your body. “Poor thing’s tired,” you vaguely hear Changbin say as he wipes the sweat off your brow. Chan responds, though it’s hard to make out what he says as you unconsciously slip into sleep, unable to prevent it with how heavy your entire body has become, rest quickly claiming you. 

The sound of birds loudly chirping wakes you, and you blink slowly awake, eyes straining as you realize you’re in the sunlight. You sit up quickly, looking down at yourself and then your surroundings; you’re out of the forest proper, in the clearing where your home sits quaintly in the middle, and dressed back in your prior clothing and with your hood over your ears- barring the underwear you lost. 

You’d think last night was a dream if it wasn’t for the fact that you could feel yourself bare underneath your dress; so they really upheld their promise and brought you back home..? You see your basket, sitting neatly in arm’s reach, a small note resting atop the berries and leaves you gathered yesterday that simply reads, “Last night was fun, wasn’t it, little red? Come play with us again sometime,” with a cutely drawn heart at the end, signed ‘Binnie and Channie.’

#skz x reader #bang chan x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #werewolf au #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

[parachutingkitten]

I have two sins that somwhat cohenside:

As a Cole stan for life I despise the Cole is gay HC and have had to abandon the tag because of its prevalence. Lavashipping is a NOTP and of all the art and edits I've seen polluting my Cole tag I still cant see any chemistry or dynamic between them besides they are both attractive. All the ninja ships are incest vibes (not just the gay ones. Looking at you Braincellshipping) to me as they treat eachother and call eachother brothers but at least there was tension and chemistry between the old days of Bruiseshipping. Lava's prevalence online had me quit for a long time as I couldnt understand why it randomly gained such traction and then showrunners made the dumb idea to try and bait fan perceptions in crystalized. I see cole as somewhat aromantic (although the term is mostly meaningless and used to describe anyone who is uncmfortable or disinterested with romance without analysing the deeper psychological reasons that might be the case) but he obviously wants to be a father and I don't see how any of his defined traits attribute to being the fans gay stand in besides the fact that fandom always has the urge to pick one to be the LGBT mascot and create content that isnt there simply for their own self indulgence. I like Coliel (if anyone remembers Seliel) as it leans into Coles obliviousness to advances while it shows off his honorable and protective personality. I don't find Cole particularly coded LGBT in any of the seasons up until Dragons rising, which the episode focussing it was badly written and OOC.

My other "sin" I suppose is I disown ALL of DR for being a horrible soft reboot that does everything a soft reboot shouldn't: messing with preestablished lore in an attempt to prop up these random new characters as just, if not more, powerful than our protagonists. The new writer has a horrible track record with character ensemble shows like TMNT 2012 and its a worthless slap in the face continuation of an ended series. The diologue is horrendously tacky and most jokes dont land. The push by the writers to add in fan characterizations and expand the lore beyond whats established is lazy and uninspired. There is so much left to explore in Ninjago the way it was. We never went to most of the continent but why try to write compelling stories and dramas with an already defined map when you could throw everything out the window and make your own sandbox, shoehorning it into Ninjago regardless on how ridiculous it looks and feels.

*exhale* alright. I lot to get through here.

there is nothing wrong with not HCing cole gay, especially if you seem him on the aro/ace spectrum. I'm in the exact same boat. And just because there are very prevalent gay interpretations of the text does not mean you have to adopt them, or watch them with that subtext in mind. The true potential episode can obviously really easily be read as a coming out allegory, and a lot of people have latched onto that. And good for them!

But it's just as easily read as a story about defying your parent's expectations for a career path- especially if that's something you can relate to. I think the episode works even better in that respect (cuz that's kinda more directly what it's about, but also) because it adds in this layer of also respecting the place where your parents came from and make their living with. Honestly, I didn't see any gay coding on my first watch through of that one dragons rising episode. I saw Cole's relationship with Geo as much more of a mentor/mentee thing, probably because he's typically taken on a father role. I thought Geo and Sora had more chemistry honestly, with that one scene where their bonding over rejection. That's the beauty of media, multiple interpretations! It sounds like you're letting the fandom color your viewing experience, and that's your problem. The crystalized kai/cole stuff can just as easily be read as brother shenanigans. Don't let fanon make things canon for you if you don't want them to.

I'm on the same page of not shipping the core 4 together. The early seasons were directly focused on their brotherhood in my view, so I get it. But, let's not begrudge people their imaginary LGBTQ rep. As far as I understand lavashipping took off cuz it's the only gay pairing of the main characters who could still potentially be canonically shipped together. Jaya and pixane are pretty set in stone, and lloyd is pretty much off limits. But kailor is very iffy in canon, and cole has never had a love interest. And even if I don't ship it, I can see the value of people having some level of hope that the show might give them some rep. But again, none of this means you have to ship it or feel bad for not shipping it.

Second, you've got some unique opinions on dragons rising. Cool. I don't think you're completely invalid or anything, but I do think some of these opinions might be a little biased?

You're mad it brought back the... finished tv show? The show that finished with crystalized? The worst possible ending of the show? Honestly, it wasn't that much more conclusive than other seasons. Ninjago has always struck me as an evergreen property- a world with endless adventures in it. To begrudge future stories for existing seems a little selfish to me. Ninjago should be a property that new kids can get into for years to come. I've got some problems with what dragons rising has done. I don't think the merge was the best way to go. I hate how needlessly small it makes everything feel. I think sora is a little too chosen-one-y. There are things to criticize here. But it's pulling a lot off. I think it's balanced screen time between old characters and new characters pretty well. It's established a fairly unique identity for itself, which can be a real struggle for sequel content. Again, I think you're coming into it with a distorted fandom lens which is making you hate it more. Not to say that you're wrong, but you're feelings associated with your opinions may be a little exaggerated.

if you have a sin you would like to confess, please direct it to @ninjago-sins

#ninjago #asks #thanks! #give me your sins #let go of the hate in your heart #dr is letting these characters keep living #and i love it for that alone

[chaotically-rem]

1, 3, 13, 14, 20 for the ask game!

Ohhh, thanks thanks, sorry I'm days late answering!

These are questions for the ask game!!! Which I'll still do answers for btw! I'm going to throw it under a read more bar because I am already off to a really long start for the first question, ^_^;)/

1. What led you to start writing fan fiction?

 

You see. I was an avid fanfic reader, back in the wee era of 2015 when I was in my early 20s, for a certain fandom that I shall not name. And I realized after reading hundreds and hundreds of fics for my favorite pairing that my preferred genre of fanfic (*coughs in major trigger warnings*) were all so.... so... Well. Every fic for that fandom was The Same. And I don't mean 'the same' in the way that enemies to lovers is always the same (where the enemies become lovers through some plot that forces them together) I mean that I can tell you plot point by plot point, scene by scene, argument by argument, exactly what happened in all of these fics because they were all the same. Every. Single. Time. There was no diversity in the plot. No creativity. It was the same scene setup, the same lines/same arguments, the same hurt/comfort every single fic. It was like a group of people who liked these topics all got together and brainstormed the Same Idea and then wrote the Same Idea a dozen times in the exact Same Way with very little deviation from the "hurt in an alley, rescued by their enemy, nursed back to health in the bedroom, and then they sleep together" plot and posted it on AO3. The first couple of times, it slapped. But then when the entire tag became Just That, or some variation of Just That because people branched out from "the alley" to "the almost alley" I sort of had enough.

I wanted to be a writer. I've always loved to write. So I thought "wow, what if I take this idea that wasn't bad the first time but it sucked the fourth fifth sixth and seventh time, and just make it crazier out of spite" and thus, I wrote the worst 140k first POV fanfic for my ship (and discovered that I enjoy almost setting this man on fire) and then I just? Never stopped writing because it was fun and low-pressure and I could read fic and go "I dont like that" and learn from other peoples mistakes, and then my own. This fic, however, is dead to me. Looking back, I'm glad I started somewhere and yes it was insane and wildly different than the others, but me @ me, first-person POV? are you insane?

And here I am, easily five million words later (not an exaggeration, I've written at least 5 mil since then because I wrote 3 mil 2019-now).

And now, I'm a Horror waiting to happen to your blorbos, ehehehehheeh.

3. What experiences/influences have shaped your writings the most?

The polite answer is: life experience of my chaotic luck that sounds fake. Listen. If you send me to the store for milk, there is no way for you to prepare for what kind of trouble I will get into, of no fault of mine.

The real answer: a life of misery. I get a lot of comments about how 'real' some of my fics feel, to an uncomfortable degree. Well. There's a reason for that :wheezesmiley:

I always recommend a few gintama fics starting with Pandemonium. This is like, a staple Gintama fic to read and it's gen! I really enjoyed this one even though I haven't reread it in a long time and I only remember the ending which was probably my favorite part. (I should do a reread) but I remember I liked the characterization and it sort of touched on all of my favorite things about Gintoki being unhinged, and how he could end up there down at the bottom ready to throw it all away. It was a real aspiration of mine to keep to the characterizations and to always drag out Gintoki's little horrors until the juicy last moment, and this fic is the reason for all of that.

13. What are some must-read fanfics in your fandoms? Why do you admire these, and how have they impacted your works?

Otherwise, I just have a few self-indulgent angst fics I like to reread. But for inspiration, I will admit that my timeloop fic, which i wrote obsessively like a madman and those of you who were dming me know I was ripping out my hair because you need an excel sheet for this level of insanity, was inspired by the other timeloop fic, because while I enjoyed that timeloop fic, I was severely disappointed that Gintoki never mentioned the timeloop to Hijikata, and more importantly, Gintoki never mentioned the fact that he witnessed Hijikata's death dozens of times and it has negatively impacted him to a severe degree. And then I was more annoyed that this is completely in character, so I decided to force Gintoki's hand on my own by making him the victim of the timeloop. (and then I accidentally killed Sakamoto, and the rest is history, ngl idk wtf happened I just sat down and wrote 40k one day and went "oh, ok, this is gonna be a long one")

I would also like to go out of my way to recommend a Witcher fic. I don't go here anymore and I likely will never go here again, but this fic had me hooked for two solid days. I did nothing but read this fic for two solid days. (I skipped the smut because I was more invested in the plot than the relationship LMFAO) I was so convinced that the plot had somethign to do with werewolves (or some other kind of shapeshifting/vampiric/demonic monster) that I actually binge wrote a 70k fic in one week because of this LMFAO

14. What aspects of your creative process do you enjoy most? Which are most challenging?

THEREFORE, the most challenging thing is me sitting down and going "okay this needs to not be vibes, it needs to have very specific crafted elements and also be creative while also being clever and meaningful and metaphorical and deep" and then I just don't write for three months (me rn, trying to force myself to write one (1) hyper specific thing I could care less about)

I just sit down and the brain and hands go 'brrrr' there is no creative process there is only me leaving my body and coming back like "noice". This is my favorite part. Or the part where someone goes "wouldn't it be wild if" and then goes to sleep and then suddenly they wake up to a 10k fic link in their inbox because they left me unattended with their left-field idea.

20. What’s your favorite work you’ve ever written?

Oh god. Ok. I can't pick one so I'm going to rec some of my favorites and explain why they're my faves.

I feel like Don't You Know That Timeloops Suck? (gintama, no warnings) has to be my most recent favorite because I was on an entire other level of insanity for this one and it was unfortunately very personal and looking back its a lot of things to me. lololol BUT the ending is... listen. Guys. I didn't want to finish it because I hated it at one point. It's rough. The second Sakamoto enters the timeloop everything went to shit on my end because I just didn't want anything to do this fic anymore, I was sick of writing it, I was sick of Hijikata, I was sick of Gintoki being too much like me. It's not my cleanest work, that's for sure and rereading it, I can see it clear as day and it drives me insane tbh. If I could rewrite any fics end/write more for a fic, it would be this one and I would be screaming the entire way.

But. This JJK fic, In the Vastness of the Cosmos, We Are But Nothing was a lot of fun to write. Like. A lot of fun. And I mean, I would love to write another one like this, but I need some delirious combination of cosmic horror and colours and higher level of clarity. It's not my strongest work technically and easily could have been double, triple the length to really drive the finer points home, but it is what it is and it's great considering I wrote the whole entire thing in one sitting and then just posted it without even an edit.

I have another fic like this for danny phantom, but I haven't re-uploaded it yet because I lost it in the deletion. (It's somewhere, I'm sure)

BUT. Fill the Void, Lest the Void Fill You (Trigun, content warnings beware) is my favorite, most solid ending. Like this fic? Is probably my favorite in terms of technical writing. It's solid the whole way through. I had actually discussed with a friend where my writing was lacking, and determined that my endings need some work (because I usually end things when I'm sick of writing them and it shows) but this fic? Solid. 10/10.

Okay I'll stop rambling, thanks for the ask! I love talking about my own fics lololo

Also. That “If Utsuro’s ‘Totally Not Meteor From Final Fantasy VII’ Attack Had Ended The World In Episode 361 But then Gintoki Tried To Go Back In Time And Save Everyone” AU deserves more love.

#good job rem #this is so long sorry not sorry #i had fun with this #I always feel lowkey weird being like yeah i write fic from real life experiences and then the fics are all just awful tags #LOL #I used to have more gntm fics to recommend but i lost my list #I read a lot of rainsometimes fics #i hope theyre doing well its been a while since ive been around to chat with people sjkahfskjdhgksd #jjk i read jubi #JUBIIIIIIIIIIII #i dont even go here anymore #okay but most of my fic ideas come from the craziest sources #like the furby fic #listen #the furby fic was a joke that got out of hand okay #and bad sakamoto was literally just me wanting to write sakagin at the same time a friend was talking about villainizing heros

[hua-fei-hua]

Hi Huaaaaaaa I'm in your askbox :3

10, 19, 23, 45 for the Fanfiction Questions, I simply must know

hiii naviiiiii we are hanging out on my blog :33

totally forgot i rb'd those things hehe but anyway~

10.  Is there a fandom you read fic from but don’t write in?

at first glance, my thought was no, bc i don't really fandom-ize every bit of media i absorb, just a few special ones (i can be normal about things!! for real (not clickbait)!!!)

that said, there are a few fandoms i've read fic for that i've never written for! going all the way back to my roots, i read so much mlp fic, n although i technically wanted to write mlp fic back in the day (n have like. two paragraphs of an ancient pitch rotting in my gdocs), i never really committed to it.

nat made me read some pokespe fics too back in the day, so i've read a couple of those too despite never really reading a ton of the manga. one pokespe author also recommended some kingdom hearts fic that i ended up reading, despite having never played kh or knowing anything about it really!

i also used to read a lot of miraculous ladybug fic (once in a blue moon i'll also get update emails for some of them c':), n although i had some ideas for mlb fic, i never wrote any of them.

i think the most recent fandoms i've read but never written for have been the adventure zone (balance), since i'd read taz fic as it crossed my dash after i listened to the podcast, and princess tutu, bc i had a mutual who got into it, so i started w/their fic after i watched the anime, then poked around the archive a bit hehe

19. Is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

hmmm i'm honestly kind of a "once a hater, always a hater" kind of person, so it's kind of hard for me to think of a ship that i see around, know the basic appeal of, but don't really Understand in a way that makes me more proactive or picky w/seeing them portrayed.

that said, i would love to read some kokosara meta that elaborates on how a relationship btwn them would further kokomi's character, why sara is the only character who would be able to push her in that particular direction

23. Name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of & explain why you like it.

oooo that's tough, since i'm very fond of p much all my fics for various different reasons, even if i don't think their writing is particularly up to my standards anymore.

like, even tho jjk was technically a while ago for me now, i'm still obsessed w/the idea of a constellation au (zenith); and the diner at the end of the night is still easily one of the most well-written high-energy comedies i've ever pulled off.

it's also really hard to pick out of my genshin fics which one holds the most specialest place in my heart bc most of them hold niches in my heart!!!

typically, though, i pick disjunct bc during the writing process, it was the first time where i really felt allowed to give a character Mixed Race Struggles(tm) wholesale w/o feeling like i was just making them mixed for the sake of it. i'm also really happy with the way it ended up resonating w/people on a core level, and the experience of artist-viewer connection n just having an Art Moment(tm) that resulted!!

45. What is your all time favourite fanfic?

i used to say A Miscellaneous Tale of Night and Day, which is The 200k word pokespe fic nat made me read when we were in high school that hasn't updated since 2012 that has effectively inoculated me against "abandoned fanfiction sadness", and the plot n premise are still a ton of fun, but i've been rereading it a bit as of late, and you can feel the early 2010s casual transphobia and misogyny in it lol. i'd say that it helped shape my comedic tastes/ability to just write self-indulgently, so for that, i'd categorize it under "influential fics"

honestly my favorite fics tend to be long multichapters, but there are honestly so few that line up with my tastes and have an ending in genshin, n i didn't read enough in jjk to have any longfics to really be fondly subscribed to. thinking about it, i genuinely think my fave fics are just the ones nat n i make up together over discord until five in the morning LMAO

in terms of fics that exist(ed, at least at one point), i'd say the now-deleted snk fic tower of babel would probably qualify as one of my all-time faves, n i can say that's not just the nostalgia glasses bc i do still have a copy on my hard drive lol. the premise is that five girls, each hiding their own secrets from each other or the world, end up renting one apartment together, n they learn to trust each other enough to communicate n rely on one another. there's also a bit of romance happening in the bg, but it's not the biggest aspect of the fic, n i really liked that!!! also the way it dropped the title in the end, basically stating its main theme as "it's a lot easier to fix your problems if you communicate abt it" CHANGED MY LIFE the first time i read it lol

ANYWAY YEAH that's all of them hehe thanks for the ask~

fanfiction questions

#asks #kanonavi #long post #bc i do not shut up <3 very real of me #ask game #interestingly enough in genshin i'm pretty lukewarm on any ships that didn't already exist when i got into the game #i really do just pick one ship n then cling to it for years every time i'm in a fandom #so i'm kind of perpetually in the mond/liyue sphere of characters lol #although i am v fond of the inazuma cast!!! wish mhy did smth with them #although i do like ships in sumeru n stuff i've never rlly sat down n thought abt them too much w/nat #though we should rlly return to that one red string of fate au we started planning when we first got into the game #that's meant to span the ENTIRE PLOT of genshin so we have to put it down every so often for game plot to progress #bc in planning that we get to hash out our ideal character dynamics across large casts n that rllly rlly helps w/getting into ships n stuff

[cabbojage]

Happy STS! Here go a few questions for you: What are your favorite parts of the storytelling process? As a writer, what would you say are your biggest writing strengths and weaknesses (as in, what are the things that are easiest/most difficult to write for you)? What is the most seld-indulgent thing you can write about (as in, what are the kinds of scenes/storylines that you will love to write about no matter what genre, style, or context you’re writing in)?

hello!!! wow this is a lot, happy sts & thank you for the ask!

fav parts of the storytelling process: i think my sweet spot is when i'm 5-10k words into a project—right after sorting out the opening scene (i'm so terrible at beginnings), and after sorting out all my characters' motivations and personalities. then i can really just get into my characters' heads and writing comes so much more easily to me!

biggest writing strengths & weaknesses: i am SO bad at planning anything LMAO. i always veer off from whatever outlines i make, so i tend to just pants my way through my projects. however this leads to long periods of time where i just have to idea where to continue my wips LOL... also consistency is tough for me—not only writing consistently, but keeping consistent character traits and interactions. as a strength, i guess my word choice? sometimes i surprise myself when i'm reading over the stuff i've written LOL

most self-indulgent thing i can write about: it's gotta be silly platonic besties doing stupid shit. this is why i'm incapable of writing anything dark or gothic—i just love writing silly idiot characters into my wips and having them go on fun adventures. like, maybe the fate of the world is at risk, but we're gonna go on a detour to hang upside down on park swings and see who stays on the longest. IDK just light-hearted moments like that. i just think genuine friendship is underrated in fiction, and tends to be overshadowed by lusty romance that takes itself too seriously

#asks #storytelling saturday #sts ask #writeblr

[blubushie]

Good evening (or time of day/night), Monsieur Blu,

I was going to suggest a dictation machine for the handwriting-sucks thing (very very relatable, might I add. Fuck writing by hand, I might actually have to look into dyspraxia now. Never thought to look into it despite my autism), but promptly remembered just who I'm suggesting this to. So dictation machine is a bust, but your typewriting idea could definitely work.

