#mellow & lemon

[hyunsuks-beanie]

This is All Yoon Jeonghan's Fault

Pairing: Jeonghan x idol! afab! reader

Content Warnings: Smut; jealous sex; hard dom Jeonghan; sadism; slight hints of masochism; fingering; cunnilingus; masturbation nipple play; bondage; use of neckties, handcuffs; whips and vibrators; edging; overstimulation; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!); use of pet names (Princess, Doll)

Word Count: 6658 words (the exact count matters, trust me)

Mellow speaks: Soooooo we're finally here and I'm screaming right now!!! This is my first ever actual collab and that too with my lovely Lemon!!! And I kid you not, this really is all Yoon Jeonghan's fault, because we're not holding back today. Also, I'm so pissed rb bc this was scheduled for 4 PM est but Dumblr ate my post up I hate it here.

Tagging: @sweethyuka @yedamology @enhacolor @axartia @hyunsuksmygod  @duolingofanaccount @zurimochi 

Oh and yeah, here's the reason why it's all Yoon Jeonghan's fault.

Go read the first half on (@shhhhhimthinking) Lemon's account first, because we wanna be menaces today *insert evil smirk*

off his pants.

“Explain yourself. Maybe if I like your excuse I’ll go easier on you.”

He trailed the cold metal of his belt buckle across your perked nipple and you shivered from the sensation.

You looked up at him with lustful eyes as you took in the man before you. You had never seen him like this before and seeing him like this now excited you to no end. Did you even want him to go easier?  No. You wanted everything he could give you. Jeonghan watched the way your beautiful eyes lit up with amusement as you seemed to be choosing your words carefully. You didn’t seem in the least bit remorseful, in fact you looked proud, almost a bit too much for his taste. 

“I wanted you to feel so jealous but not be able to do anything about it. I wanted you to want me so badly but not be able to do anything but sit in your chair just watching. I wanted to know that while he was dancing with me you were sitting there burning with desire. The desire to claim me back. I want you to want me.”

Jeonghan gazed at you as he took in all that you said. He leaned into you until his warm breath tickled your ear.

“Then you're not going to leave this bed until you are completely filled with me. Until I’ve made sure you know just how much I want you.”

He sat back up.

“No one can have what’s mine.” He said as he got off the bed and walked out of the room.

The cold air mixed with his worlds and danced across your skin sending shivers through your body. You wondered what he was doing but you didn’t have to guess for long as he walked back in with something red in his hand. You couldn’t get a clear view of it but as he walked closer it suddenly dawned on you.

“Where’d you get that?” You exclaimed. You wiggled in your restraints, trying to get a better view.

“When I couldn’t find you in your room I took something else instead.” He said casually as he laid it gently on the bed before taking off his vest and then his shirt. He picked up the switch and walked over to you with slow seductive steps. 

He held your prop above you as he let the cold tassel trail across your skin. 

“If you would’ve told me that you like things like this we could’ve gotten one sooner.” He said as he trailed the switch slowly over your clothed core that craved more attention all the way to your perked breasts.

You whimpered and squirmed as he tickled your skin with his teasing. He gave your sensitive nipple a light whip earning a breathy moan from you. But breathy wasn't the way he liked your moans, deciding to turn it into a louder whine as his lips soon got wrapped around the exact spot he had teased a moment ago, the warm feeling of his saliva on your bud making shivers run down your spine. 

Sucking on your breast just a little before pulling away, Jeonghan had wasted no time in making the leather further down your body, your right thigh being met with a delicious sound as a red mark bloomed in the whip's wake. He was barely doing anything, and yet, you couldn't help but find yourself on the edge already, wanting him to take you just then. 

And your desperation was not lost on your boyfriend as a lazy smirk had made his lips curl up, his fingers dancing along your bare torso while he decided to test you a little more. You deserved it after all, or so he told himself as he had said, "I hope you're enjoying the…..arrangement I've got in place for you." 

The words were hard enough to comprehend in your inebriated state, drunk on lust and begging to be ruined, but any hopes of coming up with a reply were crushed the second you felt a sharp tip coming in contact with your your clothed heat, a sweet pain that almost made you release into your panties. He had you under his spell, and despite having pretended to be the one in control earlier, you found yourself thanking him for being rude.

You were writhing under your bindings, silently pleading for him to give you more already, but no matter how hard you tried, you knew it was going to be useless until he wanted to give it to you. Jeonghan was going to tease you until you were crying, and he was going to make you whimper and beg. That was the thought you had in mind when you found yourself being pulled out of it at the sudden pressure being applied to your still sensitive core, the tie around your wrists coming undone to reveal soft red marks.

"Tsk," Jeonghan had mused, making you open your eyes only to see his hand right against your crotch, the wetness coating his digits through the lace of your underwear, "Need to use something more…..resistant, don'tcha think?" 

And with that, the feeling was gone, leaving you whining at the loss of contact when he pulled away from you entirely, chuckling just a little as he sauntered over to the wardrobe. 

You were losing it, but it still wasn't enough to make you not frown your brows as you watched him, taking his time opening the drawers and rummaging through them. "What's he doing?" you thought to yourself, but before you could put that thought into words, he was looking back at you, his smirk even more sinister as your eyes landed on the small, shiny black object he held in one hand, and the deep red object that dangled from the fingers of the other. 

The sight knocked the breath out of you, your toes curling and uncurling as he walked back over, turning the vibrator on. You wanted to ask him where he got all that stuff from, but yet again, your boyfriend beat you to it. 

"Been saving them for the right occasion," was all he said, reaching over to catch your wrists in another binding, this time much harder and more steadfast than the first.

As the black cuffs made their way to the bedpost with your hands in their clasp, you couldn't help but gaze up at his form, his chest peeking out from under the top two buttons that had been opened. The tugging on your wrists felt cold and foreign, the metal cutting into your skin as you found yourself struggling against it too. 

All this while the toy was lying next to your thigh, the vibrations coursing through it gave your leg a preview of what was to come. The wait, of course, wasn't too long, Jeonghan's hums dispersing the silence as he made quick work of your panties, your soaking pussy fully exposed to the cold air as you attempted to press your thighs together. 

But he wasn't having it, his hand pushing them apart once more as he smacked his lips, feeling his mouth water at the mere sight. "Delicious, he whispered, smirking as he watched you drip, "You just can't get enough of me, huh?" And he knew he wasn't wrong, because no matter how bold you tried to be, you were still putty in his hands. So he was going to use it to his advantage, wasting not one moment in shoving the vibrator deep through your folds, a loud moan slipping past your lips at the impact that had you reeling. 

It was all a blur of moans and whines for a few tense minutes after that, your body thrashing over the bedsheets as you called for him to let you  finish already, failing to make him relent in the slightest, all while his fingers added pressure where the toy couldn't, rubbing against your clit.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?," he chuckled darkly, relishing in the way your walls clenched around the tip of the toy. 

Before you knew it, you were on edge, your body convulsing under the waves of pleasure that he was making you feel. As the vibrations traveled deep into your entire being, you could feel yourself giving in to the force of your impending orgasm. You were already sensitive from the teasing and the previous orgasm that came with it’s fare share of overstimulation earlier, so it wasn't a surprise that you soon were almost near the edge, ready to fall off.

And then, the pleasure was gone for the second time, leaving you groaning in agony as you flailed your legs and struggled against your cuffs, while sinister laughter filled the room. Your climax was receding away at an alarming rate, until it wasn't, ripples of sweet pain racking through your body as the tip was inside you once more, deeper than ever. 

Less than a minute was all it took for you to finally reach your high, your juices spilling out of you and almost making you lose consciousness from how amazing it felt. 

Your breathing heavy and your chest heaving, you opened your eyes after what felt like centuries, only to realize that your boyfriend wasn't next to you any longer. Instead, he was standing at the foot of the bed, naked to the bone as his hand pumped his member. 

"Gave me a good show," he smirked, the word "Sweetheart" rolling off his tongue in a way that made your skin crawl, but in a good way. "Guess you do deserve a prize." 

He reached over and unlocked your hands from the bed.

His words and actions caused you to let out a soft sigh, your lips curling into a gentle smile as your foggy mind believed his misleading words. But as he climbed onto the bed and hovered over your form, cuffing your hands to each other, you realized that wasn't what he had in mind.

The very next moment, he confirmed your suspicions, his balls hitting you right in the pelvis as he thrust his cock hilt-deep inside you. He was relentless from the get-go, his hips rocking against your own as he made your walls clench around his girth. "Tell. Me. Who. Got. You. This. Tight. Huh?," he asked with each thrust, taunting you while grunts and groans emanated from the depths of his chest. 

"You're. Fucking. Mine," he didn't stop, his moans mixing with yours as your body latched onto his for dear life. He had already driven you past the point of insanity, that had been his plan since the beginning. Before you could stop yourself, you were releasing your pent-up frustration all over his member, your constricted hands hooked around his neck and your nails dug into his back as you rode out your high.

You were spent already, but Jeonghan showed no signs of stopping or even wanting to stop, his groans only growing louder as he continued to pump in and out of you, chasing his own orgasm. He was feral in that moment, almost animalistic as he kept up the pace, never one to slow down. You were crying by now, tears streaming down your cheeks while he kept up his assault on your aching core, pinning you to the mattress. 

It was only a matter of minutes before you felt a familiar knot in the pit of your stomach and another wave of pleasure washing over your being. You found your toes curling, the lustrous sensation breaking through you in ripples and pulses causing your eyes to screw shut, the bedsheets getting soaked with you yet again. This time, it was enough to make Jeonghan cum too, his seed filling you up to the brim.

It had you moaning like nothing else, the thought of him breeding, the feeling of him overflowing in your pulsing core sending you into a frenzy. 

"That's right, take all of me, let me remind you who owns you," Jeonghan grunted as he continued to grind into you, meeting you halfway for the third time that night, which you were sure would also be your last. He was still going at full-speed, bent on completely obliterating your insides as he thrusted even harder, your sweet spot crying tears of joy and pain and threatening to come undone in a way it never had before, the knot in your stomach close to bursting to pieces. 

