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kurooh · 5 months ago

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MIGHT LET YOU MAKE ME JUNO ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. featuring timeskip! miya atsumu, miya osamu, kuroo tetsurō, iwaizumi hajime, & suna rintarou tryin’ to knock up their pretty wife !

warnings ★ 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, breeding, cuddlefucking, doggy, talk of kids & pregnancy, fluff, creampies, shower sex, minor cockwarming, squirting, full nelson, mirror sex, mention of lactation, mating press, cum in panties (offscreen), not proofread.

xoxo, juno ★ my namesake?! hehe, cheers to the surviving haikyuu fuckers on my blog <33 ty for your patience!! as always, send in some asks/reblog if you enjoyed, i love reading comments/tags

— MIYA ATSUMU

“go ahead ‘n slut yerself out all over my cock, baby.. fuuuck, jus’ like that.”

atsumu’s lips part around a needy moan, jaw hanging slackly in some kind of disbelief. after such a lengthy, tiring day, he found himself trudging into your shared bathroom to greet you.

he’d gotten hard in seconds, seeing your tits pressed against the glass door as well as your face, lidded eyes and cute pout enticing him to come join you. when he got onto his knees to get you ready, you’d bent over and tossed him a knowing smirk over your shoulder.

“lemme see that ass move again.. shit, ‘s perfect. yer perfect.” you giggle, throwing your ass back onto his cock, eyes rolling back when his tip kisses your cervix just right, sending sparks of pleasure right through your veins.

“tsumu, this isn’t all that fun,” you huff, the wild need for him to truly ruin you growing by the second. “wan’ you to fuck me, and make me yours.”

“baby, yer already mine,” atsumu lands a slap on your wet asscheek, startling you enough for your legs to spread further. “good girl,” he praises, hushed and under his breath. he reaches upwards and pulls the shower head down, pushes it into your hand and changes the setting.

“use this on yer clit, ‘kay? when yer feelin’ like ya wanna cum, don’t. hold it ‘n we’ll cum at the same time, yeah baby?”

you nod, and he smacks your ass hard, leaning backwards. atsumu pushes a hand through soaked gold strands, chuckling lowly although his voice has a serious edge to it. “‘s not how we say yes, is it?”

“y-yes, tsumu. at the same time.”

he draws his hips back, then finds himself advancing forward brutally. he doesn’t think about anything beside you — you, you, you. with the scent of your body wash tangling in the hot air, the beautiful curves and slopes of your body, the noises you make for him only.

your chest heaves when the steady spray of the shower head soon reaches your clit, immediately proving to be overwhelming and intense paired with him fucking you.

“so god damn tight,” atsumu hisses, nails digging crescent moons into the plush skin of your hips as his own collide with your ass. the bathroom is full of steam and the rhythmic clap of skin against skin — it’s hard to keep from trembling with how good everything feels, all over.

frantic panting cuts through the sound of your whimpers as atsumu feels himself nearing his peak. it’s nasty, downright filthy, the way your nails drag down the wall tiles as you desperately hump your ass back into him.

gasps of your name and affectionate nicknames fall from his lips like a sacred prayer, blending into a whiny harmony as atsumu’s thrusts grow rougher.

“baby,” he chokes, voice tight. “ya better be close, can barely last.”

“tsumu, cum inside me,” you beg, skin burning and pussy squeezing uncontrollably, squelching growing louder. “p-please, i can’t— i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna—” your body tenses, and the shower head falls to the floor with a clunk that neither of you register.

luckily atsumu looks down at the right moment, sees you squirt, pussy gushing onto his pelvis. as if your back arching and your clenching pussy wasn’t enough, he ends up cumming too hard, ribbons of white gushing deep into your awaiting pussy.

“fuckkk,” he groans, overstimulation setting in way too quickly and causing him to pull halfway out of your fluttering cunt.

“no, tsumu,” is all you can heave out, pushing back hard enough to send him into the wall behind him, muscled back hitting the tiles as he lets out a startled oomph. “wanna keep it inside, feels so good.”

— MIYA OSAMU

“samu,” you mumble into his lips, tossing a leg over his hip. he grunts, nose nudging your cheek as he pulls back. “yeah? what’s on yer mind, angel?”

“had a dream about a baby,” the words are spoken softly, and osamu’s fingers lightly graze your chin as he makes you look up at him. “i know it’s kinda stupid, but it was so..” your voice trails off sheepishly and there’s a pause before you admit, “you were such a good dad, samu, ‘n so sexy too.”

your bare bodies are bathed in the morning sunlight, warm and comforting as it peeks in through the curtains. this is the perfect moment with him, skin to skin, his cock still inside you as you kiss and talk about dreams of the future.

in his chest, feelings stir and ideas come to life in his head; osamu presses his hips forward with a hushed moan.

“well, i’ll give ya a baby, angel,” large hands smooth over your hips as he helps you turn away from him; then they pull you close, grabbing at your tits and tugging your nipples between his fingers.

“samu,” you sigh, words fading into a content moan as you feel his hips draw back, then advance forward, against your ass. “i want you to fill me up, give me everything.”

“only if ya take it all,” osamu huffs, tucking his face into your shoulder and closing his eyes as he starts to fuck his cock into you deeply. the thick tip kisses your sweet spot over and over, and if that wasn’t already overwhelming enough, your hand wanders towards your swollen clit.

somehow, osamu’s faster than you, releasing one of your tits and swatting away your hand before he’s finding your clit with his index finger and rubbing it in messy circles.

“s-samu, fuck— jus’ like that, don’t stop!”

your back arches against him, hips twisting as a heat spreads through your veins, fiery and intense in the best ways possible. the movement of your body and then the frantic clenching of your pussy is too intense for him; sharp whines escape his throat, muffled as osamu bites into your shoulder desperately.

“i-i— shit, ‘m gonna fill you up,” is all you can make out from his rushed mumbling, and you turn your head quickly, desperate for his lips.

“kiss me, samu. kiss me as you cum inside, please.”

it’s as though the words break him — his face twists as he kisses you, whole body tensing. he presses his cock deep, thickening and throbbing before he’s gushing cum and can’t seem to stop.

“ah, fuck,” he tosses his head back, fingers scrabbling at your nipples as his chest heaves against your back, heart pounding steadily.

you cum with a whine, grinding down on his cock in an effort to get him impossibly deeper. as you ride out your highs together, trembling deliciously, he can’t help but dissolve into giggles of pure happiness.

“angel, ya got that baby for sure, jus’ like ya wanted, hm? ah, i can’t wait for a mini-me or a mini-ya. yer gonna be the prettiest mom, swear.”

— KUROO TETSURŌ

“fuck, babe. you’ve got no idea about what i saw today,” tetsurō huffs, warm breath fanning over your tits as they bounce, controlled by your bra.

spices clatter as tetsurō sweeps his arm across the kitchen counter behind you, clearing the space so you can lean back a little easier. his grip on your thighs doesn’t waver, nor does the ruthless tempo of his hips.

“tetsu, what’d you see?” you gasp, tears threatening to pour over your waterline.

“well, i saw this family,” he grunts, thrusting into you particularly hard now that he’s recalling the memory. “the dad had their kid on his shoulders, and the mom was pregnant. they looked so happy, and it made me think of you.”

“is that so?” you ask, spreading your legs impossibly wider as an invitation. you bite your lower lip, rolling your hips against his in an effort to get his cock deeper.

“tetsu,” he raises his eyes from the mess between your legs to your face, earnest and flushed. “kiss me, baby.”

tetsurō obliges, lets you tug him forward by the chin, mesh his lips with yours. it’s warm and sweet, the aftertaste of the dessert you’d been making as his surprise for when he’d come home. your tongue slips between plush, parted lips and moves with his gently, quite a contrast from the rough way he’s fucking you.

“ah, shit,” he moans, struggling to kiss you back when he feels your sticky walls clenching down on his too sensitive cock.

tetsurō leans forward and buries his flushed face in your shoulder, kissing the tender skin a few times before nipping it and then finally biting down into your shoulder.

he practically loses it when you wrap your legs around his back, heels digging into muscle as you push him forward. in a hushed tone and into his ear, you say sweetly, “tetsu, fuck a baby into me.”

“oh, i fucking will, princess.”

although, despite his rough words, he’s wheezing and whining every now and then into your shoulder, hoping it muffles his sounds.

your hand slides up his neck and tangles into dark tufts of hair, pulling tight as your own orgasm approaches. your pleasure mixes with his own, and just before the knot in your belly snaps, you feel a strong pulsing deep within your pussy.

he groans loudly, burying his cock deep just as it starts to gush, painting your walls white. your nails dig hard into his scalp and the sting of pain only seems to make him get a little more vocal.

tetsurō pants into your neck, trying to find his bearings now that his limbs feel like jelly.

“hold me?”

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME

“h-haji, this was a good call..”

“oh yeah?” hajime’s voice rumbles in his chest, strong and steady against your back as he keeps your legs wide open. “have we ever tried this one?”

“i don’t think so, but we definitely will in the future.”

“feels that good, princess?” hajime chuckles, eyeing your reflections in the mirror mounted across the bed. for a moment, he considers the two of you puzzle pieces — he sees that his cock fits snugly inside you, and the thought that you may be made for each other briefly crosses his mind.

“of course it does,” a sheen of sweat glimmers on your face, skin glowing beautifully in the mirror. “god, hajime, y-you’re so deep..”

he notices your eyes falling shut, head tipping back, and he raises his hand to lightly smack your cheek. “mm, princess, gotta keep watching. i want you to see yourself cum, alright?”

“fine,” you huff, feet dangling in the air and bouncing every which way as he fucks into you, heavy balls smacking your pussy with each stroke.

“what made you wanna try this?” you ask, knowing you should save the question for later, but you’re too curious not to ask. why would your husband come home someday and randomly want to try a new position you’d never heard of?