I document bits of my life as well. Not that I live a particularly important life, which I am fine with. But between the loose screws and memory problems because of adhd and autism, typing things out has helped me keep track of myself so much better.

It's a form of self care for me, in a way. I get to write things out, in full detail, completely honestly. I write things the way they are, instead of how I'd recount the events to say, a therapist. Or my mother. No matter who I'm talking to, they never get the full picture. I'd say my mother gets the most detail out of everyone I talk to, but there are some things I don't share with even her. That I don't share with anyone, that I've never even said out loud. And that's ok.

But sometimes I forget the whole picture myself, because I'm always rehearsing (autism thing) which stories I'm going to tell to who, and I lose track of the details I choose to leave out for everyone. So I can truly fully process things once I've got it down.

I typically have to be in the correct mindset to write, as to me, it is still an art form, and that takes up a lot of energy, of which I do not have much. I don't write things every day, I'd probably burn myself out if I did. Every once in a while, I'll take a long ass bath and write until I become a shriveled prune. Maybe have a drink and dim the lights. It's great. It's peak vulnerability, to me. I am naked, comfortable in a warm bath, nobody will ever disturb me, because who the hell would walk in on someone taking a bath. It's rare to truly be able to be alone with my thoughts, constantly living with others, in a town.

I cherish self reflection. Understanding myself and how I view the world is my most reliable way of navigating my surroundings and, well, myself. I am easily overwhelmed. Simply existing is difficult for me. I like knowing what's rockin around in my noggin. It helps.

I am also into the whole wishy washy pretentious philosophical stuff, and it's always nice to indulge in some pondering. Even if it's abstract and not something I'd ever experience face to face, it's a great tool of self expression.

I do keep a lot of my ramblings in a secure place, for I am... pretty sure I could get incarcerated or sent back to psych ward if some of it ever got in the hands of other people. So yeah, definitely keep these things somewhere where people wont just stumble into it.

All of this to say: If you ever find the time to get that typewriter and to get ink and paper and perhaps a dossier for the papers, I'd say, go for it. It's worth trying out, and you might come to like it. And even if you don't particularly feel overjoyed and ecstatic to write down how you've had to extract handfulls of burrs from Misty's coat, it's still something to do. And maybe in the future, you'll read back on some of the things you've written, and you'll enjoy it. Feel pride in your way of living.

But between the loose screws and memory problems because of adhd and autism, typing things out has helped me keep track of myself so much better.

This. I must have five or ten post-it notes in Matilda at all times. I leave them everywhere. "Buy salt" hanging above the sink, "dunny roll" on the bathroom sink, "Check doovalacky" on the dash. I have no idea what doovalacky I was supposed to check.

I do keep a lot of my ramblings in a secure place, for I am... pretty sure I could get incarcerated or sent back to psych ward if some of it ever got in the hands of other people.

Fucking mood.

And even if you don't particularly feel overjoyed and ecstatic to write down how you've had to extract handfulls of burrs from Misty's coat, it's still something to do.

They're usually bindis (which are 50x worse) but it's definitely something to do, and my worst enemy is boredom.

#blu whos

[uwu-twistedthorn-uwu]

How about 6, 28, and 30 for the ao3 ask game?

AO3 wrapped ask game

6. Favorite title you used

Continuing the tradition of you always picking the most annoying question whenever I participate in an ask game, I don't really know. My absolute favorite titles I came up with this year were for a fic I haven't posted yet (it's first chapter has been a wip since early August) and for a fic I haven't even started yet (because it's based on an event not yet in the English version). So just looking at the fics I actually posted this year, I guess I'll just go through process of elimination to pick a fave.

First of all, fuck all the one word titles. Every single one of them was created on the spot because, I didn't come up with a name before it was time to post (the one exception being that unfinished fic). Next up, the sexual titles (aka NRC Masturbate Chef and Monster Fucking). Though I do love shitty puns, these have one major flaw. I die of embarrassment every time I have to say them out loud. I prefer fic titles where I can talk about them in public without anyone within earshot immediately realizing that when I say "creative writing", I mean porn.

Out of the remaining options, I guess I'd pick While Floyd Was Off at Camp? I don't have any reason for choosing beyond the fact that I like how it sounds when I say it out loud. (I don't hate the ones I eliminated, I just needed to narrow down the options somehow)

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

This is another hard one, but for the opposite reason. For the first time like ever, I adore basically everything I've written this year. Even fics I felt meh about when intially posting, I've since reread and gone "Oh wait, this isn't bad at all, I'd just been staring at it too long."

So I suppose I'll go with Our Little Secret, because for something written in such a short time I'm awfully happy with how it turned out. But basically all of my Twisted Wonderland fics are my precious babies, and I could have just as easily picked any other one.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

Just the fact that I've written (and posted) all these fics. If you told me back in January that I'd post 11 one shots in less than a year, all of them extremely self indulgently horny, I'd have laughed in your face.

Like, I had written some yugioh smut fics a couple years ago, but they were explicitly (lol) created with the intent of never posting them ever. NRC Masturbate Chef was supposed to be yet another of these forbidden fics, created for my enjoyment and no one else's. It was freeing, because at the time I fucking hated my writing, so not having to worry about what others might think meant I could just have fun with it.

But after finishing the fic (and starting on the next one, Sleeping Moray) I realized "Hey wait I'm actually proud of this, when did that happen?". I wanted to share my writing, but didn't want to post it on my ao3 account, as I wasn't visibly proship on main at the time (I'm still not, but now it's because I never post anything there and not out of any deliberate choice). So I created Twisted Thorn, with the intent of it being an alternate account for my "problematic" works.

Turns out I have a lot more fun writing incest smut then the stuff I used to write, so instead of being a side thing for hosting the occasional bit of porn and/or incest, Twisted Thorn became my main focus and I basically abandoned my previous wips in favor of solely writing Twisted Wonderland stuff.

#Seriously how do you always pick the hardest questions every fucking time? #i barely tag stuff here but i would like to be able find asks later

[acacia-may]

7, 20, and 44 for the ask game please 🥺💕?

Hi Lyra! Thank you so much for the ask! 🥰

Answers are under the cut

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

I think I'd have to say shorter ones just because I don't usually have time to read longer ones these days. I have read some longer ones, but have to spread them out over a couple of days, weeks, or even months because I'm a slower reader and get easily distracted. Short fics are nice because they can be read and enjoyed in one sitting, but the downside, of course, is that I usually end up wishing there was more.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Definitely brainstorming and wrangling ideas! I love getting to walk through different scenes and scenarios in my mind and imagining how the characters would react before sitting down to write. I think a close second is probably the feeling of accomplishment when the story is actually fully written and finished. Getting to that final line is always very satisfying and exciting for me!

44. Rant about something writing related.

Hm... I'm not sure what I should rant about for this one, but I will try my best. 😅

I would say most of my writing is incredibly self-indulgent. I write what I what I want to read so I am always genuinely surprised when I find out that other people have enjoyed what I've written. It's always really encouraging to find out I wasn't the only one who wanted to read about a certain character (or characters) in a particular scenario or wanted more background or backstory on xyz thing. I think I am very character driven as a writer (I'm also very character driven as a consumer) so character development and relationships tend to be the focus on my writing. It can be tricky to imagine how certain characters would react in certain scenarios though. Of course, there is always some element of reader/viewer interpretation when it comes to the fictional characters (and getting to see everyone's different takes of the same character is something that is so fun about fandom and fanfictions in particular). However, I think, personally, I'm kind of boring 😅 as a fic writer since I'm not very creative or "out of the box" in my character interpretations or scenarios and tend to cling pretty close to the canon which I take at face value more often than not (i.e. if x-character hasn't shown romantic interest in y-character, I kind of assume they're just not into them or if x-character has only shown romantic interest in xyz type of characters, I kind of assume that they are interested in xyz type of characters and don't tend to read into it more than that). It's usually not my cup of tea to entertain a lot of headcanons, relationships, or scenarios that are or could be in opposition to or outside of what the canon presents for certain characters, and I think that's usually reflected in my work (i.e. I don't usually break up canon or prima facie ships in favour of other ones or such. There are occasional exceptions but those are rare. (Black Clover was really the first time I found myself as an actual multi-shipper, but that's honestly only because all the unnecessary drama and love shapes gave me so much emotional whiplash that I just got to the point where I just didn't care who ended up with who anymore... 😅 But even then, I think I have limits). I have absolutely nothing against that kind of creativity or freedom in the fandom space and am a big believer that the great thing about fiction is that it allows for a wide variety of interpretations, and I enjoy getting to see those in the fandom (even if we see certain things differently)--it's just my personal style and preference to cling a bit close (possibly too close 😅) to the canon in my writing when I can. Occasionally, I'll allow myself something more "out there" to play with, but I think I tend to write to fill in plot holes or gaps in the canon or to write stories that haven't been explored in the fics I've read (usually about platonic relationships since I don't think those get a lot of attention sometimes).

My first ever Black Clover fanfiction, for example, was an origin story of how Vanessa and Finral became friends and was inspired by a conversation I had with a friend irl about how they could have/would have built that great and healthy platonic friendship they have in the canon when Finral is so set on seeing every woman as a potential romantic interest. We see that they're friends in the canon, but we don't get to see how they became friends, and at the time, I hadn't really found an origin story for their friendship so I wrote one myself. I worked on it for months before I actually sat down and wrote it (around this time last year actually) because I was trying very hard to get the various details and nuances in these very complicated and complex characters right before I tried my hand at writing them. When I write, I think the most important thing to me is to make sure that I do justice to the characters since I love them so much (otherwise I wouldn't be writing fics about them in the first place) so it is always extremely encouraging when I hear that someone else thought my portrayals of the characters in my fics did them justice. 💕

This was just a lot of ramblings, but I hope that made sense. 😅 I suppose I'll finish my saying that as much as I enjoy writing, I would much rather read someone else's fics--unfortunately most of the fics I want to read haven't been written yet so I end up writing them myself. That said, I have had the pleasure of reading some really amazing fanfictions written by some very talented fic authors (including a lot of stories, I never knew I needed) so thank you all so much for that! I'd also like to offer my gratitude to everyone who has ever read, liked, left kudos for, commented on, and/or otherwise supported my works! I really don't think I would still be writing if it wasn't for all the support and encouragement. Cheers!! 🥰

#answered asks #fic writer ask game #lyra 💜 #thank you for the ask #i think i’m actually kind of boring as a writer since I don’t usually go for things that are too out of the box 😅😂

[rushingheadlong]

Take My Breath Away - A Brian x Reader fic

Summary: Brian has a thing for drawing sex out for as long as possible, but it's harder to do that when breathplay is involved... at least until you come up with a bit of an unorthodox solution: corsets.

Wordcount: ~20k

Tags/Warnings: 18+; Unspecified reader (including smut with ungendered language); Kink exploration and negotiation

Kinks: Corsets; Breathplay including choking; D/s, mentions of switching but with a focus on sub!Brian, some subdrop and aftercare; Dirty talk; Orgasm denial; Penetrative and oral sex

Notes: I set out intending to write a short 5k companion piece to my earlier corset fic… and then everything spiraled out of control and this happened. A huge thank you to @tenderbri​ and @jackolynsparrow​ for being my cheerleaders, letting me bounce ideas off them, and helping me edit this monstrosity. I hope you all enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!

[There are also more detailed notes about corsets at the end of the fic if you are interested in that!]

It begins almost on accident.

You’re half-watching a movie with Brian. He’s pretending to read and you’re pressing kisses along his neck, trying to entice him to pay attention to you instead of his book. The TV isn’t turned down low but it’s still easy enough to ignore, at least until there’s a flurry of shouts and action and you glance back to see that the tight-laced heroine has fainted in her corset.

You almost laugh at the cliché of it all, but then you hear Brian’s breath hitch at the scene on the TV and you turn to him with a knowing smirk. “See something you like, Brian?” you tease, trailing one hand up his chest and settling it lightly over his throat.

“You know I do,” he answers, arching up into your touch.

“Maybe I like hearing you say it.” Your hand slots into position under his jaw, thumb and forefinger pressing up underneath his tongue to restrict his breathing. It’s safer than pressing down on his arteries and making him pass out, though you know how to do that too if that’s what he wants. “Use your words, babe. Tell me what you want.”

“This,” Brian says, voice strained from the way you’re practically forcing his jaw shut. “Just this, don’t wanna pass out, just- Y/N, please-”

You lean down and kiss him, and neither of you last long after that- mostly because you can’t make this last long, not when Brian’s neck is literally on the line. You jerk him off quickly, your other hand pressing hard against his throat, and Brian's hands fumble against you as he struggles to keep breathing but that’s alright, because the sight of him coming undone and his first gasp when you remove your hand are enough to tip you over the edge anyway.

The routine after that is familiar: check for bruises and damage, even if you’re confident there aren’t any, because you can never be too safe; clean off yourself and Brian while he’s still catching his breath; grab a glass of orange juice and wrap your arms around him to stave off the subdrop that he falls into as easy as… well, as easy as breathing.

You like the routine. It’s comforting and grounding, and lets you check over Brian without worrying that you’re missing some important step. But lately the sex itself has felt like part of the routine as well, or at least the breathplay part of it has. Funny how one of your more dangerous kinks has become so methodical that you’re almost bored by it.

And Brian feels the same way. You've seen his small moments of displeasure in the past, but this time when he curls up around you after you’ve checked up on him he sighs and mumbles, “Always wish we could make that last longer.”

You bite back a sigh of your own, and instead press a kiss to the top of his unruly curls. “I know.”

Because you do know. Brian’s always had a thing for drawing scenes out for as long as possible. When you tie him up he’ll gladly stay in bondage for hours, and when he feels like being in charge he enjoys teasing you until you’re nearly incoherent with want. It’s harder to do that with the breathplay when you need to be careful about not leaving marks around his neck, and when keeping one hand in the correct position on his throat inherently limits your options for different positions.

If Brian had his way he’d spend half a day struggling to breathe, each inhale careful and deliberate and shallow, and you’d love to see him in that position… but if there’s a way to make it work, without leaving behind damning evidence, you have yet to figure it out.

“We could try the mask again…” Brian tries to suggest.

“No, Bri,” you tell him, as gently as you can. “The last time we tried a mask you panicked. Same with the gag.”

“But if we tried a different style-”

“Brian.” You gently grab his chin and move his face so he has no choice but to look at you. “You know that I am willing to try almost anything to make this work. But you hate having your face covered, and so the masks and gags don’t work for us. I’m sorry, but they just don’t.”

Brian whines and when you let go of his face he burrows it into the crook of your neck, hiding there as he admits, “I know, but I still want…”

“I know,” you say again, as you wrap your arms around him and hold him close, only this time you add, “We’ll think of something eventually, I promise.” Because right now, while he’s still coming down from this particular high, he needs that promise even if you both know that you may not be able to keep it.

And because you want to keep the mood light, you joke, “Maybe we should just get you a corset like that woman in the movie.”

Brian snorts, and you can feel his smile where he has his face hidden against your neck. “Right. I don’t think putting me in lingerie will solve the problem.”

“Hey, you never know!” you say with a laugh… and now that you’ve gone and said it, you find that you can’t get the thought of your mind.

Something about it sticks with you, for the rest of the night and the next day while Brian is at the studio. Why shouldn’t it work, after all? Corsets are designed to bind, to constrict. Even if the fainting is exaggerated for Hollywood, there’s still a kernel of truth to it. Better yet, with nothing touching Brian’s neck or face, the danger would be more limited, the chance of outright panic lessened, the marks- if there even would be any- more easily hidden…

“Everything alright, Y/N?” Brian asks, later that evening after dinner. You’re both sitting on the couch, almost in the same positions as you were the previous night, before the idea of corsetry had ever crossed your mind. “You seem… well, a bit distracted.”

“I’ve been thinking about our little problem from last night,” you say, because there’s no point in lying to Brian about something that directly concerns him.

Brian gives you a curious look. “The breathing problem?”

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose,” you say with a laugh. “But yes, I’ve been thinking about that.”

“Y/N…” Brian reaches out for your hand, and you lace your fingers with his. “Look, you know what I want, but if there isn’t a way to do that then there’s nothing we can do. Worrying yourself about this isn’t going to change that.”

You take a deep breath, and turn so you’re facing him properly for this conversation. “That’s the thing, though. I might have a solution.”