"Gonna nail it into your head," he grunted against your ear, biting down on your shell as his moves never stopped, "Gonna teach you never to mess with me again." You were in bliss by now, completely ignorant to everything else except the feeling of his dick filling your insides, showing you stars. Everything was a blur, from your sense of time to the knowledge of your whereabouts. It was only him, sending your mind dancing as he continued to hit that sweet spot inside you, over and over. 

It felt like an instant, and at the same time, it was an eternity, your insides twisting and churning as you found your release, this time harder than the previous three, the whole ordeal making your body shake and convulse. He wasn't done though, still keeping at ramming into your clit for heaven knows how long, till he reached his climax, his cum and yours now soiling the mattress, his seed firmly inside your hole as he collapsed on top of your chest in exhaustion.

Your chests pressed against each other as your hearts pounded to the very rhythm of your sinful night. You felt his breathing slowing against your hot skin, the feeling of sweat moistening your bodies. He propped himself up with one arm and used his other hand to caress your tired face. 

“Baby?” He called for you gently, the fire in his voice now washed away with the pent up frustration he had released. He was back to being the soft Jeonghan you knew and loved, showing you that one side of him that he reserves only for you. 

You were so spent, all you could do was hum a weak response. The aftershock of your orgasms sent a soft shiver through your body that drew Jeonghan's attention to your arms that were still bonded by the cuffs. When he slowly lifted himself and pulled out, you found yourself groaning not only at the sensation in your swollen pussy but also at the feeling of his precious cum seeping out of your body. 

He tenderly undid you cuffs from around your wrist, softly rubbing the red marks that were left. 

“Does it hurt baby?” He cooed at you as he slowly helped you sit up and put your back against the headboard, mindful of your pained expressions and your soft hisses. 

As he did, he watched with concern as your face scrunched at the feeling of your sore body moving.

“Was I too rough?” He asked, his voice now coated in panic as he held your hand and softly stroked the mark on your wrist.

You shook your head no, a smile blooming on your exhausted face. 

“You were everything I wanted and everything I didn’t know I needed.”

His face also relaxed as he saw your expression.

“Do you want to take a bath?” Jeonghan softly whispered to you as if he was afraid to startle you out of your calm.

“Yes please.” You said as excitedly as you could manage with your depleted energy. 

He quickly hopped up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. You felt yourself drifting in and out of sleep for a few minutes while he got everything ready. Then you felt Jeonghan gently slide his arm under yours and you opened your eyes to see him smiling at you warmly. 

“Let’s get you in the bath.” He said affectionately as he helped you towards the bathroom.

You gingerly slid into the water that was the perfect temperature and smelled of your favorite soothing bath salts. 

He got up to leave and your face did its signature pout. "Won't you join me?," you asked, your voice hopeful as you thought about cuddling him in the bath. 

“I’m just going to go change the sheets.” He chuckled, giving a loving boop of your nose. “After all, we made quite the mess.”

His last comment left you blushing as you had no choice but to recount the night. He gave another chuckle at your cuteness before hurrying off to finish his task. You found yourself drifting off again, only barely registering his body when it slid into the water behind you. You instinctively leaned back into him and he took a washcloth to help you wash up. You felt him tenderly dabbing the marks that were left on your skin as he softly asked you once again if they hurt but all you could say was no. They didn’t hurt, not like that, they were simply temporary memories of a very eventful night. 

You took the moment to take a few healing breaths. You were too tired to speak anymore and he understood completely. You continued to relax as the sound of him softly humming set the mood for the rest of the night into a peaceful one.

After you were all soaked out, he helped you stand up before letting the water out and holding you against him while you both quickly rinsed off in the shower. Jeonghan wrapped a towel around you and led you back to your bed that now had fresh crisp sheets on them and your favorite bottle of lightly scented moisturizer that always helped you relax. 

He took the towel from around you softly laughing at the way you instantly began to shiver before helping you lotion your sore body. You could never be too sure he didn’t have ulterior motives but the way his hands caressed and massaged your tired skin was therapeutic and calming so you didn’t care to ask, instead you lost yourself in his gentle touch. When you couldn’t bear to stand anymore, you leaned against his chest and whimpered to let him know just how exhausted you were. 

“Alright alright.” He said with a chuckle. “I’m almost done love.” 

Jeonghan quickly finished, made sure you were both moisturized and then held up the covers for you as he guided you into bed. You let out a slightly dramatic sigh of relief at being able to finally rest your aching body and Jeonghan smiled at you fondly. He put the lotion back in the bathroom and turned off all the lights. When he came back you had the covers lifted and ready for him as your warm body and sugary smile welcomed him. He climbed in and snuggled into you, wrapping his arms around you and laying on your breast which he saw as his own personal pillow. You used delicate fingers to rub his back, wanting to give him back some love as you attempted to sooth the scratches that you left.

“Does it hurt?,” You softly asked him.

“No, not at all," came his reply, nonchalant as ever. “Anyway you know what they say… all is fun in sex and foreplay.”

His ridiculous comment pulled a full laugh from your lethargic body and he proudly laughed along with you.

“You’re such a doofus.” You said still laughing as you playfully slapped his arm. 

“I love you.” 

With your last sentence you felt yourself swiftly drifting away into dreamland.

“I love you more.” Jeonghan said, pulling you closer to him.

The distant hum of the washing machine and the whisper-like sounds of your and Jeonghan's gentle breaths were the ending melodies of your ever eventful night. Just like that, the two of you were lulled into your most rewarding slumber, peaceful dreams begetting content smiles as you two lovebirds snuggled even closer.

#jeonghan #jeonghan smut #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan hard thoughts #jeonghan imagines #seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen hard thoughts #svt #svt smut #svt hard thoughts #mellow & lemon #lemon & mellow #melade #I hate yoon jeonghan

[tangylemonade]

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚈𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝙵𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝

𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚡 𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚋 𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

⚠︎︎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝; 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚡; 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚊𝚗; 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚖; 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚖; 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐; 𝚌𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜; 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢; 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚎; 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚌𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚜; 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚜; 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐; 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗; 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚙 𝚒𝚝 ); 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 (𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕)

𝟷𝟾+ 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙽𝙸

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟼𝟼𝟻𝟾 (𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎 ☺︎︎)

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚋 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙼𝚎𝚕 ( @hyunsuks-beanie ) 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚈𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚊𝚗, 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 ☺︎︎. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢, 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙼𝚎𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚞𝚗! 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚊𝚗! 𝚆𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛! 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍, 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚜 𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑!

𝙸𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚈𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙵𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝

You knew that Jeonghan absolutely hated these end of the year shows, more specifically MAMA, but that still wasn’t enough to deter you from your wicked plans. When you got invited to perform the first thing that crossed your mind was ‘how do I make sure this night is actually enjoyable?

Due to the nature of your and Jeonghan's relationship you couldn’t help that the first thought that popped in your head was to start trouble with him, and you knew just how to do it.

Jeonghan wasn’t an overly jealous boyfriend but he definitely didn’t like the idea of you showing off too much of “his goods”. He was never pushy about it and you mostly preferred wearing less revealing outfits, but something inside you really couldn’t resist how tantalizing the idea of pissing him off would be.

“Sooo, what are you going to perform?” Jeonghan asked one afternoon while you two were cuddling on your couch.

“I think I’m gonna use an unreleased song, I kinda wanna try something new.” You responded, hiding your smile.

“Ohhh can I hear it?” He asked excitedly.

You shook your head. “Nope, it’s a surprise. You’ll see it with everyone else, it’ll give you something to look forward to.”

And a surprise it was for Jeonghan when your performance that started slow and pretty with you looking stunningly angelic in a long dress somehow ending with you in what was essentially red leather lingerie. After his initial reaction of drooling over how absolutely sexy you looked he found himself in utter shock because you also seemed to have taken it upon yourself to pull out a whip and proceed to use it on the same shirtless male dancer that you were previously dancing provocatively with.

With the sight in front of him being what it was, Jeonghan was absolutely livid.

The joy he felt when your stage began was completely gone and in its stead was pure unadulterated rage.

“What kinda game does she think she's playing?” He seethed.

The moment the show was over Jeonghan made an angry beeline towards your dressing room ready to full on interrogate you for your little stunt, and maybe even teach you a lesson or two. Jeonghan did his best to keep a calm demeanor as he knocked on your door waiting for an answer. He made up some excuses in his head for when one of the staff opened the door but when no one responded he couldn’t contain his restlessness and just busted in to find that your room was completely empty.

He took a deep breath, a useless attempt to calm himself, as he pulled out his phone and tried to call you. No answer.

“Is she fucking serious?” Jeonghan asked himself through gritted teeth as he read the text you sent him instead of picking up.

*I’m went out with my staff and dance crew to celebrate a performance well done, see you at home😊 😘*

But that wasn’t all, you also sent a photo of you with the group in which the notorious dancer from your stage had his arm over your shoulder.

Jeonghan's vision flashed red as he threw his phone in anger. Luckily it landed on the couch so after taking a few more breaths to collect himself he went to go retrieve it. As he picked up his phone something red caught his eye and he instantly got an idea. It was your prop form earlier, the red whip you so cockily used on stage. Jeonghan complied with his wicked thoughts as he grabbed your prop and stuffed it in his bag before storming out of your room and heading to his car.

The only problem for Jeonghan was that you had no intention of giving him any peace whatsoever. After a little over an hour of hanging with your friends all you could think about was Jeonghan.

You only had two shots and at best you were a little buzzed but you still asked your manager to give Jeonghan a call for you and tell him that you were wasted and needed him to pick you up. Your manager, doubling up as your best friend, sent you a knowing look with a wag of her eyebrow before excusing herself to make the call. While she was gone you got into character and waited for him to arrive. You could barely contain your excitement as you thought about the look on his face, wondering just how angry he was by now. When your manager came to tell you that he was here you two giggled sneakily as she “helped you to the car”, passing you off to Jeonghan who sat you down and angrily buckled you in before kindly thanking your manager and pulling off.

The second the restaurant was out of sight his entire demeanor shifted.

You first saw it in his gaze, more steely than you've ever seen before as he kept it on the road. Yeah, he was absolutely pissed.

As you watched the way his Adam's Apple bob every time he swallowed, you couldn't help but want him to take his anger out on you already. Maybe it was the alcohol messing with your head, or maybe it was the was the way his hair seemed to be framing his face, growing out once more and becoming provocatively unruly, making him look like he was sculpted out of stone along with the addition of the three-piece that still clung tight to his frame was a perfect poison. You felt jealous of the way it clung to him just like you wanted to do.