“well, you know..” in the mirror, you catch the flush on his tanned cheeks. “we’ve both caught the fever recently, and this is a solid position for makin’ babies.”

you gasp sharply when hajime turns his hips ever so slightly, and the resulting sensation causes pressure to build in your pelvis. “shit— right there, haji, just like that..”

he grunts, body stiffening as he tightly holds you in place and fucks into you like it’s the last time you’ll ever be like this together.

“wanna get you pregnant,” hajime groans, abs flexing with the effort of maintaining his merciless pace, “i wanna—shit—wanna breed you.”

“you want it that bad?” you breathe, just barely keeping your eyes open and focusing on your bouncing reflection. “fuck me full, then, haji.”

hajime doesn’t question it, thinks of you with a swollen belly and milky tits all for him to hold and take care of. you, with your glowing skin and beautiful body from all the pregnancy hormones.

the idea of it all is too much to bear, not to mention cumming deep inside your cunt, this time with the intent to breed.

he can’t even muster the words to warn you that he’s cumming as hard as he is; after a choked, tight groan, he falls silent and rocks his hips into you.

“fuck it deep, haji,” you whisper, on the edge yourself. obedient and too far gone in his fantasy, he does exactly what you ask, whining very quietly from the sensitivity.

shaking on top of him and watching the reflections in the mirror, you cum hard, dissolving into unmatched pleasure. and you’re thankful you keep your eyes open, moaning at the very sight— hajime doesn’t even pull out, he’s still pushing his cock in and out of you, but cum races from your cunt in thick white rivulets.

“i’m trying,” he huffs, sensitive when he glances up and notices how intently you’re watching the mirror. his cheeks flush lightly when you both notice that most of his cum ends up dripping down his balls and out of you.

“don’t worry, princess. i’ll cum however many times it takes, sound good?”

— SUNA RINTAROU

“you want a few brats? oh, i just felt your pussy squeeze up. ‘s what you want, huh?” rintarou bites, harshness of his thrusts drawing whimper after whimper from your kiss-swollen lips.

“i want it, rin,” you feel one of his palms smoothing over the plushness of your lower stomach, just above your pelvis. “w-what’re you doing?”

he laughs at your stutter, keeps your legs steady over his shoulders. rintarou draws his hips back, leaving just his tip inside your quivering pussy. then, he presses down on your lower stomach and slides in, adding more pressure with each inch.

“rintarou!” you wheeze, jerking your hips to the side in a pathetic attempt to run away from the overwhelming pleasure he gives you with every movement, big or small.

“nuh uh, pretty girl,” his free hand grabs ahold of you tightly, tugs you towards him and then settles to rest on your neck. rintarou’s fingers are loose on each side of your throat, hand placed there in a demonstration of control. but what’s the point of that, when he’s already made it clear by hoisting your legs over his shoulders and folding you in half?

“you’ll take it, all of it.”

“but ‘m sensitive, i’ve cum too many times,” you can’t even recall a number or remember how long he’s been fucking you like this.

you’re both sticky with sweat, your thighs stained white with dried cum from previous rounds and marked with love bites he’d given you in his excitement to get a taste of your pussy.

it’s so fucking messy because rintarou’s the one who can’t stop asking to eat you out and push the cum back inside; you always say yes, then cum until you’re dizzy and can’t see straight.

you taste yourself from earlier on the corners of his lips when he bends forward and gives you a chaste kiss. “l-last time, okay? i’ll give you your brats, pretty girl.”

the sweet pout on your lips that’s quickly replaced with something else and wail of his name that leaves you when he starts jackhammering your pussy turns him on to the max.

incoherent babbling of what he’ll give you and how good you feel blend together, and before you can fully register it, rintarou’s folding forward with a deep groan. “shit, i’m gonna cum so fucking hard, i—”

he shuts up and gives you a few more thrusts before he’s pushing deep and cumming — he’s not done when he pulls out and covers your pussy in cum.

“r-rin, keep it inside,” you whine sadly, watching as he collects it on his tip and then plunges it back inside.

“jus’ needed some extra lube,” he says coolly, but he really just wants to cum all over you. “how’s it feel inside, pretty baby?”

“like i need some more.”

rintarou laughs at the way you turn away, cheeks hot in embarrassment because you were the one who wanted a break. “we are going out later, hm?”

your nod makes him smile, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “how about i cum in your panties and you walk around with ‘em?”

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running-with-kn1ves · 9 months ago

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Fitness Trainer

A/N: I blended some french terms of endearment with English don't come for me. But is Antoine really French, or is he feigning this way to get closer to you? (Had a fem idea for this too)

Synopsis: Another day at the gym, your personalized trainer is helping you out a lot more intimately than he would with most clients.

TW: Creep gym trainer, yandere themes, mentions of future stalking/imagined groping, sensual content

And up... and down, just like that."

The squeeze on your hips kept you stable, even with your fingers shaking, mouth agape as hot breath was sucked in, and out.

"One more, you can do one more for me."

"I can't..." you huffed, thighs quaking as the barbell on your shoulders made you ache.

"Yes you can. C'mon sweetheart, we'll do it together."

He gripped the barbell beside where your sweating hands were, chest flush against your back as his feet entrapped the outside of your own.

“Do it with me now,” He pulled the weight lower, forcing you to squat despite the agony in your ankles and tailbone. “Push through it, baby.”

The sweet name just slipped out, breathy against your ear as his hot exhales slowed compared to your huffs. It almost made you slip.

You could feel the muscles in your wrists shaking, vision going blurry as sweat drips into your eyes. One of his hands leaves the barbell to grip your hip, forcing you back into a standing position as your knees nearly give out.

You rise slowly back up with the barbell in your hands, nearly groaning in pain at the strain. You finally lift your arms to your chest, finishing the rep with a strained frown as your personal trainer forces the weight off of your arms. His taller stature makes it easy to put the barbell back on the rack in front of you.

You feel as if you could collapse, an hour and a half of intense training brought upon by your own determination leaving you exhausted and a little discouraged. You thought you could do more, push yourself harder-- but at the end of the day, the amount of reps your body would let you do, was it. You’d crack if you tried to go even further, end up tearing something or worse.

Your trainer could tell; the way you sweat, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept that hard, strained look with each motion he made you do.

“I hate to say it, but you’re done for today.”

You look up at him from your place on the ground, water bottle hanging from your grip as you try to catch your breath.

Antoine had only worked with you for a couple weeks now, what started as once a week now thrice, if you had the time after work of course. But somehow, he always enticed you to come back.

His body, which should’ve been motivation, was more or less disheartening-- rippling muscles and bulging quads peeking beneath his tight ‘TRAINER’ black tee and athletic shorts as the perfect ensemble.

He was so sweet, so encouraging and upsettingly positive. Always filling up your water bottle, saying how he’s always admiring the growth of muscle definition in your back, giving you light touches to show which area of your body that a machine might work out. He even offered post-exercise massages to make sure you didn’t get sore after each session, free of cost as a perk of joining the gym’s ‘premium membership’, an idea he sold you on. That, along with the complementary protein shakes made that were hi “specialty.”

You knew it was his job to hook you in, but who could say no to that sweet meathead’s face? Which is why you were here, on a late saturday afternoon, in this nearly empty gym with him that he convinced you to love.

You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, even if he was the one persuading you, offering to use his time off to come in and help train you.

“Feelin’ sore?” Antoine bends down next to you, offering a small towel from his pocket. The twinge of accent in his speech makes him sound funny, dry lips parted as he looks you over. “You went harder than usual today.”

“Yeah,” You let out after a gulp of water. “Definitely gonna feel this later tonight; ha, maybe I’ll actually take you up on one of those massages.”

You point with your water bottle, grinning tiredly as Antoine’s eyes seem to shine. He licks his lips to hide a giddy grin.

“Of course-- definitely, I’d be more than happy to. These hands can work magic you wouldn’t believe.”

Antoine shuffles behind you, pulling at your shoulders to make you sit up straight.

“Wha- you mean right now? I’m all, sticky.”

“Now’s the best time, your muscles are just coming down from the effort they’ve exerted. Best to prevent any aches and pains as soon as possible rather than waiting.”

He begins gentle rubs against the base of your neck; vast, warm fingers grace your collar with a softness you hadn’t expected. Usually when people try to massage your shoulders they’re too harsh, too grippy; but Antoine was rhythmic, pushing into your back with his palms as he made his way down to your shoulder blades.

“But considering you’ve pushed so hard, I don’t want to see you back here for a couple of days.” Antoine insisted.

“Awe, you want me outa here that badly?” You joked, laying your head forward as Antoine’s fingers made their way to the back of your neck, running pressed thumbs down from your hairline. “I see how it is, prefer your other clients over me.”

It felt sort of weird, having him massage you so deeply on the gym floor out in the open. But the only person here in the middle of the afternoon was an older woman, paying more attention to her cellphone on the treadmill than anything you two were doing.

Antoine shook your shoulders.

“Don’t say that, now!” He leaned his head over next to yours from behind, getting so close your nose almost brushed against his cheek. “It’s not funny; I hope you don’t see me that way.”

“It’s just a joke,” You titter, running your handtowel down the front of your shirt.

“I never understand your jokes.” He sighs, hands moving down to your tailbone. He lifts the bottom of your shirt sticking to your skin, digging his hands against the soft flesh.

“Woah, hey,” You turn to look at him, but his head is down, looking at his fingers.

“I have to get to your hips, you can’t do so many squats without release. And at the rate you were going to day… well, you see what I mean.”

The bottom of your tanktop covers his knuckles as he pulls and kneads the skin of your lower back.

“O-okay.. I guess..”

He’s not usually so insistent, but he seems so genuine about it-- and, he’s the trainer, shouldn’t they know best?