“Really?”Brian asks. “What is it?” He looks both surprised and tentatively hopeful and you bite your lip, nervous to share your thoughts despite knowing that you have to.

“I was joking when I mentioned it last night, but then I started actually considering it, and… Well, it’s corsets,” you tell him.

Brian lets go of your hand, his face twisting up into an unreadable expression. “You’re not serious.”

“I actually am,” you say. “I know it’s a bit out there, even for us-”

“It’s lingerie,” Brian says, an echo of what he had said the night before.

“And you wear women’s clothing on stage, and a collar at home when the mood strikes you,” you point out, and Brian predictably doesn’t have a response for that. You sigh, and ask, “Will you at least listen to my thoughts about this, before you completely write it off?”

“Alright,” Brian says, after a moment of consideration. “I’ll listen.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, and you do mean it. “So. Let’s assume that we do this properly.” Because if you were to try this, there’s no question that you would handle everything properly. “We’d get a corset that fits correctly and that was designed to be laced that tight, so I think it would be safe to assume that this would work, at least to some extent. Agreed?”

Brian nods.

“So, let’s pro/con this,” you continue. “Pros: It wouldn’t cover your face, so you’re less likely to panic like you did with the mask and gag. It doesn’t touch your neck, so it’s probably safer-”

“I think that’s a stretch,” Brian interrupts.

You roll your eyes. “Fine, we can debate how safe it is, but at least it wouldn’t leave marks on your neck like a belt or noose would. And any marks it left on your torso can be hidden by your shirt- I mean, assuming you can bring yourself to do up an extra button if you need to.”

“Oh, you ass,” Brian says, but he’s laughing as he says it.

You grin and ask, “Can I continue, or do you want to keep insulting me?”

“No, no, by all means, keep going,” Brian says. He’s starting to relax a little now, and you’re glad to see it. You really do think that this could be the answer to all of your problems, and you would have been irritated beyond words if Brian had stubbornly dismissed it out of hand.

“Well, there’s also the fact that we already know you like tight bondage, and you particularly like it when I tie you in a harness,” you point out. Brian had told you once that he liked the feeling of being “held” by the rope, and you imagine that a corset would provide a similar sensation. “And corsets are designed to be worn all day, so surely it could handle a few hours of being laced maybe a little tighter than usual.”

Brian shifts at that idea, his face starting to flush with desire at the very suggestion of being in any sort of scene for several hours, and you know that he’s starting to come around to the idea. “And the potential cons?” he asks, his voice dropping a note lower than it had been before.

“The expense, for one. I can’t imagine buying a proper corset will be cheap,” you admit. “Not to mention actually getting the corset so it’s sized correctly for you, and making sure we know what to do with it once we have it. I still say that cutting you out of a corset will be safer than trying to pry a mask off your face if something goes wrong, but I’d obviously rather not get to that point at all.”

You shrug, just a little, and add, “That’s all I have, really. What are your thoughts?”

Brian is quiet for a moment, and it makes you a little nervous. He’s always been thoughtful, prefering to mull over his options before making any decisions, but given how eager he’s been recently to find a way to make this kink work you were expecting a bit more of a reaction than this.

And then Brian lets out a small huff of laughter and shakes his head and says, “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting this, and it’s- Well, it’s a lot.”

You reach for Brian’s hand again, and you’re glad that at least he doesn’t pull away from you now. “A lot in a good way, or in a bad way?” you ask.

“Good, I think… but it is quite a bit to consider and I’m having a hard time getting past it being a corset,” Brian admits. “I know that at the end of the day it’s just another piece of gear, but even so it still feels different than anything else we’ve bought or tried before. Not to mention that just getting the damn thing seems like it’ll be an ordeal, and-”

He sighs and you squeeze his hand gently, giving him the space to gather his thoughts rather than pushing him to speak before he’s ready.

“I want to find a way to make the breathplay last longer, you know I do, but you weren’t wrong when you said that the masks and accessories don’t work for us,” Brian says at last. “I’m worried that this will just be another disappointment, only this time we’ll be out a lot more time and money and stuck with something specially made for only me that I am not wearing outside of this context.”

“But it could also work,” you point out gently. “Doesn’t that make the risk worth it?”

Brian smiles, a little crookedly, and jokes, “Well, it wouldn’t be breathplay without a little risk…” You roll your eyes and knock your knee against his, but Brian just laughs and moves his leg so it’s pressing fully against yours. “Do you really think this will work?”

There’s a hopeful sort of note to Brian’s voice, even though he’s still holding himself back. The disappointment of the last few failed attempts had hit him hard, and you aren’t surprised that now that he’s not coming down off a scene that he’s a little more wary about trying something new.

You want to reassure him that this is the perfect solution to your problem, nothing to worry about, everything will finally work out for the two of you this time… but Brian would see through the lie in a heartbeat, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned from exploring these sorts of kinks with him it’s that they only work if you’re both open and honest every step of the way.

“I don’t know,” you tell him, because that’s the only answer that you can really give him. “I think it’s the best option that we’ve come across in a long time, and I’m more hopeful about this than I was with the gag… but I just don’t know. You might panic once it’s put on or not be able to tolerate wearing it long-term. Or maybe a properly-designed corset won’t restrict your breathing like that at all, I have no idea.”

You take a deep breath and smile at Brian, and that alone is enough to get some of the concern to fade from his eyes. “But I do know how much you enjoy breathplay and how much you want to find something that will work for longer than a few minutes at a time,” you tell him. “So if this has even the slightest chance of giving you that… Why shouldn’t we at least make the attempt?”

Brian smiles back at you, bright enough to dispel your lingering fear that you’d gone too far with this suggestion. “You’re right. After everything else we’ve already tried, I suppose this is worth a shot as well.” He laughs, sounding almost disbelieving of his own words, and adds, “God, I can’t believe I’m going to wear a fucking corset.”

You laugh as well. “Well, provided we can figure out where to get one.”

You bite back the other comments you want to make, the ones about how lovely you know he’s going to look wearing it, because you can tell where Brian’s boundaries are with this and you know he won’t appreciate the compliment- at least, not right now.

Instead you close the distance between you and Brian, small as it may be, practically climbing onto his lap and draping your arms loosely around his neck. Brian’s hands settle on your hips, his fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt to tease along your skin.

“Well, hello there,” Brian says with a broad, easy grin. “I’m assuming you’ve finished with our little conversation, then?”

“I think we’ve made enough big decisions for one night,” you say lightly. “If you wanted to keep talking about the minutia of this I guess we can do that, or we can do something a bit more fun…”

“Oh, is that so?” Brian’s hands start drifting higher, pushing your shirt up as he goes, and he leans in to press a few gentle kisses along your neck. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

You gasp and arc into his touch, and breathe, “Whatever you want.”

You catch a glimpse of Brian’s brilliant smile before his lips catch yours in a fierce kiss. You’re momentarily overwhelmed with just how much you love this man- and then Brian gathers you in his arms, picking you up as he stands from the couch, and you shriek in surprise and delight as he carries you towards the bedroom.

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

You immediately dive into research about corsets, at least as much as you can with the resources available at the library, and what you find doesn’t seem promising at first. You’re head spins with endless lists of measurements and jargon you don’t understand, and you still can’t figure out if this will actually work the way Brian needs it to or if that’s all just Hollywood nonsense.

Even the few shops you manage to find that sell corsets don’t seem likely to work for your purposes. The lingerie stores seem to sell mostly fashion corsets, which probably can’t lace tight enough even if you could get them to fit on Brian’s body, and the wedding boutiques are an immediate no-go from the start.

In the end it’s Brian who comes up with a solution- or at least, that’s what you can only assume has happened when he comes home from the studio one day in a bit of a whirlwind and says, “Fred’s found a corsetmaker for us.”

You blink in bemusement, listening as he sheds coat and keys in the foyer and waiting until he pops his head into the living room before saying, “Hi, honey. Mind explaining how Freddie got involved in this little project of ours?”

Brian huffs in vague amusement, and crosses the room to give you a quick kiss in greeting. “All I did was ask him if he knew any designers who also did corset work, since we weren’t having any luck finding someone on our own,” he says, leaning over you as he talks.

But it seems that’s the extent of his explanation, because he straightens back up and asks, “Do you want tea? I think I’m going to make myself a cuppa.”

“I would like a bit more detail about Freddie and this corsetmaker,” you say. “But yes, I’ll take the tea as well.”

Brian, it seems, is in somewhat of a mood, because he continues the conversation as he walks away, calling over his shoulder, “Like I said, we weren’t getting anywhere and Freddie knows loads of designers and artists so I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask him…”

You stand up and follow him into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway and watching as Brian fills up the kettle and pulls out your mugs with a bit more verve than usual.

“...and obviously I didn’t tell him what it was for. I might have actually implied that it was for you, not that it did me any good because he came back to me today with a name of a corsetmaker who he said would treat me quite well.” He huffs and braces himself against the counter, and you can see the line of tension in his back. “What is it about me that makes it so obvious that I’m going to be the one wearing lingerie?”

“Why does it bother you so much?” you ask, far more quiet than Brian’s own testy ramblings.

Brian clearly hadn’t heard you follow him, because he startles at the sound of your voice and turns to face you in surprise. “Why wouldn’t it bother me?”

“Because like I pointed out before, you’ve worn women’s clothing in the past. Quite frequently, in fact,” you remind him. “Why is this different?”

Brian gnaws at his bottom lip, clearly fighting to find the right words to explain this. “Because, being told that I look like I should be wearing something like this feels like people are making assumptions about me,” he finally admits. “I just wear clothes that I like, regardless of whether they’re intended for men or women. It has nothing to do with what I like in the bedroom, and I hate feeling like people are drawing those sorts of conclusions based on what I wear. They’re never completely right anyway, and it always feels demeaning and degrading.”

There’s a horrible and heartbreaking sort of logic there, especially when combined with what you know of Brian’s deep-seated self-esteem and body issues. You know that society at large doesn’t look favorably on men wearing lingerie, and certainly doesn’t consider them to be much of a man at all. In that context, Brian’s initial visceral reaction against the corset makes a lot more sense.

“Have I ever made you feel that way?” You hate how small your voice sounds as you ask the question, and you hate that you have to ask it at all.

“No,” Brian says immediately, without hesitation. “Never. It’s always just been me, getting too caught up in my own worries about things. Which is exactly what happened today with Freddie, because I know he wasn’t insinuating anything, but I still…”

The kettle goes off and Brian turns away and busies himself making the tea rather than finishing that sentence. You stay quiet, knowing he needs this moment of privacy to gather himself and his thoughts.

It’s a testament to how worked up Brian is that he’s not quiet as he thinks over his next words. The silence in the kitchen is broken by sighs and frustrated huffs, until Brian all but slams the kettle back down and bites out, “It’s one thing, you know, when I have those knee-jerk reactions around you, because you somehow always know what to say to help me actually think things through and calm down. But now I have a phone number for a corsetmaker who I’m going to have to discuss this with and it’s- it’s a lot harder to feel good about this now that other people are involved.”

That gets you moving forward so you’re standing next to Brian, one hand coming up to gently rub his back- but then Brian turns, pulling you into a tight hug and burying his face against your shoulder, and all you can do is hold him as he shakes in your arms.

It’s a long time before Brian pulls away, and when he does he looks exhausted and embarrassed. You kiss him softly to cut off his feeble attempt at an apology, and ask, “Do you want to go sit in the living room?”

“I want tea, but I think it’s gone cold,” Brian says instead, picking up the cups he prepared before his small breakdown. They’re both lukewarm at best, and he dumps them into the sink as you quickly refill the kettle and start heating it again.

You stay pressed close to Brian’s side as you wait for the water to heat up. He doesn’t move away from you but he does say, “I’m fine, you know. I just let it get to me a little too much for a moment there.”

“Are you sure?” you ask. “Because I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“What other choice do I have?”

You can’t hold back a small, frustrated noise at Brian’s question. “Any other choice in the world, Brian! We can take this entire stupid idea and shove it for all I care, because your comfort is more important than some damn kink!”

“But I do want to give this a try.”

It’s said quietly, evenly, no heat or urgency in Brian’s voice, just a statement of fact- and for a moment, you almost hate him for that. You want Brian to be angry so that you can be angry, so you can push and needle at him until all of his insecurities are laid bare for you to systematically refute until there’s no part of Brian that still feels like his self-worth can be determined by his kinks or his clothes.

But you know that’s not the best approach to take in this situation, so instead you take a slow breath to ground yourself and ask, “Then what can we do to make this as stress-free as possible for you?”

You half-expect Brian to respond with “Nothing”, and are bracing yourself for the frustrating conversation that is sure to follow. But instead Brian actually considers the question, humming thoughtfully as the kettle whistles and he remakes the tea for both of you.

“Can you call the corset shop?” he asks after a moment. “If they’re going to have a problem fitting a corset on a man…”

Brian’s voice trails off again and when it’s clear that he’s not going to finish the sentence you say, “I can call.” Because if the conversation goes badly, you know you can handle that better than Brian will. “Is there anything specific you want me to ask them, besides that?”

“If they can make it from my measurements, without me needing to go in at all?” Brian jokes weakly, but it falls somewhat flat and he sighs, and says, “We do need to make sure that they’ll be discreet, and I’d rather not have to ask Jim for an NDA for them to sign.”

You bite your lip to stop from laughing at the mental image of Brian having that particular conversation with Jim Beach. “I agree. Let’s try to not to tell anyone else about our plans, shall we?”

That gets Brian chuckling, and it’s such a relief to hear that you find yourself smiling brightly up at him. “Yes, well, at least telling Freddie got us the name of a corsetmaker, which is more than we had before,” Brian points out. He hands you your cup with a smile of his own and kisses you on the cheek. “Come on, let’s go sit down before we ruin this tea as well.”

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

The next morning you wake late, after Brian has already left for the studio, and as you stumble into the kitchen in search of caffeine your eyes fall on a small note left on the counter. Corsets by Charlotte, it reads in Brian’s handwriting, followed by a phone number.

Right. You did say that you’d make the initial phone call…

Even setting aside Brian’s insecurities it does make more sense for you to call anyway. You’re not recognizable like he is, and you have more time and privacy on your hands than Brian does on recording days, but you still find yourself jittery as you dial the number and listen to it ring, nervous about everything even though you know you shouldn’t be.

The call connects and a bright voice on the other end says, “Costumes by Charlotte! This is Vicki speaking, how may I help you?”

The Costumes part of the greeting throws you for a loop and you find yourself stammering, “Ah, I’m- Well, I was told that you might sell corsets…?” You desperately hope that Freddie’s information isn’t outdated, because you’re not sure where else to turn if this lead is a dud.

“We do, but you’ll have to talk to Charlotte directly for that. Hold on a second, let me get her.”

You tap your foot nervously as you wait, twisting the phone cord around your finger, and you jump when a new voice suddenly says, “Lottie here! Vicki says you’re interested in buying a corset?”

“I am.”

“Wonderful! Corsets are a bit of a passion of mine, so it’s always a treat to get a new order,” Lottie says, and even through the phone she sounds genuinely excited. That already puts some of your worries at ease, even before she asks, “Now, is this for yourself, or for a friend…?”

You bite your lip, hesitating for only a split-second before quickly deciding that you can’t beat around the bush with this. “It’s not for me. It’s for my boyfriend.”

“Alright then, that’s not an issue at all,” Lottie says easily. “Do you know what he’s looking for in a corset?”

She sounds matter-of-fact about it and you slump against the wall in relief. “To be honest, this is pretty new territory for both of us. We don’t exactly know what all the options are for everything.”

“Not a problem! It can be pretty overwhelming for beginners,” Lottie says. “Let’s start with the basics. Why does he want to wear one? Is it for fashion, for medical reasons…?” You hesitate for another moment and Lottie laughs lightly and says, “Would it be easier to just make an appointment to come into the shop and we can discuss everything in person?”

“Probably, yes, but… Well, you see my boyfriend is a bit well-known, and given the nature of all of this-”

“I understand, and if it’s any reassurance he’s not the first public figure I’ve made a corset for. Not even the first male one, in fact.” Lottie reassures you, which certainly piques your interest.

“The storefront is fairly discreet, especially since we branched out and changed the shop name to Costumes,” she continues. “We can schedule an appointment in the evening after regular business hours are over, so there’ll be no other customers, and since I handle all of the corset orders myself you’ll be dealing with me directly. And, of course, if you want me to sign an NDA I have no problems doing so.”

You are so grateful for her no-nonsense response that you don’t hesitate to make the appointment. You’re pretty sure that the band doesn’t have studio time scheduled for Saturday evening, but Lottie reassures you that rescheduling won’t be a problem if something comes up and you take her word for it.

You jot down the shop address on the note that Brian left and tack it to the front of the fridge, where you let Brian discover it when he gets home that evening. You fill him in on the brief but illuminating phone conversation as the two of you make dinner, and you’re pleased to see that Brian is genuinely and enthusiastically excited about the upcoming appointment.

You’re even more pleased when, later that evening, he pulls you into the bedroom to work out some of that excitement with you.

He knows your body as well as you know his. He knows the spots that make you squirm, make you sigh, make you scream- knows where to kiss and where to bite, knows how to bring you to overwhelming pleasure again and again with his mouth and his fingers, and his cock when he finally, finally, pushes inside you.

And as much as Brian loves to tease you, once he finally starts fucking you he doesn’t hold back at all even as he remains attentive almost to a fault, bringing a hand between your bodies to make sure that you reach your peak before he follows you over that edge.

Brian collapses on the bed next to you, breathing heavily and fumbling for your hand. You find his and gently lace your fingers together, knowing that Brian likes little gestures of contact like that after sex. There’s still a vulnerability to him in the afterglow, even when he doesn’t sub and even when kink isn’t involved at all, and after several minutes you kiss Brian on the neck and rouse yourself to get a washcloth to clean up- despite Brian’s protest that he was just about to do that himself.

Brian’s excitement lingers for most of the week, but his nerves return with a vengeance when Saturday morning finally dawns. He frets about the house for most of the day, tense and on-edge, and nothing you try seems to calm him down. You half-expect him to call the whole thing off, and you’re more than a little surprised that Brian doesn’t hesitate or put up any protest when the time comes to leave for the appointment.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” you ask as Brian parks the car and sits for a moment staring at the storefront across the street.

