#(if I got into races when I was younger.... damn it) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunnys-kisses · 1 month ago

Note

Hi 👋 could I please order a

Maple Cream Pie with a Tonic Water, a Naked & Famous and a Hard Lemonade.

Please, for Lando Norris.

bakery menu!

thank you for submitting an order! i love getting them and have been trying my best to get through all of them! as for this one, thank you for the submission. i love what you ordered and i hope that you enjoy the fic! i messed around with the ages a bit since lando is only 24 (fuckin' baby), so i slowly inserted it into the team principal au where it does made the age gap a lil bigger! (i hope you dont mind)

maple cream pie ("either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck.") + tonic water (age gap) + naked & famous (bimbo/ditzy!reader) + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

cw: smut/pwp, team principal au, age gap (20s/40s), possessive behavior, reference to sugar daddy, bimbo!reader, mean!lando, innocent!reader, missionary position, dirty talk

lando didn't like sharing his toys. and now at almost forty he didn't like sharing the little thing he called his girlfriend. at his age, he shouldn't be chasing after women who barely held down a full-time job in their whole life. he should be settled down with a wife and some kids, at least that was what oscar told him. (damn bastard had been married for ten years with three kids now), instead lando chased young tail like he chased trophies.

except instead of a racer he was the team principal of mclaren. maybe it was the chip on his shoulder that year after year throughout his racing career, he barely missed the wdc. now as principal he could make sure that his drivers did better than he did. maybe it was to relive his youth, the way having you on his arm made him feel in his twenties again.

your smile could warm a brick of ice. especially when you tried to cover your mouth when you got shy. you stood out in the paddock, you were dressed so sweetly. while most were in branded with the mclaren logo. you were in a pretty sundress. it was an olive green colour with off white flowers printed on it.

lando saw you playfully slap his driver on the shoulder before you giggled. it made him get up from his desk and take off his headphones. he clenched his fists before he draped an arm around your shoulders. he smiled at his driver as you got pushed against his chest.

"what are you doing, sweetheart? shouldn't you be with the other girls? this is the boy's area." he said, as if there weren't more women in formula one since he raced.

you looked to your lover and giggled, "well, i wanted to see the action! and he was filling me in with what was going on."

he looked at his driver, the younger man wanted to fill you with something that was for sure. didn't help that the dress showed more of your breasts than he usually liked. lando looked to the other man and said, "i think it's time to get in the car soon. big day today."

the driver nodded, wanting to impress his boss. lando felt a swell of pride at his ability to scare off the younger man without much effort. his attention was taken back to you as you held onto the front of his shirt.

"meanie."

"meanie, huh?" lando laughed a little, "i'm not a meanie, sweetheart."

you nodded. you were so dumb it was cute, it was like a kitten that hadn't grown their teeth. you nipped rather than bit. you needed to be protected, sheltered. and the new mclaren driver was getting too close.

lando dropped his hand to your ass and gave it a firm squeeze, "right, right. because a meanie would buy his beloved girl anything she asked for. or make sure she was comfortable on every trip. all paid for, but i'm the real meanie right."

you dropped your shoulders a little, "you're not a meanie, landy."

he smiled and kissed you on the top of the head, "thank you, babe. now why don't you go see the others. race is gonna start soon." then gave your ass a pat before you left.

it would be a few nights later in your shared home. lando would meet you in the bedroom with a box. it wasn't an engagement ring. but something else. when you opened it, his eyes lingered on you.

"what is it?" you asked.

he smiled, "just open it. i promise it won't bite." then sat on the edge of the bed as you carefully opened the box. his eyes lingered on your breasts in the thin tank top you wore to bed.

inside the box was a gold necklace. a thin chain with his name on it, "lando". you picked it up from the box and admired it. you looked up at him and he kept his smile.

"either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck." his tone was dark, but his smile was like the sun, "i have to make sure that no one gets the wrong idea. i don't like sharing, babe. i'm greedy."

you nodded. so soft under his touch. you only wanted to make lando happy, be his special girl. you said to him, "you know i'd never cheat."

lando took your face in his hands and pulled you in for a heated kiss, "i know. it's not you i have the issue with. it's other men. the most dangerous thing on the planet is a man. and i need you safe. protected." before he got on top of you, to savour his girl, he put the necklace on you. he said, "there, that's perfect." he then cupped your breasts before he licked his lips, "it's improved your whole look."

you yelped as he got you onto your back and his hands on the waistband of the panties you were going to sleep in. you could feel his hungry gaze on you.

"such a little dummy." he chuckled as he yanked the panties down, "the prettiest thing i own." something curled in your stomach. a much older man with a lot of power at his disposal, yearning for something to pretty to fuck.

you practically wore a collar with his name on it so in case you got lost, someone would find you and bring you back to him. it was cute. with your soft lips and the roundness to your face. you looked like a painting on a chapel ceiling. an angel that lando got to pluck the wings off almost every evening.

your body responded to him well as he pushed the tank top off of you, revealing your stomach and eventually your breasts. lando realized that he liked women with a little softness to them. models were pretty, but you were beyond pretty. you curves as soft as your personality. a little dumb for him, nothing in that little head of yours. it was cute. that was why lando was so protective (possessive) of you.

once you were naked, you laid out on the bed. the soft bed that you slept in almost every night. lando got on top of you and eyed your naked form. stripped of everything except for the necklace. it was cute. maybe lando would break his promise and bruise up your pretty throat with his bites.

he got undressed and got between your legs with your knees bent. he even grabbed one of the pillows to elevate your hips for him. to get at the right angle.

"you're mine, right?" he said, "no one else's?"

you nodded, "of course, landy. i'm yours!" your voice was a little higher, sweeter for him. and it made something curl in his gut. you were so innocent, sweet in a way.

"that's what i like to hear, baby. you're such a good girl for me. letting me have a taste of you as often as i can. that's why i have to make sure you don't go running off. you're one in a million and i can't take a chance like that. losing something to sweet. it would be criminal."

his voice was tinged with possessiveness. and when he sank into you and started with a quick pace, you yelped and clung onto him tightly. your back arched a little at the feeling of his cock inside of your slick pussy. even though you were soaked between your legs, the intrusion was still a lot for you.

"you are so pretty on my cock. this is where you belong. letting me fuck you until you get your fill. you're a greedy little thing, aren't you? i'm pretty sure i could throw you to the mclaren team and it wouldn't be enough for you. put you in a little bikini and a sign in your ass saying that you're free use. first come, first serve. and let them all have their way with you." his pace quickened as his cock felt like it was going to bruise your insides.

you whimpered and arched your back. your hands found the pillow under your head as he fucked you heavily. he panted heavily, paired with your loud moans. you were always so loud, lando one time had to gag you with your panties when he fucked you in his office. in fairness, maybe he could slow down the pace. but where was the fun in that?

lando continued, he was a man on a mission. determined in a way that made heat rise in his gut. you looked so good on your back, under him. the steady rise and fall of your chest. your sweet moans and heavy pants. how you clung to the pillow with your pretty nails. lando made your lifestyle possible, the best you could do was reward him with your pussy. a thank you for all the hard work he does.

"please, ah!" you whimpered as you arched your back a little more. you felt the heat in your gut. your cunt felt like a dream around his cock. your toes curled from the sensation. "please, please, ah! lando!"

"so pretty." he said as he continued to thrust into you. his pace was aggressive, almost bruising. he watched you squirm a little as your noises got louder and tighter.

"i'm cumming!" you whined as you felt climax crash over you. you tensed up for a moment, which made lando see stars, before you relaxed with a heavy exhale.

"fuck." he panted as he continued to ram into you. the sounds of your fucking filled the room paired with your soft, post-orgasmic moans. he watched you kick out your legs a little. all the fight left your body. he finished inside of you soon after with a loud groan, his cock shoved as deep as it could go.

he knew it was a risky game with unprotected sex. but, just like everything else. lando would take care of it if anything went wrong. he admired your blissed out features. in your own little dumb world as the after shocks of pleasure coursed through you.

"perfect." hes aid softly before he pulled out.

you laid out next to him on the bed as you tried to catch your breath. lando took you gently by the chain you wore, the necklace he bought you. and you laid up next to him. curled up at his side.

lando rubbed the side of your head lovingly as he chuckled a little bit. "this is how i like you, sweetheart. all curled up next to me." he got your leg over his thigh and held it as he kissed at your face.

maybe next time he'll take some photos of his precious girl in nothing, but your little necklace. maybe sharing those around the paddock will keep those men away from you. <3

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cutielando · 13 days ago

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vacations with osc | l.n.

synopsis: in which Lando finally agrees to go on vacation with Oscar and Lily

a/n: based in this request! i'm really sorry if it sucks, but it was really rushed and i did my best

my masterlist

Lando had always had a great bond with each of his teammates ever since he joined Formula 1.

He was always the younger one in the team and he was always taken under Carlos’ or Daniel’s wing.

When Oscar joined the team, Lando was more than happy to play the big brother for the young Aussie, making sure his transition into F1 went as smoothly as possible.

The dynamic between the two of them was refreshing, too. Oscar was very introverted and quiet, which is the complete opposite of what Lando was, talkative and loud and energetic. They balanced each other out perfectly, and you had noticed Oscar slowly coming out of his shell as time went by and he got more comfortable around your boyfriend.

They weren’t best friends, but they had become friends, maybe even close friends at that.

Which is why it didn’t come as a surprise to you when Lando told you that Oscar and Lily would be joining you in Mallorca for 1 week during the summer break.

To say that you were excited to spend some time with Lily was an understatement. You two had become the beloved McLaren wags, always together whenever Lily would have some free time and would join Oscar for races.

She was the sweetest person ever, her personality fitting Oscar’s perfectly, and she was such a kind person to talk to. She made the weekend more fun for you because you constantly had someone to share opinions with that wasn’t part of the official team of mechanics.

When it was time to finally leave for Mallorca, the 4 of you flew there together, which meant utter chaos on the plane from Lando and Oscar.

“Osc, that’s not how you play, mate” Lando was raging out over playing UNO with Oscar, the both of them operating on their own set of rules.

“Don’t tell me how to play UNO, mate. The rules say that I can put down a +2 over your own +2” Oscar argued, staring incredulously at your boyfriend.

You and Lily were both silently watching your boyfriends bicker and fight over the cards, snickering and whispering quietly so they wouldn’t hear you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Oscar so worked up about something before” you whispered to Lily, watching the heated exchange between them out of the corner of your eye.

She giggled, nodding her head.

“He’s really passionate about UNO, so he basically turns into a menace whenever he plays” she explained, making you nod.

A couple more minutes passed and the boys had finally come to an agreement, now silently analyzing their cards.

Lando was not the best player when it came to UNO or any card game in general, but he was damned if he was going to let Oscar beat him at something.

The rest of the flight was spent in the same manner, the boys arguing over game rules and you and Lily just gossiping away from the chaos.

Upon touching down, the four of you got into different cars that had been waiting for you at the airport and drove towards the villa you had rented for the week.

As soon as you stepped foot into the house, both Oscar and Lando immediately ran upstairs, screaming at each other about who was claiming which bedroom. You and Lily looked at each other, shaking your heads at the little children you both called your boyfriends.

After you girls unpacked your suitcases and put on your swimsuits, you dragged Lando and Oscar down at the beach, which was a mere 2 minute walk from the house you had rented, eager to not waste any time to get some sun.

While walking towards the shore looking for a good spot, you fell into step with Lando behind Lily and Oscar, taking his hand into yours.

“It was nice of you to invite them” you murmured quietly to him, making sure your friends were out of earshot.

Lando smiled and nodded, looking at the young Aussie with fond eyes.

“He’s a good kid. I know how tough it is to be the new guy, so I wanted to make sure he felt welcome and he was comfortable with me. We do have to help each other, at the end of the day, for the sake of the team” he explained, making you nod in understanding.

It was true. Even though on track it was everyone out for themselves, Oscar and Lando had massive respect for each other and, at the end of the day, they both had to do their best for the team, make sure that even though they were competing against each other, they didn’t forget to work together when necessary for the benefit of the team.

And you were glad they got along as well as they did.

The way went by as smoothly as any vacation day would.

You and Lily spent the entire day enjoying the sun and tanning while the boys joined you or played in the water for a while.

But they both mainly just watched the two of you, engaged in a passionate conversation about the latest books you’d both read, Lily’s studies and her work, gossiping about what you’d heard in the paddock and catching Lily up with everything she had missed.

It was a sight to behold for the two young men, who were both thinking the same thing: how did we get so lucky with them?

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satorulovebot · 5 days ago

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so scarlet it was, maroon | chapter one

✧₊⁺ pairing — satoru gojou x journalist!reader

✧₊⁺ chapter summary — you get the chance to meet the infamous gojou satoru while working on your journalism project at suzuka circuit. what could you possibly want from him?

✧₊⁺ word count — 6.3k

✧₊⁺ warnings — nsfw (minors dni), age gap, alcohol use, mature themes, mentions of cheating, substance abuse, themes of marriage and divorce

✧₊⁺ notes — hello everyone! i asked you awhile ago on a poll which series you would like to see after cursed seas and f1 gojo won the poll and then i posted the masterlist and everyone wants it so you get it now. so here it is. and NO its not happy NEVER expect happiness from me because im allergic to it. also the reader being nosy af is inspired by me and my parents telling me i should be a journalist with how nosy i am.

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

next chap. (coming soon)

You moved to Tokyo with your family when you were younger.

You grew up in a rural part of the country, surrounded by farmers and people either ready to retire or nearing the end of their lives. Your parents hated living there, and so did you—for one, there were hardly any kids to play with, and two, as your father would say, "too many old fuckers lying around."

When you moved to Tokyo, your family decided to celebrate by taking you to a Formula 1 race. Your dad thought it would be perfect for the two of you since fixing up old cars had always been your daddy-daughter activity.

You didn’t like the idea of racing at first—the noise was too loud, and the idea of people speeding toward a black-and-white checkered line seemed ridiculous. But the moment you heard the roar of the engines and watched the lights go from red to green, you were captivated, a fascination that would stay with you for years.

When you got your first computer, you began looking up videos of F1 drivers. One day, you stumbled across a video titled “The Biggest F1 Scandals in History,” and that was when you decided you wanted to go into journalism.

You were nosy, to say the least. So, it was no surprise to your parents when you announced to them that you wanted to pursue journalism as a career. Your father reminded you how you’d always been curious, listening in on others’ conversations and keeping up with the latest school drama.

When you applied for journalism school, you were accepted into one of the top programs in the world—Sophia University. Your parents were proud that you’d made it into such a highly ranked school for journalism in Japan.

You were now in your fourth and final year at Sophia, and enjoying your journalism class. Recently, your professor assigned a project: write a story about a major pop culture figure of your choice, and for extra credit, get an interview with them. Your professor knew it was damn near impossible, but he was always optimistic that one day, someone would get that interview and he could retire in peace.

That project led you here: Suzuka Circuit, Japan's main Formula 1 track. Your chosen figure was none other than Gojou Satoru—F1's biggest driver in recent years. He was your father's favorite among the new-generation drivers, known for his string of controversies since he started on top of the persistent rumors of his heavy drug use before races.

You had managed to snag a media passs from your professor when you mentioned doing an F1 driver for your project. He was able to pull some strings to get you into the media booth, getting you a closer look at Gojou Satoru in person.

You watched the pre-race preparations closely from the media booth, your fingers hovered above your notepad as you waited for the race to start. You were determined to get a good grade on this project, and that meant adding every single detail to your report about this race.

It was about time for the drivers to gather in their garages, each wearing headsets and ready for the pre-race briefing. The briefing typically covers the race start, various pit stop scenarios, and a detailed weather report. Before each race weekend, they usually spend time in a simulator of the track they'll be racing on, preparing them for the upcoming race.

After about thirty-minutes the racers came out of their garages in their respective cars. They each line up based on the results of a quaifying session that takes place before the race, slowest qualifier in the back, fastest in the front. Gojou Satoru was at the front of the grid, which meant he was one of the qualifiers who had the fastest time.

You waited around for a little while longer turning your attention to what was happening around you. Eventually, you made your way back to the front of the media booth as the race started, ready to report.

The engines revved as each driver began preparing for the start of the race, each car vibrating on the starting grid like a beast straining at its chains. Gojou sat at the front of the lineup, his hands loose on the wheel, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm as he waited for the lights to turn green.

The roar from the grandstands faded, becoming a blur of sound as the lights ticked down: red, red, red, red… green.

He slammed the throttle, feeling the raw force of the car’s engine kick him back into his seat as he tore down the straight. Other cars jostled for position behind him, all fighting to claim the inside line into the first turn.

Through his earpiece, he heard the voice of his race engineer, Shokou, calm as ever. “Clear on turn two, you’ve got five-tenths on Hayashi. Stay tight.”

But Gojou barley heard her. The car was an extension of him, responding to his every thought, every split-second decision. He pushed down the straights, his right foot heavy on the accelerator, taking corners at speeds most drivers wouldn’t dare attempt. The sound of his tires skidding against the asphalt, the blur of the track side barriers, the lights of Tokyo reflecting off his mirrors—it all blended into a single, perfect rush.

Gojou could see the next turn ahead, a tight chicane that could send the best drivers into the barriers if they weren't careful. He braked hard, turning the wheel with perfect precision to angle the car through. He could feel the back end wobbling, but he didn't flinch, drifting perfectly as he swung back onto the racing line, gaining another second on the pack.

He could almost hear the collective gasp of the crowd in his head as he slipped through the chicane. This was his playground. Every race was a chance to remind the world why he was the best.

“Coming up on a DRS zone,” Shoko’s voice crackled in his ear, grounding him, though he was already on it

He waited for the perfect moment, watching the rear-view mirror to see the faint outline of Hayashi's car. He pressed the DRS, and his car shot forward, the drag reduction giving him a temporary speed boost that had him pulling away, putting him in the lead.

The track opened up ahead, the second sector full of wide, sweeping turns. Here was where raw speed mattered more than anything. Gojou pressed down hard on the accelerator, the engine roaring in response. He leaned forward, watching the track fly by, the white lines blurring as he focused entirely on the road ahead.

For a second, the sound in his earpiece went dead, the faint sound of static filling his ears. Then Shokou was back. “You’ve got Yoshida closing in on your tail. He’s pushing hard.”

Gojou glanced up at the mirrors, his eyes catching the bright blue and orange of Yoshida's car looming larger. The familiar thrill sparked in him. So, Yoshida thought he had a chance, did he? Well, he’d show him otherwise.

“Copy,” he muttered into his mic, eyes narrowing as he took the next corner, barley touching the brakes. He felt the tires skid but he managed to control the drift, knowing any slip would open the door for Yoshida to slip past.

He whipped into another straight, his hands steady on the wheel as he hit a top speed.

His foot didn’t so much as twitch as the engine’s roar morphed into a high-pitched scream as the car closed the distance.

The curve ahead was brutal—a tight 90-degree bend that demanded precise timing.

In a split-second decision, he did something no one expected. He braked late, his heart pounding as he cut the turn at a speed that sent the back end skidding. The tires gripped just in time, allowing him to pull out of the corner without losing traction. He could almost feel the shock reverberating as he regained control, his lead still intact.

As the laps wore on, his body moved on instinct, every gear shift, every turn becoming a single, fluid motion. One lap. Two. Three, with two pit stops between. He counted them off one by one, his mind buzzing with the pure rush of speed and the heat inside the car, barely noticing the time passing. The crowd faded into nothing, the world shrinking down to the track and his car.

The final lap. This was it.

“Box this lap if you’re in trouble,” Shokou’s voice crackled again. “Tire degradation is high.”

But Gojou’s grip on the steering wheel only tightened. His front tires were holding out—barely. It would be tight, but he could make it. He’d run this last lap on sheer determination alone if he had to.