Whatever it was, it had you craving for more, your fingers reaching over in an attempt to rest on his thigh, or maybe even lower. Except he was quicker, his voice laced with venom as he warned you to "quit fucking staring."

His words had you caught off-guard, eyes going wide as you retracted your hand, a soft "Hannie?" slipping past your lips. Despite the sinister thoughts that had been occupying your mind all night, this particular moment had you going weak in the knees and pale with fear. Fear that you had overstepped your boundaries at last.

But as luck would have it, that one word was enough to get him to snap, his sharp gaze landing on you as he all but sneered, a low growl emanating from somewhere deep inside him.

"Like being a tease, don't you? Getting handsy with a shirtless fucker like that, trying to seduce him and giving them all a show on stage? Bold of you to assume I'd enjoy your little stunt."

His words were dripping with malice, but in spite of how dangerous he looked, you had found yourself even more horny than you had been before.

And it was evidently written all over your face, the sight making Jeonghan chuckle darkly as he focused back on the road.

"Well sweetheart, you're in luck, because I did enjoy that performance, a little too much. Seems like I'm gonna have to show just how much, though."

That was the last thing he had said before stepping on the accelerator, speeding away into the night at a speed almost breakneck, and leaving you thinking he was done talking to you, at least for a while. But wrong you were, because not two minutes later, he said something that had you pressing your thighs tighter together.

"I want you to be ready for when I ruin you later," were his exact words before his hand pushed your legs apart as he placed a gentle touch to the inside of your thigh, confusing you long enough to make a gasp roll off your tongue when he slapped the core of your underwear, a newfound wetness pooling in his wake.

"Touch yourself," he had commanded, his icy glare making you reach your hand out to pleasure yourself, even though you knew you'd never be able to compare to the pleasure he gave you.

The trip back home had been tantalizing to say the least, as your digits had slipped into the waistband of your panties while you struggled to keep your sanity, your boyfriend's name filling the car. The sound was delicious as it made its way to Jeonghan's ears, and the urge to just slam the breaks and fuck you on the roadside was threatening to intoxicate him.

No, he needed to pull himself together, needed to get his priorities straight. You had crossed him today, and he had to teach you not to mess with him like that, ever again. He needed to show you that if you wanted to act like a slut, he was going to be there to show you what it actually meant to be one.

And so he held it in, kept quiet and focused his gaze the road in front of him, resigning himself to the sounds and stolen glances he chanced upon as you dipped your fingers into the waistband of your panties. You were soaking already, thoughts of what he'd do to you when you reached home making goosebumps rise on your skin as you found yourself craving his touch. You really were no match for him, your desperation filtering through in the form of cries and whines at your pathetic attempt at filling yourself up.

The longer you kept it up, the more frustrated you became, your moans growing louder as you felt an orgasm approaching.

“J-Jeonghan… I’m gonna cum!” You mewled.

Just as you finished your sentence you felt Jeonghan's slender fingers wrapping round your hand wrist, stopping your motions.

“Tsk tsk tsk, you didn’t think I was gonna let you cum that easily did you?” He questioned with a dangerous smirk.

You tried the steady yourself as you felt your high slipping away. You turned to Jeonghan with a pout on your face as you silently pleaded despite knowing that it would be pointless. Your suspicions were proven correct when he let out a mischievous laugh, undoubtedly directed at your pitiful state.

“Unbutton your shirt.” He commanded, the laughter from earlier no longer present.

One would think that you had enough common sense to know not to mess with Jeonghan anymore…and one would be completely wrong. You spit out the first thing that came to your mind before you could think of the consequences.

“Why don’t you make me?” You asked, hornyness completely shrouding your better judgment.

“Pardon.”

“You heard me love.” You leaned in towards him before continuing. “I said ma-“

Your words were cut short when he used the moment at the red light to quickly turn towards you and grab hold of your jaw. Jeonghan leaned into your face until his lips were brushing against yours.

“Now.”

Taking your chance while he was so close, you quickly tilted your head and stole a fiery kiss. For a moment he was swept away and from the way he began to devour your lips, you could tell he was starving for you. He pulled away with a blaze in his eyes, one that matched the very fire that spilled through your body at the taste of him.

“No more little stunts princess. It’ll only make the night harder for you," He warned.

Your body temperature was rising and now you really did want to take your shirt off, so you finally complied with his order, but still never forgetting to make a show of it. You watched Jeonghan's face intently as the deliberate pace in which you were unbuttoning your shirt riled him up, his eyes savoring quick glances of your body with every bit that you exposed. Once all the buttons were finished you watched him bite his lip with hunger as you slowly let the shirt fall from your shoulders.

“What now?” You asked, turning towards Jeonghan and giving him a better view.

“Now we get out of the car.” He said as he used all his strength to turn away from you and opened his door.

You were so fixated on him, you hadn’t even noticed that the car had stopped. You startled as he pulled open your door and gestured for you to get out. He took off his jacket and draped it over you before gently taking your hand and helping you out the car. He had driven you to your house and he rushed the two of you in to avoid the possibility of nosey neighbors catching a glimpse of you in such a vulnerable state.

You took in a breath as you closed your door behind you, only for it to be knocked right back out of you when he suddenly pressed you against the wall and stole a ravished kiss. You closed your eyes and fell into him as he pulled the jacket and the shirt off of you and let it drop to the ground. His nimble fingers found your bra clasp and quickly undid it before also pulling that off and throwing it on the ground. He unzipped your jeans and you kicked them off along with your shoes then reached for his tie in an attempt to even the playing field. But just before you could touch him his hands were around your wrists and then lifted above your head.

“You don’t get to fucking touch me unless I say you can.” He growled against your lips, frustrated at having to stop the kiss that he was enjoying.

With his free hand he reached up and undid his tie before pulling it off. He held it in his mouth while he backed up so that he could get better access to your hands that he was now holding in between you two. Jeonghan took the tie and wrapped it around one of your hands before wrapping it around the other and tying them together. He walked to your living room and you quickly hurried with him as he pulled you along.

Without a word he pushed you down onto the plush sofa and just as quickly found himself at where you craved him most. As he kneeled in front of your form, you looked down at him with doe eyes that pinned for his touch. He responded with a laugh that only left you more desperate. Bringing his hand gently over your panties he rubbed a slow circle over your yearning bud. Your eyes fluttered as you leaned your head back at the soothing sensation of his touch.

Flick.

You gasped and quickly looked down at his now smirking face. Once again he flicked your most sensitive flesh.

“Did you think I was going to be gentle? Sorry darling, you've just been too naughty for me to be nice.”

He pulled down your panties and discarded them to the side before using his grip on your hips to slide your heat closer to him.

“Listen here princess, you're gonna keep your eyes on me the same way you did while you were doing your little dance. Remember how you were having so much fun? The second you look away all the fun stops. Are we clear?” Jeonghan asked, his warm breath teasing you as his lips only lingered where you needed them.

There was no other option for you but to nod, unable to properly form a coherent response.

“Nu-uh, I need you to use your words doll. Are? We? Clear?”

“Y-yes” you breathed.

His eyes were roguish as they held your shaky gaze, all while he teasingly lowered his tongue against your supple flesh. It took all of your might not to throw your head back at the instant pleasure he made you feel. As his tongue lapsed at you slick folds his dark eyes bore into your soul. Your vision began to blur at the moment you felt his fingers dance along your walls; you couldn’t focus any longer. And just like that it all stopped.

You felt a slap against your now sensitive pussy that had jilted you back into the present.

“I thought you said that we were on the same page love?”

“Huh?” You said as you tried to focus back on what he was saying and not on the feeling of your high slipping away.

“I told you to keep your eyes on me. Such an easy task, why is it so hard for you?” He asked disingenuously.

All you could do was frown at him as you felt him pull his finger out of you and nothing but a painful emptiness in its wake.

“Should I give you another chance?” He mused, condescending compassion lacing his words.

But you didn’t care about the sincerity of his words as you quickly nodded and squeaked out a yes. All you could think about was feeling him again.

His mouth went right back to working its magic as he skillfully licked and sucked you right back into your state of stupefaction.

Your desperate cries echoed through the room as you tried not to lose yourself in the way his velvet tongue melded so perfectly against your wanting cunt. The pleasure increased with each curl of his elegant fingers, each play of his cruel mouth. He was giving you pleasure you couldn't even have imagined feeling, and despite the foggy lens through which you were seeing him, you couldn't help but crave more.

Jeognhan's beautiful face began to once again haze over, your vision stolen by the violent waves of pleasure that overtook your body.

But this time Jeonghan didn’t stop despite you having looked away, rather he continued his ministrations beyond the feeling of you shaking in his arms, beyond the shaking of your body that signaled the ovestimulation you were feeling. Your exasperated moans of his name and a few choice words weren't enough to make him stop.

Only when he felt your hands reach for his hair did he quickly grab them and move them away. He stood up still holding onto you as he used his other hand to softly lift your chin towards him. He looked into your flushed face, your lips swollen from you biting down on them and your cheeks glowing from the rush of your orgasm. You were absolutely breathtaking to him and for a moment he found himself swept away in you, in your beauty. You looked back into his eyes and for a gentle moment the two of you were quiet, with him silently checking in on you and you letting him know that you were enjoying it.

But as quickly as it came, it left.

“I already told you that you didn’t deserve to fucking touch me.” He said in rough contrast to the way he soothed your lip with his thumb.

You didn’t respond, you were still trying to catch your breath when he put his hands around your waist and pulled you from the couch. To your bewilderment he picked back up your underwear and pulled them back up your body, giving your butt a slap after he secured the lacy material around you. Jeonghan took your hand and led you to your bedroom.

“Sit.” He commanded as he pointed to where he wanted you on the bed. Having no choice, you sat in the center of the bed and watched as he took off his shoes and then climbed into bed, hovering above you.

“Lay down.”

Knowing better than to cross him again, you listened right away this time, and the moment your head hit the mattress he had the tie back in his hands, skillfully fastening it to the head board. His silence set nervous butterflies loose in your stomach and goose bumps across your skin as you shivered with craving for more of his intoxicating touch.