He begins with little strokes to your skin, almost caressing. You grow anxious until his thumbs push deep lines into your flesh.

“Does that feel a little better, Mon cœur? Less pain?” He asks up close, staring at your heated and perspiring cheeks.

You’re awed by how good it actually feels, the tension melting away with each push of his knuckles into your skin, and grip of his hands around your waist as each of his thumbs digs into your sides.

“Yeah… feels a lot better..”

“You can rest your head on my shoulder, don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, arching your back with your head against his shoulder. He had easier access into your back, working his hands up beneath your shirt to reach your mid abdomen.

The deeper Antoine kneaded, the farther he grew up your back, the more… audible, his groans became. Each dip was another breathy moan into your ear. It was fine at first, just the sounds of his work; and then, it became almost, uncomfortably sensual.

“Just like that...” He mumbled, giving a deep hum.

With your neck so close, his nose dips against your jaw to sneak a sharp inhale of your scent. It was heightened from your hour of strenuous work, a smell he couldn’t get enough of.

But you jumped forward before he could nuzzle as deep against you as he wished.

“Uh! Thanks, I feel a lot better now. Really… got all the kinks out.”

You clutch your towel, facing your trainer to prevent him from working his “magic fingers” again.

“Of course. And that’s just a taste, a fully body massage would leave the workout you just completed to drain away, as if it was just a dream.” He wiggles his hands with a sheepish grin, one so simple and sincere your guard fell again.

Sure, guys at the gym could be creeps, but he was your trainer, eyes kind and a little foreignly clueless, who only wanted to see you thrive; he’d never try something with you, his client.

“Yeah, maybe next time. But now, I need to shower and get this stink off of me.” You bring yourself to your feet, all wobbly and achy-galore. Even with Antoine’s work on your shoulders, you can feel your back beginning to seize up. It’s gonna be hard to bend down for a while.

Offering a hand to Antoine still on the rubbery gym floor, he takes it with a slight ease. He doesn’t use the weight in his hand to get up, knowing he’d just drag you back down to the floor if he did.

“Thanks again-- I mean, I know it’s your job but--”

“Don’t thank me; it’s always a treat to have you here, my cherie. I’d train you for free, you know!”

You laugh, flattered at the idea. If you were a bit more forward, you’d ask him for that little perk. Hey, paying for his service certainly wasn’t cheap!

Making your way to the bathroom, you thank your lucky stars the hard part’s over. Too bad you can’t look at Antoine’s pretty face anymore, though.

Antoine on the other hand, follows your stumbling body with his eyes, watching as you disappear behind the water fountain and bathroom door.

His eyes jut back and forth between the machines and front door for witnesses, seeing none before snatching up your forgotten towel. How’d you never notice they didn’t just give these things out?

He’d brought the cute handkerchief from home, wanting to appear the most of a gentleman. And, in the hopes that you’d use it every and anywhere.

Oh, he thrived off that scent, pushing the white damp cloth heavy against his nose. It smelled even more potent of you, moreso than the few inches away of sniffs he usually got.

His tongue just barely brushed against it, writhing in ecstasy from how it still held the stickiness of your sweat. You didn’t know how intoxicating it was to him, watching each bead of sweat leave your neck, the dip of your back when he got the chance to help hold that barbell with you… it was almost maddening, how strictly he had to restrain himself from lapping at your hot skin and running his hands beneath your gymwear.

No, he had to save this for later. What would his manager think if he saw him acting so ferally?

Besides, there were more important matters to attend to. Such as, taking out the bathroom trash, a simple excuse to slide his manager for the opportunity to watch you shower.

Who knew working here would have such great advantages in getting close to you.

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starmocha · 5 months ago

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but if it's forever, it's even better [Sylus/Reader ★ 4610 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] “Did you just…say you were…ovulating?” A/N: I finally have a new proper desk again. And I decided to christen it by writing Sylus smut. ♡

Sylus had always made it explicitly known that his home was yours to do as you pleased. He had never once forbidden you from treading into any of the rooms, never once told you that you were not allowed to touch his belongings or use his staff as needed. In fact, he had actively encouraged you to make yourself at home, to treat his place as yours—a home away from home.

Yes, he had made this offer explicitly clear.

It still, however, did not prepare him for just how comfortable you had made yourself in his spare room.

Having awoken not too long ago, Sylus had originally planned to check in on his houseguest. A seemingly innocuous decision that somehow led to him standing outside the guest room, his hand gripping tightly the doorknob as he unwittingly listened to the faint buzzing noises inside the room, mixed with the wanton moans you were making.

“This…girl…” Sylus’ breath quickened, his hold on the doorknob unconsciously tightened, as his mind reeled with images of you shamelessly pleasuring yourself in one of his many beds. He knew he should leave you to…finish, but at the same time, the noises he was hearing was so enticing and sweet, like a siren’s song keeping him trapped in place.

He could hear the vibration adjusting to a different frequency, changing from quick, short bursts to an aggressive pulsation that made you moaned louder, voice reaching a new pitch. Sylus took a glance around the hallways, wondering to himself if you even realized that the walls here were in no way sound-proofed. However, if this was going to become a regular occurrence for your future visits, then perhaps, he should add that change to his home in the near future, Sylus thought wryly.

“Ah—what? No…fuck!”

The buzzing stopped abruptly and Sylus heard your immediate frustrated curse from behind the closed door. He smirked, realizing what might have happened.

He should leave.

However, he would rather mess with you instead—in more ways than one.

He gave three swift knocks, startling you immediately. “Battery died, sweetie?”

He laughed when he heard your mortified shriek.

“You heard?!”

“It’s my house,” he reminded you as if that was enough. “Let me in.”

“No!”

“Sweetie, I do have the keys to all of the rooms in this house,” he said calmly, smirking again when he heard your panicked shuffling inside the room, “I’ll come in one way or another—”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

Sylus crossed his arms, shaking his head in amusement as he heard more panicked noises behind the door. Even he couldn’t imagine what state of mortification you were in. He blinked when he heard you let loose a string of curses as it sounded like items were being thrown haphazardly around. Just as he was about to speak again, the door swung opened and he stared down at you, wrapped carelessly in the bed comforter, face completely scarlet, and your breathing rapid and uneven—possibly as a result from your little private time, but more than likely it was a result of being caught by, of all people, the leader of Onychinus.

“Now I know I offered my home for you to use freely, but—”

“Oh, just get in here!” you quickly yanked Sylus by the arm into the bedroom, promptly shutting the door before anyone else could catch sight of the scene. You immediately locked the door again, turned around, and slid down the door in a state of absolute humiliation. You could barely bring yourself to look at Sylus in the eyes.

“I…I can explain…”

“Go ahead,” Sylus said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, legs crossed as he stared at your pitiful state. “I’d love to know why Miss Hunter decided to play with herself in my home—and not invite me to join in the fun.”

You glared at him.

“Sweetie, it’s very impolite to glare at the host who so graciously offered you his home while yours is being fumigated for…what was it? Cockroaches?”

“Silverfish…”

“Right,” he said, “Now, sweetie, care to explain yourself?”

“Um,” you started, but honestly, you didn’t even know how to explain yourself to him exactly without making the situation worse. You wrapped the comforter tighter around yourself. “You know this comforter is very soft, Sylus. Maybe I should buy one just like this—”

“I can take you shopping for whatever you may need or want,” he interrupted, seeing through your flimsy attempt to deflect from this awkward conversation, “But only if you explain to me why you were fucking yourself silly with a sex toy just a moment ago.”

“I was…” you racked your brain. “That is to say I am…”

“Go on.”

“Well…I am…” you covered yourself completely in the comforter and the final word you said was completely muffled by your sudden blanket-cocoon.

Sylus sighed, mildly exasperated, and stood up, crossing the room quickly in just a few strides. He bent down to your height on the floor and reached forward to pull the comforter back. He frowned when you avoided eye contact with him. “What was that last word?”

“Sylus…”

“The longer you stall, the worse you’re making for yourself,” he said.

“Ovulating.”

There was an immediate deafening silence in the room as Sylus stared at you, completely unprepared and blindsided by that one word. You stared right back, cheeks burning up even more as you realized what you had just told him.

When Sylus managed to find his voice again, he started hesitantly, “Did you just…say you were…ovulating?”

You nodded.

“And that meant you…”

“I was horny.”

Sylus found his brain shutting down again by your bold confession. He cleared his throat, trying to recompose himself. “And you happened to have brought along your…toy?”

“Well…”

“And you forgot to charge it?”

You flustered and glared at him, hearing that insufferable trademark teasing tone in his voice again. “I thought I did!”

“Well, you thought wrong,” he quipped, amused, “There is one thing about this whole situation that is a bit upsetting for me.”

“Upsetting for you?!”

He nodded, unabashed. “If this kitten was feeling a little frisky, she does know I am just a few doors away, right?”

“Oh, we are not having this conversation!”

Before you could even get up, Sylus pulled you into his embrace, and he stumbled back on the floor with you in his lap. He steadied his balance with one hand behind him while his other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. He laughed lowly, “You’re right, this comforter does feel soft.”

“What do you think you are doing?!”

He cocked his head to the side in amusement when you glared at him again. “Now, sweetie, I just had to listen to you play with yourself for god knows how long—you don’t think that did something to me?”

“I…I just told you I was ovulating…”

“Mmhmm, you did,” he agreed affably.

“Sylus…” You gasped as he lowered the comforter, revealing your nude body underneath. He smiled appreciatively at the sight while you struggled to speak under his scrutinizing gaze. “I’m not on birth control…I could…I could get pregnant…”

“I know,” he said, unconcerned. Before you could respond, he smiled at you roguishly with a slight knowing tilt of his head. “Would that be a bad thing, sweetie?”

“Wh—what?”

“You pregnant with my baby,” he murmured, his hand skimming over your flat belly.