“Negative, Shokou. I’m taking it,” he replied, and then turned off the earpiece, tuning out everything except the track and the car in front of him.

He launched into the final lap, throwing caution to the wind. Yoshida was right on his tail now, close enough that he could see the gleam of his headlights in the mirrors. But Gojou didn’t back down. He took each turn aggressively, blocking Yoshida's attempts to pass, forcing him to fall back every time.

The last chicane loomed ahead, his final obstacle before the finish line. He tightened his grip, the wheel trembling under his hands. He took the chicane fast, too fast, almost feeling the wheels lift off the ground as he flew out of the turn. The car rocked, but he held steady, pushing the pedal to the floor.

The finish line was in sight, a faint white line at the end of the straight, and with one last push, he crossed it, the checkered flag waving in his periphery as he tore past.

It was only after he’d crossed over the line that the realization hit him—he’d won.

The cheers erupted in the stands, the roar of the crowd filling his ears as he slowed down, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He could hear Shoko’s voice crackling back in as she shouted, “You pulled it off, you insane bastard.”

Gojou grinned, leaning back in his seat, still buzzing. He’d done it again, just as he always did.

The moment he climbed out of the cockpit, Gojou was surrounded by his team. Shokou was the first to reach him, her usually composed face split by a wide grin. She grabbed his helmet and thumped him on the shoulder hard enough so he actually felt it though the layers of his suit.

“You reckless son of a—”

“Language, Shokou,” Gojou interrupted, grinning as he yanked off his gloves, waving to the rest of the Tokyo Jujutsu Racing team that swarmed him.

“Do you know what it’s like to watch you pull stunts like that? I’m gonna need a raise after today’s heart attack,” she muttered.

“Oh, come on, Shokou. That was just a little fun.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Where’s my confetti?”

“Coming right up, your royal highness." Someone handed him a bottle of champagne, still cold and slick, and he twisted the cap, spraying a wild arc of foam that showered his team and nearby fans.

His PR manager, Nanami, clapped him on the back. “You’re insufferable."

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, lifting the champagne bottle in a mock toast, flashing him a grin. The media’s cameras clicked and flashed, capturing every moment as his crew continued their congratulations.

The crowd pressed close against the barriers, shouting his name, waving homemade banners with scribbled slogans and his number embellished with the colors red and black. He walked closer, one arm raised, acknowledging the fans, letting their cheers fill him up, louder and louder with every step.

But as he continued walking, his gaze caught on something—or rather, someone—just beyond the crowd.

At first it was just a hint curiosity, the way your gaze was fixed on him. A bit removed from the chaos, you leaned against one of the barriers with a media pass hanging around your neck, arms folded as you watched from a distance.

Gojou slightly narrowed his eyes, holding your gaze longer than he'd held any fan's tonight, as if he was daring you to look away first.

“What the hell is that about?” he muttered under his breath, gaze moving back to Shokou for half a second.

“Hm?” Shokou followed his gaze, but her eyes slid right past you, uninterested. “Press. You’ll get used to it. Come on, they’re all waiting.”

He forced himself to break the stare, clearing his throat as Shokou ushered him toward the media pen, where a lineup of journalists waited, all armed with recorders, microphones, and notebooks.

He fielded the usual questions—how did it feel to win, what was his mindset, what was he thinking on that last turn? His answers were always the same practiced ones, words sliding out like clockwork.

“Well, Mr. Gojou, what would you say to those who believe your racing style is a little… aggressive?” one journalist asked, a little smirk on her face as if she thought she was catching him off guard.

He snorted. “They can call it what they want. I call it winning.” He shrugged. “I don’t come out here to play it safe.”

A few reporters laughed at his remark, clearly interested in what else he had to say as a fresh wave of questions started.

Somewhere behind the flashing lights, he saw you again, lingering a few feet behind the crowd of reporters with that calm gaze fixed on him. You didn’t raise a recorder or a camera, didn’t even make an effort to push closer for a question. You just… watched.

It was disconcerting.

“Gojou!” Another journalist waved a microphone his face, snapping his attention back to the current situation. “What’s the next step for you this season?”

He forced a smile, eyes briefly looking back to you before he focused on the question. “The same as always,” he said. “Push harder, get faster, and give everyone something to talk about.”

The crowd laughed again, though, he barely heard them, too focused on the strange woman staring right into his soul. The two of you locked eyes and you have him a small nod, as if acknowledging that you were in fact staring into his soul.

“Well, I think that’s enough,” Shokou said suddenly at his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts. “They’ll have plenty of time to hound you later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, though he let her guide him away. Still, he couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you.

But you were already gone.

Gojou slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the bustling garage and dodging the congratulatory slaps on his back, the endless rounds of handshakes, and the celebratory shouts. He ducked past a few journalists, ignoring the barrage of questions still hurled his way, his smile slipping as he finally found the door to the bathroom.

Inside, the cool, sterile silence was jarring compared to the noise outside, but he let out a sigh of relief, his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked the lock and leaned against the sink, running his hands over his face, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

The victory high had worn off, leaving behind a familiar pressure he could not cope with. It settled on his shoulders like an old, unwelcome friend.

He hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders, how deeply it would itself into him when he was alone. The race had been perfect, his win flawless, but he could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him, a pulsing throb being his eyes. He clenched his jaw, glaring at himself in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

But his words fell flat, swallowed up by the silence. In the mirror, his own eyes stared back at him, tired, almost hollow.

He reached into the pocket of his racing suit, fingers brushing over the small, familiar packet hidden in the inner lining. It was a stupid habit, a reckless one really, but it was one he hadn't been able to shake, no matter how many times he tried to quit. He could practically feel the temporary relief in the palm of his hand.

He closed his eyes, running his thumb along the edge of the packet before pulling it out, setting it on the counter next to the sink. He ripped it open tapping a small line onto the smooth counter top. It was like his fingers had a mind of their own, as if it was part of his routine of suiting up or gripping the wheel.

The powder glinted under the bathroom’s harsh fluorescent lights, almost mocking him with its simplicity. Just a quick escape, just enough to take the edge off. That’s all he needed.

He leaned down, closing one nostril and inhaling sharply, feeling the sting as the powder hit his nose. He straightened his back, blinking hard, the world around him sharpening as his mind cleared. A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips.

He leaned back against the sink, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slow, the tension in his muscles fading away.

But it didn’t take long for the guilt to creep back in, that hollow feeling settling in his chest, a reminder that this wasn't the answer. He knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to himself, how he was destroying his body from the inside out, how it could all come crashing down. And yet… here he was.

“Fucking pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his voice echoing against the tiles.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, jolting him back to reality.

“Gojou? You in there?” It was Shokou. “They’re waiting for you out here.”

He stuffed the empty packet back into his pocket, brushed the last of the substance off of the sink, and glanced in the mirror one last time to check his reflection, making sure there was no trace left of his momentary escape.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, forced a smirk, and unlocked the door.

Shokou was standing there, arms crossed, her gaze scrutinizing as he stepped out. She didn’t say anything, but her judgmental eye lingered over him for a split second too long.

“You good?”

“Never better."

“Right,” she said, clearly unconvinced, but she dropped it, gesturing for him to follow her.

As the celebrations continued, Gojou weaved his way through fans and team-members alike who were still wrapped up in their post-race celebrations. He scanned the crowd, hoping to find the strange woman from earlier who he noticed had a press pass, thinking you would be here.

And then he saw you, leaning against a stack of crates near the garages, observing the current scene with the same judgmental eyes that Shokou had. The media badge hung from your neck, swaying slightly as you shifted your weight, pulling out a notebook and flipping through it, seemingly absorbed in what you were currently doing.

He cleared his throat as he approached, the echo of his footsteps giving his presence away.

You looked up, your brow raised as he came closer, a hint of intrigue flashing in your eyes.

“Looking for something?” you asked, not moving as he stopped in front of you.

“You could say that,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze darted to the notebook in your hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, off in the shadows. Didn’t feel like joining the crowd?”

“Not my style.” You shrugged. “I’m not here to cheer. I’m here to report.”

“Journalist, huh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “What’s your angle?”

“The truth,” you said, a little smile pulling at your lips as you studied him. “Not everyone’s a fan of that, I know.”

“Depends on what you call the truth. But I’ve got a feeling you’ve already got your version.”

"How perceptive. I’m doing a piece on your racing career, your achievements, but… the public wants a fuller picture, don’t you think?

“Not sure I follow. Everyone knows what they need to know.”

“Not quite,” you replied, flipping through your notebook. “There’s more than just racing stats when it comes to Gojou Satoru, isn’t there?”

“Care to elaborate?”

“People say you’re… unraveling. Your recent ‘questionable decisions’ are starting to paint a different picture, don’t you think?” you said, tapping your pen against your notebook. “The accidents, the fines, the constant change in pit crews—”

“Is this some kind of witch hunt?” he interrupted. “Because I’d hate to disappoint you, princess, but I’ve heard it all.”

“Maybe so.” You leaned in a bit, meeting his stare. “But what about the whispers that aren’t out yet? The suspicions about you cheating the drug tests, your team shielding you—” You paused. “There’s a lot of money on your success, Mr. Gojou.”

“Money and racing have always gone hand-in-hand, don’t you think? You’d have a hard time finding someone out here who hasn’t bent a rule or two.”

“True enough.” You titled your head slightly. “But even the most golden careers have a way of losing their shine.”

"Tell me—do you enjoy tearing people down for a living?”

“Only if it’s warranted,” you replied unfazed. “People aren’t interested in perfect stories. They want the flaws, the dirt. It makes it all more real. At least that's what my professor believes."

“You’ve got a wicked mind, I’ll give you that. But I hope you realize you’re not the first to come sniffing around for the ‘real story’.”

A pregnant pause settles between you before you asked, “And what about her?”

A beat passed before he answered. “Who?”

“Your wife. She’s been… noticeably absent from the press circuits. And rumor has it things aren’t exactly picture-perfect between you two.”

“Rumor has it,” he repeated. “Guess you know how it is in this business. There’s always some rumor or another.”

“So it’s just a rumor, then? All the time apart, the missed events, her name suddenly missing from every headline. You’re saying there’s nothing to it?”

“People are eager to make stories out of nothing. My private life is just that—private.”

“That’s interesting,” you murmured, not looking away. “Because the most recent stories about you and her—they’re awfully detailed. People are noticing, wondering why she’s suddenly… disappeared from the scene.”

“Let them wonder. Like I said, people will talk. And it seems like you’re more interested in gossip than journalism.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Journalism is about uncovering the truth,” you countered. “But it seems like you’re more comfortable brushing things under the rug than addressing them.”

His smile returned, his carefully crafted facade sliding back into place as he straightened up, glancing away from you, clearly bored of the conversation. "Maybe someday you'll get the truth you're so desperate for, but it's not going to be today."

Before he walked away completely, he gave you one last look, his tone playful but laced with a hint of warning. “Be careful what you dig up, princess. Sometimes the truth’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

And with that, he turned his back to you, disappearing into the crowd.

Gojou returned home after the long night of celebrations had died down, the adrenaline from the race long gone, now replaced by a gnawing emptiness that felt like it might hollow him out. His penthouse was in the hear of Tokyo—a sleek, modern apartment with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the neon-drenched skyline.

As he opened the door, the soft him of the city below was drowned out by the sound of footsteps, His wife, Hana, appeared from the hallway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes narrowed. She was dressed in a sleek black outfit, her dark hair pulled back, a looking a frustration etched onto her face.

“You’re late."

“Didn’t realize I was on a curfew,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

“Don’t act like that.” Her eyes flashed as she followed him into the living room. “You missed the dinner with my parents again. They’ve been asking about you, wondering why you’re never around.”

“Hana, I just won a race,” he replied, exasperated. “Sorry if I wasn’t in the mood to play the doting son-in-law tonight.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Of course, it’s always about the race with you. Everything is about that damn career, isn’t it?”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“Maybe I didn’t know it would mean you disappearing for days, weeks sometimes, chasing whatever thrill you think you need to feel alive.”

“What’s your point, Hana? We’ve had this argument a hundred times.”

“The point is, Satoru,” she said, voice trembling with anger, “that you seem to care more about everything else than this marriage. I’m just a fixture in your life, something you come back to whenever you need to check a box or show face. But you’re never really here.”

He let out a harsh laugh, the bitter sound filling the apartment. "Here we go again. Hana, it’s not like you’ve been some shining example of commitment either. You’ve known what this is for months.”

“What this is?” Her voice rose, cracking slightly as she repeated his words. “What exactly is ‘this,’ Satoru? A sham? A partnership for appearances? I thought you loved me…"

“I can’t keep doing this,” she continued softly, her voice breaking. “The lying, the pretending. It’s exhausting.”

“So what do you want me to say, Hana? That I’m some perfect husband?” He gestured to himself, shaking his head with a smirk that looked almost pained. “We’re both guilty here. Let’s not act like this hasn’t been a slow-motion train wreck.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“What do you want from me, Hana?” he asked quietly, the fight suddenly draining out of him. “You want me to pretend I’m someone I’m not?”

“I want… I wanted the man I married. The one who cared, who had dreams."

“Then maybe,” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, “it’s time to stop pretending.”

As Gojou stood there running a hand through his hair. Hana paused, her expression shifting from something resigned to something wounded.

“And there’s one more thing."

He looked at her, brow furrowing. “Fucking Christ Hana, what now?”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Satoru?” she asked, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I know what’s out there. The rumors. The whispers about who you’re with when you’re not here. Or maybe you think I don’t hear them.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hana, they’re just rumors. You know how the press is—they’ll twist anything for a story.”

“Twist what, exactly? Why do they have something to twist in the first place?”

“They don’t have anything. It’s just the media looking for something to make people read. Speculation sells.”

“Right. Speculation. But funny how it��s always about you, always linked to another woman.”

“That’s because I’m under a microscope. People love to create scandals, especially with someone like me. And you know that better than anyone.”

“It’s not just them, Satoru. People talk, and it’s not just baseless gossip. I’m not naive. I hear things from people close to you, people who actually know you.”

“You really believe them? You think I’m out there, risking everything for some—” He stopped himself, biting his tongue.

“Do I? I don’t even know my own husband anymore. Maybe I should ask them. Or maybe I should ask you directly, Satoru. Are you seeing someone?”

“Why are we even doing this?”

“Because I want the truth. Just once. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

“Believe what you want, Hana. I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Then maybe that’s all I need to know.”

Gojou stormed out of his apartment, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to shake off his frustration. He'd had enough for one night. His heart was pounding and the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to get out, to drown the anger with something that could at least help him forget.

The bar he found was tucked away down a dim side street in Shibuya. It wasn't anything fancy–a dark cry from the glitzy nightlife he was used to–but it was dark and quiet which was exactly what he needed. He slid onto a bar stool and motioned for a drink, not bothering to pay attention to what the bartender poured.

He sipped his drink in silence, trying to tune out the night and all the noise in his head. The alcohol burned down his throat, but it was a welcome distraction that numbed his anger and frustration. He was almost on his third drink when he noticed someone sitting in the corner of the room, hunched over a notebook, tapping her pen against her cheek in thought.

She's cute, he thought to himself. He squinted trying to get a better look at the young woman, and he immediately recognized, it was you.

Of all the places he'd expect to see you, this shitty bar wasn't one of them. You looked so absorbed in your work, like you were piecing together something for a story. Satoru's curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up carrying his drink as he made his way over to where you were sitting.

"Well, well," he said, leaning against the back of the chair across from you. “Didn’t peg you for a bar rat, but maybe I was wrong.”

Your head snapped up, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Gojou Satoru. What a surprise.”

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already taking the seat.

“Didn’t think someone like you would end up in a place like this. Celebrating?”

He gave a dry laugh, swirling the glass in his hand. “Something like that.”

“So, what are you doing here, really? Figured you’d be at a fancy cafe, writing about some important news story.”

“Maybe I am. Research is research, even if it’s in a bar. Maybe it’s you I’m writing about.”

“So I’m your new project, huh?”

“Maybe. It’s part of this little journalism course I’m doing. We’re supposed to pick a public figure and write a profile. Someone who’s got a… colorful public image.”

“Colorful, huh?” He smirked. “Guess I’m your lucky target. Hope I make an interesting subject."

“Interesting is one word for it,” you replied, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What’s got you so quiet tonight? I thought you’d be surrounded by fans somewhere.”

He shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. “Not in the mood for fans tonight.”

“Tough race?”

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “Not the race. Just… life, I guess.”

“So,” he said, leaning in. “tell me about this little journalism course. You planning to make a career out of stalking poor drivers like me?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We’re learning how to ‘uncover the truth’—or at least, that’s what they say. So far, it’s been a lot of digging through archives and learning to ask the right questions.”

“Right questions, huh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Let’s hear one. What would you ask me, if I were your ‘colorful public figure’?”

“Alright, Gojou. How does someone at the top of their game manage to keep it all together? All the races, the publicity, the pressure… don’t you ever feel like it’s too much?”

“Honestly?” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s not as easy as it looks, being the guy everyone thinks has it all together. But people don’t care about that part. They just want the show.”

“So you put on the show.”

“Guess that’s what it comes down to.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “People don’t want to see a guy crack under pressure. They want the image.”

“But what do you want?”

No one ever asked him that, as if what he wanted didn’t matter.

“What do I want?” he repeated, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to dodge the question. “Maybe another drink.”

I’m serious. Behind all of that… what’s left?”

“Honestly? Sometimes I don’t even know anymore. It’s like I’ve been going so fast for so long, I can’t remember what it was I was chasing in the first place.”

“Maybe that’s what you need to figure out, then.”

He looked at you, and the faintest trace of a genuine smile broke through. “Maybe.”

The two of you sat in silence, and he found himself grateful for it. You didn't press or pry at him and he thought that he could just be himself, even if it was just for a little while.

“Alright,” he said finally, nudging your notebook with his finger. “So, future journalist, you really gonna write all this down? Make me sound like some tortured artist?”

You smirked. “I’ll try to be kind. Maybe I’ll even leave out the part where you go to bars alone and pretend to be mysterious.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, holding up his drink in mock surrender. “Noted. But I expect a copy when it’s published. Autographed, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you replied, laughing as you clinked your glass against his. “But don’t expect it to be flattering.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the conversation continued, Gojou found himself leaning in closer. You both let the drinks keep coming, though it was less about how much alcohol you were consuming and more about the way the words spilled more easily between you two.

“So,” you asked, taking another sip of your drink, “what’s it actually like out there? Everyone sees the fame, the money, the cars, but… what’s it really like?”

He exhaled, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass. “Honestly? It’s… intense. There’s this high to it, this adrenaline. Nothing like it. You’re pushing yourself and everyone around you to the edge," he tilted his head. “But sometimes, it feels like the line between winning and crashing out isn’t as thick as people think. You cross it once, and that’s it—you’re done.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“A little. But I’m more afraid of what happens if I stop. It’s like… I don’t know what I’d be without it. Guess that sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t. I get it. When something’s all you know… giving it up is like giving up a part of yourself. Scary as hell.”

“Exactly. Guess we all have our addictions, huh?”

Shit. Did he say too much?

You didn’t push, just gave him a quiet nod. “So, what’s Tokyo Jujutsu like? It's one of the toughest team on the grid, right?”

“You know it. They’re tough as hell, no room for error. And they sure as hell won’t give you a second chance if you mess up.”

“Sounds brutal."

“Yeah, maybe. I guess I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like proving people wrong.”

“Enough about me," he continued. What about you? What’s the deal with this journalism project? Are you trying to make a name for yourself by exposing all my secrets?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, my goal in life isn’t to ruin yours. I actually think it’s fascinating, learning what drives people, what keeps them going, even when things get messy.”

“Messy? What makes you think my life is messy?”

“Oh, please. Gojou Satoru’s life is one headline after another. You’re practically the poster boy for drama.”

He feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me. I’m just a guy trying to make a living, you know?”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just a guy who happens to have a dozen scandals and an equal number of speeding tickets.”

“Hey,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a professional, okay? That’s all part of the job.”

The two of you continued to chat into the night. Gojou found himself relaxing, caught up in the rare comfort of talking with someone who didn’t expect him to play a part. He could just… be.

At some point, the bartender announced last call, and Gojou glanced at you, smirking. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You stretched, gathering your notebook and tucking it under your arm. “Thanks for the, uh, ‘research material.’ It was… enlightening.”

He laughed, standing and grabbing his coat. “Anytime. But don’t go making me look like a complete asshole in your little project, alright?”

“No promises."

Outside, the air was crisp as he faint hum of city traffic the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slid his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

Outside, the air was crisp as the faint him of the city being the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slide his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again."

“Only if you’re brave enough to handle more questions.”

“Oh, I’m plenty brave. But we’ll see if you’re as good at digging as you think.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you turned to leave, throwing him a casual wave. “Goodnight, Mr. Gojou.”

“Goodnight,” he echoed, watching as you disappeared down the empty street.

In that moment he realized, he never did catch your name.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen au #gojo fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

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ariascoven · 29 days ago

Text

⟡ HOME EARLY

PAIRING : mentor!agatha harkness x apprentice!reader

WARNINGS : legal age gap. female reader. petnames (sweetheart, hon, bunny, dear & little one). reader calls agatha mistress. smut. fingering & oral (reader receiving). little bit of praising. mention of strap-on.

WORD COUNT : 2.6k

MY MASTERLIST

You were a young witch, way younger than your mentor, Agatha Harkness, who was 350 years old. You had recently joined her coven, staying in your lane as much as possible during meetings — rare were the times you would speak to any other witch in the room other than Agatha herself. Perhaps you were more than her apprentice; living under her roof, cooking for her and keeping everything in order. The truth is, you owed her your life. She saved you when you needed most, when you were hopeless. The least you could do was serve her, right? Throughout the days, the sound of your voice calling out the word ‘Mistress’ was heard multiple times, making sure Agatha had everything she needed, that she was satisfied. When your elder was away, the day would be terribly boring. You would pace around the house, dusting the same places over and over again, sometimes picking out a story from her collection to pass the time and soon getting bored of it, putting the book back where it belonged.

The day she announced she would be away for a week, your world crumbled. You tried to bargain, make her take you with her, claiming your help would be needed. But she denied, ending the conversation with clearly no intention of changing her mind. Seven days, and they couldn't pass any longer. Each day seemed like it lasted 24 hours longer than the last. The levels of boredom got so high that you decided to get out of your comfort zone, talking to the neighbors and going to the local stores, socializing; but nothing seemed to fill the empty space inside you. You wondered why you missed her so much — trying to convince yourself it wasn't because you were smitten by the older witch, deeply in love with her.

Five days after your Mistress had left, you woke up in the middle of the night with the urge to go to the bathroom. It's normal for you to sleep in your underwear, putting on your black robe whenever you have to leave the bedroom at night when Agatha was around, but since she wasn't home, you sleepily made your way to the bathroom in nothing but your red lingerie that barely covered any skin. After washing your hands, you exited the bathroom rubbing your tired eyes with the back of your hand, yelping and jumping in surprise when you saw someone standing in front of you, holding onto the door frame for dear life. Then you heard that sound, a sound so familiar to you and that makes your core throb.

Then you heard that sound, a sound so familiar to you and that makes your core throb — the sound of Agatha’s low chuckle as she stood in the middle of the hallway with her arms crossed over her chest. You sighed in relief, putting your hand over your racing heart in an attempt to calm yourself down. You watched as the witch turned on the light, her infamous side smirk dancing across her lips. “Did I scare you, hon?” You couldn't help but smile at the sound of her voice, confused as to why she was back already, but definitely glad. With a sleepy yawn, you nodded your head. “You said you were going away for a week, Mistress. It's only been four days, did something happen?” You questioned, leaning against the doorframe. You felt your body shiver as the cold night air hit you, helping you finally remember what you had forgotten to do before going to bed — you forgot to close the damn window. Your cheeks flushed when you notice your mentor’s gaze on your body before meeting your eyes again, suddenly aware that you were half naked. “I thought the… situation I needed to handle would take more time, but I got it. Don't ask questions.”

The curiosity was eating you alive, but you knew better than to argue with your superior. You nodded, shifting uncomfortably and trying to shield yourself with your hands. Agatha’s smirk turned into a full grin as she uncrossed her own arms. Your breath hitched at her outfit; the sleeves of her shirt are rolled up to her elbows and the top two buttons are open, the fabric hugging her body perfectly. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mistress? You must be tired from… whatever you were doing.” You asked casually, licking your dry lips as you sauntered closer to Agatha, still too tired to notice the hunger reflecting from her eyes. She paused, biting her bottom lip as she glanced at your half naked figure once again. When her gaze met yours once more, a shiver ran down your spine and your heart started racing. She stepped closer, slowly, that devilish grin dancing on her lips. You stood there, unsure of what to do. She reached out to touch your cheek, your faces inches away. “That little outfit of yours suits you, my dear.” She said mischievously, her voice honeyed, blue eyes boring into yours.

You felt your heart skip a beat at her words, stuttering pathetically before finally succeeding at letting your words out. “This is how I sleep, Mistress.” Agatha raised her eyebrows at your statement as if she couldn't believe what you just said, her hand formerly on your cheek now resting on your neck. “You sleep like… that?” She nodded her head at your body and you blushed, humming in agreement. “That’s… interesting.” She removed her hand from your skin and turned on her heels, walking towards the kitchen and peeking at you over her shoulder. “Perhaps I should pay you a nighttime visit.” You stared at her in shock until she was out of sight.

You heard the fridge opening and an approving hum followed by shuffling noises. You quickly made your way to your room and grabbed your robe, putting it on to cover yourself not only from the cold air, but from Agatha's gaze as well. You made your way to the kitchen, standing at the door and watching the brunette woman as she ate an apple. “Careful, that might be poisoned.” You joked, missing the playful banters. She chuckled, looking up at you. “Guess we'll have to wait and see.” You giggled, strolling towards the kitchen counter where Agatha is and leaning over it. “Mistress, could you please pass me the—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Agatha was already sliding the poptarts in your direction, eyes never leaving the newspaper resting on the counter. Your cheeks flushed slightly at how well your mentor knew you, shoving a poptart inside your mouth and eating quietly. “So… anything exciting happened while I was away, sweetheart?” You shook your head. “Did you do anything besides clean all day?” You shook your head again, causing the older woman to sigh dramatically. You looked down in embarrassment, fidgeting with your own fingers. “It's like you dedicate your entire life to me.” Her voice took on a husky tone as she spoke, her expression unreadable as she stared at you. You met her gaze, blushing at the realization she was correct. Your entire life was her. “Well, Mistress, it's the least I can do, you—”

“Saved your life, gave you a home, I know all that.” She waved a dismissive hand. “But there's something more, isn't there, bunny?” She purred, walking around the counter and stopping in front of you. “Something much deeper than gratitude. Isn't that right, hon?” She grinned wickedly, her finger slowly sliding down your cheek to your neck and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You were unable to speak, dizzy and weak. “Mistress…” you stuttered nervously as her fingers slowly wrapped around your neck; they didn't squeeze, just laying there comfortably, as if they simply belonged there. “Go on, little one, just admit it. Admit that you want me.” The silence between the two of you was loud. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish as you tried your best to say anything, make any noise, but nothing came out. Your knees went weak when she put a bit of pressure around your neck, making you grip the edge of the counter as your mind spun. Her grin widened as she relished the effect she had on you. “You can do it, dear. C'mon, just say it.” You hesitated, but the look in her eyes was too much for you — the need, the hunger, the pure lust. You took a deep breath before speaking up. “I want you more than anything, Mistress.”

“Hmmm… such a good girl. Always so obedient and eager to please me…” Agatha purred, wetting her lips as she stared at yours. She pushed you against the counter suddenly, pining you in place with her own body and making you gasp at the unexpected movement. Her hand was still around your neck as her free one slid down your body, exploring your curves with a hum of approval. “Pretty thing. I'm glad I got here earlier than expected. Aren't you?” You felt her breath against your lips, making your body tremble like a leaf. You let out a high pitched yelp when her hand cupped your pussy out of nowhere, feeling your dampness. “Soaked, already?” She taunted with a mocking pout, her fingers teasing your folds through the thin fabric of your panties and eliciting a needy whimper from you. “What is it that you want, bunny? Tell Mistress, hm?” Her voice was a sultry sound against your ear as her tongue flicked out to nibble on your earlobe. The touch made your knees buckle and she chuckled, hands gripping your hips to steady you as she pulled back to look into your eyes. “Say it.”

“Y-You, Mistress! I want you!” You managed to stutter out. The sight of your wide puppy eyes just pleading for her to take you was too much for the older witch. Agatha kissed you with a hunger that made you dizzy, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise and hands reaching up to grip her collar. You moaned into her mouth, pouring all the pent-up lust into the kiss you’ve been dreaming of for months now. Her hand found its way between your legs once more, palm rubbing your clothed clit lazily. You whined and bit down on her lower lip. She pulled back, eyes darkened. “Oh, you don't know what you're getting into, do you?” You could only look at her, hips bucking against her hand desperately. Agatha tsked, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Poor thing, can't even speak properly and I barely even touched you.” She was torturing you, her hand previously on your cunt moved to squeeze and caress your thigh.

“Mistress, please…” you mewled, head tilting to the side pathetically, looking at her through half lidded eyes. Her hand inched closer to where you needed her the most and she raised an eyebrow, urging you on. “Please touch me there, I'm dripping…” She hummed in approval, cupping your pussy once more. You rolled your hips, a sinful moan falling from your lips as you threw your head back. Agatha took the opportunity to kiss your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as her hand kept rubbing you. The feeling of your drenched panties glued to your skin made you feel both gross and aroused, and you could feel the wetness dripping down your thighs. Apparently, the older woman could too, grinning against your neck before licking a thick stripe up to your earlobe and nibbling on it. Another needy whimper came out of you at her actions, and another one when she pulled back to stare at you with that wicked gleam in her eyes.

Finally, she slid your panties down your legs, shaking her head. “Would you look at that?” She held the ruined underwear up for you to see, making you blush at how soaked the fabric was. “These are no use anymore, sweetheart.” She threw it somewhere on the ground carelessly, then gripped your hips as she lookes up at you from between your legs, kneeling on the floor. “I’ll make sure to repair the damage by getting you new ones, hm?” She said in a condescending tome, and you couldn't tell if she's being serious or not. But it didn't matter, not when she slowly licked her way up your slit. You whined, legs trembling as you held onto the counter behind you, knuckles turning white. She looked mesmerizing, you think, that smirk of hers playing on her lips even as she kissed your folds, her touch so tender you could barely feel it. You bucked your hips in a silent request, expecting her to reprimand you, but instead, she attached her lips to your swollen clit, sucking on it.

You arched your back instinctively, eyes snapping shut once more in pure delight. You couldn't control the moans slipping from your lips at every flick of your mentor’s wet and warm tongue against your throbbing clit, her strong hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. You could feel her eyes on you, her gaze never faltering; it made your pussy clench around nothing and your heart race, feeling vulnerable under her inspecting gaze. Your breathing grew quicker when you felt her tongue circling your entrance before plunging inside you, eliciting a guttural sound from you that you didn't even know you could make. Your hips bucked against her face, meeting the movements of her tongue inside you. Without thinking, you grabbed her hair to steady yourself, causing the woman to groan against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. You finally found the courage to open your eyes, finding Agatha staring up at you with blown wide pupils. You tugged at her dark curls once more, yelping when she bit down onto your clit in response. You whimpered when she removed her tongue, but she quickly replaced it with two of her slender fingers. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, body tensing. “Shhh, little one, you gotta let me in.” She cooed gently, urging you to relax.

Your body slowly but surely eased into the touch and you resumed your chant of moans, her long fingers sliding in and out of your dripping cunt in a steady rhythm. “Fuck…” you breathed out, eyes rolling back as she curled her digits to hit that sweet spot inside you that made you see stars. She let out a low moan of her own as she felt you clenching around her. “Shit, sweetheart… if having you around my fingers feels this good, imagine when it's my strap.” Your eyes widened at both her words and the third digit that slipped inside your entrance without warning. “Yes, hon, soon you'll have my strap buried deep inside that pretty little cunt of yours.” Her voice was honeyed as she spoke, her piercing gaze making you feel small. “Would you like that?” All you could do is nod and moan desperately as you exploded, your orgasm crashing over you. You tugged on Agatha’s hair, fingernails scratching her scalp as you pulled her closer. Her name left your lips like a prayer, her tongue meeting your pussy again while she lapped up every drop of your cum, humming approvingly at the taste. It's only when your body stopped convulsing that she let go, retrieving her fingers and licking them clean.

She stood up, arms wrapping around your trembling body as she planted a kiss on your forehead. She chuckled at your fucked out expression, brushing your hair out of your face. “Maybe we should save the strap for tomorrow, you can barely keep your eyes open.” She observed, her smirk turning into an affectionate smile. You nodded weakly, eyes heavy with sleep. Your head fell forward, resting on her shoulder. “Shhh, you did so well for me, little one.”

#written for aria’s coven ♡#agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x reader #marvel x reader #kathryn hahn x reader #marvel #agatha all along #wandavision #wlw fanfic #fxf smut #female reader #agatha harkness

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winxanity-ii · 2 months ago

Text

BIG FAT MEANY

ship: stepbro!megumi x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (p in v, fingering, dub-con); overbearing/possessive brother (aged up: reader and megumi are in early 20s) word count: 4.5k (lololo forgive me y'all got a bit carried away with the storybuilding 💀 promise this won't happen all the time jajaja ) A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that i'm reposting this from my alt account, lulu-4-u in case you've seen this posted before... ★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You weren't a hateful person. Not at all.

In fact, you were practically a ball of sunshine—inside and out.

You loved everything.

It was the simple things in life that made your heart flutter: the moon on a clear night, the smell of fresh rain, lazy afternoons spent with your friends from college, and, of course, your family.

Especially the love between your mom and stepdad, Toji.

He came into you and your mom's life at a time when things were pretty dark—your dad had been having an affair with his secretary, and your mom was left heartbroken. But then, when you were fifteen, Toji walked into the picture, and everything changed for the better.

Out of all the things you cherished, though, there was one thing—one person—you absolutely hated.

Your stepbrother, Fushiguro Megumi.

You hated how mean he was to you.

How he always managed to push your buttons.

How he treated you like a child, even though you were only a year younger than him.

And what you hated the most?

How pushy he got when things didn't go his way.

"Megumi, I said stop!" you whined, pushing at his annoyingly close chest.

Your mind could only race, trying to piece together exactly how you ended up in this predicament.

The night had started simply enough. It was a Friday—date night for your mom and Toji, which meant the house was practically dead.

Normally, you would've just stayed at your dorm, but tonight was different. Your dormmates had been all over you about some party happening on campus, trying to drag you along, but you weren't in the mood.

You'd barely been able to dodge their constant nagging, so instead of getting sucked into something you didn’t want to do, you decided to come home.

A weekend in your room sounded a lot better than getting roped into a night of drinking and chaos.

But instead of holing up and rotting away in your room, Megumi had caught you on your way upstairs. He'd asked—well, more like insisted—if you wanted to watch a movie with him.

It had been a little out of the ordinary, but you shrugged and went along with it, thinking it'd be a decent way to pass the time. And for a while, it had been fine. You both settled on the couch, watching the newest Scream movie.

Until now.

"Megumi, what's your problem? It's just Yuji..." you finally managed, voice small as you sat up properly on the couch, trying to put some distance between the two of you.

"My problem?" he repeated, scoffing like you'd just said something ridiculous. "My problem is you acting like you don't know what’s going on. That picture—he sent it to you for a reason. But you're sitting here like it’s no big deal."

Your brow furrowed, hurt blooming in your chest at what he was insinuating. You hated it when Megumi got like this—sharp-tongued, confrontational, like everything you did somehow annoyed him.

All over a damn picture...

It wasn't even a big deal, honestly. You and Yuji were just chatting as always when among the messages he sent a picture of himself fresh out of soccer practice.

You could vividly recall the boyish grin plastered across his face, eyes bright with his usual warmth.

But it wasn't just the smile that caught your attention.

His shirt, the one you knew had probably been soaked with sweat from practice, was pulled halfway up, wiping at his forehead. It casually exposed the lean muscles of his abdomen, glistening faintly from practice.

He hadn't done it on purpose—he probably didn't even think twice about sending it knowing him—but the way his body looked in the picture was enough to make your face burn upon seeing it.

But apparently, what wasn't a big deal to you, was to Megumi...

"Is he your boyfriend or something?" he demanded, glaring down at you. "Yuji, I mean. Is that why you're all flustered? Because he sent you some half-naked picture and now you’re freaking out like some lovesick idiot?"

"What are we, twelve?" you scoffed, crossing your arms and turning your body away from him, your tone sharp. "For your information, it's none of your business what Yuji is to me. We're in college, Megumi. I don't owe you any explanations."

You could feel the heat rise to your face again, but this time it wasn’t just from the embarrassment. It was the fact that he felt like he had any right to badger you about this.

He wasn't your parent, your guardian—hell, he wasn't even a friend half the time with the way he acted.

"Why do you even care?" you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. "You're always like this. Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

You didn't see the way his jaw clenched or how his gaze sharpened at your words. You were too focused on staring at the wall, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest.

You stood up abruptly, ready to head back to your room, away from his snappy attitude.

But just as you turned, a large hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your steps.

You froze, looking over your shoulder to see Megumi. He was staring up at you through his dark hair, head tilted slightly, a burning look in his eyes that made your heart race in a way you didn't like. His grip was firm but not painful—just enough to keep you there.

"Megumi, let go," you huffed, your lips pouting as your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. You gave a light tug on your arm, but his hand didn't budge.

He didn't say anything, just kept staring at you, his expression unreadable. That silence—his stubborn, infuriating silence—only made your frustration build.

Why did he have to be like this?

"I said let go!" you repeated, yanking on your arm harder this time, but his grip tightened. You felt a hot flash of anger rise in your chest.

"If you don't—" you started, your voice trembling with frustration, "I'm gonna tell Mom and Toji when they get home."

His eyes flickered for a second, and just as the words left your mouth, he scoffed, standing up in one smooth motion, his form towering over yours.

You could feel the heat of him, the intensity of his presence making you instinctively take a small step back.

"What?" he sneered, his voice low and mocking. "You're gonna tell them that you're whoring around?"

You gasped, your eyes going wide in shock, heart slamming in your chest. "What the hell, Megumi?" you started, but the words barely made it past your lips before he cut you off, stepping even closer, his voice quick and biting.

Megumi stepped even closer, his body towering over yours as he stared down at you through his dark lashes, his voice dropping into something almost mocking.

"Or are you gonna run to Toji?" he taunted, his lips curling into a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. "I bet you'd like that, huh? Telling him how mean I'm being to you... like some helpless little girl."

Your breath hitched, your back pressing against the wall as he closed the space between you, his presence overwhelming. You felt cornered, heat rising to your cheeks in a way you couldn’t control. His words, the way he looked at you—it all left you speechless.

You hated that he had this effect on you, hated the way he made your pulse race, not just from anger but something deeper, something you couldn't quite place.

Megumi leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or maybe you like it when I'm mean to you. Is that it? You're always whining, but you never tell them, do you? Why's that?"

You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, your eyes darting off to the side to avoid the intensity of his gaze. "B-because," you stammered, voice barely above a whisper, your cheeks still burning hot.

You swallowed hard, finally meeting his eyes, though the way he was looking down at you made your heart pound even harder. "Because… you're my big brother..."