He sat back up and kneeled above you with his legs beside either side of your thighs.

“So…” he said as he looked down at you menacingly.

He slowly unbuckled his belt and pulled it …

*𝟹𝟹𝟸𝟿 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚍*

𝙾𝚑! 𝙸 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜! 𝙽𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝? (𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 ☺︎︎)

𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝙼𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚆 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘!

🔁 Please RE-BLOG if you enjoyed! 🔁

#jeonghan #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan hard thoughts #jeonghan imagines #seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen hard thoughts #svt #svt smut #svt hard thoughts #Mellow & Lemon #Lemon & Mellow #collab #MELADE #I hate Yoon Jeonghan #🍋’s recommendations #🍋’s moots #🍋’s collab #🍋’s creations #🍋’s masterlist #yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan smut

[esofantasy]

Tastes like......

#mellow banana #tangy lemon #smooth vanilla creme #betrayal #spunky #wrong #vivec #almsivi #vehk #tes shitpost #tes #elderscrolls

[floral-hex]

I just want to get blasted, either out of my mind or into the sun, I’m not picky

#not me looking into the shitty guidelines for getting approved for medical marijuana in arkansas #yeeeaaaah looks like the process is ridiculously convoluted and pricey so nah #but missouri is just a few hours away so who knows #I hate weed for real. I mean it’s cool but I’ve had some bad experiences #but my anxiety is getting pretty rough and it would just be nice if I could turn my brains to mush every once in awhile #whenever my hearing gets bad I start freaking out and panicking and feeling sick. it suuuuuuucks. #anyway I have about 10 ‘emergency’ klonopin left which I don’t like taking bc I’m a hoarder and hate wasting stuff #like in video games when you stockpile potions but never use them #plus that shit can be addictive and I’m not a fan of that idea #tbh tho I diiiid take one earlier and I’ve been feeling preeeetty mellow #I ate two bowls of ice cream and I’m feeling good #I thought I had a drs appt coming soon to talk about anxiety meds but turns out it’s actually next month 🙄 so gonna reschedule that #anyway this was supposed to be a post about wanting to get blazed but I kinda whined all over these tags #whoops #uhhh…. how are you doing? #have you drank enough water today? for real #god I love ice water with a little lemon juice. I drink so much of that a day. it’s the best. #this isn’t important #if you read all of this then I love you #or at least like you. a little. a little bit. you’re good. I appreciate you. #ok I’m gonna go make coffee now #you can ignore this #text

[cryptid-on-a-string]

im so happy today :3 theres just so many good things :3

i wont let anybody make me feel terrible today. im taking a day off from being miserable and depressed for now :)

#maybe lemon demon was right. why DONT we sit back mellow again and have a nice afternoon. ITLL BE FIIIINNNE /gen :3

[lemonymelonade]

-The gworls-

Watched some Poppy Playtime playthroughs and was instantly obsessed with these two. They're just so sicking to me idk lol. I've been goin back and forth on this one for a while but I really like how it turned out, they're so cute!

I imagine this is right before the character reaches the first Kissy Missy cut scene lol.

#digital painting #digital art #digital illustration #artists on tumblr #pink #mellow lemons #poppy playtime #kissy missy #mommy long legs #fanart

[donloco]

DOPE LEMON - Midnight Slow (Official Audio)

#youtube #Dope Lemon #mellow

[foxbodymustangs]

Mellow Yellow Lemon Cake

#Mellow #Yellow #Lemon #Cake

[alfsanpol]

Mellow Yellow Lemon Cake

#Mellow #Yellow #Lemon #Cake

[zorisama]

Mellow Yellow Lemon Cake

#Mellow #Yellow #Lemon #Cake

[hyunsuks-beanie]

😊

Lemon Lemon Lemon!!!!!!!

So Kento's 2023 calendar has been announced and it's the prettiest thing I've see in ages? The whole concept is absolutely gorgeous and I'm so in love with it and him. Tell me, how can anyone be so perfect?😭😭😭

#mellow speaks #mootsies #my biggest kento simping supporter aka my sweet Lemon #that kinda sounds contradictory lol #but oh well #kento is perfection #kento yamazaki #mellow simping for kento yamazaki hours open #mellow loves kento yamazaki hours open

[anantaru]

a/n. ✩ ˛˚ . i am currently sick and wanted to write something sweet, enjoy my loves while I'm drowning myself in hot lemon water, gn! reader

neuvillette likes to buy you flowers.

he doesn't necessarily have a favorite type of flower that he likes to purchase for you, because to him, it's the plant itself that reminded him of you.

for one, when he looks outside the window to catch the neat, sprouting garden outside your home, the sun rays shimmer gently along the various petals, rainbow roses stretching and slowly opening its eyes to the soft tickle of warmth.

to neuvillette, it felt the same as when he hears your voice whisper a honey-like "good morning" first thing during sunrise, and he wishes he could explain to you just how much the sound of your voice gave him butterflies and hope.

one part of him was on fire when you begin to smile as you realize he had bought you a bouquet full of blossoming lumidouce bells again.

to neuvillette, your grateful smile was resembling a warm gesture that was widely manifested in a garden scented with the fragrance of nectarous flowers, various plants going crazy when they receive the warm affection of the sun.

now, the man was calm and peaceful knowing that you liked them and that when he wasn't here with you, there was at least something that would always remind you of him.

you move towards him, slanting close, settling on his lap, and it makes his heart skip a beat when you leisurely wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into a quick kiss— because you see, every time he connects with you physically, neuvillette felt like you were a piece of him that had been missing perpetually.

neuvillette moves his tongue gently until you forget yourself into his trace, savoring the moment as he runs a finger along your thigh. you shift your hips a little to move closer, a wave of felicity shielding your bodies before the man decides to break the kiss as to catch his breath.

restraining his bliss for a moment, the iudex reminds himself that work had been awaiting him.

he takes your hand and squeezes it gently, "i assume you like the flowers?" as he questions lightly, even though he fully knew the answer to his own questioning— yet his mellow voice was so full of passion like it was attempting to burst his lungs, unable to exclaim the deep gratitude he felt.

you snicker back, quite absorbed in watching him blush vividly after one kiss, "you ask if i like them? i love each and every one of them," you continue, sounding sweet to his ears, "thank you, i will take care of them while you're gone,"

your gentle lips pass a smile, and you admire his eyes, see and notice how they had been cosseting your own.

this love, it wasn't like one you had encountered in the past— because the one you shared with neuvillette was an union of souls and hearts and minds, not something you could put under a microscope and understand immediately, because simply put, it was too complex for that, strong and unbreakable.

pure love, like a liquid which descends from the clouds in rain with your body feeling different— bouncier, more energetic.

feeling happy.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #neuvillette x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette fluff

[arcane-trickster]

Typically I don’t do angry tumblr rants but this gbbo smore shit has a cold rage burning in the fireplace of my soul and the words ‘sacrilege’ and ‘heresy’ bubbling up from the depths of my being to be played on loop in mute horror like a scratched record.

So.

This monstrosity is what gbbo was trying to pass off as a smore.

This is not a smore. Look at it. It’s downright undercooked. That’s not even marshmallow. Or chocolate. It looks cold. This is about as much a smore as Cris Pratt is a voice actor. As a corgi is a wolf. As gbbo is apparently competent at research.

Also me to explain what a smore is.

For anyone who doesn’t know what the fudge a smore is, it’s a typical summertime treat often made at summercamp, when camping, or if you live in a place with a fireplace/assess to a campfire sometimes you’ll use that.

Basically it goes like this; it takes five ingredients, gram crackers, any chocolate bar with rectangular pieces you can break off (traditionally Hershey’s as it’s the cheapest and smores tend to be made in bulk, it’s one of those things a group of people make together otherwise it won’t taste right) large marshmallows, an open flame, and as previously mentioned more than one person to make them at the same time. If you make smores alone, the smores too will be sad and alone.

First you take two gram crackers and break off 1 to 2 sections of chocolate. Place the chocolate on each side, so both sides are all chocolatey. Then you take a marshmallow and skewer it on either a pointy stick from the ground or a metal skewer specificity made for roasting marshmallows/hotdogs depending on if someone has any.

Next you, well, roast the marshmallows. If you’re doing this at a campfire this involves a lot of moving away from the direction the smoke is blowing well and minor amounts of giggle-filled pvp as everyone jostles for the best spots around the fire. Mellow roasting is one of those things that is kind of the point of making marshmallows, the epic highs and lows of seeing how close to the fire you can get yours and how long you can hold it there before it either falls off or catches fire is integral to the entire experience.

Once you hastily blow out the one-fire part of the marshmallow, you slide it off the stick and between the gram crackers and chocolate. Then you squish it a bit to get the chocolate all nice and gooey, and bite in.

It’s gooey, it’s very messy, and the closer it gets to midnight the more it’s delicious.

So now we have established what a smore is, allow me to explain how UTTERLY BUTCHERED that abomination of sugar is.

First, we have the ingredients themselves. Paul Bitchwood describes the middle as ‘Italian meringue’.

Italian meringue.

Italian. Fucking. Meringue.

*deep breath*

IS NOT A MARSHMALLOW.

It does not share THE BASIC PROPERTIES OF A MARSHMALLOW.

YOU CANNOT STAB MERINGUE WITH A STCK AND HAVE IT STAY ON THE FUCKING SICK. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A MARSHMALLOW BEFORE MR BITCHWOOD???? WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO THROW THE TOP OF A LEMON MERINGUE PIE AT YOU TO DEMONSTRATE “PAUL”?! IF IT DOESN’T BOUNCE ITS NOT A FUCKING MELLOW AND THE EFECT ON YOUR FACE WOULD BE ONE HELL OF AN IMPROVEMENT!

So already we have the single most important ingredient straight up ‘substituted’ (if you can even call it that) for an entirely different food with a completely different texture, taste, consistency, and behavior under heat.

But there’s more!

See, that chocolate? It’s not melted chocolate like you might think at first glance- no no no, that’s fucking GANACHE.

YOU KnOW, The THing With THE CoNsistenCY of FroSTING???? :) :) :)

The thing that you expressly don’t want to melt when using it in cooking on pain of death?