“A baby? You’re joking…”

“Oh?” Sylus looked up, smirking, “Did it sound like I was joking?”

“Sylus, quit teasing me…”

You yelped in surprise when suddenly he shifted you so you were straddling him. Sylus tightened his hold around you, the comforter falling completely off of your body as you found yourself trapped in his embrace. You shivered, unsure if it was because of the sudden cool air caressing your nude body, or more than likely, it was because of the man before you keeping you in his lap. Sylus’ face moved closer to yours, and you attempted to avert his gaze again, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. You felt your stomach dropped when he spoke, his voice held none of his usual teasing.

“Sweetie, I am serious,” he murmured, loosening his grip from your chin, but you found yourself now unable to tear your eyes away from him as he spoke, “I wouldn’t mind seeing this belly of yours all round and swollen with my baby.”

He leaned in and pecked your lips, smirking briefly when you widened your eyes in surprise. He continued, “I wouldn’t mind if people knew it was me who knocked you up—in fact, I’d like that very much.”

“Sylus…”

“I wouldn’t mind if…we have a family together.”

Sylus gauged your reaction, seemingly mindful of his words for fear of scaring you away, but in his eyes, there was a strong resolve. When you didn’t outright object or react negatively to his words, Sylus smiled.

“Mm…” he pressed his forehead to yours, his warm breath brushed against your lips, “We would make such a beautiful baby together…”

Your cheeks tinged pink, but you found yourself at a loss for words, unable to rebuke him. The way he was speaking was making you tingle, feeling a tiny shred of embarrassment, but surprisingly more than that, there was a sense of enthrallment by his words.

“Half you, half me,” he continued, his eyes had brightened when he had said ‘you’. Sylus reached for your hand, guiding it to his lips. He tilted his head to the side again, smiling, “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You nodded numbly, almost instinctively, as if his deep, smooth voice was hypnotizing you. He continued to speak, but you were barely hearing him now, lost in your own thoughts as you watched this man before you wearing an expression of almost pure joy. You weren’t sure if you had ever seen Sylus as happy as he was now talking about having a baby with you.

The more he spoke, though, the more the thought became enticing to you. Sylus loved you unconditionally and wholeheartedly. All you had to do was ask and he would move Heaven and Earth for you. The depths of his love for you would extend and magnify a thousandfold for the child you two would have together.

Dependable, protective, loving—could you ask for anything more in a partner?

You watched him, seeing his large hand covered your entire tummy, and you could see the almost wistful look in his crimson eyes. Your head tilted a little in wonder, remembering that Sylus had never once brought up the subject of family—his own growing up or even the prospective future. This was the closest the two of you had ever treaded on the topic, and the fact that he was the one who had suggested it first made you realized that he had pondered about the matter before, enough so that he had decided that his future was you and the family you would have together.

You swallowed slowly, feeling a swarm of butterflies fluttered in your belly. You were nervous, a little scared, but more than anything, you had never felt surer of what you were about to say than now.

Your future was with him. That was all you knew, and all you wanted.

“Sylus…”

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I…” you swallowed hard, face flushed with arousal as you locked eyes with the man in front of you, “I…need you…to fuck a baby into me.”

Sylus’ breath hitched the moment those words left your mouth. He steadied his breathing the best he could, but he could feel his heart racing at the thought, at the plea in your soft voice. “Is that what you want?” His words were barely above a whisper, as he could feel himself hardening at the thought of impregnating you with his baby. He continued, the rasp in his deep voice noticeable, “You want me to knock you up, sweetie?”

Just from the sound of his voice alone had you clenching, and you nodded. You had already decided on this, already spoken the words out loud. There was no going back now. You wanted this.

“Use your words,” he commanded, “I want you to say it.”

I need you to say it, his eyes seemed to implore you.

His hands were already around your waist, pulling you up flushed against his body. Your hands rested on his toned chest and you gazed up into those scarlet eyes darkening with desire, the mere sight stealing your breath away as your body trembled with anticipation of what was going to happen tonight the moment you reaffirm your earlier plea.

“I want…”

You could feel Sylus’ fingers digging into your hips, there was an air of impatience around him as he waited for you finish your sentence. You could almost hear the sharp hiss of breath from his barely parted lips as he gazed at you intently.

“…your baby,” you finished, “I want to…have your baby.”

The moment that last word left your lips, you gasped sharply as Sylus immediately lifted you into his strong arms, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist for support as he carried you to the bed. Within seconds, he had you pinned down on the bed, his larger body hovered over you. “That’s a dangerous thing to tell me, sweetheart,” he murmured, his finger tipped your chin up, exposing your neck to him, “Because now I have no intention of letting you leave this bed until you’re knocked up with my baby.”

You bit down on your lips, holding back another gasp as you felt his large hands trailed down your body, feeling familiar curves with practiced ease. “Ah—!” You squirmed when his lips trailed down your chest to your belly, his hands caressing the flat abdomen with revere.

“Your body is already so gorgeous,” he murmured, kissing your belly again, unaware of your reddened cheeks, “And it’ll become even more beautiful when our baby grows inside you…”

You felt your heart skipped a beat. The way he was speaking as if you were already pregnant made you blushed in embarrassment. You squirmed again, but Sylus immediately gripped your hips, keeping you in place.

“What…” you racked your brain for words, feeling suddenly insecure by his keen attention to your body. When Sylus looked up at you questioningly, you couldn’t help but frowned a little, “You’re just saying that…men don’t really find pregnant women attractive…”

He laughed at your words, making you even more embarrassed. He shook his head in disagreement. “Sweetie, how can a man not find the woman carrying his baby the most beautiful being in the world?”

Sylus loomed over you, his lips hovering above yours as his eyes gazed down at you with deep affections. His hand caressed your cheek in comfort as he spoke, “Sweetie, I can barely restrain myself from touching you now.”

“Hmm?” You looked at him quizzically, making him smiled wider.

“I won’t be able to control myself,” he continued, brushing his lips against yours, “Mm, I’m gonna want to feel you all the time—feel our baby in your womb.”

“Sylus…you’re making me embarrassed now…”

“I’m just stating facts,” he responded, brushing your flyaway hair out of your face, “So trust me, sweetie, I mean it when I say you are the most beautiful woman in my life.”

As if to prove his point, he covered you in endless kisses, responding to your pleased gasps and sighs with his own knowing hums. “We’re going to make such a beautiful baby,” he murmured. “I can’t wait…”

“Sy—”

“Can’t wait to see you grow, to see you swell…” he continued to mumble lazily into your skin, his lips leaving trails of kisses all over. “My beautiful hunter…my beautiful…goddess…”

From his tantalizing words to his expert ministrations, you could feel yourself throbbing, aching to be filled by him. You tugged at his shirt, and he laughed at your impatience before he undressed himself, taking off piece by piece as slow as possible to further tease you, the amusement on his face a complete opposite to your frustration. When the last article of clothing—his boxer briefs—was removed, he allowed you a moment to rake your eyes over his toned body. Sylus ran his hand over his hair, pushing it back as he looked at you with a look of pure lust.

“God,” he muttered, “This is happening…”

He nudged your thighs apart, pleased that you were already so wet, willing, and ready for him. He grasped his hardened member, giving it a few strokes as he prepared to line himself up to your waiting entrance.

“Already this wet, sweetie?” he questioned, his tone light and teasing, “From your little solo playtime, or perhaps, me?”

He didn’t even leave you enough time to respond. You gasped and arched forward, feeling just the tip pressing in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bracing yourself for the massive intrusion.

“Answer me, sweetie,” he murmured, letting more of himself in.

“Y—you!”

He hummed in satisfaction.

You gasped as more of him entered, the feeling of how massive he was bringing tears of both pain and pleasure to your eyes. “Oh—oh, god!” you whimpered when he bottomed out, filling you completely.

“My sweet little cock-warmer,” he murmured, planting more sweet kisses down your neck.

“S-Sylus…please…”

“Please what, sweetie?” he asked, though you both knew he was well aware of what you desired in that moment. When you didn’t respond, he nipped your left earlobe, his sinfully deep voice sending shivers down your spine and straight to your core as he whispered, “Say it, and I’ll give you everything you desire, sweetie.”

You panted softly, almost convinced that with just a few right words, his devilish voice alone could make you cum, but right now, in this particular moment, with his cock situated so perfectly inside you, you needed more.

“Please…”

He raised a brow, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as his crimson eyes gleamed in satisfaction at seeing you already so helpless and needy. You could feel his large hands gripping your hips tighter, fingers digging into your flesh, almost as if he was waiting for you to break the final restraint he held.

“…Fuck me,” you uttered at last, voice soft and vulnerable, “Please, Sylus, fuck me…”

You gasped suddenly as he pulled out slowly and then slammed back in, that first thrust already making you see stars and ripping out a cry of pure pleasure from your throat.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, already knowing the answer as he set a steady pace, “Is this what you need, sweetie?”

“Yes!” you yelled out, arms encircled around his neck tighter as you let him take control.

“Doing so well,” Sylus crooned, his thrusts steadily becoming harder, faster, “What a good—hnngh—fucking—hah—girl you are…taking me—ah—so well…”

You were barely aware of your back touching the mattress again as he lowered you back down, taking you in deeper. Your arms loosened around his neck, fingers finding their way to grip the bedsheets. You tossed your head to the side, moaning when his mouth took in your nipple, suckling on it gently at first before his skilled tongue swirled over the sensitive nub, the sensation was enough to have you arching up into him again. He pulled away, making you whined in frustration at the sudden loss of attention, but just as quickly his hand took over to massage your breast, keeping you moaning helplessly for him as he teased and pinched your nipple, feeling it firming under his expert touch.

“Your breasts will fill up with milk for our baby,” he murmured, already picturing you nursing his baby. He smiled at the thought, unable to contain his excitement. He squeezed your breast harder and you cried from the feeling of his calloused hand on your soft flesh.