You expected him to laugh, to scoff at you like he always did, but instead, his expression didn't change. If anything, something darker flickered in his eyes as he leaned even closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" he asked quietly, his voice low and almost dangerous. "That it's just because I'm your big brother?" He tilted his head slightly, still staring down at you, his eyes narrowing just a bit. "You sure that's it?"

You could feel the heat rushing to your face again, heart pounding painfully in your chest as you struggled to find words, any words, to push him away.

Your mind raced, and though you wanted to focus on the anger bubbling up, a different thought crept in, unwanted but undeniable.

Megumi was attractive.

Like, really, really attractive.

You hated to admit it, but standing there, inches from him, it was impossible to ignore. He towered over you, standing at least six feet tall, his broad shoulders filling out the plain black t-shirt he wore.

You could see the faint outline of his muscles beneath the fabric, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath, the strong line of his jaw clenched in irritation. His dark hair fell over his forehead in that effortless way it always did, messy but somehow perfect, framing his sharp, intense features.

And those eyes—Gods, those eyes.

Even though they were currently glaring down at you with frustration, you couldn't deny the pull they had. Dark, stormy, and filled with an intensity that made it hard to hold his gaze for long. They were the kind of eyes that could make anyone feel small, vulnerable, and you hated how they always managed to affect you.

Your breath hitched as you let yourself take him in for just a moment too long, your body betraying you with a sharp jolt of attraction. But no—no.

You weren't going to go there.

This was Megumi, your stepbrother, and as good as he looked, he was being a complete asshole right now.

You shook your head quickly, trying to rid yourself of the thought. Stop it. Stop thinking like that.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath and straightened up, attempting to put on your most serious face, even though your heart was still hammering in your chest.

"Look, 'Gumi," you began, your voice sounding steadier than you felt, using the nickname you had given him years ago. It rolled off your tongue easily, a little too familiar for the situation at hand, but you needed something to ground yourself. "I'm not sure what’s wrong. And I'm sorry if I did anything to make you upset, but you have got to stop this..."

You trailed off, knowing full well what the 'this' was. And deep down, Megumi knew too. It wasn't just about Yuji, or any other guy, really. It was him. It was how he acted—how he always got so weirdly possessive, so jealous, whenever another guy so much as talked to you.

You didn't even have to be interested in them; the mere mention of someone else was enough to set him off.

You'd seen it countless times. The sharp glares, the biting comments, the way his jaw would tighten at the mention of a boy's name.

It was always the same, this constant undercurrent of envy and jealousy that never made sense, and it wasn't just a protective brother thing.

No, it was something else.

Something darker.

Something you weren't ready to acknowledge.

Megumi's jaw clenched, and for a second, you thought he was going to say something or maybe even do something.

You braced yourself, heart racing with both frustration and something you didn't want to name.

But instead, he let go of your wrist, taking a step back.

"Fine…" he muttered, his voice low and almost too calm. "You're right, and I'm sorry."

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. Megumi? Apologizing?

He never apologized to you, not like this. Usually, he'd just brush you off, act like whatever happened didn't matter or somehow turn it back on you. But now, here he was, actually acknowledging his behavior.

It felt strange, and you weren't quite sure how to respond.

"Uh, well, um, thank you…" you mumbled, still processing.

It didn't feel real, this sudden shift. But before you could dwell on it for too long, you turned to leave again, ready to retreat to the safety of your room where you could put distance between yourself and this confusing whirlwind of emotions.

But just as you began to walk away, you felt it again—his hand, firm around your wrist.

He wasn't letting you go.

"Where's my apology?" he asked, his tone unsettlingly calm.

"Huh?" you responded, confused by the sudden demand. Your brain barely had time to catch up with the words before Megumi yanked you forward, pulling you off balance.

You stumbled, instinctively putting your hands up to steady yourself, but you ended up falling into his chest instead.

You gasped, your hands pressing against the solid warmth of him, trying to create some space, but Megumi's arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

The heat from his body seeped into yours, making it impossible to ignore how solid and overwhelming he felt against you.

"Megumi—" you started, breathless, but the rest of your sentence was cut off as he brought his lips close to your ear, his voice soft and commanding.

"Shush…" he murmured, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Let's just finish the movie."

With that, he pulled you back down onto the couch next to him, his arm still wrapped around your waist, keeping you tethered to his side. You were practically sitting on his lap, his arm still holding you close, and your mind was spinning, trying to wrap itself around what was happening.

The movie played in the background, but you couldn't focus on anything except the heavy tension in the room and the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

As you tried to shift away, to put some space between you, Megumi's voice pierced through the room, low and deliberate. "You know," he began, his hand dropping lower, his fingers brushing the inner corner of your thigh. "I just realized something… we never got to bond." He emphasized the word by gripping your thigh, his touch firm and intentional.

Your breath hitched at the contact, and your mind blanked for a second, overwhelmed by how sudden and intense his presence felt. "I-I mean, we still can," you stuttered, trying to defuse the situation, trying to keep this from going wherever it was heading.

But the way Megumi's face pulled into a wicked smirk, the sharp gleam in his eyes, made your stomach drop. He leaned in closer, licking his lips as he watched your reaction, his grip tightening slightly on your leg.

The air around you felt thick, it was as if everything had narrowed down to just this—his gaze, his hands on you, the heat of his body so close to yours.

Before you could even think of moving again, Megumi's hand suddenly gripped your jaw, his fingers firm against your skin as he turned your face toward him. His touch was possessive, controlling, and it sent a wave of something through you—part fear, part something darker that you didn't want to name.

"C'mon, look at me," he said, his voice a low murmur as he scooted even closer, towering over you now. He tilted your head back slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes, and even if you wanted to pull away, you couldn't.

His grip was too strong, too sure.

Megumi watched your reaction closely, his smirk growing as he tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "What's wrong? You don't wanna play with your big brother?" The way he said it, his voice dripping with a mock sweetness, sent shivers down your spine, and your heart pounded painfully in your chest.

"G-Gumi, the movie…" you stammered, trying to deflect, to push him away with your words, but it was no use.

You knew nothing good was going to come from this.

He just chuckled softly, his fingers gripping your jaw a little tighter as he leaned even closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Forget the movie," he muttered, his voice taking on that dangerous edge again.

Before you could react, Megumi grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them to your side with one hand.

You were startled by how effortlessly he did it—his arms didn’t even bulge, as if it was nothing for him to hold you down like this. Your heart raced even faster, panic starting to creep in as you realized how strong he really was.

You tried to squirm, to pull away, but Megumi didn't budge. His grip on you was firm, almost casual, like he was barely putting in any effort to keep you trapped against him.

Megumi tutted at you, a soft noise that somehow felt condescending, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "The movie's still there, silly," he hummed, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

You could feel him nosing along the contours of your neck, his presence overwhelming every one of your senses.

"Let's just play a game until the commercials are over, yeah?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, as if this were all some harmless joke to him.

"A-a game?" you stuttered, your mind struggling to keep up with what was happening. Your body felt frozen in place, your instincts screaming at you to move, to get away, but the grip he had on your wrists, the way he held you down so effortlessly, made it impossible.

"Yeah…" he whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. "Let's play… who can last the longest."

The words didn't even fully register before you felt the sudden force of him pushing you back against the sofa.

An involuntary "oomph" escaped your lips as your back hit the cushions, and your vision blurred for a second as you stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding in your ears.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Megumi was hovering above you, his body blocking out everything else. His dark eyes raked over your face, taking in every flicker of emotion you couldn't hide, every sign of the fear and confusion coursing through you.

He didn't move, not yet, but the weight of his gaze pinned you in place as effectively as his body did.

There was something in his expression—an intensity that made your chest tighten, made it hard to breathe, and you couldn't help but feel like you were already losing whatever game this was.

Megumi let out a deep chuckle, the sound reverberating in your chest, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't worry," he murmured, his tongue flicking out to lick the curve of your ear, making you shiver. "I'll go easy on you… for now."

"Megumi—" you started, your cry cut off as his hand cupped your jaw, and he slammed his lips onto yours, his movements forceful and possessive.

Heat shot through your body, shivers running down your spine as his tongue invaded your mouth like a man starving. It was overwhelming, the way he kissed you—demanding, fierce, leaving no room for resistance.

You whimpered against his mouth, the noise muffled by the way his lips devoured yours. His hands wandered along your body, gripping, grabbing, squeezing any part of you he could find.

The pressure of his touch was firm, almost bruising, and with every place his hands explored, your body responded with an involuntary jolt of heat.

Your breath hitched as he hooked his hands under your legs, pulling them up and around his waist, his hips jolting forward into yours. The movement sent a rush of sensation through you.

You managed to tear your lips from his, gasping for air as your chest heaved. "M-Megumi…" you whined, your voice trembling, your head falling back as you tried to make sense of what was happening, what he was doing to you.

He didn't stop. Instead, he groaned low in his throat, his lips finding your neck. He licked and bit along the sensitive skin there, the rough scrape of his teeth making you shiver even as you tried to push the sensation away.

Your mind was at war with itself—one part of you frothing, screaming, fight him, get him away, the panic clawing at your chest. But the other side—the darker part, the one that you didn’t want to admit was there—was keening, practically begging for more of his attention, for more of this twisted game.

And Megumi, as if sensing the battle raging inside of you, just smiled against your skin, biting down a little harder, leaving a mark you knew wouldn't fade anytime soon.

Megumi pulled back slightly, making a deliberate show of licking his lips as he panted above you, his eyes dark and focused. "C'mon, lil sis," he murmured, rocking his hips into yours in a slow, rough rhythm that made your breath catch in your throat. "The game can't start until you're ready."

Your body betrayed you as you watched him put a hand between your bodies, his fingers easily slipping into the confines of your sleeping shorts. "Ohhh, looks like you really wanna play, huh?" he taunted, his voice laced with smugness as his fingers rubbed up and down your wet slit.

A wave of shame washed over you, your thighs twitching with the instinct to close, to shut them and stop what was happening, but his frame kept them wide open.

You couldn't escape the heat pooling low in your stomach, no matter how hard you tried to fight it. A choked whine left your mouth, your back arching involuntarily when he slipped a finger inside.

Megumi let out a groan, low and rumbling, as if he was savoring the sensation. "Damn…" he muttered under his breath, cursing softly as he felt your walls constrict around his finger. His thumb brushed over your clit, making your whole body jerk, and when he added a second finger, the fight in you began to crumble.

His fingers were relentless, rubbing and probing with a skill that left you breathless. Your legs, which had tried to resist, opened wider for him, your body moving of its own accord.

Megumi hummed in approval, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he muttered, "Good girl." The words sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you—humiliation, desire, confusion—but you couldn't stop the way your body responded to him.

And before you knew it, you found yourself overcome with an orgasm. Babbled whimpers fell from your lips as the coil within you snapped, your body shaking with the force of it.

By the time you came down from the high, Megumi had already pulled back, sitting on his haunches as he dropped your legs. You curled your legs up to your body, watching as he began to untie his drawstring sweats, his eyes still locked on you with that same wicked smirk.

You looked away just as you caught a glimpse of the dark trail of hair peeking out from his waistband, heart pounding in your chest.

At this point, you had accepted what was about to happen, and your mind raced as you braced yourself.

Megumi crawled back over you, his hands tugging at your shorts, and you barely registered the feeling as he discarded them over his shoulder. One of your legs was pulled back around his waist, the heat of his skin pressing against yours.

His body hovered over yours, and you felt him nudge your entrance with the tip of his dick, sliding it up and down along your slit.

A shiver ran through you as you struggled to keep your thoughts clear, but it was impossible under the weight of him, both physically and mentally.

"Fuck," he groaned to himself, eyes locked on where your bodies were beginning to connect.

Your breathing grew shallow, your heart racing uncontrollably, knowing that whatever came next, there was no turning back.

Megumi filled you in one swift movement, stealing your breath away. You cried out, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain echoing through the room. His groan was long and guttural, reverberating in the space between you.

Megumi's rhythm was steady, each thrust sending a jolt of shock of pleasure through your body.

It felt surreal—part of you couldn't believe you were letting this happen, but the undeniable pleasure clouded every coherent thought.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, the intensity of it all overwhelming your senses.

"That's right," Megumi grunted, his breath hot against your ear. "Take all of me."

You couldn't form words, your mind spinning, too overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

Instead, all you could do was moan and whimper, your body moving with his, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. His hand snaked up to your throat, gripping lightly as he maintained a relentless pace.

"You like that, don't you? You like the way big brother fucks you?" he growled, his voice harsh and demanding, his thrusts becoming even more intense.

Your mind reeled, unable to speak, only nodding frantically in response as the pleasure built inside you. You could feel the pressure mounting, an orgasm threatening to wash over you as your body tensed beneath him.

Megumi seemed to notice, his hands hiking your legs up higher, deepening the angle, each movement more brutal and precise than the last.

You lay there, body writhing beneath his as he fucked you like a ragdoll, and a dark part of you couldn't help but thrill in the way he took control. His voice filled your ear with praise, breathless murmurs of "you're doing so good for me," and other words that barely registered through the haze, as if he were drunk off the feeling of you clamped around him.

Soon, his tempo shifted, becoming erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as his low moans became uncontrollable.

The intensity built until you felt warmth spreading inside you, the realization hitting you that he was coming, his release flooding your senses.

The throbbing between you two blurred together, until yours faded, and you could still feel him twitching, even as everything else calmed.

Eventually, he slowed, both of you panting, the room thick with the aftermath. You winced when he finally pulled out, a shiver running through you as you felt the hot liquid seeping out.

Megumi stood to grab cleaning supplies, gently wiping you off, his touch softer now, though still lingering in the tension of what had just occurred.

And as you lay there, watching him, all you could think was, What the fuck just happened?

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ashwhowrites · 2 months ago

Note

Older Eddie (like maybe 5-10 years) finds out you’re pregnant and he leaves because he said he wants to live a life without fear of dragging a kid down. He comes back before reader has the baby and wants to be involved and the reader struggles to let him be and you pick the ending!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Runaway daddy

Eddie had the mentality of never growing up since he was a teenager. He didn't want to work until he died, a girlfriend was cool but marriage was too much of a commitment, and he did not want to be held down by a family.

His parents left him behind, and he was raised by Wayne. Wayne seemed fine never having his own kid and Eddie asked him about it. Wayne said it was easier to be alone and not suffer from the thought of being a horrible husband and father. Eddie understood that and he lived by it.

Then he made the mistake of falling in love. Her name was Y/N; she was younger, smart, and beautiful. She brought new emotions to Eddie's world and spun him all over the place. He tried to fight it at first, pushing her away and never letting her get close enough to change him. But she fought back and was determined that she could make him fall in love, and he did.

He was smitten by her. He worshipped the ground she walked on and felt safe in her embrace. She took care of him in a way he craved his whole life. She was the first person to make him feel loved. And that whenever she looked at him, he felt worthy to be standing in front of her.

Eddie should have known it would all come crashing down. Nothing good lasts forever and why would he be an exception? He was lucky enough to be loved by her for the past three years, he wasn't going to be lucky for the rest of his life.

It all crashed on top of him when he found the test in the trash. It was buried, clearly meant to stay hidden. It wasn't like he tried to find it, he was taking out the trash and dumped it. The test landed facing up and he felt everything in his body freeze, his heart, his blood, hell even his soul. He broke out into a nervous sweat and closed the trash bin.

He went back inside, quickly racing to the bathroom again with the trash in his hand. He went over to the sink and splashed cold water on his face, but nothing settled the anxiety he felt in his stomach. He prayed it was a false positive and that's why she hadn't mentioned it. He hoped there would be some type of miracle.

~~~

A week passed and he barely got any sleep. He held her in his arms as she slept peacefully, but his stomach turned as he thought about a baby growing in hers. He didn't want a baby, he couldn't be a father. How did it even happen? He did everything in his power to have safe sex just so this wouldn't happen.

He sighed as he got home from work, he swore he was losing hair from all the stress.

"Hey baby, dinner is about finished," she greeted as he walked into the kitchen. Eddie looked around the kitchen, the table was set with candles and flowers. It was a romantic sight, but he feared what it meant.

He was silent as he sat down at the table, smiling as she placed a plate in front of him. He felt like he could puke at any second but he tried his best to pick at his food.

"So, I have some news for you," she said, her smile was so big. She looked so damn happy and excited, she wanted this. "I took a test a week ago but I wanted to confirm before I said anything. But I went to the doctor today and I'm pregnant!" She beamed as the words left her lips. A bright light in her eyes that he had never seen before. Her hands landed on his as she waited for his response.

He gulped as he felt the need to puke but choked it down. He slipped his hand out from hers, and her face fell slightly. But she recovered quick and placed her hands on his again.

"It's okay to be scared, we'll be scared together,"

"I don't know how to say this gently, but I don't want a baby," he admitted

He felt horrible as he watched her face fall and tears immediately filled her eyes.

"What?" she whispered, her voice cracking. This time she removed her hands from his.

"I'm not ready! I mean we aren't even married!" Eddie panicked, standing up from his chair

"Who's fault is that? It's been three years, Eddie! I would marry you in a second, baby or not" Y/N replied, keeping her calm as he paced around the room.

"We are not having this baby" Eddie scoffed, shaking his head as he placed his hands on the chair, leaning over it.

"Excuse me?"

"I can't be a dad, Y/N. I know I can't and I don't want to be. I love you more than anything, I'm sorry but I'm not doing this" Eddie explained, his eyes apologetic as she sniffled.

"Doing this? You're sorry that you refuse to have a family with me?" Y/N snapped, standing up.

"It's nothing personal! I don't want a baby with anybody" Eddie defended, she came toe to toe with him.

"So where does that leave us? Because I'm having this baby" She declared through clenched teeth

"Then I'm leaving" Eddie threatened. He didn't want to break up or leave her. But he didn't want to have a kid, someone he could disappoint and ruin, someone he would drag down.

Eddie watched as anger filled her eyes, a slight light of hatred that made his body quiver. Maybe he should have been honest that he was scared. And maybe he should have given himself a chance before immediately turning to walk away.

"Well, I guess it is a good thing we aren't married, because once you walk out that door, fucking leaving me and your baby behind just like your scum of a father, you have no reason to ever show your face again. Now get the hell out!" She yelled, tears flying down her face as she raced to the bathroom.

Eddie sighed as he heard the door slam and the echo of her sobs bouncing off the walls. He stood there for a few minutes, trying to think if walking away was what he wanted. There still might be something left to save, all he had to do was knock on the bathroom door.

He took a deep breath and began walking down the hallway. He stopped once he hit the bathroom, his hand softly touched the doorknob. Then a static of electricity burned his fingers, he hissed as he pulled back.

He was a coward so he took it as a sign. He passed by the door and into the bedroom, packing up his part of her life.

~~~

The first few weeks without Eddie were more painful than Y/N imagined. There were so many moments she wished he was there. When she got morning sickness, she wanted him to rub her back and tell her it was okay. But the cold floor of the bathroom reminded her she was on her own.

Her bed was empty, but his body was still formed on the sheets. This was supposed to be their home, this was where she wanted their kids to grow up. In a way, she got what she wanted but she didn't think she'd lose him because of it.

She wanted to blame herself. They had been together for years and it was her mistake to never ask questions about marriage and children. If she was smarter then she wouldn't have been so torn apart now.

The more she was alone, the stronger she became. Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. Eddie was still long gone and she had no idea where he ran to, half of her cared and wanted to call. But she already hurt herself enough and didn't want to beg a man to come back to her. And she didn't want to use her baby as a reason.

She did everything she could to be prepared. She read books and took classes. Her anxiety and fear started to wash away, excitement took over and she found herself finally being happy.

Eddie couldn't say the same. He heard in movies and books that the whole world changes once love is taken away. He couldn't believe that was right. But he did because he was alone in Wayne's trailer hating himself as each minute passed.