Thus removing THE ENTIRE PURPOSE CONSISTENCY FLAVER AND TEXTURE OF THE INGREDIENT

AGAIN!

and then. Ohhhhhhh and then.

Those are no gram crackers.

Those are ‘digestibles”

WHAT THE FUCK ARE DIGESTABLES

THATS WHAT HAPPENS TO ALL FOOD ITS NOT SPECIAL DUMBASS

WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF RICH PEOPLE SHIT ARE YOU EATING THAT YOU NEED TO POINT THAT OUT IN THE NAME

WHAT THE FUCK

AND IT AGAIN HAS A DIFFERENT EVERYTHING THEN GRAaM CRACKERS

WHY

YOU DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO DO THAT IF YOU WANTED IT TO SOUND FANCY YOU COULD HAVE JUST MADE GRAM CRACKERS FROM SCRATCH IVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE DO IT BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU BUT ITS AT LEAST POSSIBLE AGHHHHHHHHHHH

And then. To add insult to injury after FUCKING injury.

It’s a circle.

It’s A CiRcLE.

WHY IS IT A CIRCLE.

IT SHOULNT BE A CIRCLE-

In conclusion; Paul Bitchywood is a fucker and a Tory and I don’t put stock in god but by whatever powers may be I hope hell exists because this fool is running a marathon to it’s center.

#gbbo #s’mores #gbbo s’mores #paul hollywood

[millaaster]

How They Treat You During Periods - Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Itadori Yuji, Fushiguro Megumi x Reader (Separate)

Summary: How some of the JJK men react to and treat you during periods!

Words: 1051

CW: SFW; Fluff; Domestic Fluff; Crack; Periods; Blood mentions.

AN: this a complex topic because everybody who menstruates has a different organism and a different dynamic, so this is very based on my own experiences, but i tried thinking about situations that could include more people ok :')

Please, do not repost or translate.

GOJO SATORU - More chill than you thought he would be. The first time you talked about it was when you had cramps during a date and tried to talk him out of doing anything.

He just came right out "Hey, there's nothing to be shy about! I'm just definitely not letting my woman suffer in front of me just to save face!" 

He sits you down, holds you close and asks if you're ok. "If you don't have medicine on you, we can stop by a store to get it while heading to your place". Escorts you home, makes you tea and tucks you in to nap. 

After you've been together long enough he's started getting real good at tracking your cycles and adjusting whatever plans you have. "Hm... honey, I've been thinking of taking some days off and heading to the beach, but next week would be no good for you right? Should we wait a little?" 

He stuffs you in candy and treats if you're feeling down (sure he'll snatch some of those...). 

One day you get a message from him:

"Babe SOS   Do we have any first aid home?  My nose is kinda bleeding...hehe"

"Toru!! You ok??  There should be some cotton balls in the bathroom" 

When you get home you find him with a whole ass tampon stuck up his nostril...."Satoru!!! What the hell are you doing?!?"

"Oh hey, honey! Sorry, couldn't find the cotton balls but figured this was even better and it DOES work wonders!", he tells you with a proud grin on his face... 

GETO SUGURU - Suguru may seem a little indifferent, but it's just that he doesn't want to step over your independence. He's trying not to overdo things and will only act after you actively ask for something.

That being said, if that's what you want, he's an expert in doing your chores and cleaning the house for you. 

He was once doing the laundry and you caught him staring at your sheets.

"Something wron-" you gasp, realizing there's a big blotch of blood in it.

"Babe! You don't have to wash this one!" you cry, feeling your face burn red.

"What are you talking about? I was just trying to remember how to take off blood stains", lifting it out of your reach as you try to grab it. "Was it vinegar or lemon..." he mumbles, walking over to your kitchen cabinets. 

He secretly enjoys that you get mellower and needy with him. You won't have to ask twice if you demand an extra tight hug. 

Loves aromatherapy and gave you a whole kit with a diffuser and oils that ease pain and help with relaxation. If you don't use it he'll pout and nag non stop until you turn it on. "Suuuguu...you're giving me more headaches than my uterus right now dear..." "If you had it on from the start there would be no ache whatsoever, dummy!" 

He's now GREAT with massages. You've always complained about how your back and thighs ache when you're menstruated, so he took some lessons to help you out with that. 

NANAMI KENTO - With Nanami it's princess treatment all the way! This man thinks it's freaking amazing how you'll have to deal with this for so long in your life, through work and everything, and that you're badass for that. I mean, you're literally bleeding!!! That's concerning enough to happen to someone he loves. 

So he'll put all the effort he can to minimize any discomfort you have on those days. As soon as it became a regular thing for you to stay over at his place, he purchased all sorts of tea, heat pads and asked you to tell him what pads or tampons he should buy to stock some. 

He loves to have dates at home, so it's a win-win situation when you stay in; he cooks you something warm and lays around with you all day. "Is this position all right love?" While rubbing gently your stomach. 

He also loves to give you useful gifts, so once he even went as far as to surprise you with a new care kit from a high end brand in a box full of products to pamper you. 

The best to have around if you're out too. Never gets bothered if you have to go to the restroom too often and makes sure the place you're attending has good access to those. 

ITADORI YUJI - Freaks out a little when you tell him you don't feel like going on a date because you're on your period. He forgot such things were a very real thing if he was dating you. Has the mindset that, as his S/O, your period is his period too!! 

You're totally lost for words when he first tells you that.....he just means he feels responsible for your well being throughout this time. 

Definitely asks Nobara for help on how to help you feel better. 

He's a really active guy and always wants you to tag along and spend time with him, so he researched a lot about exercises that'll be better to practice during that time. 

At some point in your relationship will text you:

"yo babe, I'm at the pads aisle what's your pussy size??" 

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI - Also chill about it. An absolute angel when it comes to being patient to you, who turns into a SAINT if you're on your period. 

He just knows that there are better times to deal with any stressful matters than now, so it's only love with this guy for a few days. 

He prefers to talk to you in person instead of texting, but if you mention being on your period, you'll get the sweetest messages all day long popping up on your phone to check out how you're doing.

"Love, did you eat well?" "Hey, do you need anything?" "Sunshine, hope you're having a good day"  “Never forget you’re amazing”

Secretly, has also consulted Nobara and his sister to get some tips on what he could do.

Gets his dogs to cuddle with you in bed, to keep your belly warm, if he's busy around the house. 

He has a playlist with hours and hours of comfort movies you watch together when you don't want to leave the sofa/bed. He even watches your favorite shoujo with you if you ask!

A/N: also, yes, I do think Gojo and Geto being good parents (to Tsukimi, Mimiko and Nanako) have helped them learn about periods.

Interactions are always appreciated ☆* have a lovely day!

#milla a writes #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader #itadori yuji x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #yuji x reader #megumi x reader

[leclsrc]

decent incentives ✴︎ cl16, mv1

genre: this is. Smut, porn W plot, threesome, driver reader

word count: 6.9k

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs. Or: You’ve been a brat, and only two people know how to mellow you out. title from this

auds here… hi hi hi! scanned my reqs last week, found a max/charles threesome one, and wrote this out in half a day after a friend showed me the challengers trailer (i love tennis and it drove me to write abt a sport that was not, in fact, tennis) also i truly cannot explain the phenomenon behind me finding smut/these kinds of works easier to suss out these days (long form fic i talked abt in the last drabble is not this one fyi) but it’s just ???? like i don’t… i’ve no clue. i hope u enjoy this anyway!!!! love auds :)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, double penetration, sexual tension, masturbation (f), teasing, praise central, reader is a MASSIVE brat, size kink, dirty talk, i don’t want to say brat taming but kinda kinda

Your first time in Max Verstappen’s hotel room happened after a tiring night of media and press, where you spent hours together smoking to calm yourselves down. You’d almost been caught by a manager, stepping on your sticks as soon as the back door swung open and your names were called out to do another interview. This was with ESPN, if you remember right. There’d been a muddled chaos of journalism in the venue, all the jumbled mess of the same questions. As young as you both are, do you feel intimidated by success?

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—help, you suppose, that both you and Max had stared, tight-lipped and deflated brows, and stated, with finality: no.

The afternoon stretched into an entire night, and by the time the clock ticked nine and everything had formally wrapped up, Max mustered up the courage and a half it took to invite you to his hotel room for a cig and half a Cuervo divided into three shots each. The conversation had progressed as he drove, the continuation of an otherwise unorthodox friendship between a Red Bull and Mercedes driver—a fact you’d both acknowledged but opted to ignore.

Drivers are friends all the time, you figure—you’re close with few drivers—but none of them are Max. You had made the lousy small talk, commented on how different the pre- and post-race processes have become since your entrance in 2018, which, back then, had seemed like forever ago. “It would seem like forever to a world champion,” he’d said, and his voice is all teasing and raspy and scruffed up. You had laughed, a scoffy little noise, and told him to shut up.

He obeyed, for two seconds, then added, “Do you mind if we meet someone there?”

The hotel room was what you might expect a high-level athlete to be bestowed with, wide and huge but not as wide and not as huge as yours a few streets over. There’d been a thing of cologne left uncapped on the table by the door, Adidas shoes on the floor next to Nikes, and then a low table housing a still smoking joint that left the entire living room smelling like grass.

Somehow, Max had managed to turn a neutral, sterile hotel room into a boy’s room. The scent of weed mixed with Tom Ford cologne. The rap music blending into the open balcony’s traffic noise. The socks on the floor, two pairs, both white. It’s a strenuous effort, you’d thought—and you were beginning to think this wasn’t the work of Max alone. “We have a guest,” he’d hollered when he managed to fiddle with the key card properly enough to leave the door alone.

No one had answered, or surfaced from the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, so you followed Max into the bar area. Bottles of booze in varying states of empty, lemon slices and salt now cold—“Do you not call housekeeping?” You’d asked, amusement concealing curiosity as you accepted a poured-out shot. He said they do—they—and sometimes hotel staff are just a bunch of pricks. He asked more questions. How it felt to win at twenty-one, how it felt to be driving, to be the youngest winner, the first female driver. 