Amidst the pleasurable stimulations of him massaging your breast as he drove himself into you, you had a thought—a need, really. “I…” you felt your cheeks warming up again, embarrassed or otherwise, you weren’t sure anymore, but you still voiced your newfound desire aloud, “Sylus…I want…”

“Hmm?” He tilted his head a little, his gentle smile remaining as he waited for you to finish your thought. With his thick member so deep inside you, you could barely think straight, your focus shifting back and forth between the feel of him and his arousing words that spawned your new thought.

“I want you…to have the…first taste.”

His smile faltered. “What?” Sylus paused, but there was an intense look of intrigue in his eyes, never once expecting such words to leave your lips, but the bold suggestion had him excited by the prospect. He watched you intensely, waiting for you to repeat the sweet offer and confirming that he had not misheard you.

“My milk,” you clarified, face flushed red, “I’d want…you to taste it first…”

“You want me to…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence as he laughed, delighted by this surprising offer. The look he gave you was a mix of arousal and absolute adoration. “Oh, sweetie,” his voice was breathless as he pulled you in for another intense kiss, “You are going to be my fucking demise.”

You whined against his lips, your voice swallowed by him eagerly. The overwhelming stimulations of his relentless kisses and renewed strength had you fumbling with your thoughts and words as the only thing you could focus on was just the feel of him touching you—inside you.

“Oh god, oh god!” you whimpered when he started moving faster, driving into you harder, deeper. “Ah—Sy-Sylus!” You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the beginning of the familiar tightening that signified your impending release.

Lost in your focus on the feeling of your approaching climax, you didn’t even notice that Sylus’ movements had become more hurried, graceless, and eager. His eyes greedily drank in the sight of you beneath him losing yourself to this state of euphoria. His mouth parted, panting, as he gripped your hips harder, enough that there would be bruise marks by morning. He could barely hold back a groan as he felt your walls tightening around him.

This is it.

You were so fertile right now, the perfect moment for him to fill your womb full of his virile seed. Watching you unraveled before him, Sylus’ eyes darkened with pure lust, a haze washing over him as he was consumed with only one thought and goal.

She’s perfect.

So perfect.

Gonna fill her up.

Knock her up.

Mine, she’s all mine.

Fill that pretty little cunt.

Pump her full.

Breed her.

You screamed in pleasure as without a word, Sylus pumped you full of his seed, emptying into you so much that there was no way you wouldn’t get pregnant from this encounter.

“Sylus!” Your legs wrapped around his waist tighter, pulling him in deeper, needing him to fill you completely. Your walls tightened around him, squeezing and milking all of him for your womb. You were going to get pregnant. You were going to have his baby.

Sylus’ baby.

You whined and sobbed into his shoulder as you felt both his release dripping down your thighs and the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm still coursing through your spent body. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you held against him, close enough that you felt all of his body heat and the warm sweat that glistened on his skin.

“Good…girl,” he gasped, rubbing your back up and down as you came down from your high, “Such a good girl for me. Only me.”

Sylus lowered you back down on the plush mattress, your half-lidded eyes gazed up at him, meeting his pleased smile. You lay on the bed boneless, drained, and satisfied, feeling his heavy body still hovering over you as you listened to his deep voice murmuring, unsure whether he was speaking to you anymore or to himself.

“…Mine. Mine to have.”

Mine to breed.

He stared down at you, almost in a state of awe, the realization of what had happened made his heart speed up. His eyes focused on your belly, already imagining that it was going to grow bigger, rounder, in the coming months with his child in your fertile womb. There was no way you wouldn’t get pregnant from this session, but even if you didn’t, Sylus had already planned on fucking you until you showed the first sign of pregnancy. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he could even restrain himself from taking you even when you were round and full with his child.

“Oh, sweetie…”

You looked up at him doe-eyed, making his heart softened further. For all of his talks about his lack of luck, he knew he had hit the jackpot with you. The greatest fortune of his life was meeting you, and he was willing to risk all of the good luck in his lifetime to keep you in his life by his side.

Sylus’ cheek brushed against your head before he leaned inward and pressed his lips there. His hands continued to rub you up and down while you both recovered from your shared climaxes. “Shh, I got you, I got you, sweetie…”

When he pulled out of you, Sylus laid down on his back on the bed, dragging you to lay on top of him. He continued to hold you close to him, clearly having no intention of letting you out of his embrace any time soon. Just as well, because all you wanted in that moment was to remain close to him—skin to skin and heartbeats in-sync.

“Sylus…”

He hummed softly, his hands still rubbing your back gently. You could feel your heart calming down, your breathing returning to normal. You rested your head on his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall as his own breathing evened out.

The world suddenly felt so still and quiet, as if you and him were the only occupants remaining. You raised your head from its place on his chest, eyes widened when you made out his loving smile. You sighed happily when he caressed your cheek and his thumb brushed over your lips.

Your heart fluttered as he spoke, his normally deep voice a light, soft murmur:

“My pretty hunter.”

“You’re so full of it…”

He laughed and shook his head, amused by your weak attempt to counter him. His eyes wandered down, lingering on your flat stomach once more. He looked pleased.

“Your body is going to change so much,” he husked and your heart skipped a beat once more, “It’ll be all my fault that you’re nice and swollen with my baby.”

“Sy-Sylus!”

He chuckled again and pulled you deeper into his embrace. Your cheek pressed against his chest again, his large hand resting gently, but firmly, on the back of your head keeping you in place. Your stomach did flips when he spoke again:

“Rest for now, sweetie, the night is just beginning.”

“What?”

He laughed. “Oh, sweetie, we are just getting started,” he said, eyes twinkling in amusement when he caught sight of the pretty blush rising on your cheeks, “I meant what I said earlier: you are not leaving this bed until you are pregnant with my baby.”

You started to protest, but he captured your lips with his, parting just long enough to whisper: “I’m going to enjoy you all night long, sweetheart.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #lnds smut #sylus smut #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #x — fanfics #lnds series — birds of a feather #me half-way through writing this and realizing sylus would give you big babies 😦#i'm both turned on and scared 😳#suffer with me besties 🙂

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suiana · 1 month ago

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yandere! ex yakuza that is... surprisingly a really good househusband. he can cook, he can clean, and most importantly he absolutely freaking loves you.

yeah, he might have a whole back of tattoos and a few scars- oh! and the history of beating up people (he swears he's changed) and going to jail is there too...

but he's your househusband now!

that's right. you're the one making money while he stays home cleaning, making cute little dishes, going shopping for house essentials... what? he's comfortable with this dynamic! if you want to be independent go ahead! if you're happy he's happy!

it's actually such a change from his previous lifestyle, one where he not only led a whole gang of yakuza members into war and was like, the legendary top dog who would dominate others bla bla bla backstory stuff.

but you know, that life just isn't for him anymore. he's thrown that yakuza lifestyle away. it's just not part of who he is anymore. not after meeting you at least. you really changed him and he's grateful for that❤️

unfortunately you can take the yakuza out of the environment but the yakuza will always stay inside of him or whatever the saying is i don't fucking remember.

so your dreams of having a cute househusband are crushed because this man CANNOT for the life of him look #cute. how can you expect him to look cute?? not with that wardrobe full of suits he isn't. also he wears sunglasses indoors??? and what's with the weird stick he carries around??

anyway, did you hear? there's a sale going on! he knows how stressed you've been with work so he'll take it upon himself to cook you a delicious meal (that's definitely not laced with sleeping pills) so that you can have a peaceful night for once! that's right, you're also getting a massage and he'll even play with your hair until you fall asleep in his arms! now doesn't that sound enticing?

and when you eventually wake up late for work he'll tell you that your boss gave you a paid week off. yay! more time to spend with him! threaten? what no. he didn't threaten your boss, what nonsense are you spouting!

...

well he certainly doesn't look cute but he definitely acts cute. like when how he gets all excited over a sale or a discount happening. he acts like an old auntie sometimes, it's actually so funny.

but let's not forget that this man is still an ex yakuza. he definitely retains his old habits, like i was saying just now. and it obviously has to be ten times worse when you're out with him or something and you get hit on-

"honey no! you can't hit random people with your stick!"

"he was staring at your ass 🤬"

...so that's what the stick was for...

erm... well, now you don't know whether to be angry or to swoon over him. ah whatever! let's just go home!

because once you're home, this man will stop at nothing to make you forget all about his weirdly... violent behaviors towards others.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #yandere ex yakuza #yandere ex yakuza x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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cherry-leclerc · 9 months ago

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cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment.

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone.

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true.

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers.

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma.

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second.

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver.

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice.

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger.

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was. He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom.

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water.

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy.

He’s a man.

“What do you say?”

“Sorry?”

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.”

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors.

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance.

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away.

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy.

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated.

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.”

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled.

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.”

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof.

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of.

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there.

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours.

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola.

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts.

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose.

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped.

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog.

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret.

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening.

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes.

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?”

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice.

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress.

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound.

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders.

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back.

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much.

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable.

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer.

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND.

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you.

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.”

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.”

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally.

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least.

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct.

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him.

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough.

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band.

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing.

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano.

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips.

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red.

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry.

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big. “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once.

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds.

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure.

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours.

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle.

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness.

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end.

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow.

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?��

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual.

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.”

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?”

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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sallertiafabrica · 1 year ago

Note

Do you plan to ever bring back your macaw and maned wolf kwami in any way?

Not really. If the opportunity arises, I guess I could, but don’t count on it. I think up stories first, then see what miraculous I could use to tell them, not the other way around.