He chose this, he knew. He put himself in hell because he was afraid of something new. He was scared of that commitment to her and to the baby. It killed him to know he was just like his father. He spent years hating that man, wondering how a child could be so terrifying that running was the only option. He wondered why he couldn't just stay and learn a family is nothing to be scared about. He knew his father wouldn't have the answers because Eddie had none.

It was selfish, point blank. Instead of taking responsibility, he left her to deal with it all alone. He thought of calling, begging for forgiveness, begging for her. But he wasn't sure if that's what she wanted. She seemed to hate him when he left, and he didn't blame her. He didn't want to cause her more hurt by showing back up at her door. He wished he knew what she wanted.

Once a month passed, Eddie couldn't keep running away. He missed her and he hated being without her. He talked himself up as he reached for the phone.

He dialed the familiar number and listened as it rang.

"Hello?"

Eddie felt nervous once he heard her voice

"Hey, it's Eddie. Can we talk?" He asked if she said no, he'd move on. But he wanted at least one last fighting chance.

"About what, Eddie?" He could tell by her voice she was irritated

"Can I come over?" said

Eddie nervously knocked on the door, offering a small smile once she came into view. She stepped aside and let him walk in.

They sat in silence on the couch for a few moments before he got the nerve to speak.

"I want to start with that I am so sorry," he turned his body to face hers but she looked down at her lap. "I'm sorry for the fight, the words I said, the pain I caused, and for leaving."

"Did it solve anything?" she asked, looking towards him. "Did leaving and running away take away the fear and responsibility? Did you get to relax this last month because you knew your part was over?" Her voice got more snappish as she spoke.

"It solved nothing, and I will admit that. I felt horrible for just leaving and feel even worse knowing I was prepared to do exactly what my dad did. I don't want to be him and I don't want to be alone like Waybe. Baby," he said softly, his warm hand holding hers, "I love you, and being with you has taught me that even when I'm scared, you are with me. I won't be alone, I'll have you. I know I made a mess of everything and ruined something so special. I hate that I took that excitement away. But I want to do this, I want to be a dad to our baby."

Y/N bit her lip as she thought. She wasn't sure she wanted Eddie to be involved with her, but their baby was a different story. Their baby deserved to have them both. She slipped her hand out of his and held it herself.

"I'll give you another chance to be a dad. But I'm not ready to give you another chance at being my boyfriend. This month away was hard, and I needed you here. I want to be with someone who would be there no matter what, and I don't think that is you." she explained.

"You don't want to get back together?" Eddie choked out, he could feel his eyes tearing up.

"As of right now, no Eddie."

"I understand," and he did. It sucked and upset him, but he was the reason.

"But we will co-parent and our baby is our only focus right now," Y/N said

"I can do that," he said, "We're going to have a baby!" he cheered, a real smile on his face.

He was scared, but he knew it would be okay.

"I'm scared too, but we got this," she said wrapping her arms around Eddie into a hug. He hugged her back and melted in the comfort of her arms.

The baby was the main focus now, but getting her back was right behind.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #ashwhowrites #older eddie munson x female reader #dad eddie x mom reader

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changetyre · 1 year ago

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Hope you're doing well, I didn't know your request was open!!

I'm not going to beat around the bush but could you write something like reader tease Oscar P in the shower and he fucks her from behind in front of the mirror??

If you're not comfortable with it, just ignore this request :)

It's so wrong but it feels so right II Oscar Piastri ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Oscar tried everything in his power to stay away from his teammate's younger sister despite her constant attempts at getting him to break...key word being tried.

WARNINGS: *18+* Not proofread

A/N: Yay another request and also the first Oscar fic here ;) Enjoy xx

"Yep." Your brother spoke on the phone. He was distracted enough that you knew you could have fun with the guy in front of you.

When Daniel had left the team last year you felt incredibly sad having grown close to the older man who treated you like a younger sister.

When Oscar arrived you saw the way your brother and him didn't truly connect at first like Daniel and him had done but little by little he started opening up.

And you kind of loved the shy and laid-back personality Oscar had so much that it attracted you in a way nothing and no one had ever done before.

The first time you'd tried to make an advance on Oscar he'd completely thought it was you just being overly friendly because you had drunk too much being that it was at a party.

But Oscar truly underestimated you when the following weeks you'd gone far and beyond to get his attention.

It wasn't that Oscar didn't find you attractive, it was the fact that you were his teammate's younger sister. Damn if you had any other last name he sure as hell would've responded to your advances ages ago but he couldn't do this to Lando.

Despite this, you still tried and you weren't going to give up. Oscar flinched, his knee hitting the table as he felt your foot slide from his ankle up to his thigh.

Lando turned to look at him weirdly but Oscar shrugged him off and Lando went back to focus on the call he'd gotten.

Oscar grabbed your heeled foot stopping it just as it approached his crotch. "y/n." He said your name in a warning tone which honestly only spurred you on.

"Ozzie..." you said his name teasingly in the same volume, your bottom lip between your teeth as you leaned forward on the table revealing a little bit more of your cleavage to him.

You saw the way Oscar's breath hitched, his eyes dropping between your breasts as his other hand caressed your leg, letting himself get pulled in by you.

"Okay, I'll be there in 20." Lando hung up snapping Oscar out of his trance.

"What's up?" You innocently asked as if you weren't just trying to get Oscar flustered.

"Something changed with the car settings and we need to go over the race strat again before tomorrow. I have to go." Lando gathered his things. "Oscar, do you mind driving y/n back to the hotel?" Lando asked.

"Uh, sure." Oscar hesitantly replied watching the way your mischievous smile grew.

"Alright, see you later." Lando hugged you not noticing the way you slipped your hotel room key into his back pocket before he went on to say a quick goodbye to Oscar.

Trying to keep control of the situation Oscar quickly asked for the bill after Lando left. He could hear the way you giggled thinking his nervous behavior was hilarious.

"Okay let's go," Oscar said as soon as he'd gotten his receipt.

You got up and quickly linked your arm around Oscar's as he led you both out of the restaurant.

You'd spent the car ride to the hotel making light conversation, Oscar obviously not missing your flirty remarks and the way you tried to bring your hand to Oscar's thigh repeatedly.

In the end, he was only able to stop you by taking your hand in his which you were very much pleased with as you thought he looked sexy driving with one hand while keeping a hold of you with the other.

Finally arriving at the hotel Oscar was more than relieved that this interaction was finally over since he could tell he was starting to lose control, his body felt incredibly hot with how touchy you'd been tonight and he'd constantly just had to remind himself you were his teammate's younger sister.

He led you to the door of your room which was right next to your brothers and consequently a few doors down from Oscar's own room.

"Oh." You faked surprise. "Hmm, I think Lando kept my room key." You commented.

"What?" Oscar panicked. "Are you sure have you checked your pockets?" He had no idea when Lando would get back and he knew he couldn't leave you out here waiting, with his panic he failed to notice the smirk on your lips.

"I don't have pockets Ozzie." you laughed twirling around for him to see your tight-fitting dress which lacked pockets.

Oscar cleared his throat nervously. "Right, uhm." He looked around as if he'd found the solution to his problem floating around somewhere in the hallway.

"Maybe I could just wait in your room?" You innocently suggested but Oscar knew damn well you were anything but innocent.

"Uh yeah." Oscar reluctantly agreed knowing there was truly no other option right now, but he also knew damn well Lando would be getting back to the hotel late...very late.

Walking into his room Oscar tried his best to keep a distance from you. "I'm gonna shower and uhm...you can sit somewhere," he told you as he moved around the room pointlessly trying to look busy.

"Okay, Ozzie." You chirped.

Oscar's head was running wild in the shower. He let the cold water run down his body hoping it would help the situation between his legs that he knew he couldn't walk out of the bathroom with.

But it was useless. Oscar felt like he'd been standing under the cold water for ages and his dick was still as hard as a rock, painful.

"You okay in there Ozzie?" He jumped at hearing your voice. He could see your outline through the frosted glass of the shower.

"What are you doing here?" He asked nervously.

"You were taking a while and my face feels gross so I wanted to wash it out...also my dress was getting uncomfortable." You replied nonchalantly.

The insinuation of this only made Oscar's member ache more. "What-What do you mean?" Oscar shut off the shower.

"Do you have a shirt I can borrow Ozzie?" You moved to the door of the shower.

Oscar's first mistake was turning off the shower, and the second was opening the door to peek outside. He caught sight of your almost naked figure now covered only by a black lace lingerie set that broke Oscar right then and there.

"Fuck you're impossible," Oscar muttered as he lost all self-control rushing out of the shower and immediately wrapping a hand around your throat bringing your face forward and capturing your lips into a sloppy, desperate, and rushed kiss.

"F*ck me Ozzie." You moaned at feeling his large dick slap against the inside of your thigh.

"Is that what you want...Is this what you've been waiting for you little slut." He whispered into your ear as his hand moved down to the lace between your legs running a finger across and noticing how wet you were.

"Yeah...yes Ozzie." Your breath shuttered feeling your body overwhelmed in pleasure at finally having Oscar the way you've wanted him for so long.

"Well, good job...you finally did it." Oscar stuck a finger in you without previous warning making you yelp in pleasure as he began thrusting it in and out of you.

He did this in an attempt to prepare you for him but after feeling the way you dripped down on his fingers he knew you were more than ready.

"Turn around." He turned you around manhandling you and lifted your legs up onto the bathroom counter so you were squatting on your knees, your ass just hanging off the edge wide open for him.

You could see Oscar in the mirror in front of you as he slapped your hole with his dick sliding it up and down your slit a few times to tease you.

"How the tables have turned." Oscar laughed as he felt you rub back against him trying to get him to slide into you.

"Please Ozzie, Please." You cried begging for him to do something already.

"what do you want hmm?" He teased as he pushed the tip in slightly before taking it back out.

"Please just put it in me already, I beg you." You whined to Oscar meeting his gaze through the mirror. "Just this once please." You were so desperate and Oscar loved to have regained control now.

He laughed but he was also desperate to get inside you so without further teasing he thrusted his full length into you. He felt your body trying to jump up at the sudden stretch but he held your hips down so you were unable to move as he began slowly thrusting in and out of you.

"Just this once." Oscar scoffed. "You're insane if you think this is the last time baby," Oscar spoke confidently as he kept slamming into you.

"Ah...fuck...so good." You cried, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you could feel that knot tightening in your stomach.

Oscar undid your bra with one of his hands while his other kept a tight hold of your waist making sure his pace was maintained. He almost came at the sight in the mirror.

Your nipples were pierced.

"Fuck you are a little slut aren't you," Oscar commented as he began playing with the metal on your buds.

This only increased the satisfaction in you. "Ah fuck Ozzie don't stop." You cried.

"Look at me." Oscar panted. "Look at me when you cum." He demanded grabbing your face to look into the mirror.

"Sh*t I'm close." You moaned as you felt your legs start to tremble.

Oscar sped up his pace wanting to join you in your release. "Cum, cum with me."

"Ah cum inside me, please." You cried and that was enough for Oscar to let go. He felt you squeeze around him as he began pumping you full your legs shivering as your orgasm washed over you.

Oscar stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths, you leaned back into Oscar's chest as he caressed your skin gently.

"Fuck that was-" Oscar was about to speak when you were both interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

"Oscar you in there?" You could hear your brother's voice.

You saw the way the color drained from Oscar's face.

"You better come up with something fast Ozzie, wouldn't want him finding out you just spilled inside his sister would you." You giggled.

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1smut #smut #f1 one shot #f1fic #formula 1 #f1 smut #changetyre #oscar piastri #op81 smut #op81 #op81 x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader

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reallyromealone · 7 months ago

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This isn't a request but I'm brain rotting rn about imagining Emma is once again at a toman meeting with another 'girl' and Draken of course scolds her and is like "Don't go bringing your schoolmates to a gang meeting," but it's actually reader crossdressing and Mikey's new bf

Thank you, bye bye I had to tell somebody and I thought you would like it. 🤧

Title: cross dressing

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Pairing: Mikey x reader

Warnings: slight au, male reader, cross dressing, fluff

Notes: made some slight alterations for the sake of hahas

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

Mikey was slightly annoyed as he heard his younger sister brought someone to a Toman meeting, the girl making friends at university and he often saw her friends when he got home from gang stuff or helping shinichiro with his shop on occasion.

What he wasn't expecting was (name) to be dressed in cute feminine clothes and a mini skirt, tucked flat-- Mikey chuckled silently to himself as he knew (name) probably regretted letting Emma get into drag racing shows. Draken scolded the girl as (name) glanced around and saw Mikey leaned back on his chair with his legs spread, slicked back blond hair showing off his tattoos as he winked before blowing out smoke from his cigarette.

(Name) And Mikey had recently begun dating, the blond initially hesitant when he learned Emma had a male friend and Draken nearly hostile at his girlfriend being so close to the cute boy but they quickly realized that (name) was not interested in Emma or any other girl.

What Draken didn't know was that Mikey immediately went on the hunt, practically popping up anywhere (name) was to flirt with him and eventually begin dating him.

So when the twenty-one year old saw his boyfriends bare thighs swished slightly by stockings and that cute skirt, (name) looked nervous at the look he gave him though... The Toman underlings who stood in position in the back garden of Toman headquarters didn't see the look as their boss being a horny bastard but instead saw it as annoyed.

To be fair, Mikey was incredibly hard to read.

"She can stay but she has to stay out of the way, we aren't responsible if she gets hurt" Draken sighed and kissed Emma's forehead as the blond girl beamed up at the tattooed man "thanks Kenny!" She said sweetly and the giant of a man grumbled but didn't say anything.

(Name) Sat with Emma quietly as they started their meeting, Emma and (name) chatting amongst themselves and working on a project, (name) explaining his half and what he was doing.

They didn't even notice the meeting end until Mikey wandered to them "oi" he said passively as (name) looked up confused and Mikey raised his hand, many members holding their breaths only for Mikey to grip (name)s neck and kiss him softly "what" Baji said confused, he was fully ready to get the cute girls number but seems Mikey got to her first.

"What's with the clothes? They look weird" he asked confused and mitsuya looked up from his laptop, working on business expenses that he will be sending to Koko later "Mikey! Don't tell a girl her clothes look weird! That's rude!"

"But (name) isn't a girl" Mikey said bluntly as he plopped beside (name) and draped himself over the other "I just made (name) wear girl clothes, he owed me a favor" Emma said sweetly "besides he looks cute! Don't judge my fashion Mikey!"

"Wait, she's a dude?" Pah said confused and (name) nodded "yeah "

"Wait why did Mikey kiss you?" Chifuyu was also confused, a group of grown ass men who ran a notorious gang and made illegal millions couldn't figure out was a relationship for the life of them.

"(Name)s my boyfriend" Mikey said bluntly, Draken connecting the dots fast.

That would explain why Mikey went to a specific apartment often.

And based on how he played with (name)s skirt...

He would be going back pretty damn soon.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #male reader #mikey tokyo revengers #x male reader #mikey x male reader

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romanoffsbish · 1 year ago

Text

Seed of Romanoff

Dark!Natasha Romanoff x Innocent!FReader

Request | A redhead spotted you in a cafe, and nothing was gonna stand in her way of getting to you | WC: 3,376

Warnings: Non-Con (Trafficking — By parent) | Abusive Mom | Drugs | Toxic Natasha |

You were hesitant, hands sweating, and teeth grinding levels of nerves raced throughout your entire body as you finally entered your house with Wanda, your new classmate turned friend. The girl had made it clear that she liked you, and the truth was you thought you might like her too, but you needed others approval first.

Your mom was really easygoing, most would say neglectful, but you figured that would probably work in your favor. It was Natasha, her youthful wife's approval that you craved, and for some reason, you never got.

——

"Hey mom," you greeted her with a hopeful smile, "I have someone I want you to meet." This caught Natasha's attention immediately, she sprung up from the couch and met the lot of you in the kitchen. You were so engrossed in letting Wanda introduce herself to them to notice the way your mom winced at your step mothers touch, her grip vice-like on her hips.

"It's lovely to meet you Wendy," Natasha replied, a cordial hand extended her way. The brunette chuckled awkwardly, shaking her hand out of respect, but you could see the way her demeanor had changed. It made you sad to see Nat likely didn't approve, because you were honestly running out of options at this point.

"Wanda," you politely corrected your stepmom, then went on in the same breath, "and I will be going up to my room now. We have an exam to study for this Friday." The way you rushed off, with her hand in yours, in a fit of giggles made the redheads blood boil.

"It's time," was all she offered your mother, the spineless woman nodded then set off to her bedroom while Natasha watched you walk into your own with the live footage now pulled up on her phone.

You were just too cute for words honestly, the way you plopped onto your bed with a silly smile made her swoon. Then she felt her mood fall when Wanda sat next to you, the strawberry brunette's hand brazenly laid on your bare thigh, and the jealousy was back as if it'd never truly left. Because it didn't, anytime someone so much as looked at what was hers she fumed.

You didn't know, but you were hers, she ensured that ages ago when she met your mom in a nightclub and tricked her into believing she was interested in her.

Natasha was well off, and your mother poor. It was easy for her to convince your mom to give her you. Your father left her when you were just a tike, and she resented you for taking her youth. As if you'd asked to be born, but regardless of the circumstances you were dealt, you were just so good. The kindest creature Natasha had ever seen, an obvious innocence that stemmed from neglect radiated from you, it was what attracted the redhead to you in the first place. When she saw you smile for the first time she was hooked.

Natasha, who was much closer to your age than your mother's, caught sight of you on campus one day. You smiled warmly at the barista, and she felt a darkness envelope her heart since it wasn't directed at her. She took a photo of you, but remained out of your eye line as she ran your face through an algorithm. Confirming to her that you were a bit younger, and so damn cute, the naivety radiated off of your instagram account.

All she knew after you left the coffee shop with a hum was that she had to have you. It was her final year of her doctorate while it appeared to only be the third of your bachelors. She knew better than to just approach you alone, you were far too delicate for her gruff, relentless demeanor. So she set out to learn all about you, and the life that led you to where you were now.

Then one day, when your mom was desperate for a fix, Natasha struck a hell of a deal. It was illegal in every single sense, but your mom took it without even a second thought to your safety or happiness. An endless supply of drugs and a home in Miami in exchange for you, her only child. The concept was sinister, and sadly fit her well. It wasn't even her first time considering it.

Fortunately, you got Natasha instead of the sleaze that propositioned her months prior. In this case, you were at least going to experience love, even in a twisted way.

Everything was finally falling into place for Natasha, your mom didn't seem to want to call it off, not that she really cared if she had. Now she could only work out if she handled Wanda first. No way was she about to let that slut have her way with you, your virginity was the redheads. She quite literally paid for that and your child bearing abilities, your genetic predisposition to fertility a cherry on top of the perverse sundae.

Your mother had vacated her womb enough times to confirm to Natasha that was the case. Surprisingly though, the redhead would've been fine if you were only able to carry one. As much as she wanted to breed you endlessly, until your body forgot how to be barren, she also was fine with one heir and the trophy wife.

First though, before she could embark on her fantasy, came the removal of the obstacle. Wanda, the younger redhead, who shared characteristics with the elder that made her want to laugh. Even in your conquest for love elsewhere did you find someone who resembled her. Whether it be her green eyes or red hair, there hadn't been a time where you brought someone unlike her home. It was a perfect reminder of your looming fate.

"Hey! Open this door right now!" Natasha shouted as the side of her fist pummeled into your locked door, "No closed doors in my house!" The action shook the walls surrounding you and startled you out of the horny girls grasp. Wanda glared at the shaking door and you just sat there with a delicate frown. Natasha had never so much as shouted at you before, so the sound actually left you feeling like a wounded puppy.