“Yes. I’m fine.” Brian turns to you and smiles, and it’s a little forced but he doesn’t really look like he’s dreading what’s to come. “A bit nervous, but I think I’m allowed to be.”

“You are,” you agree. “Shall we get on with it, then?”

Brian takes a deep breath but nods, and the two of you finally step out of the car.

The storefront is closed, but as you approach the door it’s opened and you’re greeted by a brightly smiling young woman. “I’m Lottie,” she introduces as she ushers you inside. “I’d ask if you’re my evening appointment, but I can’t imagine any other reason why Brian May would be stopping by my little shop.”

Brian laughs, self-conscious, as Lottie closes the door and locks it again. “Yes, that would be me. Guess it was too much to hope that I wouldn’t be recognized.”

“The hair is a bit of a giveaway,” Lottie jokes. “And, of course, I know Freddie from university. He always said he’d send business my way, but I wasn’t expecting it to be one of his bandmates!” She laughs and shakes her head, before adding, “But come on, let’s head into the back and we can have a nice little chat about what you’re looking for here.”

She leads the way to a smaller room in the back of the store, with several ready-made corsets hanging on a rack in the corner and a few chairs set up around a table. Once you’re all seated she grabs a notebook, smiles at the two of you again, and gets right to the point. “Forgive me for being blunt, Mr. May, but you’re looking for a corset for, shall we say, intimate reasons, aren’t you?”

Your eyes immediately bug out in shock and Brian’s face flushes bright red with embarrassment. “I, ah, I don’t really see why the reason is important-”

“On the contrary, it’s very important. Why a corset is worn determines how it is made- what materials are used, what size it is, how much stress it can withstand…”

Lottie jots down a few notes, and then sets her pen aside and folds her hands over the notebook, giving both of you a no-nonsense look. “I don’t believe in beating around the bush with this, so let me lay all of my cards down on the table and you can decide if you want to proceed or not. Prices for a custom-made corset from me begin at £30. It will be fitted to you perfectly, so there are no returns after it’s made.”

You and Brian exchange a quick look, before he says, “The price isn’t an issue.”

“Well I’m certainly glad to hear that,” Lottie says. “Now, if I’m wrong about why you want the corset please let me know so I can make sure we’re on the same page here with regards to its construction but I do need to know something about what you want out of this.”

When neither of you are quick to say anything she sighs and adds, “If it makes you feel better, most of my customers buy for modelling or fetish play since corsetry isn’t exactly fashionable these days, so if that’s why you’re here I don’t mind in the slightest. I only mind when I need to make something for a wedding.”

“Why do you mind if it’s for a wedding?” you ask, curious.

Lottie smirks and says, “Because it is a nightmare dealing with picky brides.”

Brian laughs, and you’re surprised to hear how genuine it sounds. When you glance at him he seems fairly relaxed, considering the setting and the conversation so far, and that helps you calm down a little as well.

“I can see why Freddie recommended we come to you,” Brian says, sounding amused despite himself. “And…” He huffs and, with a small shake of his head, admits, “Yes. You’re right about why I’m here. Can I ask how you knew, though?”

“Like I said, models and fetishists make up the bulk of my corset clientele- outside of film productions, of course,” Lottie says. “You’re not a model, and you’re certainly not going to wear a corset for one of your concerts, so it was an easy guess from there.”

“Easy. Of course,” you mutter. Brian grabs your hand underneath the table and gives it a gentle squeeze. His palm is a little clammy, a testament to his lingering nerves, but if he hasn’t bolted from this conversation yet you suppose you can’t get too testy about Lottie’s bluntness.

“Now, can I ask where your interests more specifically lie? Do you need this to be practical, or is it purely decorative?” Lottie asks.

“Practical,” Brian says. “I, ah-” He clears his throat but doesn’t finish that particular sentence.

“Thank you, that’s good to know.” Lottie quickly scribbles a few more notes, and then stands abruptly and grabs a tape measure that’s hanging off the end of the corset rack. “Please stand up, Mr. May. I need to take your measurements.”

Brian stands and you watch as Lottie wraps the tape measure around him and takes several quick and precise measurements along your torso. Brian stands completely still, eyes locked with yours and a look of bemusement on his still-flushed face as Lottie works.

“There, that should do it for now,” she says after a moment, tossing the tape measure aside again. “Now, have you worn a corset before?” Brian shakes his head and Lottie tsks. “Do you want to try one on?”

Brian gives you a questioning look and you shrug, and tell him, “I think it’s a good idea, if you’re comfortable with that. I’d hate to spend this much money only to get home and find out you hate it.”

“That’s a fair point,” Brian agrees, turning to Lottie, “Alright. Let’s try one on, then.”

Lottie takes a moment to find a close enough match for Brian’s measurements and from there she makes quick work of wrapping it around his body and doing up the clasps in front. “Now, you always want to fasten up the busk in front when it’s fairly loose,” she explains as she steps around to the back and gathers the laces in her hands. “I won’t do this up too tightly, just enough to give you a bit of an idea…”

Brian is facing you and you can see the exact moment that the corset starts to tighten. He gasps quietly and his eyes widen in surprise - but you can tell from the look on his face that it’s not a bad sort of surprise at all, and you shift in your seat as you watch Brian adjust to the sensation.

Lottie ties off the laces after a moment and says, “There, that’s not too tight, is it?”

Brian shakes his head quickly. “No, not at all.”

“Good-” The rest of her response is cut off as a phone rings elsewhere in the shop. She sighs in irritation and says, “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a moment…” before ducking out of the room.

You stand up quickly and round the table to stand in front of Brian. His earlier hesitation has been entirely replaced with arousal, and it matches what you’re feeling yourself as you give him a slow once-over.

“You look good in that,” you tell him. You want to shower him in a thousand compliments but you’re not sure how they would be received, so instead you find yourself asking, “What does it feel like?” Brian doesn’t answer right away and you hum impatiently and add, “Compared to our usual sorts of games, anyway.”

Brian rolls his eyes at that but he says, “It feels… different.”

You laugh softly, just a little, and tease, “Well, I should hope it feels different than a hand around your neck.” You press up against him, hands dropping to his waist- and, god, it’s barely cinched in at all but he still feels smaller under your touch. It’s such a small thing, but it makes you flush with a twisted sort of desire. “Describe it for me, baby. I wanna know what it feels like.”

Brian groans, breathy and a little needy already even though you’ve barely done anything. “It’s just there,” he says. “It’s not uncomfortable but I can feel the pressure of it all the way around me and I can’t get away from it. Every time I breathe I can feel it, and if I try to take a deep breath I can’t, and-”

He whines and rocks against you, desperate despite himself, despite the fact that you’re almost in public, and Lottie could be back at any moment. “It feels so good, Y/N, god-”

“Yeah? I’m glad to hear that.” And you are glad that this harebrained scheme of yours is looking like it’s going to be a success, especially given Brian’s earlier nerves, but the sight of Brian coming undone in front of you is eroding away your control as well. “Now just imagine how good it’ll feel when I pull it even tighter,” you purr, smirking as Brian tries to bite back a whimper at the suggestion. “Or if I do this as well…”

And you move one hand, slowly, to rest over Brian’s throat- not pressing in, not here, but even that smallest of tease is more than Brian can handle and he arches into your touch, begging, “Y/N, please-”

You hear footsteps approaching and step back just before Lottie reenters the room- and frankly, it’s not a moment too soon. You’re not sure what you would have done, how far you would have gone, but you’re pretty sure you would have regretted it after the fact. You’re thankful that at least neither you nor Brian are aroused beyond what’s easily hidden, and if Lottie suspects anything she’s tactful enough not to mention it.

“My apologies for that, let me get you out of that corset now…” Lottie says, untying and deftly loosening the laces. “Feeling alright, Mr. May?”

“Yes,” Brian says, dark eyes locked with yours. “Perfectly alright.”

“Wonderful!” Lottie says. She hangs up the corset as Brian sits back down. You want to touch Brian, tease him, make him keep begging for you… but you settle for finding his hand again underneath the table, and gripping it a bit tighter than you had before.

“Now then,” Lottie says as she joins you at the table, picking up her pen and giving both of you a bright grin. “Let’s talk about your corset now, shall we?”

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

“I’m sorry for almost starting something back in the shop. We have our rule about no public play for a reason, and I shouldn’t have pushed you,” you apologize the moment you and Brian get home.

Truthfully, that’s not all that you feel uncomfortable about. Despite knowing about Brian’s insecurities and reservations with this, you still found him so gorgeous in the corset that it almost took your breath away. You don’t know whether to compliment him or offer up an apology, but you’re pretty sure neither would be welcome so you don’t voice that particular thought at all.

Brian shakes his head and is quick to reassure you, “Believe me, you didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to - and nothing I haven’t done to you once or twice before myself. And you stopped things before we actually went too far. I certainly wasn’t thinking straight enough to hear Lottie returning.”

“Did the corset actually feel that good?” you ask. “It seemed like you enjoyed it, but…” You shake your head. “I don’t know. Maybe I was just expecting more breathlessness, but you seemed fairly composed. I mean, all things considered.”

Brian takes a moment to consider his answer before he responds, and you like the reassurance of knowing that whatever answer he gives is going to be true, not just the first thing that popped into his mind.

“Breathing in it was easier than I expected, once I adjusted to it,” he replies. “Maybe that will change when it’s laced tighter or when there’s more exertion involved- I mean, it probably will, I would expect it to, at least. But I did enjoy how it felt today. It still felt restrictive and…”

He hums, searching for the right words to describe it all. “There was a threat to it all, I suppose. Every time I breathed I felt that restriction, and even if it wasn’t much the possibility of more was always there. And you know that I enjoy being teased with choking almost as much as I enjoy the act itself.”

You laugh a little, because it’s true and because Brian’s explanation lifts a weight of worry off your shoulders. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it, and I, for one, enjoyed seeing you in the corset as well,” you tell him, hoping that that little bit of honesty isn’t pushing too far. “I think once yours is done being made, we’re going to have a lot of fun with it.”

“That sounds like you’re already plotting things…”

“And you aren’t?”

Brian grins at you, a little wickedly. “No, I definitely am,” he admits without reservation. “But I’m very curious to see what you come up with as well.”

“Mm, of course you are.” You push Brian back against the wall, pressing in close to trap him there, even though with his height advantage it would be easy for him to get away if he wanted to… but you know he doesn’t want to. His eyes are wide and dark with desire, and when you slot your thigh between his legs you can feel that he’s already (or still) half-hard.

“I bet that’s all you’ve been thinking of since you put that corset on in the shop, isn’t it?” you purr. “You were sitting there pretending to be so calm while we talked about your corset, but the entire time all you wanted was to get laced back up as tightly as possible. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Brian gasps. He rocks against you and tries to lean down to steal a kiss, but you keep just out of his reach, brushing your lips barely over his but not giving him what he wants. “Please, Y/N…”

“Please, what?” you tease. “Please kiss you? Please touch you? Please tell you all the dirty plans I have for you once I get you into that corset?”

“Yes- yes, all of it, please-”

You surge forward and kiss him roughly, hotly, tangling one hand in his hair to hold him in place as you undo his jeans with your other, shoving them down just far enough to pull out his cock.

“You wanna hear what I’m gonna do to you, baby?” you murmur against his mouth as you start to stroke him, teasing at the head of cock and smirking as he whines and bucks into your touch. “Gonna lace it so tight, Bri, you won’t be able to think let alone breathe, and then I’m gonna pull it even tighter. Gonna tie you up and leave you like that for hours, darling, leave you squirming and panting for me…”

Brian is squirming now, thrusting desperately into your hand and writhing against you. Normally you’d be inclined to punish him for that but he looks so beautiful like this, coming undone so easily and with the barest amount of effort, that instead you speed up your strokes to hurry him towards his orgasm.

“Maybe I’ll be nice and play with you, make you come over and over until you can’t catch your breath at all and you’re begging me to stop.” You twist your hand and tighten your grip in his hair, and he’s so close now, whimpering and shuddering beneath you, and you lean in close to murmur in his ear, “Or maybe you’ll be so fucking turned on that I could leave you there alone and you’d come completely untouched all over your pretty little corset-”

With a loud cry Brian’s orgasm crashes through him and he clings to you, shuddering and gasping as you stroke him through it, until his knees buckle and you ease him to the floor. He leans against you, panting and shaking, and you give him a few moments to recover, carding your clean fingers gently through his hair to ground him.

After a few moments he nuzzles against you and you gasp, biting your lip as you try to stop yourself from grinding against his face. “Babe, you don’t have to-”

“Let me, please,” Brian mumbles, still clearly coming down from his orgasm, but he reaches up to undo your jeans, and how can you possibly deny Brian anything right now?

Brian’s mouth is positively sinful, his tongue quick and clever against your most sensitive parts, even when he’s sex-drunk and so far under that you can gently tighten your grip on his head to guide his movements to the exact rhythm that makes you see stars.

“Bri… Brian…” you pant, feeling your peak approaching almost embarrassingly quickly. “You’re so good for me, so fucking good…”

Brian looks up at you with slightly glazed but adoring eyes- and that’s enough to tip you over. You buck against Brian’s face and he groans against you, the vibrations of it making you cry out in heightened pleasure. When the sensations become too much to bear and you take one stumbling step back, Brian’s mouth is soaked with spit and come and you moan at the sight of it all.

You kneel down as well, gathering Brian in your arms, and he slumps against you as the two of you catch your breath. You kiss the top of his head and murmur praises that are mostly lost in the mess of Brian’s hair, but he nuzzles against you with a happy sigh so you know he understands the intent behind your words at least.

It’s only later, well after you’ve both gotten cleaned up and moved on with your evening, that Brian brings up corsets again. “You know, you’re more into the corset thing than I was expecting you to be,” he remarks, out of the blue.

“What do you mean?” you ask and you give him a curious look. You’ve always been supportive of Brian’s kinks, like he is of yours, so you’re not quite sure why he’s surprised now. “I know how much you like the breathplay. Why wouldn’t I embrace this with you?”

Brian shakes his head. “No, no I mean- the corset itself. You, ah- you seemed to enjoy seeing me in it, even aside from the breathplay aspect. And you really seem eager to lace me up in my corset when it’s done.”

“Why wouldn’t I be eager to lace you up?” you ask, because it’s safer to focus on that than the rest of Brian’s question. “Honestly, I never thought of it before but seeing your waist cinched in like that… It’s like when I tie you up and use the rope to accent certain parts of your body. It’s like I can physically see the control you give me in those moments, and I like that.”

“Oh. Huh. That would make sense,” Brian says, voice thoughtful. “So it’s not really about the corset itself at all then?”

You can feel your face start to grow hot with embarrassment. For a moment you seriously consider lying to Brian even though you know that wouldn’t be fair to him, but you finally admit, “All kinks aside, you did look very nice in the corset, Brian. It was very flattering on you, but I didn’t want to say too much and make you uncomfortable-”

“Y/N, it’s alright,” Brian interrupts, with a small laugh. He kisses you, soft and tender, before adding, “I don’t have a problem with compliments if they’re coming from you. Especially when I’m subbing, you know that.”

You do know that. Brian thrives off praise and adoration, which is good because he always looks gorgeous and he makes it so easy to shower him with a thousand well-deserved compliments. But you’re still nervous about this, and you can’t help but ask, “Are you sure? You were so worried about the idea of the corset at first, that I don’t want to cross a line anywhere…”

“I appreciate that very much, but I honestly don’t think you will,” Brian tells you. “And if you do, I’ll speak up and we’ll talk it over, like we would for anything else. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, and you manage to give him a small smile.

Brian’s reassurances have soothed away most of your lingering unease and guilt. You curl against his side, sighing contentedly as he drapes an arm around your shoulders to hold you close, and you ask, “Anything else on your mind?”

Despite the conversations you’ve already had, and the time its taken to even get this far, you’re not naive enough to think that you’ve adequately discussed every subject or angle with this. You also know that it’s not really possible to do that, but you wish it was. You wish you could analyze every single detail so that when the scene was finally underway there were no hiccups and no reservations and nothing ever went wrong.

Even if you don’t say any of that Brian knows you- and your anxieties- far too well. “Nothing else right now,” he says. “If anything else comes up we’ll talk it through, but I think we’ll be alright. All we can really do now is wait for Lottie to finish the corset anyway.”

And, as it turns out, you don’t have very long to wait for that after all. Brian has his first fitting a few days later, which he insists on going to alone- “So we don’t get up to any more antics in the shop,” he jokes- and it’s only a week after that when Lottie calls to let you know that the final corset is ready to be picked up.

“Are you sure you want me to come along? Maybe I won’t be able to control myself this time…” you tease as Brian hands you your jacket and ushers you quickly out of the house. You’re both eager to get over to the shop, and Brian isn’t bothering to hide his excitement at all.

He laughs as he opens the car door for you. "Lottie wants to go over proper lacing techniques with us, so we need to control ourselves- at least until we get home.”

As with last time the shop is closed when you arrive, and Lottie greets you with a bright smile. “Can I just say, I’ve had a wonderful time working on your corset,” she says as she leads you into the same room as before. “Especially after-” She laughs, glancing at Brian, and says, “Well, let’s just put this on you and see how it looks!”

You give Brian a curious look, but he just smirks and strips out of both his jacket and his dress shirt, leaving him only in a thin t-shirt.

“Now, the oils of your skin can damage the fabric- and this isn’t something you can just throw in a washing machine, you know. I’ll send you home with a liner or you can wear a t-shirt like that one,” Lottie says.

You have a moment of wondering what Brian would look like wearing less than he is now… a tank top perhaps, to show off his arms, or just the liner that Lottie mentioned so all that beautiful skin is on display for you… and then you notice the corset that Lottie is wrapping around Brian, and you nearly lose the ability to think entirely.

The original corset plans had been straightforward and simple: all white, in a simple but sturdy cotton fabric. Functional first and foremost, and decidedly understated to avoid something that looked too much like lingerie and would trigger Brian’s insecurities.

The corset that Brian is wearing, that Lottie is carefully tightening, that has Brian gasping and flushing and looking at you with dark eyes, is not that corset.