#I first thought them up as part of a Brazilian hero team but the idea doesn’t entice me anymore #it sounds too much like something canon Miraculous would do and that makes me all the less interested in going back to that #the macaw is very visually interesting tho. so I might use that if I ever feel like doing a motherfucking Brazil reference #mailbox #Sal Talks

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sanemistar · 3 months ago

Text

kissable lips — katsuki b.

contains ★ katsuki (post timeskip) x fem!reader (no pronouns used), fluff, suggestive (+17 only), making out, nothing too explicit but still, very slight swearing, rivals to lovers, 0.8k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ mha m.list

tension filled the surrounding air, sounds of racing heartbeats and heavy breathings echoed through the empty room. you were pinned against the wall as katsuki hovered on top of you, sending shivers all over your back the moment it made contact with the cold surface.

his rough hands gripped your neck tightly, stopping you from writhing and squirming underneath him. keeping you in place as his lips continuously smashed against yours. teeth clashing every time you kissed as he hungrily devoured your lips, not stopping for even a moment to let you breathe. he was forcing you to catch up to his very fast pace, which was quite hard at first. but when you matched his pace, everything felt so heavenly.

you felt his hands move from your neck down to your waist, exploring every inch of your skin. you held onto him tightly for dear life. adrenaline rushed through your blood while your arms securely wrapped themselves around his neck as if it was the most natural thing to do, pulling him even closer as your fingertips ran through the locks of his spiky, blond hair. ruffling it until it became even more disheveled than it was.

if you were told earlier that you'd be here passionately making out with not only one of the best pro heroes, but also your very own rival. you'd simply call it a joke and laugh it off. you just couldn't imagine it happening, not even in your wildest dreams. you two hated each other’s guts, and your only goal was to surpass the other.

however, to your surprise, it happened. and you hated to admit it, but it was far better than you would've ever imagined. you couldn't pinpoint the reason why you were enjoying it, but one thing you knew for sure was that you wanted it, dare to say that you wanted even more. it awakened an unknown desire in you that you’d never known of before, or maybe it had been there all along and you hadn’t noticed until then.

at that moment, the only things that filled your head, occupying your mind completely were thoughts of katsuki and how he held you in his arms as he covered you in kisses, his enticing taste that had you craving for more. your train of thoughts was abruptly cut short when he finally pulled away after what had seemed like an eternity.

your half opened, hazy eyes were caught in his gaze, your lips were all red and swollen, head still dizzy and light. your chest rapidly moved up and down, still trying to catch your breath after having such an intense make-out session.

“katsuki..” his name rolled off your lips in a faint, breathless tone.

your body lost composure and you almost fell to the ground due to your knees getting weak and shaky from all that tension and intensity. you leaned on the wall for support, since you had very little to no strength left to stand on your own.

"shit,” his voice was all low and hoarse, his hot breath fanned against your flushed cheeks as your lips were still slightly parted.

“you moron, if you keep callin’ my name like this while makin’ that face, i might go insane.” he groaned, and your face reddened even more at his words as you wondered what kind of face you were making at that moment.

“why did you of all people have to have the most kissable lips?” katsuki mumbled, but it was loud enough for you to hear. a hint of crimson red was seen on his cheeks as his eyebrows furrowed slightly, it was such a rare sight to see. and you took the time to carve it clearly in the back of your mind.

“hmmm…” you hummed sweetly, your hand traced down to his chest as your fingers ran up and down his shirt, leaving delicate touches. you leaned over and whispered softly against his ears.

“my lips aren’t the only kissable parts i have.”

you knew you were being bold there, a little too bold even. but you wanted to tease him as you tried to push him to his limit, wanting to know what would happen if he were to go insane.

“imma ‘bout to shut you up ‘nd make you regret that fuckin’ cocky attitude of yours.” katsuki was determined to shut you up, and you best believe that he did.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @sylusdoll @ayrastv @hanaeriin @spkyssn @stunies @17020 @kalsplace

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entitled-fangirl · 4 months ago

Text

Stubborn man.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan returns from a hunt, eager to see his wife. But he's hiding something from her.

Warnings: blood, making out, pain, talks about sex, I think that's it?

A/n: Based on an ask!!! Also... I need more Tom Taylor gifs RIGHT NOW or I'll cry. So fancast Cregan might make a comeback in the gifs

Masterlist

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She felt herself flinch when strong hands gripped her waist from behind and a kiss was placed on the back of her neck.

"Did you miss me, my heart?" A deep voice whispered in her ear.

She relaxed at the sound, her body instinctively giving in to the hands that held her, "Quite terribly."

He grinned and playfully nipped at her ear, "Good, because I have as well."

She spun in his hold, now facing him. She ran her hands over his clothed chest and fiddled with his cloak, "The hunt was successful, I assume?"

"Three elks and a boar," he said with a hint of pride, "Should last Winterfell a while enough."

"You're very brave, my lord," she smiled with a teasing tone. "Facing a boar is quite a formidable task."

"Aye," he agrees. "But so is facing the Warden of the North, wouldn't you agree?"

"You're right," She said as he tugged on his cloak to pull his face closer to hers. "The boar didn't stand a chance."

A confident aura overcame the lord and he leaned further down and connected their lips.

She let out a soft groan, savoring the feeling of him after such a long absence.

His arms moved up and around her back to pull her to him.

Her chest collided with his and only then did Cregan falter.

She pulled away, disconnecting their lips as she gave him a small frown. "Cregan?"

His breath had quickened and his face paled, but he was eagerly changing the subject, "I've only missed you is all." He leaned in again.

As his lips brushed hers, she pulled away again as her worry doubled, "Stop. Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Something is clearly bothering you," she pointed out. "Tell me."

His hands wandered up to her biceps, gripping her earnestly, as if trying to convince her, "I am just fine. I only wish to spend time with my wife. Is that a crime?"

"You and I both know it's not, but there's something you're not telling me."

They stared at one another, seeing who would break first. Finally, he did with a sigh. "It is nothing, I assure you."

"You're sure?" She asked in worry.

"I am."

She stared at him for a while before nodding, deciding to believe him. "Very well. I dare say I would enjoy some time with my lord husband as well."

He grinned, "I can arrange that."

She leaned forward and met his lips, hands beginning to wander.

He led her backwards to the bed, careful to not lead her astray. She blindly let him, too caught him in his touch to care where he took her.

She fell onto the bed and Cregan leaned down and began to kiss down her clothed stomach.

"Will you let me indulge in what I've missed?" He asked softly.

She let out a breath at his admission.

Watching her reaction closely, he pulled the skirt of her dress up.

As his fingers grazed her bare thigh, she moaned out, "I don't think I can wait. I need you."

He chuckled, "So eager for me."

She sat up to entice him to loom over her, but she noticed that the color still hadn't returned to his cheeks. "Are you cold?"

He frowned, clearly confused at the question, "What? No."

"You're pale. Cregan, please." She reached under his cloak to his chest.

He reached out to grip her wrists, but it was too late.

Her hands pulled back with red staining her palms. Her eyes widened in horror. "W…What-"

"-Look at me." He grabbed her face with both hands. "I am fine."

"You're hardly-"

His eyes showed the purely determined tone to his voice, "I am fine."

Her breath began to become shorter and her voice softened, "You… you've seen the maester?"

"I don't need the maester. I just need you," he said as he leaned in again.

She turned her head as she denied his wishes. "You're injured."

He sighed and pulled away from her. "It… it is just a scratch."

She stared down at her hands that now had his blood on them. Her fingers were shaky, and her voice was soft, "…you're injured."

He panicked when she began to only repeat her worry. "Dear wife-"

She stood and smoothed her dress out in a rush, "I'll get the maester."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. His face twisted in a wince when the movement caused pain to shoot through his body.

She paused. "Cregan."

He forced himself to overcome the pain. Determination ran through his eyes as he looked up at her. "I. Am Fine."

She looked at his hand on her wrist, then back to him. "Even wolves show weakness on occasion."

It was clear that he took her words to heart because his eyes softened and his grip on her loosened.

She slowly pulled her hand away and moved to the cabinet, pulling out bandages and cloths

Cregan watched in silence.

She set them onto the bed softly before leaving the room. She returned with a small basin of water. "Undress."

His head tilted. "Alright."

He pulled his cloak off, and only then did she notice how badly he was injured.

His tunic was soaked in blood across his chest.

It felt as if she had been dunked in cold water. Panic settled into her gut.

Cregan reached down to the bottom of the tunic, beginning to slowly peel it away from the injury. It clearly hurt him. His jaw was clenched to the point she worried for his teeth.

"Let me," she offered, pulling it the rest of the way off of him and throwing it to the side.

A long cut ran down his chest, blood staining his skin. Cregan didn't bother to look at it. He kept his eyes on her and her alone.

She forced him to sit on the bed and sat down as well, reaching down to the cut. Her fingers grazed it lightly, earning a hiss from him. "Sorry," she whispered.

He shook his head as he studied her face, "'s fine."

"Get comfortable, my love," she finally forced.

He grunted in acknowledgement and pushed himself against the headboard.

She stood and grabbed the basin, setting it on the nightstand. The woman got up on the bed, throwing her leg over him to straddle him.

If he wasn't in such pain, the night would've went much differently.

She leaned over and wet a cloth, beginning to gently run it over the cut to clean it.

Cregan rested his head back against the headboard. His gaze stayed on her face.

"I don't understand why you didn't say something sooner," she whispered as she focused on healing her husband.

His eyes moved down to her lips, "I've had worse."

"How did it happen?" She pressed down unintentionally, and he hissed again. She muttered an apology.

"The boar," was all he said. He tried to read her expression, but it was hard when she wasn't looking at him. One of his hands moved to her waist.

"Did you face it yourself?" She asked incredulously.

"It caught us off guard is all."

She hummed as she grabbed a new cloth and continued to clean him with gentle hands.

His thumb rubbed across her waist comfortingly. "You're angry."

"Not angry," she sighed. "Only worried." Once the cut was clean, she began to slowly rub the cloth across his shoulders and up his neck, cleaning the dirt from the rest of him.