Your precious Natty, the light in the darkness that was your previous life with your mom was someone you didn't recognize at all today. It hurt your heart, because she'd never had an issue with you closing the door when Peter was over before. Though deep down you knew Wanda was harmless, your body began to regard her as a threat since your stepmom, who you adored, had clearly despised her. The cycle continued on.

"You should probably go," you sadly spoke up, "I-I really do need to focus on my study guide."

Wanda frowned, but with one look into your eyes she realized your daunting predicament. It was clear you were the mouse that'd collect the cheese, and Natasha was setting her trap. If she thought she could help she would, but deep in your gaze she could see you contently fell prey. The woman reluctantly nodded, standing to collect her bag just as she heard an ominous sound of metal scraping just outside the door. You stood up, and opened the door first, walking out to meet the fuming woman. Your soft hand settled onto her arm, and she lowered the hopefully empty gun.

"Are you okay detka?" You kindly smiled up at her over the concern, appreciating it and failing to see the way that her lips were fighting to keep from amusedly lifting. "Did she take advantage of you my little dove?"

"No," you sighed, smile falling ever so slightly, "We were just talking, she is leaving though." Wanda put truth to your words as she passed by in a rush.

"I'm sorry," Natasha solemnly said after a moment of awkward silence (she wasn't), "I just need you to be more careful sweetheart." Her lips gently pressed to your temple, and you melted into her, no discomfort present even as her pistol pressed into your back. "You are too pure, you'll never know who has ill intentions."

Oh how right she was... You'd never know.

With your front flush to hers she felt her cock twitch with anticipation for the upcoming day that she finally got to claim you, in totality. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough. "I love you so much, my precious girl."

——

The following day you woke up to a knock, it was a simple two beats, so you lazily got up and once presentable headed downstairs to eat. However, instead of a table of delicious food you found your mom stood by the door with a suit case by her side.

"Mom?" The middle aged woman smiled, but it was weak as she opened her arms for a hug (a goodbye). It held an apology you didn't see; it was better that way.

"Hey kiddo, I'm headed off for a bit," she pinched your side and smiled, but her eyes looked sad as you met them. "Why? For how long?" She sighed, "A month."

"Natty too?" You cringed, you didn't mean for it to sound so obvious that you cared more about her, but it was always obvious. Charlotte never had the time of day for you, but Nat always did. Natasha found it hard not to laugh at your mom, whose face looked sad.

Natasha found the moment perfect, the way you were about to be all hers was beyond exhilarating. It was also a shameless way to check you out and disgust your vile mother. How dare she sell you... Like you were filthy trash... Fortunately you were left to Natasha, she'd never let you go, you were safest in her arms.

"Nope detka," Natasha sang from behind you, the sound of jingling keys followed her. "We're gonna take your mom to the airport, and then we'll get breakfast."

No one offered you more, not where your mom was going, nor the unsavory reasoning, and truthfully you didn't care to ask. Alone time with Nat was your favorite, every other time your mom left you alone with her you had the time of your life. This time would prove different though, you felt it when she kissed your lips as she entered the car after eating at the diner.

"Na-Natasha," you stuttered out her name, she found it amusing the way you were about to resist her advances even though your eyes had yet to flutter back open. "Don't worry detka, your mom is gone for good now, so we can finally be together. No more other people..."

"No, s-she said a month," you whimpered, both from the proposed betrayal and her hand on your thigh. "Your mother is a liar Y/N, you'll see that I'm not..."

The car ride home was quiet, except for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears as her hand settled on your thigh, her grip possessive, and confusing. It was just as quiet when she guided you back inside the house, but it didn't remain as such. Natasha pushed you up against the door, with a gentle force to show you she meant what she said before, and you believed it when her lips and hands began to roughly roam.

"You're married," you tried to deter her, but she only shrugged and continued to kiss down your jawline. "That wasn't real, I only married her to have you."

"What?" Natasha pulled back, lips upturned as she saw the fear in your eyes and hot spurts of white coated the tip of her cock and spread all over her boxers. It was apparent to her that you were going to resist some, so she threw you over her shoulder and tossed you onto the bed that she shared with your mother. "Don't worry dove, we never slept together, daddy's all yours."

You cringed outwardly, but much to your shock, you felt as your heart fluttered at the twisted truth, and your virgin cunt dampened with her chosen title.

"I'm doing this for your own good," she informed you as she tied your hands to the posts of her bed. "It would be a shame if you tried to fight destiny."

"Natty," you whimpered, feelings disgusted as your core pulsed in need. “I-I.” For a brief moment she softened. "This is wrong, y-you're my step mom."

"I'm your daddy actually," she chuckled darkly, "I'm here to turn you into a mommy, so get comfortable."

No words left you as you tried to understand your fate. It wasn't until you felt the chilled tip of a blade on your bare skin that you realized you were now naked. "My mom won't be happy, you are not supposed to do this."

Natasha ran her blade down the side of your neck, a whimper left you as you felt the blood trickle down your skin and into the sheets. "Oh, you are just as naive as your mom is a filthy deviant; she gave you to me."

"N-no," you cried, you didn't want to believe her, but it wasn't like you didn't know your mom was a disaster.

"Your mother wasn't worth a sack of shit," she gritted against the skin of your neck as her hands roughly caressed your concealed womb. "But you, I just know that you'll be everything our kids will ever need."

"Kids?" You gulped, her words were clear moments ago, but yet you seemed confused until now, and the redhead chuckled, "Mhm, gonna fill you up until you are begging for more Y/N, my personal cum dump.”

Natasha smirked as your walls clenched around nothing in direct contradiction with your pleading words and persistent attempts to shove her away as your lower body pitifully tried to thrust her off. You were torn between the pleasure you'd craved for years, and the strangely alluring promise of becoming her pretty little housewife to push hard enough. "I'm not sure I want to be a mom Natty," you finally whimpered loud enough and she just laughed in your face as she pushed her cock inside of you without preparation.

The sight of your eyes crossing and mouth opening had her prematurely ejaculating, truly sealing your fate.

"Don't worry my little dove," she coo'd while stilling her hips, reluctantly allowing your untouched body a chance to get used to her twitching intrusion. "You'll be nothing like her, I promise, you'll be the perfect mom."

"I don't want to be," you cried, hands pulling at the restraints, but your words of protest were negated as you moaned like a filthy whore with a simple jolt of her hips. “Daddy isn’t in the business of caring detka.” You whimpered, heart shattering at the coldness you were not expecting from the woman you’d adored, but in the same breath you were incredibly turned on by it all.

This idea of being her filthy whore; just a hole to fuck and a womb to fill, was exciting you greatly. “That’s right detka, let daddy do all the thinking for you.” Her speed picked up in response. Your faux display of disinterest only spurring her on to show you just how much you wanted this too. It was a dual need.

With every thrust you could feel her tip twitch, and a spurt of her essence would follow. It alarmed you the more real it became that she was genuine about breeding you. Desire as you might to be hers, you were still in the process of your final year in undergrad, and had every intention to start your masters child free.

“Natasha please,” you cried, legs trying to squeeze shut, and your cunt was slick enough that it nearly pushed her back out but she thrusted against you. Her hips forced yours back onto the bed, and the way in which her tip slammed into your cervix made your mind go blank, and pussy flutter uncontrollably.

"Nice try slut!" Her fingers caressed the bump protruding from your abdomen in awe, the outline of the tip of her cock clear as day. "Your walls are working overtime to suck me dry, don't you feel it detka?" She grinned wickedly as her hand pressed firmly into your abdomen. "The urge to be full of me? My perfect little whore to breed. You'll never be hollow again."

You sobbed, it was gut wrenching, but not to Natasha. This was just par for the course, you needed a minute to see that this was always how life was meant to be. Natasha was your soulmate, you didn’t need anyone else, and she knew with time you’d be okay with that.

“Shh, stress isn’t good for baby making detka,” she scolded you as she pulled her cock out and kissed your lips with a tenderness, giving you emotional whiplash. Natasha slid a plug inside of you, it was efficient in keeping her cum inside, but purposefully short enough that you couldn’t derive pleasure by humping it. Your fate was indeed sealed; Natasha was a lot of (terrible) things, but she was never a liar. Her seed painted your fertile insides white, and every day since she's done the same. Sex with you had become a fast addiction, it took you only a minute to accept the reality. You sorta loved it, your stretched hole ached for her cock the entire time she would be away, you'd become insatiable too.

She wondered if it was the pre-natals she'd been slipping you every morning in your special smoothies that increased your need, but she liked to believe it was just your natural, insatiable attraction to her. Either way, she indulged the both of your carnal desires.

Before work she'd wake you up with her cock between your tits, you no longer wore clothes to bed because you never woke up in them anyways. After giving her head just like she wanted, with your once virgin mouth, she'd allow you to get her to the edge, but she'd always make sure to save her release for your womb.

Never one to waste an opportunity to fill you.

On the weekends she'd bend you over the coffee table, fucking you raw from the back while she caught up on her favorite shows. It was a mindless means to ensure you were carrying her kin, but at night she'd give it to you with more passion than before. There was a new toy at her disposal every single time, you wondered if the tellers at Kiss-N-Tell knew her by name now.

Natasha was a multi-millionaire, no cost was too much if it meant she could see you writhing with a pleasure only she could offer you. The redhead succeeded in ruining you for anyone else, and there was never much hope for another anyway. Not only were you stupidly in love with the woman, but you knew your only hope at freedom was her wife—your mom, who was gone.

That doomed hope of yours fizzled out fast. The month had come and gone, but in the end the only mother present within the four walls of your house was you as you held the test between your shaky hands. Two red lines, prominent in nature, flashed right up at you.

Natasha, the cause, was at work while you were crying in the bathroom. Then you heard the alarm on your phone. The oven was ready... You set two prepped buns on the pan, and zoned out as the sliders warmed. How hilarious and ironic as the two lines weren't the only pair at play here... Soon enough you'd understand.

Your heart soon cracked as Natasha held your son, Xavier, while your daughter, Inez, laid on your bare chest after a successful feeding. It was almost domestic, especially when Natasha kissed your lips with an unfamiliar tenderness.

"I can't wait for our family to keep growing," she grinned against your lips, feeling the way they shook as you gulped down your fear.

What a silly girl you were to hope for love...

#natasha romanoff #dark natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader

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sabertoothwalrus · 6 months ago

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I'm going to think out loud about the dungeon meshi ages for a sec

I'm going to preface this by saying that this is based on my existing knowledge, and fact checking is difficult because there is A LOT of contentious research out there.

First of all, I think a lot of people come at this from a modern lens, forgetting the context that this is fantasy medieval era. this is fiction. on top of that, this is specifically Ryoko Kui's understanding of medieval era aging. plus fantasy. So before anyone comes at me with a bunch of 'ermmmm actualy's just consider that I don't really care and also it might not matter in this context lol

as far as the "age of maturity" assigned for each race, something I don't see many people talk about is that "teenagers" are a fairly recent concept. For a long time, you were either considered A Kid or Not A Kid. but this doesn't necessarily mean kids were more/less developed then, just our cultural expectations for certain age groups have changed.

Laios says the age of maturity for tallmen is 16. I don't think that means 16 year olds in the dungeon meshi universe are necessarily "more mature" than modern 16 year olds, but moreso that they have more responsibilities. However, things like medicine, smoking, drinking, sun exposure, physical activity, etc all affect age, so it's possible that developmentally they're closer to modern 18 year olds? Izutsumi is 17 (less than two weeks from turning 18, actually), and very much acts like a modern 17 year old.

The age of maturity for half-foots is 14. Chilchuck was 13 when he got married and had his first two children. Even though, at age 29, he's the equivalent of a modern 50 year old, I don't think he was That much more developed at 13 than a tallman. I think if half-foot 14 is equal to tallman 16, then Chilchuck was Pretty Damn Young for a parent LMAO. Even if you're generous and say tallman 16 is a modern 18, he still would've been younger than that.

The long-lived races are interesting. Marcille is obviously a unique case, and not a lot of this applies to her. We do know what Senshi was like as a minor (miner, lol), and he seemed like a modern 15ish, considering he was 36 and dwarf maturity is 40. I think it'd be really interesting to delve into how a culture functions with people being developmentally adolescent for soooooo long. Imagine middle school lasting 20 years. that would fucking suck. I suppose it makes sense why long-lived races are so patronizing.

Moving onto lifespans, I want to emphasize that they're average lifespans. Even in the manga, they say some half-foots live to 100, it's just rare. So it's less that a tallman 60 year old is "older" than a modern 60 year old, it's that it's easier to keep people alive for longer nowadays. Modern medicine is a BIG contributor. Dental health as well, considering how much your health is affected by your diet (and how much the action of chewing alone aids in digestion). Curious to know what the FUCK elven dentistry is like.

It also makes me wonder if half-foots would have a longer average lifespan if they weren't like, used for bait and treated so poorly, but half-foot 29 does seem to be middle-aged for half-foots. so who knows!

In that vein, I don't know if I can see Mithrun quite making it to 400 😬 like, his experience as a dungeon lord took a lot out of him quite literally, and he's doing exceptionally well despite it! I imagine he'd eventually start to develop a lot of heart problems if he doesn't have them already. Perhaps early-onset dementia. His memory seems still quite intact (he corrects Kabru on his story's accuracy) and he doesn't act like, lobotomized. He doesn't seem forgetful or confused, and he has a sense of humor/sarcasm still. It's mostly his task initiation that's been affected.

I almost want to say that mana affinity could affect long-lived races' lifespans, except dwarves have very poor tolerance for mana, so it's probably not that.

okay anyway I didn't really have a point to this post so I'm just gonna end my rambling here

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers

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tom-whore-dleston · 9 months ago

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Denial and Devotion

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x f. reader

Word Count: 880

This fic contains: preludes to smut, implied smut, amnesia, mentions of squirting and fingering, reader was a Soldier Boy fangirl (like me fr xD), toxic celebrity culture?

Summary: You are in denial that you slept with the Supe you used to crush on.

Notes: I'm just a girl that writes Soldier Boy fanfic at 2am knowing damn well I have work at 9am flksdghk this gif replays in my brain every waking moment of the day I literally hate how hot he is >:( This is my weekly contribution to @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt no. 241: Hour of Denial

The moment you rose from your slumber, you knew something was wrong. First off, you woke up in a room that you did not recognize. Then, you realized the cotton sheets of the unfamiliar bed clung close to your bare skin as if you had slept in it before.

You attempted to lift yourself out the bed, but your muscles were weak, soreness more prominent in your hips and thighs. As you winced in discomfort, your eyes widened upon the discolored love bites scattered over your body. Your eyes finally glanced to the opposite side of the bed, only to discover the person occupying it was none other than Soldier Boy.

When you were younger, Soldier Boy was your first crush. At the time, he was presumed dead, but your father would tell you stories about how he was one of the greatest superheroes to ever live. Your childhood room was covered in Soldier Boy posters and you had a doll of him that never left the box. As you got older, you conducted more research on the man you worshiped, but eventually learned that he was a monster in a superhero costume. As a result, you ripped the posters to shreds and finessed some cash off the doll in hopes to erase any trace of your Soldier Boy phase.

You stared in disbelief at the same man that lay peacefully asleep. Your mind raced with questions. The only logical answer to all of them was that you were dreaming. To test the theory, you pinched your forearm as hard as you could. After cursing from the pain, you tried another method by poking Soldier Boy in his meaty bicep. Without fluttering his eyes open, he grunted in annoyance and rolled over.

If your head wasn’t already spinning, it definitely was at this very moment. You slithered out of the bed, making sure not to disturb the sleeping man, and frantically searched for your clothes. In a hurried attempt, you shimmied back into your little black dress from the night before. Regardless of whether this was all a dream or not, you silently vowed that you are remaining sober for the rest of the month.

“Where you going so fast, sweetheart?” You turned toward the groggy voice that belonged to Soldier Boy, who was propped up against the bed frame with his muscular torso in view. It felt as if no time had passed since the beginning stages of your devotion to Soldier Boy. Your eyes scanned over his physique with a hunger that only he could satisfy. Heat radiated your body and you stood paralyzed in your unzipped dress, leaving enough uncovered for his imagination to run wild.

As Soldier Boy hopped out of bed, you swiftly turned away as his thick cock unveiled from the thin sheets. He began walking towards you, but you ignored him by fiddling with the zipper on your back. You grew frustrated with the zipper’s defiance the closer the beefy supe inched towards you. His intense stare begged for your attention until he took matters into his own hands by lifting your chin up to his gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest as his green eyes studied your face. Except there was no studying necessary.

“I’m a little embarrassed by this,” you laughed nervously, “but I don’t remember anything from last night.”

Soldier Boy smirked. “Want me to give you a reminder?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” You paused. You may not have been as infatuated with the supe as much as you once were, but you didn’t want to come off as rude. “I mean…I’m sure last night was great but I shouldn’t impose-“

“Great? Well if you define squirting on my fingers and cock until you begged me to stop as great then maybe I gotta fuck you harder.”

You were about to let out a moan, but quickly masked it with a sigh. Every part of you wanted to hate him but the ache in between your legs betrayed your voice of reason.

“You can play the ex-fangirl game all you want, but you and I know you never truly get over your first crush.” There wasn’t a more pathetic feeling than regressing back into that naive girl who treated a flawed superhero like a god.

Suddenly, your back hit the wall and Soldier Boy towered over you, his arm the only thing keeping him from pressing you against the wall to grind into your core. His free hand hooked under the strap of your dress, slowly pulling it off your shoulder. As the dress pooled around your feet, he lightly kissed the crook of your neck, electricity coursing your blood as his beard pricked your skin.

His hot breath fanned over your ear. “There’s no need to deny me anymore, sweetheart. I’m here for you to worship and fulfill all your pretty little fantasies.”

Fuck it.

All your common sense flew out the window as you desperately smashed your lips against his. Gripping your wrists, he pinned you against the wall before grinding his semi hard cock against your wet pussy.

Soldier Boy may have been the biggest pain in your ass, literally and figuratively, but he was right about you never fully recovering from your first crush.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist

header credit: @saradika | divider credit: @firefly-in-darkness

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cowboybeepboop · 2 months ago

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Needy

"You sure about that, darlin'?" he murmurs, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. "Doesn't seem like you wanna concentrate on work anymore."

Pairing: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: After nearly getting caught with Logan by your brother, you try to get some work done but Logan has different plans.

Warnings: Oral fem receiving, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, p in v sex, semi public.

a/n: This is technically a part two to my earlier Logan fic, but it can be read on its own. I’ll leave the link down below if you wanna read it first. Also I just feel like he'd be so into just constantly eating you out, eating like it's his last meal. As always I hope you enjoy and send any requests you have my way! <3

The first hint of dawn painted the horizon a soft pink as the weight of his arm grew heavier across your waist. Logan's hand trailed down your spine, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps as they danced along your skin. You stirred from the warm cocoon of sleep, the lingering scent of him—a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely his—enveloping you.

The room was still, save for the occasional sigh escaping your lips in response to his touch. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze, and you found yourself lost in the depth of his blue eyes, which sparkled with a gentle mischief in the dim light. He smirked, knowing he had woken you, and leaned in closer to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

With a gentle urgency, Logan pushed you against the mattress, his strong body sliding between your parted legs. You felt the heat of his morning arousal as he aligned himself with your welcoming warmth. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he entered you, filling you in one smooth, deliberate stroke.

Your nails dug into the taut muscles of his back, leaving dark marks that stood out against his skin, a silent testament to your desire. His eyes never left yours, a silent communication of passion and need passing between you as he began to move, setting a rhythm that echoed the racing of your heart.

The world outside the confines of the bedroom melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the symphony of breath and touch, your bodies moving as one beneath the soft, early-morning light. A knock on your door catches your attention instantly, Logan thrusts his hips into yours, ignoring the interruption.