Ask me something I don’t hear fucking journalists say all the time, you’d replied back, half-jokingly. The August air nipped at your cheeks, chilling your warm face. He’d laughed, and explained that he re-asked the questions in case you have a more honest answer to give him. The most honesty you could offer is that you’d grown to hate your reputation because it precedes your skill. It’d been silent for a bit then, just the scent of the unclaimed weed. Then Max went, We have a new friend.

You turned to see who he was talking to. Charles was at the doorway, eyes on you already, raising a hand to say a silent hello. “H…” He trailed off. “Hey.”

He was shirtless, Calvins tight on his legs, his free hand scratching absently at his abs. Behind you, you had faintly picked up on Max introducing you and Charles rolled his eyes before replying, clipped, I know who she is, wiseass. He’d taken the weed and almost left, but you spoke next.

“Want to come sit?”

He paused, turned, and blinked. “I’m alright,” he rejected. “We have a meeting tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Then he was back in the bedroom area, leaving behind him a trail of grassy smoke. He was clearly rugged and fresh from sleep, the delicious sleep athletes have all grown familiar with: post-race, overcome with a terrible exhaustion. You’d only ever exchanged a few words with either of these two, and the fact that you were alone with them sent a warm, drawling thrill up your spine.

You were two and a half shots in when Charles reappeared, sans weed. “Any left for me?”

—

If you grouped the grid into years, you would be with Max and Charles—on the younger end, still at the ripe years of your careers. You entered first, though, then Max, thenCharles, which meant you were connected to, and friends with, relatively different people on the paddock. But the 2020 season and your many close calls with Max began the media and manager tirade of constantly lumping you and Max into the same interviews, press conferences, and media days, to maybe somehow elicit a bit of drama out (a tireless and unrelenting effort).

That’s how the rumors started. The rumor that permeates you most is one that asks about you, Max, and Charles. Some say you dated one then the other (a homie hopper, they’d branded you in 2021), others say they dated each other and you butted in. All of them were woefully untrue, in the same way all had some ring of truth to them.

And you suppose that’s what hotwired the beginning of your nights spent at Max’s hotel room, where Charles would nearly always be camped out, then eventually vice versa (Charles’ room, Max camping out; your room, solo, housing them for one night), drinking and/or smoking and/or playing some form of cards. And you suppose again that it was all this that radiated into everything else, all your wins and successes and bad days and near crashes, that just caused the entire universe to topple over, into itself, and creep up onto the three of you in Bahrain that year.

But that year is three years ago, and if you try to detail every last divot of it, you’re going to wind up rubbing a migraine out of your head. And you’re not interested in developing a headache—not when you’re celebrating the fifth race of the 2023 season.

It’s your fourth win this season. It’s all anybody ever talks about, how you had gone and secured a third championship for yourself last year, and how you’re gunning for four, the greatest the sport has seen in years. It’s all anyone can repeat and echo—you’re a fucking legend!—and you know from experience that praise does more than the most dangerous cocktail of drugs to get you high.

The afterparty is full and obnoxiously loud, dark and smoky and low-visibility. You’re wearing a flimsy dress and running a hand through your hair while you nurse a drink, feeling drunk on compliments and confused with certain absences. You can feel the bass through the tiled floor, heels clicking on it as you search, search, and come up short. Neither Max nor Charles have sent you a text, a play they always perform to break a routine you’ve become familiar with. You frown. Hey, somebody says next to you, you’re better than anyone else on the grid right now! You thank them, thinking to yourself—where the fuck is anyone else on the grid anyway? The relevant people, at least?

Half an hour later, you’ve ditched the party and are pounding with your fists at Max’s hotel room door in an effort to get them to open it quicker, after your knuckles didn’t seem to do the work well enough. You half—no, mostly—expect Charles to be the one who pulls it open. He’s more prudent. He gives in easier. He’s nicer and he can spare a thought for the other people on this floor (but the price of this room means there barely are). 

“What.” His voice is gritty.

“You told me you would come tonight.” Your voice is steady—you’d chosen not to drink much, and what little you consumed wore off on the ride here. Even with your heels on and even in sleepiness, you notice his presence towers over yours. “You both said.”

“We were tired.”

You scoff and gently push past him into the room, where evidence of their existence rags the furniture. “Every hotel room you ever stay in is turned into a fucking frat house.” Beer bottles, cigs, gifts from fans stored with precarious care but peeking out from suitcases. 

“We were sleeping. I am sleepy,” he says behind you, unamused by your sudden appearance. He shuts the door and stands still, looking as disappointed as he can. It’s unlike him. You’re buying time to find out what the problem is.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you say, relenting, running a few fingers over the mess of clothes strewn atop the armrest of the couch. “My driver’s downstairs, anyway. I wanted you there tonight, though.” You look up, meet his eyes. Tired and green and fed up. “Both of you. We could’ve celebrated.”

He pulls his lips tight and stands straighter. “I know, I know.” He softens a little. “I’m sorry, okay? Desolé. Just… tired.” You know he’s tired because his team is shit, and you know it has nothing to do with you, but you’re so wrapped up with everything that your irritance fails to quell.

“Where’s Max?” You ask roughly instead, thumbing at the strap of your minidress. He gestures to the bedroom. You’re quiet but stormy when you walk in, finding him, messy hair and tired eyes notwithstanding, fully awake, unlike what his roomie has been telling you since you arrived; you scoff out loud again. Des-fucking-picable. You sit yourself on the couch, crossing your legs petulantly.

They both stare. They’re mad, it occurs to you, which is weird because they had you in between them on that same bed less than forty-eight hours ago. You’d come thrice and begged for more, but they laughed and said you all needed sleep to get up for race prep. Race prep. Race prep.

“Okay, then.” You throw two hands up in a semi-shrug. “Let’s have it. What’s the matter? No use lying.”

They both look irritated. “Nothing,” Max says.

“Fuck nothing.” You trail a hand over the hem of your dress. “You’re pissed with me, but I didn’t do shit.” You try to rerack the race, but you hadn’t so much as collided with them in the slightest, apart from overtaking them a few times, but they weren’t man children to whine over that. You’d shared the podium with Charles, for Chrissake.

“You’re right. You just went and…” Charles blows a raspberry and makes an explosion gesture, opening his clenched fist. “Shat on us in your post-race interview.”

And there it is.

You huff out a laugh, momentarily losing control over speech, and it’s caught in between itself and a sigh, a breathy noise that makes waves in the quiet room. Okay, you think. I get it. Your eyes flit in-between the two men across you, your shoulders straight and eyebrows raised, posing a challenge. “What, are you jealous?”

They’re silent. And you know silence always means—

Your eyes relax, smug and a little teasing as you elaborate. “Because you know I’m better than both of you?”

—Yes.

Their silence is redeeming and rewarding and permissive and it speaks volumes louder than if they’d actually admitted to it. You stare back at them, eyes narrowed, amused, coy. You’d been joking around in your Sky Sports interview. Sure, you’re a bit of a tease, especially on the high of a win. But they should know that by now.

You know it annoys them more to leave the door wide open as you leave, than to slam it closed.

—

“Will you draw me a tattoo?!”

“I’d love to, but you are going to regret it,” Charles laughs, signing his name off with a heart on the frenzied fan’s outstretched cap. The busy, busy practice day had now worn into night, though nothing seems to be taking his mind off the fact that you’ve been giving him and Max the cold shoulder since last week. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows he and Max were being irrational and pissy—him especially—but now he just finds himself needing to apologize before anything becomes worse.

But his priority is getting to your hotel, which now seems like the journey of his lifetime. His bodyguard is a bulldozer and grips his elbow to traverse them through the sea of people who cheer him on, go Charles have faith in Ferrari and yeah, that’s been getting more and more difficult as the races pass without much good progress. There are flashes all around, noise and laughing and whoops and gifts he tries to receive, but he just—he needs to get to your hotel. Preoccupied, he remembers where he’d seen Max last, just seconds before leaving the paddock for the evening.

You spend a lot of time with a certain pair Ferrari and Mercedes drivers, says the interviewer in Dutch. Charles squints at the subtitles and waits for Max’s reaction.

He’s in the passenger seat, being driven around for a change, and maybe he’s a pessimist and he misses you and Max, or maybe the city he’s in is just. Dreary, so he opts to stare at his phone like every other person. The clip’s been posted by a fan on Twitter, and the caption is something jokey—something about a dream threesome. He can’t help but laugh as he watches. We are close, us three, Max says, nodding. In fact I will be meeting them later.

The media’s always speculated, rumors born out of a few close calls outside clubs where you’re tipsy and giggly and getting into one car. The fans, funny as ever, also make some fun of it—posting pictures of you three captioned with something like polyamory is real or her and the guys she told you not to worry about, but God if any of them knew the real picture, the whole three years of it, all the sex and hickeys and rumors.

He scrolls a bit more. There are a few photos of you leaving the paddock, hand poised atop your face to shield it from the paps. You get loads more of them wherever you are, loads morecompared to anybody else on the grid. You always attract the media, the press. He finds a picture with your face in it, smiling at your result during FP2. Fuck. You’re pretty, hair damp with sweat, lips stretched into a proud grin, suited hand raising a thumbs up.

“Where to?” The driver beside him asks suddenly.

—

“Fairmont,” Max says to his assistant as he pulls out of parking. “I’m hanging up, doei.” He presses the red button and sighs, shutting his eyes and driving the steady, increasingly familiar routes of the city. He’d called you this morning but you didn’t pick up. Last night he’d slept restlessly, which was no different from the nights before, anyway.

He gets to the valet parking of your hotel when purple is just settling into blackness in the sky, the beginnings of a civil discussion at the tip of his tongue as he exits the elevator and finds your room, opening it and finding it unlocked already. Charles must have done the brunt of it, or maybe you’d gotten an assistant of an assistant to pass an extra keycard to him. You always plan around them, thinking ahead. Both on and off track.

Like the hotel rooms he and Charles share or camp out at, your existence is terribly visible. Unlike them, though, it manifests differently.

It smells like your perfume, the pink bottle he’d found you spritzing on once, and everything is neat and tidy and gorgeous. A vase of white peonies on the low table, lipstick on the table by the mirror, even the pack of cigarettes you barely smoke is pretty and unassuming on the sofa. The only thing amiss—a pair of men’s shoes, those ones with stars on them that you bought Charles on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. He toes off his own beside them, eyes the alignment, and fixes it lest you scold them for it later.