The feeling made him close his eyes, "I do hope you'll forgive me then."

She shook her head, "You haven't asked for it yet."

He reached up with his free hand and stopped her motions. "Forgive me." His eyes studied her intensely, his voice serious.

She finally let out a sigh and a hint of a smile came to her. "You're a foolish man."

"I am," he admitted.

She took the cloth with one hand and held his chin with the other, cleaning the dirt off of his face. Their proximity brought a soft blush to her cheeks. "I don't know what I would do without you."

His eyes moved to her lips again and he began to slowly lean in. "You don't have to."

"Promise me something," she whispered.

He nodded, "Anything."

"You'll not put your health aside to appear strong to me."

"I am the Warden of the North-"

She leaned away and held his chin in a tight grip. "Not here. You're my husband, Cregan."

A little grin came across his lips. "I promise."

She leaned forward and connected their lips.

His hands found her waist, holding her in a vice grip as he pulled her as close as possible. She was careful to avoid the cut on his chest as her hands wandered over him.

He pulled away and began to trail kisses down her neck, "I'm a blessed man."

She let out a content hum. "Are you? You have a gash in your chest. I hardly see-"

"-I have you." His teeth nipped at a sensitive spot, soothing it with his tongue.

Her eyes began to close in bliss as she gave in to his touch. She caught herself, and forced her eyes open. "I haven't finished bandaging you."

He continued his movements, "You'll have time later."

"If you want anything from me, you must let me finish, you stubborn man."

He pulled away at that to look up and her. "Fierce girl."

She grinned and reached over to the bandages she had gathered. She wrapped them around him, "I forgive you."

His large hand came up to grab her jaw gently and force her to look him in the eye. "I will not take it for granted. Thank you."

"Do this again and I'll gut you myself."

A chuckle came from his throat. "I have no doubts of that." He pulled her face to his and his voice lowered, "I'll have to be extra cautious, won't I?"

"Or perhaps… don't leave at all," her soft voice suggested.

"Oh, my girl," he grinned. "When you finish this bandage, we are not leaving this room for a long while."

A bright red hue came to her cheeks.

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Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

@cookielovesbook-akie

#fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #game of thrones x reader #cregan stark x you #game of thrones fanfiction #house of the dragon #cregan stark x y/n #game of thrones imagine #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones x y/n #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #game of thrones fic

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gtgbabie0 · 7 months ago

Text

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{Aegon takes pleasure in his cups… and in between your thighs although it’s all the same to him}

!!-18//MDNI-!! I was listening to Amy Whinehouse whilst writing this, enjoy my lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

The hour of the bat was well and truly upon Kings Landing, the crescent moon resting against the abyss of the night sky as it casts down a silvery hue that bleeds throughout the Red Keep. With the absence of the sun, you found peace, resting on the velvety divan with a book in hand.

You were lost within the chapters as Aegon paces the length of your bedchambers before collapsing next to you on the divan, leaning up against cushions with a heavy sigh.

“They all belittle me… they all take me for a fool.” He huffs, pointing over to the door of your chambers, still complaining about today’s council meeting with a deep frown. You had already said your piece yet it seems Aegon was not done venting to you.

He looks up to you, opening his mouth to complain about how you ‘need to pay attention to him and not the book’ however the words fall short, dissolving on the tip of his tongue as he stares at you completely star-stuck.

His lips curl into a lopsided grin, the sight of you and the slightly sheer fabric of your nightslip that veils your body, how the fireplace bathes you in a warm orangey light, you had a beauty that captivated him wholly.

“Fuck them… fuck, all of them.” He declares suddenly, although deep down he doesn’t mean the words, not really, you can tell by the way his amethyst eyes flicker with hesitation, glancing down at his fidgeting hands.

“Aegon—” you start, but your words are quickly cut off by him, his rough palm resting against your cheek.

His gaze meets your own, shuffling closer to you, his lips curling downwards in a nonchalant manner. “No, I don’t need any of them, just you.” His words are hushed, only meant for your ears.

With a sigh your eyes soften in an understanding, for you know his only desire is to be admired or at the very least just simply liked. You close your book, leaning over him to place it on the wooden table.

“And you have me, no matter what the future holds.” You reaffirm his words, watching him closely as he lets out a shaky sigh which he tries his best to conceal.

There was an instability in Aegon’s life, save for you, his only constant in a world of ever-changing conditions. Perhaps that is why he clings to you the way he does, arms wrapped tightly around your soft waist with his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“I am not as malleable as they think… I will win, I will burn down anyone who goes against me.” He whispers against the curve of your jaw, confidence weighing against his tone. His hand slips in between the gap of your nightslip to caress your bare waist down to your hip, the cool metal of his wedding band sends a chill down your spine.

He needed a distraction, the pressure from the heavy crown he never asked for was too much for him to endure alone. He needed to not feel like such a disappointment for even just a small moment.

He kisses the small spot behind your ear, an invitation, to which your head instinctively tilts to the side, enticing him to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck. His lips linger against your pulse point with a small grin, the sound of your pleasured sigh hitting his ears.

“Of course, I do not doubt you, you know that.” You whisper through a shaky voice, steeped in desire. Your body jolts, a soft gasp, at the feeling of his teeth nipping the sensitive skin on your throat before kissing the spot once then twice.

He hums in acknowledgement, pulling back to admire you. His palm still cupping your cheek with a certain hint of possessiveness, it shows in the way he thumbs at your bottom lip. “Hmm, you might be the only one who does, my pretty wife.” He whispers, all of his worries and troubles slowly ebbing away.

The atmosphere around the pair of you suddenly changes, the air becoming so thick that you’re sure it could snuff out the candles around you.

“Yours… all yours Aegon.” The words come out in one breath, tumbling past your parted lips as his fingertips graze along your lower abdomen, slipping through the coarse hair on your mound before dipping past your slick folds.

The rough pads of his finger slides along your slit to collect your wetness before finding your clit, rubbing slow circles against the sensitive bud, testing the waters, as you melt into the divan. Aegon chuckles against your shoulder, enjoying the way your thighs spread and your hips writhe with desperation for more.

He sinks down onto the floor, kneeling between your thighs, ready to pray at the altar of your body. He immediately pushes the silk fabric of your nightdress up past your thighs, letting it pool around your hips.

“I’ve been deprived of you for weeks…” he mutters, leaving marks against your hip-bones, sucking at the sensitive skin, before soothing them with a gentle kiss or two.

You watch his lilac eyes go dark with a carnal craving, the way his hands greedily feel up your thighs, squeezing the supple fat harshly, it all only elicits more gasps and moans from you.

He coos against the inside of your thigh, nudging one leg over his shoulder and propping the other up on the divan to spread out in front of him, the sight of your soaked cunt going straight to his hardening cock. “I’ll be gentle�� so gentle.” He smirks, a lie, lips trailing over your inner thighs with all tongue and teeth as your hips buck upwards in anticipation.

He tuts, fingers digging into your hips to keep you still. All too suddenly he’s tugging you closer to him roughly, making you slouch against the cushions of the divan with a shocked gasp.

Your fingers bury within his white choppy hair, pulling him closer to your aching heat as his tongue trails along your cunt, flicking against your clit with a groan. He smirks into your soaked folds, the sound of your whiny moans, the way his name falls from your parted lips in a hunger only he could satisfy, it all makes his skin burn.

“Keep moaning… let me hear you.” He encourages, words muffled against your slickness, lips pressed to your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive bud trying to elicit more sweet noises from your lips as he hums in delight.

A broken moan escapes you, your hips grinding upwards in tandem with his lips and tongue. “Oh, Aegon… more please.” You cry out, a woman possessed by pleasure.

It is the same possession that causes you to arch your back up from the divan to try and get closer to him. His fingers squeezing into your hips, a warning, his tongue lapping up your desire before teasing your entrance, practically drinking from you as if you were a chalice of Arbor Red.

Aegon flattens his tongue against your cunt, licking up to your clit once more with a muffled moan, sucking on it with delight. “Tastes so sweet…” The vibrations from his words only serve to add to the searing heat that begins to pool deep within your lower abdomen, leaving you a panting mess.

“Aegon, don’t stop… I’m so close.” your hands pull helplessly at his hair, drawing him impossibly closer. He chuckles at your wanton need, how you shamelessly grind yourself against his mouth without a care in the world.

He pushes his fingers inside of you with ease, humming in pleasure at the way your heat sucks in his digits. Aegon fucks you with them you at a tantalising pace whilst licking at your sensitive bud. You look down at him, your mouth agape, watching his head move against you so eagerly as you teeter along the line of release.

“Gods— Aegon!” You cry out his name with a broken moan, your slick walls clamping around his fingers as he continues to curl them deep inside you, still kissing greedily at your clit. He mumbles sweet, loving words of encouragement as he drinks up your orgasm. The wet sounds fill the silence of your bedchambers as you come down from your high with shaky breaths that come out in puffs.

He looks up at you with a cocky smirk, pride blooming through his chest, his lips and chin slick with your release. He pushes himself back onto the divan, leaning over you. “You are truly all I need, all I want.” He whispers feverishly, his fingers wrapping around your jaw to bring your lips to his own.