This one is still white, technically, but now sewn up in a heavy brocade with a subtle pattern that shimmers as it catches the light. The corset is trimmed in black, with black laces that Lottie ties off with quick precision… and black lace appliques now decorating the middle of the corset, resting along Brian’s hips and drawing the eyes to point where his waist is cinched in.

You only realize that your mouth is hanging open in shock when you hear Brian’s soft laugh. “You like it, then?” he asks, with a knowing little smile. “After our little conversation, I asked Lottie to change up the design a bit when I came in for that fitting.”

“Like it?” You let out a breathless laugh and, unable to help yourself, surge forward to kiss Brian, though you keep it brief and chaste. “Baby, I love it. You look absolutely incredible.”

And he does look beautiful. His cheeks are rosy from both arousal and a hint of embarrassment but he’s beaming at you with a wide smile, and when your hands settle around his waist he makes an aborted move to rock against you, before he catches himself and stops.

“I’m very glad you both like it,” Lottie says, with a smile of her own. “Now, there’s one last thing to discuss, and that’s how to break the corset in.”

Some of the dazed excitement fades from Brian’s eyes, but he asks, “What do we need to do?”

“I usually recommend the 2-2-2 method. Tighten it by two inches, for two hours a day, over a period of two weeks,” Lottie says.

“Two weeks?” Brian echoes, sounding dismayed.

“Obviously once you leave the shop I can’t control what you do,” Lottie says. “But if you try to lace it too tightly right from the beginning you can damage the corset, or hurt yourself if you’re not careful. That corset can lace in tighter than two inches and your body isn’t used to that, after all.”

“We’ll break it in, don’t worry,” you tell her. Brian huffs, and you give him a pointed look. “There’s no harm in taking your time with some things.”

Brian’s eyes widen as he picks up on the hidden meaning in your words. The whole point of this new adventure was, after all, to find a way to take your time with the breathplay. Maybe this wasn’t quite what you had expected, but your mind is already racing with possibilities for the next two weeks.

“Good. I hate seeing my hard work ruined by someone’s impatience,” Lottie says. “Now, the corset is laced in about two inches now, so that’s what you’re aiming for over the next two weeks. And I think that’s about everything so, Brian, do you want me to take that off, or do you want to wear it out of the shop?”

Brian looks at you questioningly, and you give him a small shake of the head and a tiny shrug. You may take on the dominant role when it comes to the breathplay, but this isn’t a decision you can make for Brian. The thought of Brian driving home with a corset hidden under his jacket makes your entire body light up with desire but neither of you are typically ones for public play, and you won’t force Brian even further outside his comfort zone.

“I think I’ll wear it home,” Brian says, and you have to bite your lip to hold back a moan.

“Wonderful! Now, as we discussed at the fitting, the final cost is £50. I’ll have your invoice ready for payment up front whenever you’re ready,” Lottie says, and then she leaves the room.

It takes more effort than you thought was possible to let go of Brian’s waist and take a step back. “I want to fucking ruin you right now,” you say in a low voice. “God, Brian, that corset is stunning- you’re stunning, I can’t stand it-”

Brian exhales sharply, and when he reaches for his shirt you can see that his hands are shaking slightly. “When you told me that you liked how I looked wearing the corset, I wanted to make sure the final product was something you’d enjoy as well.”

“I would have enjoyed seeing you in the plain corset we originally planned… but I can’t deny that I do love the changes you made.” You give him a quick peck on the cheek, because you don’t trust yourself not to get carried away if you kissed him on the lips, and you do up two more buttons on his shirt. “You can’t leave this as open as you usually do, darling, or someone will see our little secret.”

Truthfully, there's nothing to see once Brian has his jacket on. His clothes are loose enough to hide the cinching around his waist, and only his ramrod-straight spine gives away the slightest hint of what’s hiding beneath the surface.

You steal the car keys from Brian when you leave the shop, telling him, “I think you might be a bit too distracted to drive right now.”

“And you’re not distracted at all?” Brian says dryly- but his composure is ruined as he sits down in the car. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, already sounding strained. You watch as he tries to arch his back to find a more comfortable position, but there’s no give to the corset. “Sitting is, ah, harder than I was expecting…”

That’s not the only thing that’s harder. You can see the tell-tale bulge in Brian’s jeans, and he’s not the only one affected by the situation. Brian squirms in his seat the entire drive home, the worst sort of temptation, and you grip the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles are practically white.

As soon as you get home you lead Brian into the bedroom. You kiss him roughly, drawing it out long enough to strip off Brian’s jacket and coat, undo his belt and push his jeans down his thighs. When you pull away you’re breathless, and Brian is gasping as he struggles to draw enough air back into his restricted lungs.

“Color, Bri?” you ask, and his answering, “Green,” is breathy but his conviction is firm.

“Good.” You take a step back and start to strip off your own clothes as you order, “Finish taking your jeans off and kneel for me.”

“Pants too?” Brian asks, as he quickly pulls off his jeans.

You shake your head, and sit down on the edge of the bed, naked. “No. Leave them on- and kneel, Brian. I won’t ask again.”

Brian sinks, slowly, down to his knees with a quiet gasp. “Oh- oh god, Y/N, you have no idea what this feels like…”

He reaches down to touch himself but you stop him with a sharp, “No, Brian. Hands behind your back. You’re not to touch yourself, do you understand?”

Brian moans but he does as you say. He grips his wrists behind his back and looks up at you with eyes blown wide with lust, panting and trying so hard to stay still for you.

“Fuck, Bri, you look gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous, babe,” you praise, reaching one hand down to touch yourself. You’re not going to last long but that’s okay, because you know this is only the first of many scenes like this. “You’ve never had better posture than this, honey, should’ve gotten a corset ages ago just for that alone…”

Brian whines, needy, strained. He squirms but the steel-boning and heavy fabric of the corset have such little give that even as he shifts his entire torso remains straight and unyielding. “Y/N, please, let me taste you, let me touch you, please-”

“Not today,” you tell him, groaning as your fingers tease over yourself. “Today you’re going to kneel there and describe what it feels like while I get myself off.”

“You know what it feels like,” Brian tries to deflect. “I told you that first day we went to Lottie’s shop-”

“Tell me,” you order. “I want to hear it now, when you’re kneeling in front of me in your corset, when you’re laced down two whole inches and so fucking desperate for me.”

Brian whimpers but he is desperate and he starts to babble, “Fuck, Y/N, it feels- it feels tight and strong and- and there’s no give, not anywhere, and the pressure feels sharper when I’m not standing, and- and-”

Brian is trying to subtly rock his hips, but you let it slide. You can see how the corset limits the movement, even around his hips, and anyway there’s nothing for him to rub against, no way to get friction against his painfully hard cock. He looks nearly wrecked already, even though you haven’t touched him, even though the corset is nowhere near as tight as it can go, and it’s enough to drive you wild.

“How does it feel to breathe in it?” you ask, speeding up the movement of your hand, your other drifting up to ghost across your chest, tease along your nipples. “What’s it like to feel it against your chest with every inhale?”

“Good, it’s so good, it’s so fucking good,” Brian moans, shameless and desperate. “I can’t- it feels like I can’t catch my breath, feels so good, Y/N, please let me come-”

Brian’s begging tips you over the edge and you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, so hard that your vision almost whites out, and you shake and writhe on the edge of the bed as you work yourself through it, Brian’s moans and breathless panting sending fire licking up your spine, until you collapse, boneless, against the bed.

Brian is still whimpering and begging, and when you look down at him you can see that he’s still kneeling in the same position, his hands still behind his back, though he’s practically shaking with need. He’s so turned on that he’s winding himself up without you needing to do anything at all. Even if he had no problems breathing in the corset under normal circumstances, he’s panting so heavily, breathing so shallowly, that you know that he has to be feeling light-headed by now.

You sink down to kneel in front of him, gathering him in your arms and murmuring, “You can move, Brian, you did so well, you’re so good for me…”

Brian’s hands immediately fly up to cling to your shoulders and he begs again, “Please let me come, please please let me come-”

“You can come when the corset comes off,” you tell Brian and the noise he lets out would have been a sob, if he had enough breath for it. “The first time you come while wearing that is going to be after we break it in, when it’s laced as tightly as I can possibly get it. So you’re going to stay like that, laced up and desperate to come, until today’s two hours are up. Do you understand?”

Brian whines and buries his face against your neck, but he nods and you can feel him trying to calm down, to take slow and deep breaths despite the corset restricting his attempts.

“Color, Brian?” you ask again, because even though you’ve played similar games with Brian in the past the corset brings an entirely new element to this and you need to be careful here.

“Green,” he says, without hesitation, and his voice sounds a little more calm than it had been even just moments before.

“Good boy.” You rub one hand along his back, and press a kiss to his temple. “My perfect, good boy.”

You feel Brian shudder at the praise, before sagging against you- at least, as much as the corset will allow him to.

———————————

You and Brian learn a lot about corsets over those first few days. You learn how easy is it to lace Brian’s corset to the required two inches, and how easy it would be (will be) to lace it even tighter. Brian learns how to breathe without hyperventilating, and how to get to that point when he wants it. You learn the patterns that the corset leaves on Brian’s skin, and he learns how quickly they fade and how to hide them if they linger.

You both learn that two hours is a fickle amount of time. When Brian isn’t laced up two hours can pass in the blink of an eye, but the moment he puts that corset on two hours feels like a small eternity. You don’t always start a scene when Brian puts it on, but regardless of how those two hours are spent you’re firm on not letting him come while he’s wearing the corset. Maybe it’s silly of you, but you want the first time you properly and fully explore the breathplay possibilities of the corset to be something special.

And then, barely a week into breaking in the corset, you learn that Queen are almost done with this block of time in the studio. There’s a break planned afterwards, before they return to recording later in the year, but you know that they’ll still want these first few songs to be perfected before the band goes their separate ways for a few months.

Brian’s days start getting longer, beginning earlier and running later into the evening. He comes home half-exhausted, puts off being laced into the corset for as long as possible, and when you do take it off there’s no frantic desperation to come. Brian falls asleep early, leaves before you wake up in the morning, and it’s an unfortunate routine that you’ve grown used to over the years but it feels wrong, somehow, now that you’ve fucked up the timing and mixed kink in with it all.

On the third-to-last evening of breaking in the corset, Brian dozes off on the couch while still wearing it. Unable to properly slouch in his sleep, Brian’s head is instead slumped against the back of the couch while his torso remains rigidly held in place by the corset. It looks like a horrifically uncomfortable position to be in and, even though you know he needs the rest, you gently shake him awake.

He blinks blearily at you and tries to shift, forgetting in his exhaustion that he’s still wearing the corset. He groans as it restricts his movement and the sound does absolutely nothing to rile you up.

“Sorry, but you would’ve had the worst crick in your neck if you kept sleeping like that,” you apologize, gently brushing his hair away from his face.

“‘s fine,” he mumbles. “How much longer do I have to wear this tonight?”

And in that moment you are so done with this entire process, and you say, “We can take it off now, if you want.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fucking exhausted and the last thing you should be worrying about right now is this damn corset,” you say, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice despite your efforts to remain calm. “Maybe we should put the whole thing on hold, just until you’re done recording.”

Brian, stubborn as ever, shakes his head. “No, we’re almost done, let’s just see this through and-”

“And what?” you interrupt. “Even after we break it in, I’m not tight-lacing you in it when you come home from the studio half-asleep every day!”

“I’m not asking you to. Let’s just finish these last few days of breaking it in, and we can set it aside until the band goes on break,” Brian says.

“There’s only a few days left, though. Why don’t we stop now and pick it up again later?” you ask.

Brian sighs, closing his eyes and slumping down as much as the corset will allow. “Because it’s important to me that we do this properly first.”

“But-”

“Y/N, please,” Brian cuts in. “I’m too tired to fight with you about this now. All I’m asking is that we finish out the next few days, so that when I’m not dead on my feet we can jump straight back into this.”

You immediately feel awful for pushing the issue so hard right now. You kiss Brian’s cheek and apologize, saying, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, I just hate seeing you this tired.”

Brian sighs. “I know. But honestly, apart from how it restricts my movement the corset isn’t that uncomfortable laced like this anymore. We’re doing something right here with breaking it in, and I want to finish this so we don’t have to worry about it later.”

“Alright,” you agree. You’re still not thrilled at the idea of Brian putting himself through this for the next few days, but it helps to know that he’s not in pain during these two hours- just tired beyond belief, which he’d still be even without wearing the corset. “Well, to answer your original question, you only have about twenty minutes left of wearing it tonight.”

“Good, because I just want to go to sleep.”

You laugh softly, just a little, and you can’t help but tease, “Yeah, that was obvious from your little cat-nap…”

Brian smiles and lets his eyes slip shut again, just for a moment, before he slowly forces them open with a tired blink. “Well, another week or so and we’ll be done in the studio, so…”

True to his word, Brian finishes breaking in the corset over the next few days, after which you’re more than happy to leave it hanging in the closet until Queen is done in the studio and Brian can rest up a bit. You do your best not to fuss over him too much, knowing that his patience wears thin when he’s running on fumes like this, and you count down the days until he’s done recording.

And then Brian tells you that Queen has extended their studio time by another week. Silently, you wonder whether the universe has decided to just conspire against you to make sure that you and Brian never get the chance to have wild, kinky sex ever again.

Aloud, you tell Brian, “Okay but, for the record, I kind of want to strangle whoever suggested that you keep working yourselves to the bone.”

He lets out a bark of laughter and asks, “Do you promise?”

You recognize that spark of amused mischief in his tired eyes and sigh, but can’t quite keep a fond smile off your face. “You’re the one who asked for more studio time, aren’t you?”

“It’s mainly my song that’s holding us up so, yes, I did,” Brian says. “I’m sorry, I know you’ve been waiting for us to finish recording so we can properly try out the corset, but-”

“But Queen is more important than that,” you interrupt gently. “It’s fine, Brian, I don’t mind.” He gives you a look and you roll your eyes, adding, “Fine, I mind that you’re not getting nearly enough sleep these days, but honestly the kink can wait.”

You take a step closer to Brian and drop your hands to his waist, hands sliding up under his shirt to stroke along his back and sides. “Besides,” you say in a low purr. “The longer we wait, the more time I have to plan things out… maybe I won’t be strangling you, darling, but I promise everything will still be better than perfect.”

Brian whimpers, and you can feel him shiver at your gentle touch. “That’s not fair, Y/N.”

“What’s not fair, baby?” you leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Brian tries to chase it but his movements are slow and sluggish, and he whines low in his throat when you pull away. “Teasing me when I’m too tired for sex,” he says, a mumbled complaint that makes your heart ache with fondness.

You lean up to give him a proper kiss this time, and even though you know he’s exhausted you still enjoy the way he melts against you. “Who said anything about sex?” you ask, the words almost lost against Brian’s lips. “Just let me take care of you, Brian. Let me make you feel good.”

Brian moans softly, but he’s still holding back. “If I come, I’m gonna fall asleep before I can return the favor.”

“I think I can take care of myself for one night,” you tell him, trying not to laugh. “Come on, Bri. Let’s go to bed.”

Brian is soft and pliable under your touch, but he really is too exhausted for you to feel good about teasing him too much. You help him strip out of his clothes, and once he’s spread out on the bed beneath you you don’t waste any time in taking his cock in your mouth even though he’s still a little soft. He finishes growing hard on your tongue as he cries out and shakes beneath you, his hands holding your head even though he doesn’t have the energy to direct your movements.

Brian may like it when you draw things out, but tonight you’re quick to swallow him down almost to the base, drawing back to tease at the head of his cock only when you need to breathe, and it only takes a few repetitions of that before he arches up and comes deep down your throat with a wordless cry. You swallow around him a few times before drawing back to suckle at his tip, only stopping when his moans and whimpers start to take on a note of pain.

He does fall asleep before he can make any motions about wanting to get you off as well, but you expected that and frankly your own pleasure is the last thing on your mind at the moment. You curl up next to him in bed and pull the covers over both of you, and when Brian is once again gone before you wake up in the morning you just remind yourself, yet again, that he’ll be done with this stretch of recording soon enough.

Brian calls you from the studio on the last day they have booked and you brace yourself for him to tell you that they’re extending things yet again. But instead he tells you, tired but cheerful, that they’ve wrapped up the songs they were working on and are going out to celebrate, just the four of them, that night.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, that is,” Brian adds at the end of his rambling explanation.

“Why would I mind?” you ask with a laugh. “Go out and have fun, you guys deserve it.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Brian says, “I didn’t know if maybe you had plans now that we’re done in the studio.”

You know what Brian means immediately. “I told you, Bri, we aren’t doing anything until you’re well-rested again,” you tell him. Brian huffs, and before he can try to talk you into this you add, “No. I’m not taking any risks with this. You can wait another day or two, it won’t kill you.”

“Maybe it will, you don’t know,” Brian says, and you don’t feel bad about laughing because you know that he’s joking now. “You sure you don’t mind me going out, though? I’ll probably be back pretty late.”

“I don’t mind, honestly,” you assure him. “Go out, have a few drinks, tell the others I said hi. I’ll see you when you get home, whenever that is.”

You aren’t expecting Brian to be out too late, given how tired they all have to be by this point, but it’s still nearly 10 o’clock by the time you hear his key in the lock. You can hear him fumbling with it, and you get to the door and open it before Brian manages to figure out how to do it himself.

“Y/N!” he says, with the loud exuberance that only drunk people seem to manage. “‘s you!”

“Yes, it’s me,” you say with a laugh. Brian is swaying unsteadily on his feet and you’re quick to wrap an arm around his waist to hold him upright as you close the door and start carefully shuffling him towards the bedroom. “Seems like you had a good night out.”

“Was fun, but I missed you,” Brian says. He tries to nuzzle against you but leaning down throws his balance off and you both nearly topple over, before you manage to deposit him clumsily on the bed instead.

You pull off Brian’s shoes and wrestle him out of his jeans and shirt, the undressing made difficult by the fact that Brian keeps trying to grab your hand. He whines when you disentangle yourself from him, and as you start to leave the room he tries to stand up and follow you.

“Bri, no, c’mon stay here, I’m just getting you a glass of water and some painkillers.” You push him back down onto the bed and kiss the top of his head. “I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.”

“You better,” Brian mumbles, and you have to hide a fond smile as you duck out of the room. Drunk Brian is always a bit of a handful, but when it’s just the two of you he’s so affectionate and sweet that it makes your heart melt a little.