Anyway. It smells like you. That’s the only thing he cares about right now. It hits him like a tidal wave, after being ignored the whole week and then some. Your perfume, your favorite linen spray—that black and white glass bottle you carry around like a rosary—your favorite lip balm, even. He swears he smells the vanilla, can recall the taste of it from kissing you ditzy.

It’s beginning to rain—it had been drizzling already, en route here—and the noise pelts the windows, an accompaniment to his footsteps down the hall. He’s familiar with the layout of a penthouse suite, but still he tries out the WC door, and then the closet with the ironing board, before finally he figures the bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

He’s reciting it. I’m sorry. Would you stop being a brat? No. No, just say you’re sorry and then he’s standing at the ajar door of your bedroom, pushing it open, and he can’t feel anything. The words have evaporated. So have his warm little sentimental feelings, and so the annoyance he’d come busting in with.

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs.

He opens his mouth but nothing leaves. His eyes find Charles, standing by the door, propped against the desk, arms crossed and fingers digging into his biceps. Max looks at you again. You have a pretty flush high on your cheeks, a slight sheen of sweat on your exposed collar. He blinks and realizes you’ve been talking.

“I said, you can sit the fuck down.” There’s a couch to his left.

He pulls himself together and stays beside Charles. “I’m good here, thanks.”

You eye the two of them. They look like stupid twins in the same way they look like Republican husbands. You roll your eyes and allow it; anyway, you’re not in the mood to order either of them around too much.

Charles has been watching you for a while now, watched you fake moans and exaggerate whines, feigning pleasure over two of your fingers. It’s almost laughable—he’d allowed a smile, in fact, because he knows better. Once, he’d pulled your hair so hard you teared up, nodding, hand at his wrist, whimpering more, harder, do it. Another time, he and Max had gotten you all riled up and edged for half an hour, so riled that all you could mutter out were please and their names when they finally stuffed you full. You’re evidently playing your games again. You love to play around with them. It’s almost—you could almost call it a hobby.

“I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you’re both here.” Your hand moves, two fingers fucking into yourself, pink lace pushed aside. Your cunt is so pretty, they’re both thinking. “Did you think I would?” When silence greets you, you decide to address them directly. “Max. Did you?”

His voice is thin and tight when he responds, “Yeah, actually—so we could suss this out, at least.”

Your laugh is patronizing. “I prefer it this way. And you know what?”

Max stares. Charles has already been told this, several minutes ago when he found you in the exact same position. It’s not any easier for him to hear it again, chaste and sweet out of your lips. You can’t touch me.

See, they would’ve been content without touching you, if they sit and think about it. Max didn’t walk in here thinking he’d even be kissing you, and he knows Charles thinks the same thing. Maybe touch you—innocently, that kind of way. Sure, they’d been pent up, heady with arousal, but that came second to talking things out. But now you’ve told them they can’t touch, and that’s worsened them to their limit. Charles imagines touching you, the same touch he gives when it’s post-race and he gets you alone, to himself, nobody else’s, quick fucks in a dim closet, whispering some dirty shit in your ear and getting you like putty in his hands.

Max thinks of nearly the same thing. Imagines running his hand over your hair, gentle but firm, the same way he does when he knocks at your hotel room after hours and gets you from high-strung and bratty to begging for more. You notice their eyes, darkened; you realize their minds have wandered. So, they watch hopelessly as the smirk spreads prettily across your flushed face, and they remember the events of a week prior, when childishly, they’d acted out, and think, for a second, that maybe they deserve this.

You all know what it’s like to keep them from touching you.

It was both easier and worse then, in 2020 when everything started—when everything was brand new and thrilling and exciting. Easier, because they were satisfied as soon as they got you to come, maybe kiss them both, and they were content with slow exploration. Worse, because you were all insatiable. It felt like none of you could go minutes without some form of touch, during, in-between, after practice, quali, fuck—it was worse, much worse.

As you all grew older and got accustomed to the drivel of racing, you all got better. It didn’t get much easier.

Charles recalls how insatiable he was—and thinks, with amusement almost, that if he was insatiable then, he’s worse now. Now he knows where, how, for how long to touch you to get you wide-eyed and warm in the face even in the most serious of moments. Max, too. He knows how you taste, bend, tease. They love touching you. Just skin to skin. And you’ve gone and put a great big X mark over that.

“So,” Max says, voice flat, the way it is when he’s unamused with a reporter, “we’re in a time out.”

“You can call it that,” you giggle, and it segues into a huffy whimper when you angle your hand just right. “You were acting childish, anyway.”

Charles sighs, long and deep. “We—fuck.” His eyes can’t unglue themselves from your fingers. He knows he could make you feel so much better, fuck real moans out of you until you’re crying. “We were being childish, oui, and it was—we were just tense. I was unhappy with strategy. I could’ve been P2 but they pitted me at the worst time, putain. I took it out on you, and I’m… I was… I was worn out, and you called us childish in your interview.” 

Ever the minx, you only smile. You’d been joking, you clarified that a day later; it was crass, spurred on by team radios of the two of them complaining in the latter half of the race. “It was a joke, Charles.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His lip curls and he breathes steadily, controlling himself. “It was unprompted though. You weren’t even asked about us. And yeah, a joke—but it felt shitty, love. I don’t mind it—we don’t mind it, but—” He needs to think about the phrasing, think about his intentions.

Your eyes are on fire, clearly still angry, but steadily softening.

“But in moderation,” comes Max’s raspy voice. “You’re running your mouth a lot in the media.”

“You’re one to—ah—talk,” you huff back, a futile argument.

“You need to understand that—that when you’re giddy, or angry, you can’t keep turning to interviews to express all that out. You need to sit with it. Just because we’re not…” your boyfriends, Max almost says, “…yours, doesn’t mean you can shit on us then expect us to be okay with it a few hours later. It’s a thing you do. A game you play. And it’s nice, it was nice then, but it’s annoying now, and it’s almost, like, do you even want this to keep going? To work—?”

You recoil. “You seriously think I don’t want th—”

Charles cuts in. “Well, when you play at us like this, yeah. Put in the work. If you’re high off a win, or mad for some other reason, just let it happen. Don’t fucking.” He exhales. “Call us names, then show up at our hotel acting like an angel.”

They’ve always looked out for you like this, known when to scold you or put you in your place for doing too much or not doing enough. They’ve never let personal things cross too much with business, which is a blessing of an ability when you’re three people having regular sex while balancing a ludicrous athletic career. It’s all sussed down to stupid ‘I care for you’ stuff that, frankly, they’re both too horny and angry to get into the grit of right now.

They don’t realize how quiet the room has grown until you eke out a noise, a thoughtful sound of agreement. You’ve pulled your fingers out, both hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of the sweater, rolling it into a ball. Your hair falls in waves. There’s a crease in it from the ponytail you wear when driving.

Your expression is still murderous, but much softer now; you cough, “I—I get what you’re saying. And I know I play… I have these games, or—but, honestly, I could say the same to you both.” You stutter through your totally shit explanation.

“How do you… mean,” deadpans Max. 

“I mean, when I’m acting out, you two just take it.” Having them at your mercy like that is satisfying in its own right, but pragmatically, it’s unhealthy. “You don’t ever tell me off. Even now. I need you to tell me… to fucking,” you’re warm and spluttery now. “Fuck's sake, okay? I know I can be annoying. I know I say stupid shit when I don’t finish and I’m way less diplomatic than Mr. Il Predestinato,” you breathe. “But you two just let me be annoying!”

“Then don’t be annoying,” Charles says, diplomatic as ever—his voice rises, though, nearly matching yours.

“Not like that!” You huff, folding your legs and sitting straighter, and they catch a glimpse of your pink panties again. “When I’m out of line, you”—you point to them—“need to correct me.” They’re nearly blindsided by your request to… be told what to do, which is so different from how sex usually works. From how this whole dynamic usually works.

But Max remembers your manager, and Toto, and your teammate Lewis even, and your engineers, who have all, at one point or another, had to talk you down and tell you to calm down and correct your behavior. So he says, “People do that all the time, but it only works for a second.”

“Because th—” You suck in a lungful of air. “They’re not you two, you daft fuckers!” You’re at the centre of the bed now, sweater drooped over your folded thighs, eyes matching the rain outside. “Every time, I need to be talked down, and you never. Do it. So do it. Fucking—do it. I have to tell you everything.”

“You don’t—-”

“Oh, I do.” You say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“This is despicable,” Max says. “We need to sort this out properly.”

“So what? This isn’t”—you raise violent air quotes—“putting in the work?”

They glance at each other for a minute. They feel you thinking you’re winning, thinking they’ll grovel and say okay we’ll do that next time, can we fuck you? Like all the other semi-resolved fights before. You’re sitting straight, eyebrows raised, defiant. But for them to do that—you just said it wasn’t what you needed. 

And they’d have to be caught dead before not giving you what you need. If you want to be bossed around a bit, then they’ll do it.

“Sit down,” Charles goes. Unmoving. 

“What.” You’re deadpanning, eyes narrowed.

“Sit the fuck down,” he repeats. You open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You pout, leaning against the headboard and unfolding your legs. He rounds the room, sits at the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so even if he’s on it, he still needs to reach over a bit to be able to touch you. The distance is good, though, keeps them in control. Max sits opposite him, both of them on either side of you, and they’re so close, so scrutinizing, so handsome. 

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. You take a second, spreading your knees and obeying. You find a way, though, to make their little challenge all your own—you make a show of it, peeking your tongue out and licking your bottom lip all shiny before hollowing your cheeks. You stare at them the whole time and you don’t blink. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Suck on them.” You continue doing it, lips slightly curled.

“You’re a brat.” You try to conceal the whimper that leaves you but it fails pathetically. Charles presses on. “A spoiled brat.”