“Y/N?” Your brother's voice is slightly worried as he knocks again. The moment is interrupted as your brother's voice rings out through the door, bringing you both back to reality. Logan growls in frustration, clearly not pleased with the interruption.

His gaze lingers on you, a mixture of lust and irritation as he pauses his movements. "He's got damn terrible timing," he mutters, his voice a low grumble against your skin.

“Logan, hide.” you whisper softly, pointing to your closet. Logan grumbles in annoyance, clearly not thrilled at having to hide like a teenager caught making out by his girlfriend's parents.

"Fine," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "I'll hide in the damn closet." He untangles himself from you and climbs off the bed, grumbling under his breath as he heads to the closet, making a show of his irritation.

You slip back into your clothes, smoothing your hair as you open the door. “Scott.” you smile at him.

Scott steps into the room, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. He eyes you for a moment, taking in your disheveled appearance, the flush in your cheeks.

"Everything okay, Y/N? You’re usually up earlier than this." he asks, his voice laced with a subtle hint of interrogation.

“Yes, of course.” you smile awkwardly, hand going to your neck as you notice him scanning the room, you try to hide the faint bruise from him.

Scott's gaze settles on you as he notices the faint handprint on your neck. It's a subtle mark, but it doesn't escape his sharp eyes.

"What's that on your neck?" he asks, his voice slightly harder now, concern edging into accusation.

“It’s nothing,” his fingers reach out to brush your hand away.

“Let me see.” Scott replies firmly, you reluctantly allow him to look at your neck, his calloused fingers still on your skin.

"This looks like something more than 'nothing'," he states firmly, his eyes now fixed on you with an intense scrutiny.

“Scott, it’s nothing. But you should leave so I can get ready..” you murmur.

His hand falls from your neck as he turns to leave. “Okay, I’ll bring you breakfast to the infirmary.” he replies, leaving the room, you close the door behind him with a relieved sigh.

Once the door closes, Logan steps out of the closet. His gaze finds yours, a mix of possessiveness and worry in his eyes. He approaches you quietly, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to examine the faint bruise his hand left.

“It’s not so bad anymore,” you reassure him, fingers going to his wrist. He can still see the faint mark his rough grip left on your skin, and it ignites a small spark of guilt and possessiveness within him.

"Yeah," he mutters, his gaze shifting to the floor. You lead him into the hallway, hand in hand as you lead him toward the clinic room.

Just as you’re nearing the infirmary you see Scott’s back, quickly dropping Logan's hand as he turns to you. Jean is at his side, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the two of you walking together.

Scott raises an eyebrow at the sight of you and Logan together. There's a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, his gaze bouncing between the two of you. Jean is more observant – her gaze immediately narrows at the sight of you both, picking up on the tension between you.

You gesture for him to go back to the clinic room, Logan does as you direct him to. Scotts gaze locks in on the faint and fading marks on his back, his head turning to face you, clearly suspicious.

Scott's eyes narrow at the sight of the faded marks on Logan's back, his suspicions growing. He turns to face you, his gaze intense and searching.

"Those marks..." he begins, gesturing to Logan's back, "they look like claw marks to me." you ignore your brother's comment, cheeks turning pink as you hurry after Logan.

“Y/N.” Scott’s voice is firm as he follows behind you, “Where did you find him?”

“In the hallway..” you murmur, keeping your back to him as he questions you.

Scott's suspicion continues to grow as you remain vague, avoiding his direct gaze. His eyes narrow at your answer, clearly not satisfied.

"In the hallway? Just wandering around, huh?" he presses, his tone laced with skepticism. "That's a bit unusual, don't you think?"

“What are you suggesting?” you cross your arms under your chest.

Scott's eyes narrow in on your defensive gesture, his mind racing as he connects the dots. He thinks back to your flustered appearance when he found you, the marks on your neck, and now the strange encounter in the hallway.

His suspicion grows, his eyes now drilling into you. "You're hiding something," he states firmly, his tone leaving no room for denial

“I’m not hiding anything.” you protest, voice raising in pitch with your lie.

You glance over to Logan, silently pleading for him to help you, to back up your lie. He catches your gaze and gives a subtle nod, stepping forward.

"She's not hiding anything." Logan chimes in, his voice as gruff as ever, but with an underlying firmness to it. "We just happened to bump into each other in the hallway. Nothing unusual." Scott raises an eyebrow at Logan's reply, his suspicion growing even stronger. He glances between the two of you, his eyes narrowing further.

"Just happened to bump into each other, huh?" he repeats, his tone dripping with skepticism. "You're telling me that's all that happened?" Logan's eyes flash with an unspoken challenge as Scott presses further, his protective and possessive nature emerging.

"She's an adult," he growls, his voice gruff and unapologetic. "She can do whatever she wants. It's none of your damn business.”

You step between the two of them, pressing a hand to your brother's chest, urging him to back off. “Scott, all that matters is he’s not missing anymore, right?”

Scott's frustration is palpable as you step between them, your hand on his chest a clear sign for him to back off. He lets out a frustrated sigh, his eyes darting between you and Logan.

"I... guess you have a point," he relents, his expression still skeptical. "But I'm keeping an eye on you two," he adds, his gaze lingering on Logan for a moment before falling on you again.

“Right, of course.” you grin, he mumbles something about getting Logan something to cover up with, leaving the room with his arms crossed.

Scott leaves the room with a huff, clearly still suspicious but unable to do anything about it right now.

Once he's gone, Logan turns to you, a small smirk on his face. "You know he's not buyin' our story for a second, sweetheart."

“I know,” you whine, hands covering your flushed cheeks. “It's so embarrassing..” Despite the situation, Logan can't help but chuckle at your flushed cheeks and whiny tone. Seeing you so flustered is adorable to him, despite the circumstances.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," he teases, taking a step closer to you.

“You think so?” your hands fall from your cheeks as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

Logan grins as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you against his chest, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Yeah," he mutters, his voice a low rumble. "All flushed and cute. Makes me want to do all kinds of things to you."

You gasp quietly as he closes the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. The kiss starts sweet and gentle, but quickly deepens as Logan's possessiveness takes over. His hand on your waist tightens, pulling you closer against him as his tongue slips into your mouth.

He kisses you hungrily, his lips and tongue exploring yours as if he can't get enough of you. Your fingers dig into his side as you moan into his mouth, his hand traveling down your waist to your hip bone.

Your moan is like a catalyst, igniting a fire within Logan. His hand on your hip tightens, his fingers pressing into your flesh as he pulls you even closer.

He kisses you deeper, his tongue claiming your mouth as he pulls you against his body. The heat between you grows, his need for you becoming more apparent as his hand moves lower on your hip.

You pull away, gasping for air. “Logan..” you press your palms into his sides. “We shouldn’t, I have work to do.” you murmur as his lips move to your neck.

Logan groans in frustration, his lips reluctantly pulling away from your neck to meet your eyes. "Work can wait," he growls, his voice a rough rumble against your skin.

His grip on your hip tightens as he presses his body against yours, leaving no room for protest. "I want you, darlin'. I don't care 'bout your damn work right now."

“Not now,” you push him back slightly as you adjust your clothes. “You're insatiable.” Logan growls in frustration again, reluctantly taking a step back from your touch. He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes roaming over you.

"Can you blame me?" he retorts, his voice still gruff. "With you lookin' like that? All flushed and gorgeous. Makes it damn hard to keep my hands off of you." you walk past him, sitting at the desk in the corner.

“Why don’t you come sit over here..” you smile sweetly, not really wanting him too far away from you. Logan raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, a small smirk on his lips. He saunters over to you, crossing the space between you in a few long strides.

He plops down in the chair next to you, leaning back casually as he looks at you. "This better?" he teases, his voice a rumble.

A couple hours pass with you typing away, Logan watching your every move. Despite your attempts to concentrate on your work, you can't ignore the feeling of Logan's hand on your bare thigh. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, making it difficult to focus on the task at hand.

His fingers push past the hem of your skirt, his touch slowly going higher, igniting a heat within you that's impossible to ignore.

You steal a glance at him, his eyes fixated on you, his gaze intense and hungry. “Logan, I can’t concentrate.” your legs spread for him slightly, you place your hand on his stopping his movements.

Logan smiles at you, his hand slowly moving higher up your thigh. His fingers brush against the edge of your panties, the feather light touch sending jolts of electricity through your body.

He can see the effect he's having on you, your breath hitching in your throat as he watches you intently. "You're makin' this real hard, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

You lean back in your chair, head falling back. “Logan, please.”

Logan swallows the lump in his throat as you lean back in your chair, the sight of you so utterly helpless and wanting sending a wave of lust through him.

He leans closer to you, his breath hot against your ear. "You want me to stop, darlin'?" he whispers, his fingers still tracing light patterns on your inner thigh.

“Yes, I should concentrate.” You shake your head no, yet your words say the opposite.

A smile tugs at the corners of Logan's lips as you reply, your words saying one thing but your body another. He can sense your desire, your body quivering under his touch, your breath hitching in your throat.

He kneels in front of you, his head nestled between your thighs, his lips brushing against your skin. "You sure about that, darlin'?" he murmurs, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. "Doesn't seem like you wanna concentrate on work anymore."

Your fingers find his hair, tangling in the strands. “I really need to focus,” your head falls back as a quiet moan escapes your parted lips at the feel of his breath on your thighs.

Logan lets out a low growl, enjoying the feeling of your fingers in his hair, pulling at strands. He can tell you're trying hard to resist the temptation he's presenting, but your body is betraying you, your hips arching slightly towards him.

He grins as he hears the soft moan escape your lips, his eyes locked on yours. "Then why are your hips movin' like that, darlin'? Seems like they're tellin' me somethin' different."

His fingers slip under your panties, pulling them off your legs. “Logan..” you whine his name as he parts your thighs. As he pulls your panties down and parts your thighs, Logan lets out a guttural sound low in his throat, a clear sign of his growing desire.

"That's it, darlin'," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "Just relax. Let me take care of you." Logan's strong hands hold your thighs apart, his gaze unwavering as his lips connect with your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

"Oh, Logan," you moan, your head falling back against the chair. He chuckles darkly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looks up at you.

"Thought you needed to concentrate.” he murmurs, his tongue flicking against your sensitive flesh. You try to focus on the task at hand, but the sensations he's eliciting are too intense, too overwhelming.

Logan's eyes never leave your face, a silent challenge to see how long you can last before giving in to the pleasure he's offering. With a hungry growl, Logan's mouth closes over your folds, his tongue delving deep and swirling around your clit in a relentless rhythm that sends your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him in place as your body jolts into him, each stroke sending a pulse of electricity through your core. The keyboard beneath your fingertips becomes an afterthought as the pressure builds, your breath coming in ragged gasps that echo through the room.

The scent of your arousal fills the air, a heady aphrodisiac that fuels his desire. Work is quickly forgotten as the only thing that matters is the symphony of pleasure he's conducting, your body his willing instrument.

As the tension within you reaches a crescendo, your legs instinctively wrap around Logan's neck, urging him closer, your hips moving in tandem with the rhythm of his mouth. The chair squeaks under the pressure of your movements, the room around you becoming a haze of desire and need.

His tongue flicks and laps at you with an insatiable hunger, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh just enough to make you squirm. You feel the beginnings of your climax building, a coil tightening in your lower belly, as he adds his fingers to the mix, sliding them inside you. The sensation of being filled and teased simultaneously sends you over the edge, and you cry out, your body shuddering with the force of your orgasm.

Logan doesn't miss a beat, his tongue and fingers working in unison to prolong your pleasure, savoring every tremor that runs through you. The world outside the office fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the throes of passion and pleasure.

Withdrawing his mouth from the sweet nectar of your desire, Logan smirks up at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the way your body responds to him, like it's made to tremble under his touch. You're panting, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes glazed over with pleasure.

He loves seeing you this way, so utterly consumed by the passion he stirs within you that you can't even remember why you were supposed to be working. His thumb continues to gently rub circles around your clit, keeping the embers of your climax smoldering.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "So weak for me." His smugness is palpable, but it only makes you want him more.

You lean down, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss, tasting yourself on his lips, and whisper, "More." It's both a plea and a command, one that he's all too eager to obey.

The moment Logan presses his finger inside you, your body responds with a jolt of pleasure, your walls tightening around the intrusion as your orgasm subsides. His mouth moves back to your clit, sucking and teasing it with a newfound urgency as his digit explores the slick depths of your core.

You can feel his thumb circling your entrance, pressing gently against it, hinting at the possibility of a second entry. The dual sensation sends shivers down your spine, making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. All you can manage is a series of incoherent whimpers and gasps as his tongue flicks and his finger moves in a tantalizing rhythm that threatens to send you spiraling over the edge again.

Your hips rock into his touch, riding the wave of pleasure as it builds once more. The room is filled with the sounds of your muffled moans and the wet, intimate noises of his mouth on your flesh. Despite the urgency of your earlier protests, you find yourself eagerly welcoming this new assault, your body craving the release he so expertly coaxes from you. The tension within you builds rapidly, and it's clear that this time, you won't be able to hold back for much longer.

As Logan's finger joins his tongue in their relentless worship of your body, you feel the coil of pleasure tighten in your core once more. The sensation is overwhelming, and before you can even catch your breath from the last orgasm, a new wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Your legs shudder around his neck, and your moans grow louder as he expertly teases you closer to the edge. You bite down on your lower lip to stifle the cries that threaten to escape, but it's no use. Your body arches off the chair, your fingers clutching at his hair, as the second orgasm rips through you with a ferocity that leaves you trembling.

Logan's eyes never leave yours, his own desire flaring as he watches the pleasure claim you, making your pupils dilate and your breath come in panting gasps. His mouth and hand never falter, continuing their sweet torment, drawing out every last tremor of your climax, making sure you're left boneless and utterly satisfied in his arms.

With surprising grace, Logan stands, lifts you up with him, and sits in the chair you've just vacated. You straddle his hips, your legs still shaking slightly from the aftershocks of your climax. He holds you steady, his arms like steel bands around your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as you catch your breath.

His erection presses against you, a clear reminder of his own need, and you can't help but squirm slightly, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. "Easy, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "We're not done yet."

His hands begin to roam over your body, rekindling the embers of desire that still smolder within you. You lean into his touch, your heart racing as you anticipate what comes next. His thumbs trace circles around your hardened nipples, his palms cupping your breasts as he leans in for another kiss, his tongue seeking yours with a hunger that hasn't been sated.

The world around you is a blur, your senses focused solely on the feel of his body against yours, the taste of him in your mouth, the scent of sex and sweat in the air. You're putty in his arms, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

The sight of Logan's arousal standing tall and proud only serves to stoke the fires of your own desire. You bite your lip, the anticipation of feeling him inside you again making your pulse race. With a sense of urgency that's become second nature to you both, he pulls himself free from his pants, his length brushing against your wetness.

You lean forward, eager to sheath him within your body, and with a gentle push, you lower yourself onto his shaft. Logan's eyes never leave yours as you take him in, his hands gripping your hips tightly to guide your movements. His hips buck upwards, meeting you as you sink down on him, a low groan escaping his throat as you adjust to his size.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your nails digging into his shoulders for balance as you begin to move, the heat between you growing with every thrust. His cock fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, and you can't help but gasp into his mouth as your bodies move in a dance as old as time itself.

The chair beneath you creaks under the weight of your passion, the sound a testament to the intensity of the moment. You move in unison, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy, your hips grinding against his as you seek that perfect angle, that sweet spot that will send you spiraling over the edge once more.

Logan's breathing is ragged, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches the pleasure play out on your face. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, words of love and desire that only serve to drive you wilder. And as you find that perfect rhythm, as your bodies become one, you know that there's nowhere else you'd rather be than here, with him, in this stolen moment of passion in the early morning light.

With a primal growl, Logan's hips surge upward, driving his hard length into your welcoming warmth. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping and kissing as his hands guide your hips in a rhythm that matches the rapid beating of your heart.

The chair protests under the vigor of your passionate embrace, adding a symphony of squeaks and creaks to the symphony of gasps and moans that fill the room. His strong arms flex, holding you in place as he takes control, his thrusts growing deeper and more demanding. Each movement sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, making you cling to him tighter, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fight to hold on.

His scent surrounds you, intoxicating and wild, a reminder of the animalistic need that has taken over both of you. His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers dark, filthy words that only serve to stoke the fire within you, pushing you closer to the precipice of a third shattering climax.

The room seems to close in around you, the only reality is the feel of his skin against yours, the sound of your combined breaths, and the pulsing need that demands release. As you move together, you realize that nothing else matters but this moment of raw, unbridled passion, and you're ready to let go of the last vestiges of control and surrender completely to the storm of sensation that he is orchestrating within you.

Logan's hips continue to piston upward, his cock driving into you with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His breath is hot and heavy against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he whispers sweet, filthy nothings that only serve to make you wetter. You lean back, arching your spine, as he nips at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just hard enough to make you moan.

His hands are a vise on your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts into you, claiming you with every powerful stroke. The chair beneath you groans and squeaks, the only sound in the room aside from the symphony of your ragged breaths and the wet slap of skin on skin.

You can feel yourself getting closer, the tension in your belly coiling tighter with every movement. Logan's eyes bore into yours, a silent challenge, as if daring you to hold out against the tide of pleasure threatening to consume you.

As you feel Logan's body tense beneath you, you grind down into him with a renewed fervor, your own orgasm building like a storm within you. His eyes blaze with intensity, his jaw clenched as he fights the urge to let go.

You know he's close, so very close, and the thought of feeling him come apart inside of you sends a thrill through your body. You rock your hips, taking him deeper, your inner walls clenching around him as your climax looms closer. His breaths come in harsh pants, his grip on your hips tightening as he meets your every movement with his own, driving you both towards the edge.

You can see the muscles in his neck strain, the veins bulging with the effort to hold on just a little longer. And then, with a guttural groan, he succumbs to the pleasure, his hips bucking upward as he releases himself into you. The sensation sends you over the edge, your own orgasm cresting and breaking like a wave, your body shaking with the intensity of it.

Logan's arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as you ride the waves of pleasure together, your bodies joined in a dance of passion and release. The room falls away, leaving only the sound of your mingled gasps and the frantic beat of your hearts, echoing the intensity of the moment.

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fangirl-dot-com · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 16 - Chéri

Aha, so I went a different route this time and the POVs are all over the place! But I enjoyed how this one turned out. Hit me in all the feels. just a bit angsty but nothing too terrible!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter! much love from me

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Arthur hated the rain.

Sure, you seemed happy when you danced with P and splashed in the puddles as you waited for the signal for you to get in your car. The smile on your face should have been enough to damper his bad feelings.

But it was raining. And it was Suzuka.

He felt heavy as he got ready earlier that morning. The sad smile on Charles’s face hadn’t helped either. They both felt it when their feet touched the asphalt. They felt it as they held onto each other for a little longer than usual before Charles got dressed.

He tried to take deep breaths before the cameras turned on as he was supposed to help Jensen and Nico with the interviews today. Both ex-drivers seemed to understand the weight that this track had on the younger Monegasque, so they covered the heavier questions.

Arthur could only be glad that he was technically supporting you today. The navy polo felt itchy on his skin. Sure, he missed the red polo with the yellow symbol, but navy was your color. It helped him feel closer to you, when you were kilometers away in your car.

He could tell people wanted to ask. He knew they were itching to just say, “How does it feel to be back on the circuit that killed your godfather.” But, they’d never ask, they would just send sad smiles that didn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes.

Even you, his smiley best friend, could tell something was off.

Arthur’s hands itched more than the skin under the polo. He would never be able to explain the sensation, but they itched. Maybe he should hold a cold can of Red Bull to cool the burn, but that wouldn’t help.

His eyes were strained as he watched the data computer in front of him. He checked and checked again.

Your tires would be fine. There’d be no stray cranes or tractors. The car was safe.