Brian is lying down in bed when you return, which means you have to coax him back upright to drink the glass of water and down the painkillers. “C’mon Brian, if you don’t your hangover will be worse and you’ll be miserable in the morning,” you try to reason with him.

“‘m not gonna have a hangover,” he insists, burrowing against your side and refusing to move.

“Yeah? How do you figure that?” you ask.

“I’m done in the studio, which means it’s corset time so I can’t have a hangover,” he explains.

You bite back a laugh at his simplistic drunken-logic, deciding that it would be too mean to remind him that you already said you weren’t doing anything until he was completely rested up. However you’re not above using this to your advantage and you tell him, “There will be no “corset time” unless you drink this glass of water and take these pills.”

Brian groans but leverages himself mostly-upright, somehow managing to down the water without choking on it before falling back against the pillows. You climb into bed as well and he rolls over to wrap himself around you. His hair is in your face and you know he’s going to be miserably hungover in the morning, but there’s still no other place you’d rather be than here in his arms.

“Love you. So much,” he mumbles, his voice slurred with both alcohol and exhaustion. “Sorry ‘m drunk.”

You smile fondly at him, even though he can’t see it, and tell him, “It’s fine, and I love you too.”

There’s no response from Brian, but his even breathing tells you that he’s already fallen asleep. You close your eyes and relax in his embrace, and it’s not long after that that you’re asleep as well.

The following morning you wake up before Brian for the first time in several weeks, and you take a few minutes to savor the moment. Brian looks peaceful when he’s asleep, even if the dark circles under his eyes and the stubble along his jaw are a testament to how worn-down he is from the long days of recording. You’re glad that he’s getting some rest now, and even more glad that the band has a nice stretch of time off before they need to do anything else.

You kiss Brian’s sleep-soft lips, and untangle yourself from him slowly so you don’t accidentally wake him up. He mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over into the space you vacated but stays asleep, and you slip quietly from the room.

It’s several hours before you hear Brian moving around in the bedroom, and you put the kettle on and start making toast before he finally emerges. His hair is even more wild than usual and he blinks at you with bleary eyes as you push him down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“How’s the hangover?” you ask him. His answering groan says everything, and you chuckle as you pass over a cup of tea and grab a plate for his toast. “And to think, last night you were convinced that we’d be diving into a scene today…” you tease gently.

“If you put me in that corset I think I might vomit on you,” Brian mumbles. He grabs the cup of tea, holding it in his hands but making no moves to drink it yet.

You kiss his temple as you set the plate of toast down in front of him. “No corsets today, but are you well enough to talk about things? I want to touch base with you again before we do anything.”

He sighs, and rubs at his eyes. “Give me a few hours to wake up first?” he asks, and you agree to that easily. God knows he wouldn’t retain anything you try to tell him now.

Later that afternoon, when Brian is more awake and slightly less hungover, the two of you settle down in the living room to talk. It’s more neutral territory than the bedroom, and you keep a slight distance between the two of you to stop yourselves from getting distracted.

“Before we talk about whatever you have on your mind, can I just ask… You do still want to do this, don’t you?” Brian asks.

He seems genuinely nervous, and that takes you by surprise. “Of course I do! Why, did you think that I had changed my mind or something?”

Brian shrugs a little, and says, “I don’t know. Every time it’s come up lately, you’ve deflected and put it off and I thought… I don’t know, that maybe once we took that break and things had calmed down you were having second-thoughts.”

“No, not in the slightest,” you tell him. “I’m so sorry if I gave you that impression. I’ve just been worried for you, Brian. I was scared that if we did something while you were still tired from recording that I’d accidentally hurt you, or you’d end up panicking during the scene like when we tried the masks and gags. I just wanted to make sure that nothing went wrong when we finally did this, that’s all.”

“Something could still go wrong, though,” Brian points out with a tentative smile. “You can’t control everything with this, Y/N.”

“No, but I can make sure we aren’t taking any unnecessary risks either,” you say. “Which is why I want to make sure we’re on the same page with this now.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Brian admits. “What did you want to talk about, then?”

“What are your expectations for this scene?” you ask, without preamble. This isn’t the first conversation of this sort that you’ve had with Brian, though it’s been a little while since you’ve had to have one. “How long did you want it to last, how tight do you want the corset to be…?”

“As long as we can and as tight as you can get it,” Brian says. You let out a small, frustrated sigh, but he continues talking before you can say anything. “The whole point of getting the corset was to make this last longer, and I want to explore what that actually looks like… and, frankly, after the two weeks of breaking the corset in I am very much looking forward to getting it laced tighter than just two inches.”

You bite your lip, considering Brian’s words for a moment, before asking, “You’ll safeword if it gets to be too much?” You know that he will, because he has in the past, but you still need to hear that confirmation now.

Brian knows that, and he doesn’t hesitate to tell you, “Yes.” He also doesn’t hesitate to ask you in return, “And you’ll safeword if it gets to be too much for you as well, right?”

“Yes,” you assure him with a wry smile. “And if you panic again, I will stop everything immediately and I’ll cut you out of the damn corset if I have to.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

You laugh, despite the seriousness of the conversation. “That’s what I said back when we first talked about this,” you remind him. “And now look at us, you’re the one eager to get going and I’m the one with all the hesitations.”

“You’re not hesitant. You’re just being safe and practical,” Brian says. “Although, you are killing me a little with the anticipation for this. How much longer are you going to make me wait before we finally do this?”

“A little bit longer,” you say, evasively, and you grin when Brian groans and slouches dramatically down into the couch. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t like the build-up as much as the actual scene itself.”

“I do but this has already been in the works for weeks, Y/N,” Brian whines, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips that tells you that the complaint is good-natured.

“Yes, so just think about how satisfying it’ll be when you finally wake up one morning and see that corset laid out and waiting for you…” You lean over and kiss him, just a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, adding, “I promise it’ll be this week. I just don’t want to ruin the surprise of when it’s going to happen.”

“Well, alright then,” Brian says, as he pulls you into his lap. “I suppose I can live with that.”

———————————

You don’t do anything else that day, though you know Brian wasn’t expecting you to. The next day you see his look of disappointment when you don’t take the corset out of where it’s hanging in the closet, but he’s still just tired enough that he’s content to spend the day lounging on the sofa watching movies with you (no period dramas this time, though).

On the third day Brian is visibly antsy, which you were expecting. There’s nothing stopping you from doing anything today, except that you just don’t want to. You want Brian nearly tripping over himself in anticipation first… and, you have to admit, you like watching him squirm as he tries so hard to be good and not pester you about your plans.

The fourth day, though…

You wake up and, at first, you act like it’s going to be another normal day. You can see Brian practically biting his tongue to stop himself from asking when you’re finally going to do something, and it takes all of your effort to hold back your pleased smirk at seeing him so eager for this. You’re not going to make him wait any longer and, after breakfast while he’s taking a quick shower, you finally make your move.

You’re familiar with Brian’s habits and quirks, and you know you don’t have long to get things ready. Brian will skip washing his hair today, towel off and throw on a pair of pants in the bathroom, and then come into the bedroom to finish getting dressed. You know this, and so you lie the corset out on the bed and sit perched next to it where Brian will see you the moment he walks in.

Brian doesn’t even make it completely into the room. He freezes in the doorway, first staring at you, and then down at the corset, with eyes that are already blown wide with lust and anticipation. “Y/N-” he chokes out and you grin at his reaction, delighted and amazed that you’re still able to work him up like this.

You crook your finger and motion for Brian to come over. He nearly trips over his feet in his eagerness, and you laugh as you lean up to kiss him one last time before you dive into all your plans. “You ready for this, babe?” you ask him.

“Yes, god, I’ve been ready,” he says, and he tries to deepen the kiss but you pull away and give him a small push back from you.

“Good,” you say, before tossing Brian the liner you had gotten from Lottie. He pulls it on quickly and you wait until he looks at you excitedly, expectedly, before picking up the corset… and holding it out to him. “Put it on.”

Brian makes a noise like all the air was suddenly punched out of him. "What?"

"Put it on," you repeat. Your smile is a bit too sharp to really pass as sweet but that's okay, because you know how much this simple order is affecting Brian. You can see it in his eyes, in the clearly visible bulge in his pants, in the way his hands shake as he reaches out and takes the corset from you.

He wraps it around his body and you tsk, and tell him, “That’s upside-down, Brian. Put it on correctly, now, or we won’t be doing anything today.”

Brian’s face is bright red with humiliation and arousal, but he flips the corset around and fumbles with the latches along the busk. Once those are fastened and he adjusts the corset so it’s sitting in the right position, he grabs the laces and gives you a questioning look. “Do you want me to…?”

“Yes, go on, lace yourself up,” you tell him. “I think I did enough work, lacing you up every night for the two weeks that we were breaking it in. It’s your turn now.”

Brian nods and starts to pull on the laces, letting out a tiny whimper as the corset tightens around him. It’s an absolute treat to watch Brian do this to himself, to watch the expressions he makes and the way you can visibly see his waist shrink as he pulls the laces in tighter. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to hold back a moan of your own, and it takes all your self-control to stay seated on the edge of the bed instead of jumping on Brian right now.

“How tight?” Brian asks. You can already hear the strain in his voice, and can see the shallower breaths that the corset is forcing him to take.

“As tight as you want it,” you say, and Brian lets out a broken moan. “Just make sure you get the lacing lying flat in the back, and tie it off in a pretty little bow for me when you’re done.”

Brian cinches the laces tighter one more time before he twists his arm back to check that he gathered in all the slack from the laces. You know that even doing that much has to be a strain when he’s laced this tightly, and sure enough when he ties off the laces and drops his arms you can see how badly they’re shaking.

“Turn around,” you order. “Let me see.”

Brian does, and you groan as you see just how much Brian has laced down. It’s far more than the two inches you did during the training, but more importantly there’s still room in the corset for it to go down even further. That’s going to be helpful later… if you manage to hold out that long.

You stand up and crowd against Brian’s back, hands dropping down to his now-tiny waist, as you nuzzle the back of his neck. “Perfect, baby, you’re so good, you look fucking gorgeous,” you praise. “So beautiful in your corset, god, you’re incredible.”

And Brian is gorgeous, with his waist forced into an uncomfortable hourglass shape and a flush spreading down the back of his neck and across his shoulders. If you turned him around you know you’d be able to see that flush extending down his chest, almost down to where his nipples are exposed above the top of the corset. You’d be able to see the long lines of his legs, his cock straining at his pants, the corset digging into his hips and miles of exposed skin waiting for you to kiss and bite and suck bruises into.

You wonder, briefly, what Brian would look like if his corset was accompanied by lingerie… The image of Brian in lacy panties or stockings, maybe with a plug inside him so he couldn’t help but squirm as you made him kneel for you, was certainly a delicious one, but you push the thought from your mind. Maybe, down the road, you’ll suggest that to Brian, but not today.

Brian tilts his head back to rest on your shoulder, and you can’t resist sliding one hand up to lay it across his neck. You don’t apply any pressure but you don’t have to- the gesture alone is enough to get Brian whining and begging, “Y/N, please…”

“So good for me, Brian.” You press a kiss to his jaw and ask, “Color?”

“Green, please-”

“And how’s the corset feel?”

Brian groans as he realizes that you’re in no rush to give him what he wants, but he reluctantly replies, “Tight. But it feels so good.”

“And how’s the breathing?”

“Difficult,” Brian admits, with a small huff of laughter despite himself, and he tries one more time, “Please, Y/N, I need-”

“We need to go do the dishes from breakfast, I think,” you say. Brian whines and you’re happy that he can’t see your amused smile at his, admittedly predictable, reaction. “And then I picked up a new album that I want to listen to and then…”

You chuckle, and spin Brian around so he’s facing you and, god, he’s already so far under that if you hadn’t just checked in with him you’d stop everything immediately to make sure he was still alright. “Then we’ll see where the day takes us from there, I suppose. Does that sound alright, Bri?”

Brian nods immediately, because no matter how turned on he is, how badly he already wants to come, this is what he’s been waiting for: being laced up so tight that breathing becomes a challenge, so that every inhale has to be carefully considered, so that simple movements become feats of exertion, and then forced to stay like that for hours, until his pleasure becomes a desperation and he’s so far gone that he’d do almost anything for you if you’d just let him finally come.

You set Brian to work drying the dishes as you wash them, because you don’t trust him to clean them properly with how wound-up he is. Plus, this lets you draw the chore out for as long as possible, far past the point where it’s even believable, because in truth you don’t really care about cleaning up after breakfast. The point of all this is to let Brian adjust to having the corset this tight, before you ramp things up even further, and to stretch out the experience like you know Brian wants.

So you listen as he finds a rhythm with his breathing, though it’s still noticeably shallow. Every time you brush against his arm or you “accidentally” bump hips his breath hitches and it takes him a few moments to bring it back under control. When you finally turn off the sink you pull him into a hot kiss, and it’s so easy to steal his breath and get him gasping against your mouth with barely any effort on your part.

“Go put on the record I left by the turntable, and then sit on the couch,” you order.

Brian nods, eager to move your game forward even though he knows that he’s no closer to coming. You watch, amused, as he leaves the kitchen, so constrained by the corset that it’s reflected in every movement of his body, from his walk to the way he perches, uncomfortable, on the edge of the couch when you join him in the living room a few minutes later.

You sigh and shake your head, putting on an air of disappointment, and tell him, “Sit with your back against the cushions please, love.”

“But-”

You give Brian a look to silence whatever complaint he was going to make. He carefully wiggles further back onto the couch, biting his lip although it does nothing to hide his whimpers as the new position makes the corset dig further into him.

You nod in approval and, without warning, straddle his legs and sit on his lap. His hands automatically go to your waist to help hold you in place, as you tangle one hand in his hair, pulling his head back so you can kiss along his throat, relishing the feeling of his gasping breaths beneath your mouth.

Even with the band on break you don’t dare leave bruises on his neck, but you risk a bite at the edge of his jaw, where his hair will almost hide it, and you drag the nails of your other hand along his chest above the corset, teasing at his nipples and leaving scratches that have Brian fighting to arch into your touch. But he can’t move his torso with the corset laced so tightly, can’t get enough traction to rock his hips up against you, can’t do anything but sit there, panting and whining and gasping desperately as you do whatever you want to him.

“Y/N- Y/N, please,” Brian begs, barely able to get the words out at all, which only makes you want to make him try to talk even more.

“Please what?”

“Touch me.” The words are gasped out, before Brian tries to draw in a deep, heaving breath only to be stopped by the corset.

“I am touching you,” you tease, thumbing over his nipple and tugging a little harder at his hair.

Brian moans, high and breathy, and only manages to say, “My cock…”

You laugh, just a little, and tell him, “Oh, baby, I don’t think so. If I touch your cock you’re gonna come, and I have far too many plans for you to let that happen now.”

Brian whimpers and squirms beneath you, unable to stay quiet or stay still when he’s this wound up. He tries to say something else but only manages a few broken syllables before he has to force himself to stop, and take several too-shallow breaths to center himself in order to ask, “Can I touch you?”

“I like the sound of that even more, but I think I have an even better idea.” You climb off of Brian, pulling him up off the couch, and quickly strip off your clothes, before sitting back down with your legs spread wide and telling him, “Kneel, Brian, with your hands behind your back. I want to feel your mouth on me and maybe if you do a good enough job, I’ll let you come.”

Brian falls to his knees so quickly that you know it has to hurt, but he doesn’t complain- frankly, you’re not sure he has enough breath to do so even if he wanted to. He obediently puts his hands behind his back and looks up at you, waiting for your nod before leaning down and getting to work.

Truthfully, it’s not the best job Brian has ever done, but you sort of expected that. You’re being more than a little unfair to him with this challenge. The corset makes it difficult for him to get his mouth on you at all, and he can only manage a few brief licks or a gentle suck before he has to pull back, gasping for breath.

“Oh, come on, Bri, you can do better than that,” you say, a little patronizing, and you grab his hair again and pull him down, hard, until his mouth is where you need it the most and his face is buried so close to you that his nose is nearly touching your skin.

And then you hold him there.

One beat, then two, and his tongue is still flicking against you but you can feel him struggling to breathe, can feel the tiny gasp of air that he manages to suck in that you know isn’t enough. You feel his head jerk in your hands as he instinctively tries to pull back, but you hold him in place for a second longer, before easing him away.

He gasps, raw and desperate, eyes blown wide with a panicked arousal that still makes you nervous to see, no matter how many times you’ve indulged in his breathplay kink. He gets off on this, you know that, but you still check in with him and ask, “Color, Brian?”

“Green-” he wheezes, and he’s barely finished speaking the word before you’re pulling him back down.

He works his mouth over you as best he can, all tongue and lips and the barest scrape of teeth in those moments when he fights for oxygen and can’t quite control himself. His mouth and between your thighs are drenched with spit as he sputters and chokes against you. Every time you pull him away so he can gasp in a few shallow and desperate breaths your pleasure ebbs away just enough that you keep pushing Brian further than you usually do, until there are tears in his eyes and his pupils are blown so wide that there’s barely any color left in his irises at all.

“Green,” he gasps, when you pull him away for the last time, anticipating the question before you can even ask it. He tries to lean back down even though he’s panting so hard that it sounds like it hurts, and you have to physically hold him back from suffocating himself against you again.

“No, Brian, that’s enough, you did good, you did so good,” you tell him, carding one hand through his hair and gently scratching at his scalp. “Catch your breath, that’s it, that’s my good boy…”

Brian nods, because there’s nothing else he can do- he certainly doesn’t have enough breath to complain. He shifts and ducks his head, and normally you’d let him rest against your leg but he can’t bend like that in the corset. You want to move him into a more comfortable position while he rests, but you’re not sure that there even is one so you settle for kissing the top of his head and murmuring praises as you watch for any sign that he’s about to pass out on you unexpectedly.

Luckily, that doesn’t happen and, although it takes a few minutes, Brian finally manages to ask, “Did I do a good enough job?”

You remember the promise you made him before having him service you and you smile at him and say, “You did such a good job, baby. In fact, you did so good that I’m going to give you a choice.”

Brian looks up at you with wide eyes and a still-flushed face, and ask, “A choice?”

“Yes, Brian, a choice. I can either return the favor and suck you off now, or....” You push his head back a bit further, putting just a bit more strain on his throat, before you say, “Or we can move to the bedroom to keep playing, and I’ll tighten your corset a little bit more.”