He’s the nicer of the two. Your whole threesome situation had began three years ago, and in almost every tryst since then, he’s been nice. In fact, if any of them were to ever ‘tell you off’ like you so desperately wanted, apparently, it would have definitely been Max. He’s firm, yeah, but he’s sweet. And he’d hate to boss you around too much, even if it’s something he wants. So he thinks, and he pretends he’s back to quali day of last week. It was a slow morning because of weather problems, so everyone was in a mood, and you were absolutely no exception. You come off as quiet to the public and to some of the grid, but to your friends, you’re anything but.

In an effort to lift the mood, you’d been mouthing off the entire day to your close circle of driver friends, in particular retelling the story of how you had teased Charles post-DNF in Saudi, and even gotten Lando to laugh about it at the time. What a season starter, you said when you were recounting it. You left out a detail: that night in Saudi, he’d fucked you and refused to let you cum, soaking your pillow with tears and goading a sobbed apology out of you.

Watching you joke about it again, even if it was a fucking joke and even if it was because you were mad at him and Max—got him all red hot, pissed off. Seething.

“Do you remember last race weekend when you joked about my DNF in Saudi?”

Cheeks hollowed, you nod.

“Fucking brat. That whole day. Ignoring me, ignoring Max. Didn’t listen to our apologies. Just noise all day.”

Your brows knit defiantly.

“I’m serious. You weren’t being funny. Just a brat. And if you were bored or pissed, you could’ve said so instead of making me look stupid.” You nod.

He glimpses at Max; the latter speaks next. “Open yourself up.”

You spread your legs out farther and sneak your spit-slick fingers down, pushing the flimsy material aside to rub at your cunt, two fingers sliding right back in. You breathe out shakily and wait for them to talk again. You’re still fussy, high-strung, not totally calm and mellowed down yet.

“When Charles and I aren’t here to fuck you into behaving, who’s going to make sure you’re acting proper?”

“Carlos,” you grit out in between thrusts.

They seethe. “Again,” Charles says, unamused.

“Nat,” you name your manager. “Lewis, or something. Fuck. Lando? I don’t—”

You asked to be told what to do, but you never said, they suppose, that it would be an easy job. “Guess again.”

“Toto.” You look delighted at that last one, knowing the implication. They’ve always been a bit jealous there. You thrive off disobedience, getting your two favorite boys all angry and flushed red with it. You open your mouth to try smartassing your way out of their orders, but Max beats you to it. “If you guess wrong, you’re not cumming. We’ll fuck you tonight, but no cumming.”

You whimper out loud, sinking your fingers farther in, adding a third.

“Don’t add another. Answer Max,” Charles says.

“Fuck,” you seethe, slipping the third out on your next thrust. “Me. I’m supposed to keep myself in check. When I’m mad. When I’m giddy and fuck—yeah. Me. It’s me.”

“Good girl,” he rasps out. “Good girl. You have to practice. How does it feel?”

I know, you mouth, eyes fluttering. You scissor the two fingers you’re thrusting in and out, wet with slick. “Feels good.”

“Not your fingers, love,” Max says. “How’s it feel hearing what we just told you?”

“Good, better,” you say in-between breaths. “I’ll practice. I like it. You’re not… letting me push you around. You’re—you can punish—fuck. Me.”

“Yeah? How, then?” 

“Fuck me,” you repeat breathlessly. “Both of you.”

“Add another,” Charles orders, and you nod, quick and pliant, fucking yourself open. They’re both so hard, cocks heavy and uncomfortable in their jeans. You can see the thick shapes of them through the denim, and you thrust harder, a futile attempt to replicate how it feels when they’re fucking you.

“You remember how it feels, having both of us in you?” Max sounds amused.

“Yes,” you moan. Your pathetic imitation of moans and gasps earlier pales in comparison to this, voice dry and thick with pleasure and raw desperation. “Yes, pl—fuck, yes.”

“Why aren’t you feeling it now?” They need to hear you verbalize the reason why, admit it one last time before they give you what you want. You whine, rutting your hips up against your hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm. 

“Because I was being a brat, and I—you were being childish, but I didn’t want to talk things through either—and I’m always taking out my emotions on you guys, and I’m sorry, okay, would you just fuck me already?”

They’re on you immediately, all words and whispers, fingers at your chin turning you both ways to slot kisses on your mouth. Your free hand palms over Max’s bulge; he’s the one to your right. It’s hard and thick and heavy and you need it, need them. Charles’ hand takes over yours, thrusting deep and you’re whimpering into his sweet mouth.

“Feel my cock?” Max asks, “Could make you feel real nice, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, breathless. “I want it.”

“When's the last time you took us both?” Charles asks, smile wicked. “Little thing like you.”

You grit out a moan, fuzzy and floating, letting them lift you up to straddle—one of them—you open your eyes and see Charles staring up at you, wonder and green eyes. “Got this, love?” You nod, yeah, I’ve got it, you say, little sighs. Both of you. Now.

This space you’re in, where it’s pleasure and fuzz and nothing else, is comparable to the high of winning. And you know you prefer that to sex, at least now, because racing is your life. It’s the slow satisfaction of being the best on the entire grid, despite everything. It’s the cheers, the raised fists when you climb atop your car and bring the crowd to a crescendo. The even louder screams when you pull your helmet and balaclava off and smile, trophy and all, champagne shiny and glowy on your face. All that shit—it’s addictive, and it feels just like this. So similar, in fact, because when you win, you finish on top of Charles and Max, and—

—Max is behind you, jeans tugged just enough for his cock to be pulled free, slick with lube and prodding at your ass—

—it feels just fucking like this.

“Like Max’s cock filling you up?” His cockhead is breaching your tight entrance and you moan out loud.

“I missed it,” you say, muffled by Charles’ free thumb at your lips, swirling it on your tongue. You flip him off for cutting you off and he laughs. “Give it t’me,” you goad, turning slightly. You want it so bad, missed being fed with their cocks. A week is too long. “I need more of it, all of it. In me, fill me up,” you beg, whimpering, desperate.

Max stares at your ass, grabs at the flesh there, at the string of your thong. You suck him in so hungrily, like you’re challenging him to not thrust in fully; you’re canting your hips backward too, and Max has to hike the too-big sweater up to watch the muscles of your back flex to meet his dick.

“So pretty, princess,” Charles says, because with them you really are a princess. Max begins to thrust into you from behind and you’re getting little moans fucked out of you, watching Charles unbuckle his jeans to tug his cock out, thick and pretty and you want—if you could, you would suck on it, let him fuck your throat, but you’re in the business of being filled to the point of blank thoughts right now.

You feel Charles at your cunt then, your slick making the slide easier, and Charles bucks his hips up and you—this is what you needed, to mellow you down, get you all loose and ready for more. “Take it, baby,” Max says, “all of it, all of us.”

“Ah,” you gasp out. “Ah.”

“Come on,” he grits, voice hardening. “You’re ruined. Pretty little girl. Come on.”

“Maxie,” you call out weakly, your fond little nickname for him. You remember Charles whining about how he doesn’t have one, so you save baby for him, had sussed that out on a night where they took turns fucking you. Your hips torn between the two dicks stuffing you, face sweaty and the sweater doesn’t help, gets you hotter; Charles gets the hint, and with effort, pulls it off you. Your skin is shiny underneath, matching bra sticking to your sweaty, sheened out skin.

“Love it,” you say, voice strained. “Split—fuck—me open.” Your holes clench around them and Jesus, they could have you all flushed and pretty and spread out like them, like this, forever. Charles grabs at the flesh of your ass, slaps you once and you’re tightening around them, breath impossibly still, thighs shaking. Max’s hands hold your hips tight, hungrily traveling up, groping at the wire of your bra to press at your tits. You’re pressed against both of them at a delicious angle that gets you dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum, I,” you breathe out, moaning, “I haven’t touched myself since…”

They both moan at that, delirious. Fuck. The thought of you holding it—for them—fuck. 

“You’re so perfect, so—fuck—slutty,” Charles says, and you can’t hide the moan fast enough. “Feels good, having us in you, yeah? Getting you all noisy and… fucking—shit. I know how much you needed this, love. I know how much you love it. Us.”

From behind, Max snakes a hand up your abdomen, the column of your throat, and wraps there. You see white from the sensation of it alone.

“Tell me—I can’t—please, I—Charles—Maxie—” You’re increasingly incoherent, slick running down your thighs, twitching vigorously. You try to comprehend everything but you’re losing coherence and they get it, they get it, wiping your tears and sweat and coercing you to cum, yeah, pretty little pussy so fucking wet for us, cum hard, come on, you’ve been so good, baby, the best girl for us.

There’s no way either of them are lasting after that, after watching you fall apart and finish on top of them, stuffed full, stuffed pliant, stuffed fucking docile.

It’s your turn, then, to praise, your favorite boys, always so good for me, thank you for letting me cum, come on, let me taste it—and you’re stained with their release after a few minutes, Max biting on your shoulder, Charles’ thumb indenting your hip.

—

What. A. Podium, ladies and gentlemen! Max Verstappen of Red Bull, from P6 in the last race to a stunning P3 drive—Charles Leclerc, braving the team’s dismal strategy to get P2! What a knockout. Of course the Mercedes legend, gunning for four championships now, had crossed the flag first to claim her fifth P1 of the season.

What a legendary race, absolutely proper podium. They showed us what driving is, real driving.

The season is heating up. 

Makes you wonder what happened over the weekend for them to get such good results.

This is F1. I’m sure they keep each other motivated.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader

[pocket-goat]

the slugtree has been filled! thank you to everyone who did (and didn't) give me their slugcats to draw :) I tried my best to include as many ocs as i could but there just wasn't enough space </3 (i do love doing these big group drawings tho so if you submitted a scug for this one then i'll try and put them in the next big piece i do)

character credits and slugless version under the cut!

@failed-inspection @lycan-thropy @eeveekitti @infernopkz @colfy-wolfy @ghostcomit @dustballdrawsartwork @garagegalaxy @thehollyraven @sparkling-pendulum @mellowmooon @ghost-takes-the-scene @mellow-hii @ghospectr @veamers @lovelyarps @16snails @mewguca @faelingdraws @lemon-ve-ghost @soaricarus @arsonstick @skybristle @electro-popsicle and me!!! hopefully i tagged everyone correctly </3

#rain world #rain world fanart #pocket.png #rain world slugcat #slugcat #oc #fanart #slugcat oc #others ocs