Well, that’s what everyone told him and Charles 9 years ago.

You scared him when you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Jumpy today?” you questioned. You were already in your thick race suit, a helmet was in your hands. It wasn’t anything special, just your plain navy and gold one. You had already showed him your special one for Miami.

He shrugged, not knowing how to answer. “A bit.”

A sad smile formed on your face. Right now, he didn’t need words. He just needed you and Charles to be safe, and not be in the car this weekend.

He finally sighed and turned to face you as he took your helmet in your hands. For a moment, he thought about smashing the damn thing, since he knew you didn’t have a backup. But what would be the point.

He placed the lid on your head, keeping it above your forehead. “Starting pole today?”

Now your smile was genuine. “Yep! Thur, I have a chance to win this!”

He tried to mirror the smile, but again, it didn’t reach his eyes. Normally, he’d wait to kiss the “forehead” of you helmet, but today he needed a little something extra.

Your eyes closed as he leaned in and placed a kiss on your head, almost between your eyes. You placed your hands on top of his, where they were still holding your helmet as a mushroom hat.

You whispered, “Are you ok?”

Arthur backed up just a bit. “Like you said, a bit jumpy.”

Looking back, you knew you should have listened to the warning bells that were going off in your head. Arthur was rarely jumpy.

And he loved the rain.

You stepped closer and gave him a hug. Tears might have pooled at his lash line, but he’d never admit to it. He squeezed just a bit tighter before letting you go, so you could get into your car.

Another hand was placed on his shoulder. His eyes met the figure of Kelly, who was holding P. Her eyes, he thinks, were trying to tell him that you’d be alright. That Charles would be alright. And that nothing would go wrong.

How wrong she was.

Starting Grid:

Y/n L/n

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Fernando Alonso

Carlos Sainz

Lewis Hamilton

Lando Norris

Lance Stroll

Oscar Piastri

George Russell

Alex Albon

Pierre Gasly

Logan Sargeant

Esteban Ocon

Yuki Tsunoda

Daniel Ricciardo

Nico Hulkenberg

Valtteri Bottas

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the Japanese Grand Prix. Y/n L/n gets a good start down the first straight with her teammate Max Verstappen right behind her. Charles Leclerc goes wide, trying to gain the position around Verstappen, as the Dutchman is still trying to get the jump ahead on his rookie teammate and does he have it on the first turn?

“No he does not! Y/n L/n leads the Japanese Grand Prix!”

Was it normal if his heart was racing just as fast as these cars were? Well, for some fans it would be due to excitement. And, deep down, Arthur was very excited. You were doing everything that you ever dreamed of doing.

You’d make 5-year-old Y/n proud.

“Looks like the rain is drying up a bit. We’ll see who gets called into the pits first, and it looks like our race leader has been called in to switch. Now, she started on the intermediates and looks like she’ll be going to the hards. Weird call, but so far this season she has been on the bad end of tyre degradation. So we’ll see if she’ll be able to keep her lead with the hards.

“Seems as though she has started a train of pit stops and still comes out in P1.”

Your car was cruising. Yes, your heart was racing, maybe going as fast as your RB20. And it was due to excitement. You were leading, with a comfortable gap. Right now, you couldn’t see anything in your mirrors.

You pressed your radio.

“Mitch, what is the gap? And will I be able to take a win or do I need to let Max by?” you questioned. You were hoping that it’d be the first instance. Your maiden race win on your fourth Formula 1 race. What a start that would be.

Mitch finally answered. “Just talked to Christian. If Max is able to catch you, then you’d need to let him by. But, right now your pace is the same if not faster than his. So, kid, I’d suggest you keep making qualifying laps and you might be a race winner today.”

“Copy.”

Your car jerked around a corner as you continued to press.

You were hungry, starving even, for that win. You’d show everyone who doubted you that you were capable of winning.

Yet, around the spoon corner of turn 13 and 14, the RB20 slid a bit more than you intended to.

Your finger flew to the radio button. “Uh, Mitch what was that?”

Her response was immediate. “Your breaks are a bit hot. I know I told you to push, but please slow down on the turns.”

“Got it. And who is the car in front of me? Did someone get around or?”

“That’s Ocon. He dropped down after he pitted and will be a lapped car in about a lap or so.”

Arthur listened from the pits as Mitch gave you some advice. The first time he saw your car jerk a bit too much, he swore he died right there. He was thankfully given a pair of headphones so that he could listen in on whatever you said. They were uncomfortable, but he’d do anything right now to be closer to you.

He watched as you got closer and closer to the Alpine. If you got around it, you’d be home free with almost 10 laps to go.

Your first win. He could almost taste it for you, and he wasn’t even hungry for a victory. And maybe after your win, it’d be a good time for a confession.

But he had hope that things wouldn’t end like that.

You’d get a win and he’d get the one thing he’s wanted ever since you scared him at the first meeting.

“Mitch, he’s braking hard on the turns. Can you please let the stewards know? He’s going to be a lapped car but is defending like he’s in first place.”

One of the Red Bull engineers immediately got on it.

“Mitch?”

Was Arthur hearing things, or did you sound panicked?

“Yeah Kid? We’re on it about the breaking.”

“He’s not letting me by! And my breaks are acting weird again.”

You sounded panicked. Mitch pressed a couple of buttons as Arthur started to nibble on his fingers.

“Mitch! My breaks.”

“Kid, they’re overheating. You need to slow down.”

“Mitch I need to get around him. Seven more laps left.”

“Kid, I know that, but we don’t need you spinning out.”

Arthur’s hands began to burn as the itch got worse.

“He’s going deep. I can go around.”

“Kid, it’s too risky. Just wait until he’s given a penalty.”

“I can do it! I’ll be a race winner!”

“Kid, hold on!”

“I got it!”

Arthur’s heart stopped racing.

“Kid!”

“L/n tries to go around the outside of Ocon and…”

Oh.

The sound was silent and deafening at the same time.

A ringing sound echoed in his ears as he watched your car flip and flip and flip.

Asphalt. Sky. Asphalt. Sky. Asphalt. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Barrier.

Black.

The garage was in chaos, but somehow everything was going in slow motion? Arthur just stood still as everyone raced around.

“That is the Red Bull of Y/n L/n that has gone into the barriers. It seems to be wedged upside down and stuck. Do we have any answer from inside the car?”

Mitch frantically held down the radio button.

“Kid answer me? Kid? Come on. This isn’t funny.”

Arthur just stood still.

Next to Mitch, GP was on the radio with Max.

The Dutchman passed the accident site first.

“Ah, was that Ocon? Serves him right for last week. Gap to Y/n please?”

“Uh. That is a red flag Max,” GP sighed, “please come back to the pits.”

“Fine. Tell the kid that we can drink a juice box or something.”

“Just come in.”

The rest of the drivers got similar radio messages.

“Be careful. Red flag, there’s a Red Bull in the barriers Charles.”

Charles’s heart dropped but he covered it with a chuckle, blissfully unaware. “Max finally made a mistake?”

There was no answer from Xavi.

“Red flag, return to the pits Lando.”

“To the pits please Lewis, there’s a red flag.”

“George, come in. Red flag is out and you need to get to the pits.”

“Ah, Daniel, red flag. Back to the pits please.”

“Oscar, please come to the pits. There’s been an accident and it’s a red flag.”

“Logan? Pits please, the red flag is out.”

“Arthur!”

The yell of his name brought him out of his stupor. His eyes met Mitch’s brown ones, where she was beckoning him over. He took the itchy headphones off and all but sprinted over to the pit wall. Immediately, Mitch put her own headphones on his head.

“Talk to her. Get her talking.”

It was a command that Arthur would take to heart.

“Y/n?” Damn it, voice crack. “Y/n, please let me know you’re ok?”

“It seems as though Arthur Leclerc is trying to get L/n to respond. Is there still nothing? The marshals are over there, and are trying, but she’s not out of the car yet?”

Max looked around for your matching Red Bull. Two juice boxes were in his hands as he looked for your helmet. Had you gone for another lap on accident? He turned to the red-clad Monegasque who was weirdly frozen next to him.

“Hey Charles, where’s Y/n…”

The juice boxes fell to the ground as Max’s attention was now on the big screen that was broadcasting the wreck site.

Next to him, Charles’s eyes were welling up with tears. His head swerved as he tried to find his brother. Curse him for wearing the dark polo.

“Hey, Charlie?”

A voice called for him through the fog, but his brain was hyper-active. Two hands were placed on his shoulders and blue eyes blocked the big screen.

“She has a halo. Right now, they’re trying to get her out, ok?” Max tried to comfort the Ferrari driver, but was having some issues not crying as well.

Charles mindlessly nodded. Pierre had come by a few moments later and brought him into a hug. It was then he let the tears fall along with his knees as he dropped to the asphalt.

Max whispered as tears began to fall. “Come on kid. Just answer please.” His hands were tucked under his face, almost as if he were in prayer.

Lando and Oscar held on to each other, trying to offer some comfort. Daniel stood behind them, hands at his sides.

In his mind, he only thought, “Was he going to lose another friend to this track?”

Charles was still on the ground, being comforted by Pierre as he rocked back and forth. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening again. Pas encore, pas elle. J’ai perdu Jules, je ne peux pas la perdre, Arthur ne peut pas la perdre. S’il te plait, s’il te plait, s’il te plait.” (Not again, no her. I’ve lost Jules, I can’t lose her, Arthur can’t lose her. Please, please, please.”)

Logan sat numbly on the ground a little ways away. He had gone to get his headphones first thing to block everything out. He would laugh if he could at the next song that played through the speakers, but didn’t. Life is a Highway wouldn’t have the same meaning after today.

Alex was on the phone with Lily, trying to update his girlfriend. You weren’t close with Alex yet, but he saw how well you treated his teammate.

Lewis and George were couped up in the Mercedes garage. Lewis had refused to turn around and look at the big screen. Ten years hadn’t even passed since it last took a life and Lewis wasn’t about to see them drag your body from under the wreckage. George was trying to cope. Sunglasses were on to hide his tears and red eyes.

At this moment, they were all prepared for what was to come: your body draped with a white blanket.

Arthur was still trying. In this moment, it was just you and him. You were alive, you had to be.

“Y/n? Please answer me? I-I can’t lose you. Ok? Can’t lose you like Jules. S’il te plait, tu dois aller bien. Nous avons encore tellement de choses a faire. Tu as besoin d’une victoire, et je te dire ce je ressens. Chéri…” (Please, you have to be ok. We still have so much to do. You need a race win, and I need to tell you how I feel.”)

A crackling noise came over the radio, right as he was about to give up. His breath hitched.

“Y/n?”

“Heeyyyyy,” you voice sounded. A sob escaped from Arthur’s lips.

His hands didn’t itch anymore.

“You are an idiot.”

A groan left your mouth. “I know. Shit, I’m stuck.”

Mitch, who now had another headphone set on her head, started to talk. “Ok kid. The RB20 was designed for this. You just have to keep kicking the side.”

You sighed. “Ok.”

You managed to scrunch yourself in the cockpit and began to kick. That was the moment that Arthur ran back to the garage.

“She’s awake and answering!”

Cheers filled the air while Christian crouched down.

“Thank God,” he whispered, before standing back up and walking out to the pit lane.

Kelly was the one to grab Arthur’s shoulder. “Come, I can drive you to the hospital. She’ll need us.”

With a nod of his head, Arthur grabbed your bag and off he, P, and Kelly went. Vito quickly followed after them, hands full of your documentations and everything you'd need.

On the pit lane, Max watched as the wall of your RB20 suddenly flew away from the car.

“Charles,” he barely whispered, but the Monegasque heard him somehow and stood up swiftly. A hand grasped his shoulder, and he whipped around to find Christian.

“She’s ok.”

By now, everyone’s eyes were trained on the car. Marshals swarmed around it, ready for anything. What they didn’t expect though, was for one leg to swing out and then another. By the time they got over their shock, you were already halfway out. They quickly kneeled to help you further.

“She is out of the car and looks completely fine! She will have to be taken to the hospital. Our calculations are showing that when she stopped, she experienced 54 g-forces. We don’t know if the race will be continued for the remaining 7 laps, but we will keep you updated.”

Your feet squished the grass as you limped toward the on-site ambulance. You looked around and saw multiple cameras, watching your every move. You were thankful for some of the marshals who tried to push them away. But, in the back of your mind, you knew you needed to let everyone know you were fine.

So, with a probably sprained ankle, you started to lightly bounce and raise your hands and wave. A few laughs were let out by the people around you. You pressed a finger toward you heart and then lifted it to the sky.

Charles knew exactly what you were doing. He finally lifted himself off the ground, with Pierre’s help, and did the same motion.

Thank you Jules.

Max was back in the garage, now getting ready for the last few laps. He was angry. Honestly, they should just let everyone go, but a race is a race and it’s not completed.

Mitch and GP came over.

“Kelly went with Arthur and P to the hospital. She says that she’ll keep us updated,” GP told him.

Mitch sucked in a breath. “We’ll let you know how she is after the race. And Max?”

He turned to your engineer.

“Win for her. Ok?” Tears lined her eyes.

Max nodded, wanting to win for you.

He put his helmet on and stalked toward his car.

“And Max?” This time it was Christian, who had jogged up next to him. Max turned his head, full attention on his team principal.

“Give Ocon hell for us.”

Max turned back toward his car, eyes quickly darting to the alpine vehicle.

Oh, he would.

Race Results:

Max Verstappen +25

Charles Leclerc +18

Lando Norris +15

Oscar Piastri +12

Carlos Sainz +11

Lewis Hamilton +8

George Russell +6

Daniel Ricciardo +4

Alex Albon +2

Fernando Alonso +1

Logan Sargeant +0

Yuki Tsunoda +0

Pierre Gasly +0

Valtteri Bottas +0

Lance Stroll +0

Kevin Magnussen +0

Nico Hulkenberg +0

Zhou Guanyu +0

Esteban Ocon +0

Y/n L/n – DNF

Standings after Suzuka

Max Verstappen – 100 points

Charles Leclerc – 66 points

Lando Norris – 42 points

Y/n L/n – 41 points

Lewis Hamilton – 32 points

Oscar Piastri – 31 points

Carlos Sainz – 28 points

Fernando Alonso – 23 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 21 points

George Russell – 20 points

Alex Albon – 4 points

Logan Sargeant – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Esteban Ocon - 0 points

Constructors Standings after Suzuka

Red Bull – 214 points

Ferrari – 139 points

McLaren – 105 points

Mercedes – 87 points

Racing Bulls – 36 points

Aston Martin – 26 points

Williams – 4 points

Alpha Romeo – 0 points

Haas – 0 points

Alpine – 0 points

f1 has posted *pretend there are no cars in the back of the second photo*

f1 Y/n L/n is out of the Japanese Grand Prix following a nasty impact! Mechanics who looked at her car found a faulty brake pad that caused an intense lock up on turn 15. The Red Bull rookie would have experienced around 54 G's when her car finally stopped at the barrier. L/n was escorted to the local hospital and was later released today.

liked by y/n_nation, maxiel_lover, iamred_iamyellow, and 94,873 others

y/n_updates I am so thankful that she's ok now, my heart stopped for a few minutes until she got out

y/nxarthur Arthur's and Charles's faces as they were waiting for her to get out, I was sobbing

leclerc4ever well, considering they lost their godfather at this exact circuit almost ten years ago, I felt their pain through the screen thur_thur exactly, Arthur's cries over the radio will haunt me for the rest of my life

box_box_express does anyone know who went with her? obviously the drivers had to finish the race

y/n_nation some sources say that Arthur and Kelly went with her as well as her manager Vito box_box_official thank you!

rb_rookie Red Bull finally released a statement that they will be looking into the faulty part, because apparently Max was also having the same issue

y/n_lover glad our girl is ok, but did anyone see how mad Max was? she locked up because she was breaking too hard behind Ocon. He needs to be stopped because this is Y/n's second impact and its all because of him

f1_fanatic ikr, and he was about to be a lapped car too!

b0x_b0x_nightmare she flipped almost 10 times, she could have died - Jules was definitely keeping her safe (thank you halo)

y/n_marry_me AND THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HER FIRST WIN TOO GRRRRRRRR

f1_gossip has posted

f1_gossip looks like Mad Max is BACK. The dutch driver was seen yelling at Alpine driver Esteban Ocon after the race. Some sources say he was needed to be held back and Ocon had to be escorted back to his own garage. Max also barely responded to any of the post-race media interviews and immediately left after he was done.

tagged: maxverstappen1

liked by max_max_super, f1_fanatic, y/n_on_TOP, and 24,028 others

f1-fan BAHAHAHA I was laughing my ass off when Max was yelling at Ocon because he deserved it

max_max the return of Mad Max (although I wish it was under different circumstances, I feel so bad for Y/n)

lestappenlove I also saw Charles join in on the yelling as well

max&kid well deserved for Ocon. Seriously though, he needs to have like a penalty or something

y/n_fanclub is it bad that I wished Max would have punched him?

max_is_da_best nope, because I think we all wanted that to happen

leclercxverstappen I know for sure that if Arthur was there, he would have gone off too, you don't mess with Y/n and expect to walk away unhurt

max33 he was FUMING

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 everything hurts but pookie made it better with Macas, Cars 2, and the Porsche 911 Lego set - I'll be back, that top step is MINE

tagged: arthur_leclerc

liked by ollibearman, lewishamilton, danielricciardo, y/n_updates and 73,911 others

y/n_nation so happy for the update! we're all so glad that you're ok!

oscarpiastri mad that he got a picture and not me, I was literally also there

logansargeant and I brought your blanket?? y/n.89 but did you bring me macas, my favorite movie, AND legos?

olliebearman that's it mom - I'm coming to visit before you actually die

y/n.89 SON! olliebearman MOM! arthur_leclerc son? olliebearman DAD? maxverstappen1 son?! charles_leclerc dad?! olliebearman grandfathers? landonorris hold-up

y/n_updates POOKIE?? HELLO?

y/nxarthur me rn, having the urge to say something about the word "pookie": STAY IN THE BOX, NO! STAY IN THE BOX, NO!

that_1_y/n_fan I wonder what the doctor said

y/n.89 basically I have bruises in the shape of my seatbelt and a sprained ankle from kicking the side of the RB20 to get out. just some r&r needed before Shanghai! y/n.fan703 oh my gosh feel better!

danielricciardo hope you feel better darl! Heidi and I will be over with some actual food

lewishamilton Roscoe says that you need some snuggles, we'll come over when you tell us to francisca.gomez coming over with pear and some other get better goodies :D y/n.89 I love you all!

maxverstappen1 was the Lego set really necessary?

arthur_leclerc YES y/n.89 YES landonorris YES oscarpiastri YES logansargeant YES maxverstappen1 ok sheesh, sorry

y/n-y/n-fan is no one going to address the middle picture??

author shhhhhhhh (its for the plot)

f1_fanatic Ocon better watch out cause it's on SIGHT

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

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sutorus · 1 year ago

Text

OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist.

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response.

he had told you to dress up today.

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs.

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time.

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him.

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough.

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him?

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now.

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely.

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most.

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands.

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong.

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that.

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people.

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four.

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it.

the heat inside you spreads further.

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there.

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds.

your shut your eyes tightly.

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are.

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses.

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win.

a one in eight change.

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day.

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort.

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger.

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you.

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least.

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over.

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy.

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are.

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know.

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore.

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt.

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all.

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere.

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy.

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit.

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers.

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock.

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race.

but his fingers don’t leave you.

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles.

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you.

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of.

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse.

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him.

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for.

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more.

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well.

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder.

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another.

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place.

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you.

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you.

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease.

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair.

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch.

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place.

how fitting.

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.”

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense.

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face.

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it.

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all.

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger.

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement.

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout.

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks.

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

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