The taste of you against his lips is all you need to deepen the messy kiss, both of you melting into each other's warmth in a mixture of lust and love. He would take this as long as he could, until you were completely satiated. And even then, he would push for more. He was addicted to you.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊

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luvsupa · 4 months ago

Text

004 | WAS IT REAL?

tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, ANGST, mind games, fluff (kinda), they’re both in love with each other but sukuna is stubborn, still don’t know what else to add

w.c: about 2k (sorry its lowkey short)

a/n: THANK U GUYS FOR SUPPORTING MEEE IM SO THANKFULLLL 🫶🏽🫶🏽 just finished my assignments so I had to post this (sorry it’s late)🙂‍↕️

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

the room is filled with a suffocating silence as you lie propped against the intricately carved headboard, your legs sprawled across the bed. toji is between your thighs, hiding your lower body from sukuna’s intense gaze as he stands in the doorway. your body is on fire, not just from sukuna’s sudden appearance but from the intense orgasm you itching to release but now cruelly interrupted.

sukuna’s patience seems to be wearing thin. each beat of your heart echoes in the quiet room, a reminder that today might be the end for both you and toji. after a long pause, toji decided to pay attention to sukuna as he huffs at the fact he had to cut his time short with you. he couldn’t eat you out without you pleading another man’s name. toji rises from between your thighs, his expression a mix of defiance and amusement as he kneels, leaving you breathless and wide-eyed.

does he really want to have sex in front of sukuna? has he lost his mind?

toji’s chuckle is almost as unsettling as sukuna’s silence. he begins to undress, his black haori slipping off his shoulders to reveal a finely sculpted torso, gleaming under the dim light. the sweat on his muscles makes his physique even more enticing.

“calm y’erself,” toji coos, draping his haori over you as a shield against sukuna’s piercing gaze. “we wouldn’t want our fearsome king to see what’s mine, would we?”

sukuna still remains eerily quiet, his stillness more frightening than any of his previous outbursts. your heart swells at toji’s protective gesture, though the dread of sukuna’s silence weighs heavily on you. you and toji now lie side by side, leaning against the headboard, facing the imposing figure of sukuna.

“if you wanted to join us, ryo, you could’ve just asked,” toji teases, his tone light but laced with mockery. sukuna crosses all four of his arms, his biceps straining against his custom made kimono. his face remains a mask of indifference, amplifying the fear that his silence breeds.

the room falls back into an oppressive quiet, broken only by your rapid, uneven breathing. sukuna’s calm demeanour is far scarier than any display of anger could be. you long for him to shout or act out—absolutely anything but his silence.

then, unexpectedly, sukuna bursts into… laughter? the sound is a dark, guttural roar that shatters the silence, his mirthless humour echoing through the room. you exchange confused glances with toji, both of you bewildered by this bizarre reaction. sukuna’s laughter continues as he clutches the wooden frame of the bed for support, hysterically laughing as your heart beats faster.

his four arms clapping in a mocking applause. his cruel amusement makes you feel small, as if you’re the butt of a cruel joke that’s neither funny nor forgivable.

“ah, you truly are naive; it’s fascinating,” sukuna purrs, his voice dripping with venom as he approaches you. the unsettling praise only deepens your confusion. as you try to seek solace from toji, sukuna’s grip on your chin forces you to meet his gaze. he crouches to your level, his four red glowing eyes boring into yours as he lightly pets your head, playing with your hair in a disturbingly tender way.

“k-kuna, i’m sorry,” you stammer, your voice trembling with fear. the way he addresses you, with an almost soft expression, sends shivers down your spine. “how can a single mortal be so weak and foolish that i find myself feeling sorry for you?” he says, his words cutting deep. tears start to form, blurring your vision.

as you struggle to process his words, you realize the room’s silence grew louder. you glance to the space beside you and find that toji has vanished. panic surges through you, your breath quickening as sukuna’s dark chuckle echoes with your growing horror.

wait.

in that moment it feels as though you’ve plunged into the abyss, your entire being sinking deeper and deeper, your soul being wrenched away by an unseen force.

you open your eyes, gasping for air, and look around. the dinner?

confusion grips you as you see everyone absorbed in their meals, lost in conversation. you glance at your hands, pinching yourself and wincing at the sting, painfully aware that this is no dream.

was i daydreaming about toji?

did sukuna ever speak to me in his room?

your mind spins, unable to distinguish between dream and reality. you look up from where you were standing, behind toji, and meet sukuna’s gaze. his smirk is predatory, and you feel as if you’re being consumed by a dark, suffocating force.

there’s no way.

no.

sukuna’s smile stretches wider as he nods, a knowing, almost sadistic gleam in his eyes. your blood runs cold.

he’s the mastermind. he planted every disturbing thought in your head—the moments with toji, the intimate scenes, the claims of possession—all illusions, all his cruel manipulation.

he wanted to break you, to see how easily he could worm his way into your psyche, how far he could push you before you shattered, and he’s just getting started. his amusement at your torment was his twisted pleasure during dinner, with no one else to entertain him. not even yorozu, seated beside him, could distract him. but watching you, standing behind toji, your gaze almost eye fucking toji was all it took for sukuna to unleash his dark games.

you feel the heat rising in your body, and the clothes you’re wearing suddenly feel stifling. overwhelmed by embarrassment, you storm out of the dining hall, desperately trying to steady your breath as you walk down the hallway.

tears well up in your eyes as you grapple with the realization that you’re nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game, his mind games manipulating you at will.

you truly are naive it’s fascinating,

his words echo in your mind, a haunting that drives you mad. as you turn a corner, you use your hands to dab at your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. suddenly, you freeze when you spot sukuna standing right in the middle of the hallway, his presence making you jump.

“did you enjoy that dirty little fantasy?” he purrs, his tone dripping with amusement as he grips your arm, forcing you to listen to his taunting. “quite nasty of you to have those thoughts during dinner,” he teases, his face twisting into a mock-disgusted expression.

“are you in love with me?” you blurt out shakily, avoiding his gaze as you try to hold back your tears. sukuna looks taken aback by your blunt question, his eyes widening in surprise.

“how dare you ask me such a foolish question. have you bumped your head on the way here?” he retorts, his tone a mix of aggression and confusion. you wince slightly as he tightens his grip on your arm.

“you’re with yorozu, but you’ve got me on your mind. you’re afraid of love, so you’re content to love me from a distance,” you assert, watching as sukuna’s face goes from offended to intrigued. he loosens his grip on your arm, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“I see what this is about,” he says, stepping closer and backing you against the wall, his enormous frame towering over you. the sheer height and intensity of his presence are overwhelming, and as he presses you against the wall as one of his large hand grips your jaw, you can barely breathe.

“you’re jealous that I’m with her and not you, aren’t you? do you wish you were in her place?”

“you’re avoiding my question—you plant these thoughts in my head so I can never be with anyone else but you,” you accuse, noticing the twitch of one of his lower eyes as both your breathings become shallow. sukuna’s face inches closer to yours, his intense eye contact and touch almost making you whimper. his lips are so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your face.

you tentatively reach up, running your fingers through his soft, pink hair. as you do, sukuna’s eyes flutter closed, a deep purr escaping his lips. he leans into your touch, his face drawing ever closer to yours, almost as if he’s going to kiss you. the sensation of his hair beneath your fingers and the closeness of his face send shivers through you, and for a moment, you realize that the king of curses is wrapped around your finger, caught in a vulnerable moment of your doing.

but then, sukuna snaps back to reality. his red eyes narrow with fury as he realizes how close he came to fully surrendering to your touch. his anger flares, and he pins both your hands above your head, slamming them against the wall with such force that you’re acutely aware of how tall and imposing he is.

“I could replace you with a snap of my fingers—you mean nothing to me,” he growls, his words slicing through you like a dagger.

“then do it,” you challenge, meeting his fiery eyes with your own defiant glare. sukuna’s eyes glint with a mix of surprise and admiration at your boldness.

“tsk, what happened to your timid behaviour?” he taunts, his grip on your arms tightening with each word. you remain silent, questioning your own sudden courage. sukuna’s grip begins to loosen as you drop your gaze in defeat, and with a frustrated storming off, he leaves you standing there, feeling both defeated.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

night falls as you and the other servants finish cleaning up the dishes and sweeping the kitchen after the guests have left. having completed your duties, you inform everyone you’re done for the day, and they bid you goodnight. as you walk down the familiar hallway, you glance up to see one of the balcony doors upstairs standing wide open. concerned that one of the servants or maids might have left it open, you quickly take a detour in the direction of the servant quarters and towards the staircase.

when you reach the balcony doors, you peek through and see a tall figure standing outside, enjoying the cool breeze and gazing up at the stars.

“toj’?” you call out, and he turns to look at you, a hint of confusion crossing his face at the nickname you’ve used.

“did you call me toj’ because the thoughts he placed in your head” he asks with a smirk, clearly having overheard your earlier conversation with sukuna. realizing that you and toji had never interacted before, you stammer an apology. he chuckles, reassuring you that it’s okay.

“how much did you hear?” you ask, closing the balcony doors behind you to give you both some privacy as you step further onto the balcony.

“everything.”

oh.

“well—”

“do you love him?” he asks bluntly, his gaze still on the stars as the question hangs between you. his sudden honesty makes you pause, staring at the night sky with him, the moonlight casting a serene glow over the garden below.

“w-when i first met him, i did. he even wanted me for himself,” you admit, watching as toji nods. “but now he tortures me—playing mind games and flaunting that other woman.”

a silence falls between you as you both take in the peaceful night. the stars twinkle brightly, and the moon hangs low, its light reflecting softly off the surrounding trees. you and toji stand there for a while, breathing in the fresh air, letting the moment stretch out, a quiet respite from the chaos of your thoughts.

“i’ve heard enough—how about you serve me and my clan?” toji finally says, breaking the silence. his bluntness catches you off guard, and you turn to him, wide-eyed.

“do you really think he’d let me leave to serve another clan—”

“when my stay is over, come with me. we’ll take you in as part of our family and treat you properly,” he offers, and the idea sounds tempting. you fidget with your fingers, considering his proposal.

“but if you prefer to stay in this hellhole, that’s up to you—”

“i’ll come with you,” you say decisively. toji’s smile widens, his scar stretching as he looks at you approvingly.

“don’t worry y’er pretty head about how you’re getting with me, I already know a plan.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen angst #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna angst #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #jjk angst

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