You know what Brian’s answer is going to be even before his broken moan and gasping, “Yes, yes, Y/N, please, tighten it, please-”

You stand up and Brian scrambles to his feet before you can even order him to. You swat his ass and chide, “Behave now. Go to the bedroom, brace yourself against the bedframe and wait for me.”

You take your time, putting away the record that stopped playing ages ago by now, and taking a few minutes to straighten a few things around the living room, just to let Brian’s anticipation build. When you finally walk into the bedroom you’re pleased to see that he’s waiting for you exactly where and how you told him to.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck as you undo the bow in the laces of his corset, being careful not to let it loosen at all. “Good boy, waiting for me so prettily like this…” you praise and, without any further warning, you give the laces a sharp tug.

Brian gasps, the whole line of his body tensing as the corset digs into him a little further, his knuckles white where they’re gripping the footboard of the bed. “Y/N… Y/N…” he says on ragged, panting exhales.

“Hmm, I bet we can still get it tighter than that…” you say, forcing your voice to stay calm and casual even though you’re so turned on just from Brian’s reaction that it’s all you can do to keep your composure.

Brian lets out a breathy moan as you start at the top of the corset and slowly, methodically, pull in each section of lacing as it crosses his back. Brian’s moans get quieter and are replaced with hitching, shallow inhales and soft, desperate whines as you repeat the process from the bottom of the corset, gathering all the slack in the laces in the middle.

You wrap the excess lacing around Brian’s waist a few times, because there’s so much of it now, before tying it off in another bow at his back. “Fuck, Brian, the corset is almost closed,” you say with a low groan, tracing a finger down the laces along his spine. “Another inch or two and both halves would be touching, god…”

“Y/N-” Brian gasps, and he doesn’t even have enough breath to get out please.

“Color?”

“Green,” he manages, but only just.

You’re straying into dangerous territory here, you know that. Brian is past the point of being able to properly adjust his breathing to compensate for the corset, which may have been your goal but also means that you don’t have a larger window of time to play with if you want both of you to come while he’s still laced up.

“Get on the bed, Brian, on your back,” you tell him, and Brian scrambles to obey. He collapses back against the mattress, struggling to move in the corset, and you help push him into a better position while saying, “You’ve been so good, Brian, so fucking good. Gonna ride you now, gonna fuck you while you’re in that corset and finally let you come…”

Brian’s cock is big, almost too big for you to handle without some prep, which today you rush maybe a little bit more than you should. You peel Brian’s pants off, finally freeing his aching cock, but you pass him the condom to put on himself. You’re sure that if you tried to do it, he’d come immediately.

As it stands, you’re still expecting him to come the moment you grab his cock to position it at your entrance and start slowly sinking down, but even though Brian’s head is thrown back and he’s gasping and shaking and crying underneath you, he holds himself together as you start to ride him.

There’s nothing slow about it. There can’t be anything slow about it, not when Brian is hanging on by the skin of his teeth and you aren’t far behind him. You brace one hand against the front of his corset as you ride him hard and fast, and bring the other down to work yourself towards your own orgasm.

“Close, Bri, I’m close,” you pant and Brian doesn’t answer because he can’t answer. His face is bright red and every breath is too small and too shallow, hitching and desperate and just this side of panicked, the sweet spot that you try so hard to get Brian to when you do this but it’s never been like this, never been dragged out for this long, never been so good like it is now-

“Gonna-” Brian gasps, the only warning he’s capable of giving you, but that’s enough for you to move your hand from his chest up to his neck, pushing up sharply under his jaw to cut off his breathing at the source as well and he comes immediately, silently, mouth wide as he struggles to draw in a breath that you won’t let him have.

You let go of his neck before he can pass out and all it takes is another few rocks on his softening cock before you follow him over the edge, crying out as you grind against him and work yourself through your orgasm, sacrificing the last moments of your own pleasure in favor of climbing off Brian to make sure that he’s alright.

Brian still looks dazed and overwhelmed, his face wet with tears, and he’s still fighting to take in proper breaths. Even though your limbs feel like jelly and you’re shaking a little from the intensity of your own orgasm you help leverage Brian upright, enough to wriggle behind him and undo first the bow and then the lacing running down his spine.

As the corset loosens Brian draws in loud, heaving breaths, each deeper than the last. He coughs and gasps and you murmur an endless stream of praise and reassurances as you quickly loosen the corset enough that it’s safe to undo the latches at the busk, and pull it away completely.

Taking off the condom and tossing it in the direction of the garbage is almost an afterthought, but once that’s done as well you pull Brian into your arms and breathe slowly, deeply, telling him, “That’s it, you’re alright, you can breathe, just listen to me, match your breathing to mine, that’s it, you did good, you did so good baby, just breathe now…”

Every breath Brian draws in sounds like it hurts and he can’t seem to stop shaking, even after his breathing calms down and his heart stops racing quite so much. You hope that you didn’t take things too far at the end there and you ask, a little nervous, “How are you feeling?”

Brian mumbles something slurred and unintelligible, and cuddles closer to you. It’s not exactly an answer, and you ask instead, “Color?”

“‘een,” Brian manages, because he can always manage at least that, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Are words too much for you now?” you ask, and you feel his answering nod against your body. It’s not the first time that Brian has gone nearly non-vocal after a scene, but it doesn’t happen often and you know it’s going to take some time for him to come back up.

You’re prepared for this, though. You lean over the side of the bed, careful not to jostle Brian too much or lose contact with him, and grab the small bottle of juice that you set on the nightstand before. He’ll need proper food and drink sooner rather than later, but for now you coax him into drinking the juice a few sips at a time as you gently wipe the tear tracks off his face.

The juice seems to help his throat as well, because his breathing evens out a bit more and doesn’t sound quite so harsh as you gently shift so the two of you are lying back down on the bed. You pull the covers over you both and stay cuddled close to Brian.

“Get some rest,” you say quietly. “That one took a lot out of you.”

You intend to stay awake, in case something happens and Brian needs you, but you’re worn out a little as well and you end up dozing despite your intentions. You wake up with a start when you feel Brian move away from you, and you bolt upright immediately. “What’s going on, are you alright?” you ask, a little panicked.

“Everything’s fine, Y/N, I’m just going to the bathroom,” Brian assures you. His voice is a little rough, and you can’t tell if it’s from sleep or the scene, but his eyes are clear and the smile he gives you is genuine. He doesn’t look distressed, and frankly he seems more composed than he has after some scenes you’ve done in the past, which helps calm you down.

“Sorry,” you say with a small, nervous laugh. “You just went under hard, and I was worried.”

“I know, but I’m alright now,” Brian says. He leans down to give you a quick kiss, and you watch as he leaves the room. He’s unsteady on his feet, but that’s to be expected, and you can’t see any bruising on his torso. All things considered, he’s doing a lot better than you were expecting.

That makes a little more sense when you glance at the clock, and see that several hours have passed since you and Brian fell asleep. You knew that this would take up most of the day, so you’re not entirely surprised to see that it’s nearing dinner, but that does mean that you need to actually get up and you’re not looking forward to that.

You stand up with a small groan and stretch out, feeling your joints pop, and you busy yourself with hanging the corset back up, getting dressed, and tidying the room a bit. When Brian returns you have pajamas pulled out for him already, and he gives you a kiss on the cheek in thanks before getting dressed.

“How are you feeling?” you ask. “If you can talk about it, that is.”

Brian shrugs. “A little low, a little sore, but not too bad. I don’t, ah-” He scrubs a hand over his face, struggling to find the right words. You give him a moment to collect himself and he finally says, “Can we pick it apart tomorrow?”

You know he means that he’s not up for a detailed discussion of everything that was good and bad about the scene, but you still want to check in a little more than that. “Can I ask one question?” Brian makes a small face, but nods. “Was it good?”

That startles a laugh out of him. “Y/N- Yes, god, it was good. It was perfect, it was everything I wanted, it was-” He huffs and shakes his head. “Yes. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Good. I’m glad,” you say, and you mean it, whole-heartedly.

“Can I ask you one quesiton now?” Brian asks. You nod and he grins, bright and happy, and asks, “Can we do that again?”

You laugh, and wrap your arms around Brian. He sighs and relaxes against you, and you turn your head to gently kiss his cheek. “Of course we can, you silly,” you tell him. “We spent enough money on that thing, we might as well make good use of it.”

“Good,” Brian murmurs. “Because I really did like that. A lot.”

You bite back a few teasing comments you could make, because by Brian’s own admission he’s still dealing with a bit of subdrop, and that needs to be your focus now. You can joke around and talk more in-depth about it all later, but you have other plans for the rest of the evening and you ask, “Wanna order takeout and cuddle on the couch?”

“Yes please.”

He doesn’t seem to want to let go of you but he eventually pulls away with a sigh. You take his hand, lacing your fingers in with his, and offer him an easy smile. Your usual post-scene routines have all gone out the window with this one, but you still know what he needs in moments like this. Offering him a gentle touch is the simplest thing in the world for you and as easy as…

Well.

As easy as breathing.

———————————

Additional Notes:

First, a disclaimer: I know about corsets, and I know about breathplay, but I don’t have hands-on experience using corsets in kink. The smut parts of this fic have some assumptions made about how a scene would play out, but the rest of the information in the fic is fairly accurate at least with regards to my own corsetry experiences. And as with all forms of breathplay, please make sure that you know what you’re doing before trying anything out!

As for the corset details… Inflation calculators tell me that £30 in 1979 is equal to about £150 today (or $200 USD), and £50 in 1979 is roughly £250/$300 today. Average prices for bespoke corsets range from $200-500 USD today, so all things considered Brian’s is fairly middle-of-the-road.

All corset information is based on what’s common today, because I didn’t feel like researching corsets in the 70s/80s. I know they weren’t very popular back then, outside of niche communities, but I’m assuming it still would have been possible to find a corsetmaker. The shop in this fic is entirely made-up. Lottie’s passing comment about male celebrities wearing corsets is based on an apocryphal story of William Shatner wearing one while filming Star Trek.

Breaking in the corset (or “seasoning” it, as it’s usually called) is a very important part of buying a new corset. Seasoning it allows the corset to form to your body and helps prevent damage to the corset (or to yourself!). Different vendors will have different recommendations for how to approach this. The 2-2-2 method described here was chosen mostly because it’s the only one I felt was feasible the timeframe of events.

Finally, self-lacing is very much possible with both modern and historical corsets, despite what Hollywood would have you believe. Brian’s corset is laced with the “bunny ears” method, which laces towards the middle rather than the top or bottom. This video does a good job of showing how this works.

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Taglist: @jackolynsparrow​ @hammer-2-fall​ @brianssixpence​ @tenderbri​ @doctorqueensanatomy​ @spacedustmazzello​

#brian may x reader #brian may smut #brian may fanfic #brian may fic #queen band fic #my fic #brian #(it's here it's here it's finally here!!!) #(yall I can't believe I am finally DONE with this!!!) #(this is easily the most self-indulgent thing I've written in a LONG time and I'm so so happy with how it turned out!!!) #(and frankly if this gets even 20 notes I'll be happy with that lmfao)

[chosonore]

summary: choso always takes good care of you, whether you're sick or not. even when you're sick and slightly delirious, your opinion could never be swayed - you loved choso with all your heart.

a/n: honestly, this is purely self-indulgent because i'm sick and i want a choso to take care of me until i know what's wrong and get better 🥺 it's inspired by the naoya fic i've written a while ago but uh this just really reads like a love letter to choso lol. i love him so much i'm not even kidding, no one could ever compare to him

if you were to describe the relationship between choso and you, it would be comfortable silence. choso didn't speak a lot, rarely starting a conversation on his own unless he was overcome by sudden curiosity. truthfully, you didn't mind as you were a quiet person yourself. and somehow, the communication was effortless, a silent and mutual understanding of your needs. he made you feel comfortable and safe, cared for as he always seemed to sense what you needed. falling in love with choso was easy and so natural, as if you'd been lovers in your previous lives. you'd been a couple for a long time now, but it wasn't until recently that you moved in with him. almost instantaneously, a routine was established - while you were busy with your studies, choso spent most of his time at the tattoo studio he recently opened with his friends. you didn't mind because still, he always made time for you. with no shadow of a doubt, he would always prioritize you before anything. so, every bit of time that you could get was spent together.

as any other day, you woke up alone in your bed, the scent of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. choso sometimes left early in the morning to work on administrative tasks or tidying the studio but never failed to prepare you a little breakfast beforehand. as you sat up, a wave of nausea overcame you, quickly forcing you to lie down again. it was only then that you noticed you felt strangely cold and your nose was stuffed, shuddering uncomfortably in your clothes. it was rare that you got sick, so everytime it did happen, it drained you rapidly. blindly reaching for your phone, you texted choso, blinking at the bright screen.

me: i think i got sick :( can you pick up some medicine on your way home?

almost instantly, your screen lit up.

choso 💉: ?

"hello?" you croaked as you accepted choso's call and sniffled quietly.

"are you okay? do you want me to come home early?" choso might have sounded indifferent but you knew better. he would never show his concern to you, always wanting to keep his strong and protective persona. he was just that kind of person, he lived to be a good example to others.

"no it's okay, choso. i think it might be a really bad cold, that's all. i'll be fine if i get enough rest."

a hum. choso didn't sound convinced.

"then get some rest, yeah? make sure to have some tea. i'll wrap things up here and come home in a bit. call me if you need anything."

you hummed in agreement, making a weak kissy noise as you said goodbye to him and chucked your phone on the night table. no matter how much you wanted to convince him to continue his work, he would come home regardless. it didn't sit well with him to not care for you while you were sick. a small smile found its way onto your lips, how lucky you were to have found a lover like him. as you drifted off to sleep, choso was quickly finishing his paperwork, earning some amused glances from his friends. it was evident that this had to do with his girlfriend - choso would never let anyone tell him what to do nor do them any favours if it wasn't someone he deeply cared for.

"you're really speedrunning through everything to get back home to y/n, huh? you only got here," geto teased him, looking up from the sketches he was preparing for display.

"she got sick this morning. wanna be there for her in case it gets worse. i don't have any appointments for today anyways so you'll be fine," choso curtly explained, not picking up on geto's teasing undertone. even though they liked to joke about how whipped he was for you, they never questioned him - you were his love, his light. if anything, they envied him for the relationship, a relationship that flowed so effortlessly and easily like a spring working its way through bottlenecks and rocky river beds, silent and yet strong. geto pat choso's shoulder and shot him a knowing look, reassuring him that they could run the studio just fine.

even if you didn't sound like your afflictions were severe, choso still felt uneasy. he wanted to make sure you were okay, wanted to care for you. maybe it was moreso his fear of losing people he loved, but he couldn't deny his caring nature. on his way home, he'd picked up some ingredients to make soup as well as some medicine. music was sounding through the apartment as he entered and placed the bags on the counter, keeping an eye out for you. were you still in bed? he padded towards your shared bedroom, quietly nudging the door open as he squeezed his way in. you were laying on the bed, giggling at a book you were reading, not having noticed him yet.

the bed dipped next to you, making you drop the book you were holding. choso's twin tails came into your vision until you could see the entirety of him hovering above you, scrutinizing your figure in thought. "hi baby," he greeted you with a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "how are you feeling?"

"kinda achy and cold," you described with a pout, leaning into choso's touch as he brushed your hair with his fingers. "did you bring me some medicine?"

choso nodded, explaining that he'd be making you some soup as it was better not to take the medicine on an empty stomach. he wrapped you in the blanket before disappearing in the kitchen. you listened to the sounds in the kitchen, feeling more at ease now that he was home. you must have fallen asleep as the soup was done, its savoury scent rousing you from your slumber. as the primary cook in this household, choso's cooking skills were excellent and never failed to amaze you. sometimes you couldn't believe he was real. choso kept an eye on you as you munched away, handing you the medicine once you were done. he joined you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you towards him. you were placed on his lap like a baby, making you giggle as you leaned against his chest.

"will you play with my hair?" you requested with a small yawn. choso obliged, weaving his fingers through your hair as he worked through the knots and massaged your scalp. you hummed in relaxation, struggling to keep your eyes open. instead, you focused on the tattoos on his arm that was placed around your waist, tracing the patterns with your fingers. when you first met, the skin on his arm was sparsely filled, he'd only started on completing his sleeve tattoos. it was a slow and gradual process. you were always the first person he'd proudly showed a new addition to, and in a way, the tattoos marked the journey of your relationship. you were thankful for him, thankful to have found someone who silently understood you.

he was too hesitant to ask you just yet as you'd told him years prior that you weren't sure about getting tattoos but you knew he wanted to be the one to give you your first tattoo. maybe you were delirious from your sickness, maybe it was then in that moment that you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, maybe it was your overwhelming love- "choso? i think it's time i get a tattoo soon."

choso's hand came to a halt and he made an incredulous noise. "y/n, i don't think- it might be better if we discuss this when you feel better again."

"no, i'm serious. it's just... i trust you so much. you always take good care of me and you're just always there. i'm uh- i honestly can't imagine my life without you, i just love you so much," you confessed with embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands as you finished talking. choso chuckled as he pried your hands away, pecking your lips in adoration. he looked gleeful, as if hearing your admission of love for the first time - the feeling was mutual, you just couldn't believe he was yours.

"we'll talk about this again when you've fully recovered. but i'm happy that you trust me with this."

"i'll be fine soon, i just need a lot of vitamin c," you giggled hysterically. "vitamin choso."

choso groaned but couldn't stop the laughter tumbling from his lips either, opting to tickle your sides and blowing raspberries into your shoulder. you squealed, trying to push him off you before being pulled back into his arms again. choso buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a kiss on it. he didn't show you his face, not wanting you to see his teary eyes.

"i love you a lot, you know?"

"i love you more."

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #choso #kamo choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #kamo choso x reader #choso x you #kamo choso x you #jjk imagines #choso imagines #jjk x reader #writing #if anyone's out there please send me choso dhshsgsb i'm just starved for someone to take care of me

[irisofpurple]

Good Girl

Summary: What happens when Lana comes home to Ethan, fashionably late after a girls night?

Book: Open Heart Book 3 (post ending)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey×f!MC (Lana Stevens)

Word Count: 2k.

Warnings/Rating: Smut, Swearing, NSFW; Explicit.

A/N: This is pure filth and nothing but filth. A self indulgent produce of my very Scorpio brain and the smuttiest fic I've ever written. I'm not exactly sorry but you've been warned jskssjjkkhhssk. It follows up after New Look, which was my first ever Pictagram edit. I suppose you can still read this if you missed that though. Hope you enjoy reading!

This work is NSFW and meant for 18+ readers only. Please use discretion.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

A rush of giddy excitement hit her as she turned the keys to his apartment, making her stumble slightly at the doorstep as she entered.

Alcohol from the countless shots Jackie made them do was still hot and pumping through her veins. In her drunken haze, Sienna had actually convinced her to keep the wig on.

She adjusted it slightly before she realised she'd stepped into pin drop silence, the moonlight streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows the only source of light cutting through the darkness.

A quick glance at her watch told her it was 2:30 AM. Way past Ethan's bedtime.

Her stomach dropped. The girls night had went on longer than she'd anticipated. They'd gotten a bit carried away between gossiping and drinking to new beginnings. It had been a while since they'd had a relaxing night as this after all.

As fun as that was, what Lana was really looking forward to tonight was seeing Ethan. All that teasing had made her as hot as she'd hoped to have made him. She wanted to leave right then but it wouldn't have been fair to her friends.

Her shoulders slumped. It was no use now.

She turned head into the bedroom, the knowledge that she'd find him peacefully asleep making her heart sink a little.

"You're late."

The familiar rumble of his voice echoed through the room, making her gasp in surprise and turn back around.

There he was. Sitting at the bar with a glass of scotch nestled in his hand.

Her heart jumped in her throat, a fresh surge of adrenaline coursing through her, renewing her excitement even more than before.

The contrasting shadows and moonlight highlighted his already sharp jawline, making him look more beautiful than ever.

Slowly, he rose from his seat, drawing nearer to her, his dark predatory gaze never leaving her. She wasn't able to look away either, her belly clenching with anticipation with every step he took.

She shivered as he ran his fingers though the red hair, his blue eyes going the deepest shade of sapphire possible.

"You're still wearing it, I see." he muttered darkly, a dangerous edge to his voice.

A slow smirk spread across her face. She knew no joy like seeing Ethan Ramsey tethering on the edge in a struggle for control.

And she'd make sure he fell over tonight.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep." she said, feigning nonchalance, pointedly ignoring his observation.

In a sudden movement, he pulled her hand by the wrist to the front of his pants, making her feel his hardness though the fabric.

"Do you know how hard it is to sleep like this?" He said through gritted teeth.

Lana was unfazed. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she stared right back into those celestial blues.

"I can only imagine." She murmured huskily as her fingers caressed him ever so slightly, confidence oozing through her as he twitched violently at her touch.

He pulled her hand away and onto his chest, having realized that his move had backfired.

"You made me wait." He accused, his rebellious gaze dropping to her lips.

"I think I know exactly how to make up for it." Lana said with coquettish smirk.

She captured his lips soon after, not letting him a chance to say anything more. Her hands travelled down to palm his bulge once more, making him groan against her lips. Tongues tangled in a desperate battle for dominance, their need for each other assuming more importance than air for a few breathless moments.

Lana pushed him onto the couch, looking down at him with a devilish smile as she pulled off her wig, shaking free her natural blonde curls. They fell around her shoulders gracefully as Ethan watched her with an awestruck look on his face, all traces of resistance gone. She took off her top next, taking delight in his sharp intake of breath as her breasts spilled free before his reverent eyes, following to straddle his lap and continue kissing him with abandon.

Her lips trailed down the corded muscles of his neck, sucking and biting as she goes. Ethan's hands meanwhile were firmly gripping her waist, another one inching underneath her skirt, closer and closer to her soaked core.

But she wouldn't let him get there. Not yet.

His shirt flew across the living room in a matter of seconds and then she on her knees before him, her lips having left a wet trail of kisses all over his chest and abs.

She unbuckled his belt with deft fingers, pulling down the redundant material of his trousers. His cock sprung free, jutting out in all it's glory, demanding immediate attention.

Her delicate fingers gripped him firmly, pumping him a few times torturously.

"Lana.." Ethan groaned helplessly.

She gave him a smile that she knew he found devastating.

"Feel free to pull my hair." she said as she moved to give a long luscious lick along his length.

Her blood red lips were wrapped around his cock the next second, causing Ethan's hips to buck up involuntarily. His fingers tangled in her hair, making her hum around him in satisfaction.

She was on her knees but the one surrendering was Ethan, completely at her mercy. That knowledge was as beholding as it was empowering.

She sank down the length of him, hollowing out her cheeks, relishing every grunt and moan that escaped his throat as she took him deeper into her own.

She repeated the motion, working him up, not letting the involuntary gags or tears brimming in her eyes stop her from taking him where she wanted.

Keeping eye contact, she realised him with a dizzying pop only to suck on his heavy balls till they were as wet as his now glistening cock.

The look of sheer adoration mixed with lust and frustration on his face had to the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed. It made her own folds drip with arousal.

Her tongue flicked across the slit of his tip, before her warm mouth engulfed him once more to bob down his steely length with determination, taking him all the way in.

"Sweetheart, you're going to make me.. FUCKK!"

His grip on her hair tightened, almost to the point of pain. It only served to excite her more. She didn't let up till he emptied himself down her throat, cursing as he shook and came like never before.

She licked him clean, not leaving a single drop.

She felt breathless and a little punch drunk as he pulled her up and into his arms, kissing her tenderly, softly caressing her cheek and wiping away the tears.

He pulled back to look at her, concern etching his handsome face. "Are you okay?"

She laughed. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

He seemed satisfied with her answer because the look of worry gave way to a roguish smirk.

"Just needed to be sure cause I'm not done with you yet."

"Wha-"

"Shhh." He silenced her with his fingers. "You had your way with me, didn't you? Now it's my turn."

"But.." her query died in a moan as Ethan's fingers found her dripping core.

"Damn." He hissed. "How are you already so wet?"

Lana was in no shape to answer because his thumb was working her clit in maddening circles, excruciating pleasure rippling through her as two fingers curled into her slick passage.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as his skillful fingers moved over her with precision and expertise, over and over again. Just when she was about to reach her peak however, he ceased all movements.

Lana cried out in disappointment from the sudden loss of sensations.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at him in frustration.

Ethan only smiled. "You didn't think I'd let you get away with all that teasing so fast, did you?"

"What do you-"

"Hush, my darling. I said it was my turn. You made me wait for you all evening. Now close your eyes."

"But-"

"No arguments." He said firmly.

Lana hesitantly shut her eyes, the ache between her legs getting unbearable with each passing second.

"Good girl." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Don't move an inch and keep your eyes shut. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" she cried. "You can't leave me like this."

"Don't you trust me, my love?" He chastened.

Lana gulped. "I do but.."

"No buts then. I promise I'll make it worth your while but no cheating or this ends here."

"No!" Lana shook her head. "I'll do as you say."

"That's my girl."

She heard his footsteps fade away as she struggled to stay still. She was tempted to take a peek and more anything else, touch herself and soothe the throb between her legs. She could get off so easily right now.

But she didn't dare disobey. The wait and build up made her wetter and more turned on than she'd ever been.

Her breath came in shallow pants as she waited and by the time he was back, she felt like one touch would be enough to make her explode.

He secured a silky fabric across her eyes and she heard a low click of glass on the surface of the table.

What the hell was that?

Her heart pounded in her chest and her sex clenched in anticipation.

"Hands above your head and don't move. Or I'll have to tie you up."

She nodded eagerly, following his instructions. "Please Ethan."

He chuckled. "Patience, my love. If there's anything I learnt tonight, it's that waiting makes everything better."

She gasped as she felt his lips on her inner thighs, his beard deliciously scraping her skin as he kissed her everywhere but where she needed him most. It was too much but not enough.

His fingers hooked around the lace of her panties. "As pretty as these are, they have to go."

A loud rip followed, tearing through the room and informing her that her panties were definitely in shreds.

"That was.." she choked out, almost in alarm, unable to finish her sentence. But Ethan seemed to understand her concern.

"I'll buy you more." He grunted.

She felt warm liquid slosh onto her chest, flowing down slowly between the valley of her breasts and down her belly, making her entire body tingle.

Her back arched as the flow inched closer to her pulsing core. She moaned out loud as it finally reached it's destination, suddenly cooling her hot sex.

Ethan's mouth closed on her clit before she could process what was going on.

"Ethannn" She cried out.

She didn't recognize the feline noises escaping her, gasping and moaning for her life as she climbed higher and higher with each masterful stroke of his tongue.

"God. I thought scotch was best had neat. I was wrong. So wrong." He muttered against her sex.

The low rumble vibrated through her body and as soon as his fingers joined the ministrations of his mouth, Lana catapulted over the edge, fireworks exploding behind her eyes and blinding her with hot white pleasure as she came all over his face harder than ever. He didn't stop till all the aftershocks rocking her subsided, letting her ride out her orgasm.

He removed her blindfold and pulled her into his arms, gently kissing the top of her head as she hugged him feebly.

As she caught her breath, her eyes landed on the expensive half empty bottle of scotch and she laughed. "Scotch and sex? Who would've thought?"

Ethan chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. "Me apparently. How did it feel?"

She buried her face in his chest, feeling her face heat. "You know how I felt. I was pretty vocal about it."

Low masculine laughter rumbled through his chest making her heart squeeze and sex clench, like she didn't just have the best orgasm of her life.

She wasn't embarrassed though because she could feel his rock hard errection against her thigh.

She looked up at him mischievously. "Are we ready for a round two?"

She yelped as he lifted her, her thighs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to their bedroom.

"Always."

Whew! I hope you enjoyed reading that. As usual, I'd love to know what you think. Please forgive the mistakes if there are any. I couldn't proofread due to shortage of time.

Tags: @lem-20 @pixie88 @aleynareads @maurine07 @whimsicallywayward15 @lovingramsey @coffeeheartaddict @txemrn @shewillreadyou @aussieez @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @schnitzelbutterfingers @imaneditorthankyouverymuch @mercury84choices @thegreentwin @adiehardfan @custaroonie @headoverheelsforramsey @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #choices open heart #ethan ramsey × mc #open heart #pixelberry #open heart book 3 #ns*fw #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #play choices

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Two Gods, One Braincell

Kagami goes on a self-imposed quest to save a terrible place from meeting its timely demise.

Chapter 1: Here There Be Dragons

Summary:

Now leaving heaven:

A cat has joined your party.

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

Kagami rolled among the clouds, riding the jet streams of the upper sky. Her long snake-like body glinted scarlet and gold in the late afternoon sun. The wind whipping against her mane and whiskers and antlers. She held her four claws close to her side and closed her eyes.

"Having fun?"

Snapping open, Kagami's slitted pupils tracked the source of the voice. A shadow leapt across the fluffy clouds, stark against their color; keeping up with her despite her speed.

Ah, him. Relaxing, she allowed herself a grin before suddenly twisting straight down. The cat let out a yelp as he overshot his mark, quickly following her to the earth.

Keeping one eye on the cat Kagami sought the cover of forest. Shifting into mortal form as soon as she was hidden in the leaves. There she waited.

And not long. Kagami's keen ears heard him shifting as he landed on the forest floor. Had she been any other he would be as silent as a cat. But she was a dragon.

"Ka-ga-mi!" He sing-songed, voice echoing so that if she did not have him in sight she would not know where it came.

Her fingers twitched impatiently as he stepped closer. She forced them still. More than one of her ambushes had been exposed because of her fidgeting. He came nearer. One more... One more... Now!

Kagami leapt from her hiding place and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen in surprise before they tumbled to the ground.

"Ah, hello to you too," Adrien grunted. He wore black robes in the style of the western gods.

In her scarlet kimono (which would be very restrictive for a mortal) Kagami sat on him. "This marks my twelve thousand four hundred and fifty second win to your twelve thousand four hundred and twenty-three."

"Yes, yes, very impressive, I can't breathe!"

"Don't be so dramatic," Kagami replied without the barest hint of irony. Still, she rose off of her fellow deity. "You know we don't need to breathe."

" 'Don't be so dramatic,' says the dragon" Adrien muttered, cleaning himself off as he stood up. "Tackles me to the ground, goes running off without a word, leaves me to deal with-"

"You mean like all the times I bailed you out after you did something stupid?"

"Name one stupid thing I've done!"

Before Kagami could begin listing the long, long, long, long line of dumb ideas Adrien's had since Creation itself he cut her off.

"This century!"

Cheater. Well, at least it was a good one. Kagami grinned smugly. "You made Marinette mad at you."

Red bloomed on Adrien's cheeks as he spluttered a reply. "You said you wouldn't bring that up again!"

"I did no such thing." Kagami turned smartly away from him and began walking. "You begged me not to mention it and I said I'd consider it."

"Oh, very clever," Adrien replied sarcastically, following.

"Thank you."

"Anyways, what're you doing out here?"

A demon burst out of the foliage and charged at them. Alerted by their bickering, the brute brandished a club overhead. Saliva dripping from its tusks, maw towering over them.

Kagami shifted. Thunder roared from her mouth lined with sharp teeth. Claws like swords, scales like fire in the lengthening shadows. Long, muscular body dwarfing her opponent's. Narrowed eyes promising a quick end.

The demon dropped its club and ran, letting out frightened squeals.

Adrien held his palm up, shadows coalescing into a sphere of pure darkness. Casually, he tossed it at the retreating demon. "You didn't answer my question."

The demon collapsed as the orb of shadow struck it square in the back. A rabbit sprinting away from where it fell.

Still in dragon form Kagami picked up the crude club with two talons like it was a baby mortal's diaper, snout wrinkling in distaste. "Have all smiths vanished from among the demons?" She tossed the so-called weapon aside. "I remember them being much more of a challenge."

Adrien puffed out his chest. "Your welcome."

Kagami snorted, shifting back into mortal form. "We could have left them a sword at least."

"You didn't answer my question," Adrien pointed out.

"Did I not?" Kagami asked innocently. Or rather tried to. Adrien often pointed out that she was far too honest to lie properly.

"Please, don't let this dragon!" Adrien grinned.

She wasn't smiling. No, her lips did not twitch upwards. "That was terrible."

"Well, sorry that I've had a long flight!"

"Wrong language."

"It was ryu-ly tiring!"

Kagami whirled on Adrien and put a hand over his smirking face. "Stop!" She would not be bested by second class material!

"Mm tho enn u the mm at nno!" Adrien mumbled through her fingers.

His breath tickled so she pulled her hand away. "What?"

"Ah! I said, I'll stop when you tell me what I wanna know." Adrien rubbed his nose in a way Kagami could only describe as cat-like.

Shaking the distracting thought from her head, Kagami focused on what had brought her out here in the first place. "There is a city that's been cursed with drought."

Adrien stiffened. "O-oh?"

"It's been a year. Their reserves are almost gone." Kagami quickened her pace as she thought about what would happen to all those mortals if they didn't get rain soon. "The council won't do anything! They just sit there and 'pass judgment'. Which really means doing nothing! What good are they if-"

"It wasn't a council matter."

Kagami paused. Turning, she saw Adrien fidgeting nervously. "... What did you do?"

"Why does it have to be something I did?" Adrien asked defensively.

"Was it?" Kagami demanded, peering straight into Adrien's eyes.

"Okay, fine! I cursed the city! There, are you happy?"

"You gave an entire city drought!?"

"No, of course not!"

"Adrien," Kagami walked up to him and, ignoring the height he had on her, pinned him to a tree with her arm. "What was the wording exactly."

"May you reap what you sow."

A chill went down her spine and she dropped her arm. A curse like that... Rumors, deceptions, lies. They were all seeds of nothing. And apparently the curse decided the best way to reap nothing was to make sure nothing grew.

She sighed. "A year. They had a year to break the curse themselves." A growl of annoyance grew in her throat and Kagami shifted to better indulge the urge.

Adrien shifted into his great cat form, shoulders level with hers, and bumped against her scales. "How did you find out about them anyway?"

"I heard someone pray for them."

"Ah."

Kagami didn't need to ask what they'd done. It was all semantics. All that mattered was that most of them had learned nothing from it. And yet... "How did they attract your attention?"

His slitted eyes narrowed further as shadow black fur bristled. "They desecrated the hall of judgment."

Kagami's mane rose as her whiskers trembled. The hall of judgment was both court of law and temple to justice. If any god besides Adrien had stumbled onto them... They were exceedingly lucky misfortune was all they suffered. "Morons."

"Extremely," Adrien agreed, pressing his giant, warm, feline body closer and purring.

"They do not deserve my help," Kagami declared, laying down and curling her tail around Adrien.

"Nope," he followed her example and stretched out on the leaves covering the forest floor. "But you're gonna help anyways, aren't you."

"Obviously." Kagami turned her long, serpentine neck so she could rub her muzzle against Adrien's.

No mortal would have been able to read how Adrien's face softened while in his current form. "I love that you're so kind."

"You're forgetting about that fleet I turned into driftwood."

"Bragging about your exploits does not diminish the compassion you feel for others. And that armada had it coming."

If Kagami was still in her mortal form she would have blushed. Thankfully, that was physically impossible for dragons. Instead she touched the tip of her nose with Adrien's. "You'll help me?"

"If you need it," he acknowledged easily. "One little curse should be no match for your storms."

"Your curses are hardly that simple, Adrien." His tail flicked happily, as though she'd given him a great compliment. Kagami knew he disliked using his curses cavalierly but like any god Adrien took pride in his work.

"Then we should get going." He stood and stretched like an overgrown housecat. "Traveling in the lower world takes so long when you don't have Max with you."

"I hope that wasn't another pun."

"If I'm feline punny what business is that of yours?"

In response Kagami took off. Letting the wind she summoned buffet Adrien; his protests following her as he leapt into the air. Her laughter booming like thunder as they raced across the sky.

Notes:

@kagamiappreciationweek2020 Written for Kagami Appreciation Week 2020. (The accuracy of the title is yet to be determined.) Is this all going to be self-indulgent nonsense? I mean, yeah, probably.

#kagami appreciation week #kagami appreciation week 2020 #kagami tsurugi #adrien agreste #dragon kagami #cat adrien #ml fanfic